Broadcast Ch'ship: Edwards v Reigner (c)

[UKWF]

Post your RPs for the match below. 2 RP cap, max 500 words per RP.

[Deleted]

February 8th - San Diego, California. 

Last night was So-Cal Ultraviolent's King of California event and due to contractual obligations, our Broadcast champion - Noah Reigner - had to be in town. Now, however, we find him in the condo he owned in San Diego, packing his suitcase. For what? A trip to the U.K. of course. This video was being filmed from an iPhone and uploaded to the UKWF website;

"James Edwards" Eve said from behind the camera/phone. Noah shaked his head from side to side. He wore a black t-shirt that read "Los Renegados" in white lettering on the front, and his unshaven face wore a cocky smirk when we turned to the camera.

"Doing this dance again, huh? Okay." He turned fully to the camera. "Let's recap. I stood in front of the company cameras and I told you that a win in a battle royal was sheer luck and that you were only a real champion if you could pin my shoulders to the mat for three seconds. You then went on to doubt my talent, preach about the gospel and how you would become a great Broadcast champion."

"What happened?"

Noah asked, eyebrows lifted as he looked into the camera.

"What happened to that quest of you wanting the prove to the world that you were a legitimate fighter? -- I happened. Someone better than you came along and took the title that came into your possession by way of a stupid battle royal. I told you, dude, that I would out last you. I told you that your go-to strategy wouldn't work against me and you would fail - and look what happened."

"So what's your game plan this time? Same ol', same ol'? Are you gonna beat that dead horse some more? Let me guess; you'll jump in front of a camera after you hear this - doubt me and counter what I say, telling me about how your gospel will put me down this time? That last time I got "lucky" with a surprise pin? It's not going to work, jack. I'm the champion now, and I'm the champion for a reason. That reason being that I was - and an - the better man. Because I outsmarted you, just like I told you I would. I earned this the good ol' fashioned way and I plan on keeping it."

Noah flashed another smirk at the camera, picking up the title from the bed where it laid.

"This is my championship now, bud. And until I see other wise, James Edwards will always be considered as a paper champion to me. You couldn't earn the right to properly hold the title when his greatest threat was lined up against him. And now? I'm going to get to beat you - again just to rub some salt in that wound."

"This is what a real champion looks like. And as long as I'm around, you'll never have the chance to be Broadcast Champion again. Get used to it."

End.

[James Edwards]

The wind whips in the background. The pale light of the parking lot illuminate the mounds of snow that hit southern Ontario earlier in the day. He is bundled up in a black pea coat and skull cap. The look does not fit him, but neither is what he is about to say.

“I’m man enough to admit that I talked shit two weeks ago and got beat. I fuckin’ got beat in my own kind of fight too. Noah you hit me early and often. You gave me everything you had, and I wish you would’ve left it at that.

Like I said, I’m man enough to admit my mistake, but it is clear as shine’ you sure as hell don’t see yours.

Noah, I don’t know if you’re buyin’ into the alternative facts that are popular these days because you didn’t score a shit talkin’ win. Yeah, you beat me but you could barely stand afterwards. Shit, people told me you feel right on your ass as soon as they handed you the belt.

What about that says definitive, man? Nothin’. I won a battle and you won the next. The war ain’t over. It won’t be until one of us has his arm raised with two steady legs under him while the other is left layin’.

That’s your mistake, you don’t see that. You think this another round that clinches it in your mind that you’re better than me. Another chance to call me a paper champion or a one trick pony of a fighter.

Words don’t bother me. Losin’ don’t eat me up, but goin’ down by a sliver of a second to an arrogant bastard like in my style of fight does.

It didn’t have to be this way, Noah. You could’ve shaken my hand before our match and learned some humility afterwards. We could have brought out the best in each other.

But you had to pull your dick out and swing it around, and now this thing between you and me has to get settled in a way I hate. I gotta put your ass down. I gotta humble in a way that a person with your worldview ain’t gonna be able to handle.

So bring your fancy ass grapplin’ or try to play the strikin’ game with me. I dare you to do with that holy roller look in your eye too. Because it is gonna make me smile when I kick your fuckin’ head in.”

He shivers, which is funny because the wind has ceased blowing. He honestly means it when says he hates that it came to this, but if wants respect than this is what he has to do. That is a fact colder than the deep powder he stands in.

[Deleted]

February 10th - Staines, Middlesex, United Kingdom. 

The UKWF camera crew caught up with Noah Reigner after his arrival in Staines. It's been a day since his promotional video was uploaded to the UKWF website. As always, Eve was with him. His muscle, if you would. The Broadcast championship was slung over his shoulder and rested there. The champion was on the set of a local television show. A smirk crossed his face when his eyes fell onto the camera.



"Broadcast numero uno as your Broadcast Champion -- and there's going to be a lot more where that came from. How does BBC Noah sound?" Eve shared his smirk. "But before the take over of the entire United Kingdom, let's think locally. Staines, Middlesex - whatta' town, huh? First title defense and it's against good ol' James Edwards."



"Good ol' never-change-his-gameplan James Edwards.That's how you lost the title, ya'know? I studied previous matches of yours, dude, and you always come out with those hands of stone, lookin' to drop someone with some strikes. You never really encountered someone that could dodge around those strikes. I out maneuvered you, out wrestled you - like I said I would - and out smarted you. I exposed you for the one-dimensional wrestler that you are, and like I told you before - this isn't MMA or boxing. That shit will only get you so far, dude, and you see how far it got you against someone like me."



"Make no mistake about it, jack; this isn't Fight One or Lions Den or whatever else you rep. In those places where you simply dominate, you never came across someone like me. You never had to step in the ring against a man as highly skilled as I am. Sure, I may not have the years of experience as you, jumping from company to company, but in one night I proved to have years of knowledge over you. In one night I shattered all expectations of this Broadcast division and stood out as the star of the night. While you? You laid down for three seconds and all of your dreams in the UK shattered around you."



"I'll give you credit where it's due and let you know that you are good at what you do. It's just on that night, I was better. And on this night? I'm fairly sure I'll be better, again. If you come in with the same ol' tired MMA stuff - it's going to be a long night for you again. You're Gospel proved ineffective the last time we stepped in the ring, so my suggestion is to come up with a new plan."



"But, will it matter in the end? Doubt it. You have only a few days left and you can't learn a new style over night."



Adjusting his title, swapping it to the other shoulder.



"This is the rubber match everyone wanted to see. This is it, jack. You might be ready..."



"But it's gonna' end with you... looking like a bitch."

[James Edwards]

He is angry with himself for believing that Noah Reigner might have an ounce of sportsmanship in his body, a shred of warrior’s spirit. He wants to respect him, not hurt him, but as the red eye stares into his soul, he knows that these words will be wasted as well.

“I don’t get it. I warn people, pay attention when you fight me and don’t make shit personal. Bad shit happens when they don’t.

Noah, I was more than fair with you the first time we fought. I’ve already warned you what is comin’. Ain’t gonna repeat myself.

What I for you this time around is a story, one you fuckin’ need to pay attention too.

The only thing you can say about me, brother, is that I’m one-dimensional. Aight’, no shit. Athleticism doesn't run rich in the Edwards’ blood. I use what I got. Hands, feet, and a thirst to show people like you that they can shove their opinions up their ass.

This is a script I know by heart. I’ve been told I’m too small to succeed as a fighter. I’ve been told I’m too violent for family shows; lackin’ enough versatility to ever be a champion. A huge hick with no appeal outside the South. Jackasses keep bringin’ the same tired talkin’ points.

Guess what? Y’all was wrong. Look at the record. I’ve been a champion in four different companies. I’m a two-time world champion. I’ve main evented everywhere place I’ve fought.

I ain’t tellin’ you this to stoke my ego. Far from it. This is another warnin’: don’t take me lightly. Don’t think you have my number because of one win. I regularly tell the odds to fuck off. Every time I fight, I fight with somethin’ to prove. If I lose, then it confirms, at least to me, that the same old same old might have a grain of truth to it. That’s unacceptable, and it’s why I rarely go down when the stakes are high.

So there is your second warnin’, two more than you’re worth Noah, but I want you to understand the monster you’ve awakened, why you’re gonna hurt like you’ve never hurt before the day after the fight; why an unoriginal, one-note fighter is gonna’ knock the reignin’ UKWF Broadcast Champion the fuck out and show him it is time to learn some humility and respect.

See you soon, Champ.”

The eye dies. He thanks the camera operator; asks how their day went. He hopes that showing another human being the slightest hint of courtesy and kindness will help alleviate any shame he feels for the violence to come.