A statement of fact

{Scene Start: The scene opens to show us a pair of taped up hands-shaking slightly, sweaty, and covered slightly in blood before the camera pulls back to show us the toned and defined upper body and arms of the person before showing us the face of Jacob Striker, who looks tired-more from a hard workout than anything else}

Jacob:
When you look at my hands, you can tell that these are the hands of a man who works hard for everything that he does. From the callouses to the scars and everything in between...these are the hands of a striker, nothing more or less.

{He holds up his hands for the camera to see}

Jacob:
By the evidence that you see on these hands, everyone at Wrestleworld knows exactly why I have been silent these past few days since this week's Dominion card was announced.

What is everyone else's excuse?

What is everyone else's reasoning?

{Jacob slowly lowers his hands and lets a wry chuckle escape him}

Jacob:
I know that I care not for whatever reason that Chad Kennedy might thrown in our faces and yes, that's exactly what I mean because he is always throwing his shit into the faces of not only the fans, but also his fellow wrestlers and I am so sick and tired of hearing his constant prattling. I mean he got his ass handed to him so handily by Jacob Senn on down that he needed to call in his brother to help protect him from all of the big bads here in this company.

Well Chad, if you think that your "bro" will be around to prevent the inevitable from happening in me sending your worthless, no talent hack asshat corpse over that top rope within the first few seconds of the battle royal to keep you from embarrassing this promotion and *my* sport any further...and Chad, I will make sure that you're screaming all the way down to the cold, hard, and unforgiving floor below...screaming in an impotent rage because this is not a "poor man's sport" as you have chosen to believe in your haughty arrogance.

No.

Let me explain something to you and that is simply this-before I started my training with Stephanie Matsuda, I was trained at another location and by another man. A man known for his one singular belief and that was European Catch Wrestling was the greatest style of professional wrestling in the entire world because of one thing;

Die Matte ist heilig

"The mat is sacred"

And for the longest time, I tried to respect that belief...because it is a good and solid belief. One that pathetic dipshits like you could honestly learn to accept and enjoy as it would help you become not only a better wrestler...but maybe actually help those fucking balls of yours to drop and you'd become a real *man*.

But at Dominion, as I hook in a standing submission hold and start making your left shoulder start doing things that a shoulder should not be able to do before you find yourself ejected like the pile of waste that you are.

Unlike my one time tag team partner in you, Daniel Horror.

{Jacob's face breaks out into a slightly dark smile}

Jacob:
Tell me Daniel, did you honestly think that I would've forgotten your little attempt at a threat after I won our team the match last week or that I didn't hear those snide little comments that you were making under your breath each and every time?

On the bright side of things is that I enjoyed working with you during that match despite the bullshit because you were a skilled hand in that ring, no question there. You knew what to do and how to handle certain situations...but otherwise you believe that you are some kind of big, spooky bad ass which is something that I find myself continually running into time and time again all across the world of professional wrestling...I once chalked it up to a lack of anyone being actually creative.

Now I just chalk it up to people like you, Daniel, being utterly hopeless and without any form of real intelligence.

Because you see it was that *intelligence* that allowed me to power through both of our opponents last week on Dominion, because I have an understanding of this sport that you cannot even begin to fathom and because of it at Dominion this week, right when you think that you've got someone in that match figured out for elimination, you in turn will be the one who finds himself removed from the equation because you're not as smart...or as spooky...as you think that you are because compared to me, it's like reading Shakespeare to a dog in terms of how much more intelligent I am where it comes to this sport than you, Daniel.

In the time that it takes you to merely blink, I've got you on the mat in a submission hold that leaves you writhing in pure, unadulterated pain...because when I hook you, not only do you stay hooked but you also understand the true meaning of pain as you struggle for a way to keep me from making you suffer more...only to find out that with each and every squirm, your suffering only increases.

Yes, Daniel Horror...I will make you suffer.

And I will *enjoy* it.

{Jake then takes a moment to take a breath before reaching up with his right hand to run his tapped, bloody fingers through his hair as he fixes the camera with an even harder look}

Jacob:
And that's not even to list off some of the many other names in this rumble that will be trying and failing to earn a place in this promotion's main event, to earn a shot at championship or even personal glory.

Yes, I was trained by Stephanie Matsuda and every god damned person has been making *damned* sure that I don't forget that by constantly telling me that I'm riding her coat tails...but these exact same fucking jokers seem to forget that I was trained not by one, but *TWO* different schools of wrestling and that I went to the War Room dojo after I finished at the House of Glory school.

"House of Glory"...the irony is in the name.

You see the whole concept behind Peter Graves, the owner of that particular wrestling school, is that his wrestling style as I stated previously is European Catch Wrestling. Also known as catch as catch can, it is a classical hybrid grappling style that derives from various different international styles of wrestling which includes several different English styles, Indian pehlwani, and Irish collar-and-elbow wrestling...it is a very vicious and hard fought style that requires a constant practical upkeep when not in the ring.

It is vicious not because of any hardcore bullshit, but because in catch wrestling submission holds are more commonly known as punishment holds and are used more for control and to force your opponent into a pin under the threat of pain and injury. It is one of the main reasons alone that when I'm in a match, I use leglocks and neck cranks as just valid, common techniques as I would a chop or an elbow strike.

In short, I've been holding back all over the place.

Just like I know that you have, Lillie Saint.

{Once more, the smirk appears on Jake's face}

Jacob:
Come now, Miss Saint. Be honest with yourself...you're apart of World's Finest, brought in and scouted by the old fuck himself, Reno Dumont. Now a lot of useless maggots like so called "King Maverick" out there love to bash Reno left, right, and sideways because of how old he is and shit like that...but he is known for a couple of things.

One of them is having a good eye for talent.

Which means that when I saw that you were going to be in this match, I had to do some digging and while you might be a little bit "naïve" for the lack of of a better term,  I can see why Reno wanted you in such an august group like the World's Finest...you've got a fire burning inside of you that is just waiting to erupt from you, and when it does it's going to cause one hell of a backdraft and I can respect that.

{The smirk then slowly fades from Jake's face as he tilts his head to the right just enough for it to pop before shaking his head and shoulders out before looking once more at the camera}

Jacob:
And while I can respect it, it won't save you from being tossed over that top rope like so many other people will be at Dominion, Lillie. I have fought my way, tooth and claw, to get to this company...to make it to this very fucking pinnacle of wrestling promotions and I'll be damned if I allow some kid who got fucking *lucky* enough to be here...to outwrestle me. To beat me and lay claim to my spot in a very important match, because you see in a very short amount of time I will be the first Wrestleworld Territorial champion.

Just like my two mentors, Peter Graves and Stephanie Matsuda, before me...a lot of people doubted them and look at where they are now. Two people holding up arms dripping with gold collected from years of hard work and effort...

...the same kind of effort that I'm going to put into this rumble as I tear through it to earn my place.

Now I'm not going to do the asshole thing and say that this is not "your time" or any of that bullshit because God only knows how much its been said to me lately and for no other fucking reason other than we've got some real assholes out there.

No.

I'm going to tell you that this week, on Dominion, it won't be your night because I'm here to show why I'm the best fucking technical wrestler in this entire company. *ME*!

I am one half of the undefeated Pro Wrestling Nova World Tag Team champions.

I am the man who proved himself in a submission match against the so called "Shogun of Wrestleworld", Arata Asakura by forcing him to a draw.

I am the man who everyone keeps telling time and time again that it's simply not "my time" and yet I make them bleed the hard way to alter their concept of "time".

{Jacob's jaw clenches hard as he looks even harder into the camera, his attention entirely fixed on one thing and one thing only}

Jacob:
These are not the bragging's of an arrogant man, no.

These are the statements of a man who is sick and tired of playing the hero, sick and tired of listening to people claim superiority and not having the balls or the talent to back it up and lay that horrendous claim of "Striker was just lucky" bullshit.

At Dominion this week, I start my march towards proving each and every single one of my detractors wrong...

{Jacob then raises his hands up into the camera's view as he then clenches them into tight fists}

Jacob:
...the old fashioned way, by these two hands.

Get ready, everyone...times are changing.

{The screen fades to black on the image of the hard look on Jacob's face as the screen fades to black}