You Must Adapt...

We enter on a television screen, broadcasting different shots of wrestling matches across the globe. High-risk maneuvers, impressive feats of strength, hard-hitting bouts, and finally, a smattering of finishers leaving opponents lying. Each clip ends with the dominant wrestler laying themselves over their downed opponent, going for the pin, and the win.
“This sport,” The familiar voice of Graham Baker begins, “is the most even-layed field of competition on the fucking planet. Men like myself, men who have had nothing often drag themselves up by their bootstraps and do what they need to to make something of themselves. When I started out in this industry, I had no big name, I had no supportive backing, I took chance upon chance on myself and ran through every fucking opponent put in front of me until people started noticing.
Clips show Graham Baker’s first few matches-and losses-until he begins to turn things around. Suplexes and brainbusters aplenty, until Baker repeatedly hits that devastating Psalm Twenty-Knee on a rack of opponents, each man going down like a sack of shit before Baker goes for a pin or a finishing move. Each clip ends with Baker getting his hand held high, and, on occasion, a belt being lain across his shoulder.
“Championships aplenty have been lain across my shoulder. World Championships, Singles Belts revered just the same, a tag title or two, and the shocking thing is-I’ve never once gotten down on my knees and degraded myself for relevancy. I’ve never had to sink to another level to show the world what I knew, that I deserved every opportunity I’ve gotten. Graham Baker went, in two years, from being an indie darling to a household-fucking-name. Even now, I hold belts from four different companies-SINISTER, IBW, SSW, CCW, companies that have put faith in my name to carry that brand, who have given me the shots I’ve needed to succeed.”
The screen changes once more, showing a clip of more modern wrestling, flighty and flippy bullshit with each man working harder to show off to the crowd as the crowd reaction goes darker.
“Which means I have a platform, a responsibility, a necessity to do what is right. To use this platform to send a message, to send a warning to not only the men ahead of us in the Black Waltz, to not only the men who will pose a challenge to our eventual PWN Tag Team Championships, but to every man and woman who work in this industry.”
The clip shows a man landing on his hands, two men posing across from one another-before a baseball bat flies into the screen and shatters it. Baker’s cold voice speaks overtop of the shattered screen.
“Adapt to my breed of competition...or perish.”
The view shifts around, now showing both Graham Baker and Jacob Knight sitting at ease. Baker is dressed in white-and-red gear, while Jacob’s still in his standard red gear. Both men glance at the camera, before Knight begins speaking.
“Y’know, we’re not so different Baker and I. We both had no backing from anyone when we first started, we both have proven to be successful young talent in any promotion we go to, and we’ve been true to ourselves every step of the way. We’ve refused to sell-out our beliefs and remain silent when the rest of the world has tried to shut us up! Because we know that we are the best that this industry has to offer.”
Clips show highlights from Jacob’s matches in a variety of promotions, including his match with Devon Slayton in RWL, the classic with Arata Asakura from the first PWN show, his debut in OWA attacking Maverick and Jahseh Jett, and various clips from his time in WWH. The reel ends with a shot of Jacob being handed the RWL ONE World Championship by Graham.
“And while the path Graham has taken in this business has been one littered with championship gold, I have been content in choosing the path of making a difference in this company.”
We cut to clips showing Jacob speaking about Close The Sanatorium in promos and at rallies, including the overhead shot of him being carried by the crowd in San Francisco.
“My relationship with Graham, for those of you who have lived under a rock for the last few months, did not start off on the right foot. We were rivals back in Royalty Wrestling League, both eager to show that we were the best of the up-and-coming talent that the company had to offer. But it was after the company unfortunately shut down and the belt we fought over had become meaningless that we realized the big picture: that this business needs a catalyst in order for necessary change to happen. Because this whole industry deserves better! So we met, we talked, and we asked ourselves ‘Who would be better than us?’”
“Which brings us to The Black Waltz. At least 18 teams stand between us and the PWN Tag Team Championships. Some of these contenders I consider friends and acquaintances. All of them are quite formidable. But, the two of us are on a much different level than these other teams because unlike them, we aren’t just fighting for gold and glory. We are fighting to save professional wrestling from those who pervert it. And to those friends who may stand against us… well, I would advise that you stay the fuck out of the way of progress.”
“On March 15th, the past doesn’t matter.” Baker muses, pressing his fingers together. “It doesn’t matter who in that ring has or has not won gold, it doesn’t matter who in that ring thinks they’re kings of the fucking castle-what does matter is that Jake and I will be walking in with the gold we carry now and leaving with two more championships. There is not a single team in the Black Waltz that can hold a candle to Deliverance, not just to us as a team but to the flood of progress and change that we bring. The gates have opened, and the waves are coming! You must adapt, try hard to survive…”
Baker glances to Knight, and the two smile.
“Or be crushed under the storm of DELIVERANCE.”
Both men lean back in their chairs as we’re left to consider the words they spoke, hanging loosely on the air…