(1 Peter 5:8)
Butch is working out in the gym that he had built onto he and Wisdom’s Santa Barbra, California home. Butch is honing his skills that he’s been sharpening and expanding since his in-ring debut in 1998. His mind is split into 3 different segments; if you were to peer inside it would like a trivial pursuit board game piece. One piece of his mind is focused on his beautiful wife Wisdom and their little bundle of joy that will be making it’s little arrival in just under a month. Even the tiniest thought of it, no matter how Butch is feeling can bring a smile to his face. Another part is focused on his Havoc opponent, the unusually quiet Chuckles the Clown; an adversary Butch has never faced before. As a fourteen-year veteran of the squared-circle, he knows he must fully focus on his opponent and not let his concentration slip or be diverted but even the most battle-hardened veteran can be guilty of letting his mind wander. And of course, despite himself, Butch can’t help think of Senester. The little nitpick at the back of his mind that he always remembers when he forgets about everything else and it’s a cold, hard reminder of what he knows is coming.
As if caught in a day dream, Butch snaps back to reality, shaking his head from side to side like a Rottweiler. He’s in his training gear consisting of his custom-made Venum Fight Wear shorts which are a mustard-yellow colour with red trim, the signature Venum “snake head” logo fascinated to the front of both legs and a red rampant lion emblazoned across the buttocks. He sits atop a heavy bag, designed for ground-and-pound offense. Butch lays into the bag with hammer-fist-style strikes before switching to elbows. He continues his strenuous workout regime for a further hour so, switching from going through his stand-up game to cardio work and conditioning before going back to his striking. Upon finishing, Butch allows a lungful of air to gush out of his mouth loudly and he leans forward, the palms of his gloved hands pressed against the fronts of his uppers legs as he allows his heart-rate to return to normal, the beads of sweat literally dripping from the tips of his hair and the end of his nose. He returns to a vertical stance, wiping some of the excess perspiration from his face with the back of his hand before he reaches down and grabs a bottle of Lucozade Sport, scooshing its reenergising contents into his mouth. Taking hold of a small white towel that hangs down from one of the benches that are scattered throughout the circumference of the gym, Butch wraps it around his neck and shoulders and letting the back of his head fall back and rest against the wall behind him.
(Butch): You have a grand kingdom Senester; that much is clear. A modern-day empire. You’ve taken the proverbial hammer and chisel and built your house from the ground up. We’ve had vastly different beginnings and upbringings, you and I, but both humble. You grew up in your orphanage, shunning kids and would-be parents with your seemingly heretical nature. You grew up, left, tortured your parents into madness and death before finding sanctity within the HWA and look at you now. I grew up in a small village with a population of about 600 people, raising my little sister as if she were my own after the passing of my brother, father and mother. That was before the allure of the limelight of professional wrestling drew me across the seas to America.
We’ve both come so far after all these years, Senester and finally, FINALLY, we’ll meet in the ring at Blood, Sweat and Tears. I must say aswell, great job on the viral advertising campaign. You really gave me a, if you’ll pardon the pun, devil may care look. Make no mistake though; I don’t head into this battle with delusions of grandeur. This is a completely selfish act on my part in that I seek personal vindication and gratification for what has been building up in me for a length of time that feels like a lifetime. I don’t seek victory in any war or battle. I don’t care about a pinfall victory or submission, I don’t care if you beat me or I beat you. I want to leave that ring knowing I left all my regrets and shortcomings with you. If a victory brings me the HWA World Championship, then so be it.
Yes, Blood, Sweat and Tears is a time away itself but I’m looking forward to seeing what time unveils in the build-up to it, to as you put it, gaining a better understanding of you. But you might just see a different Butch Parker than you thought you knew aswell that even the Almighty God could’ve seen coming.
Butch stops for a moment, his emerald green eyes staring into nothingness for a moment before he continues.
(Butch): And Chuckles, I sincerely hope you’re doing your homework and preparing for this match, because after your very presumptuous claims last time, you’ve been eerily quiet. I trust that won’t be the only time I hear from you before Havoc but if so, I have to confess myself disappointed. When I heard what you had to say during your little candid camera moment, I thought it wasn’t going to be possible to shut you up especially after my wife has already addressed and given you her warning aswell.
Last but not least, I think it’s only fair to mention a newcomer, well I say newcomer but he’s not really a newcomer, more like a new addition, to the HWA roster. Mr Michael James.
I heard what you had to say Michael and I’ve seen you action from your HFW days, you’re time in XWF and WWOI. You’ve got talent, there’s no denying that, coming from another former World Champion and King of the Deathmatch. Let me put your mind at ease. In HWA, you’ll find no shortage in expectations, least of all with me.
You may have gone around the country being the flagship icon but that gravy boat stops here, Michael. HWA may not have the roster it used to have back in the day but there’s a plethora of talent waiting to bite at Senester’s World Championship he dangles like a carrot in front of us. You WILL have to prove yourself here. You will have to win and you’ll have to win in style.
I’ll be watching out for you Michael, and if you want it to make your name in this company, if you wanna seal your name in the annals of history, I’ll be more than happy to throw down. Just say the word.
Butch gives one last long look before rising up from the bench and recommences his training as the scene fades to black.
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