Post by A.C. Smith on Sept 10, 2013 22:06:21 GMT -4
Our scene opens today not in a New York City penthouse, but in an office situated in one of many Big Apple high-rises. We see the city that never sleeps from inside a 30th-floor window, one that looks out on Central Park and the hundreds of tourists inside it.
Leisurely pursuits are seen, but inside, the agenda features anything but. We see a huge sign on a nearby wall welcoming visitors to the New York City Department of Investigation, but the offices are anything but welcoming. A cold female receptionist sits at her desk, while several dozen people who hate their jobs sift through never-ending file folders on their desks.
We hear an elevator door open off-screen, and the camera twirls around to reveal the Big Apple Asskicker, A.C. Smith. Unlike his usual, casual attire, the APW Xtreme Champion is suited-up, wearing a black three-button suit jacket, matching black pants, and a black tie over a crisp white button-down shirt.
He's carrying a thick manila folder and a smile on his face, not to mention more bounce in his step than he has any right to, especially at his size and wearing thick, uncomfortable black dress shoes. He approaches the secretary, who looks up with an indifferent gaze.
Secretary: “Can I help you?”
A.C.: “Yes, I have a meeting with a Mr. McGarry.”
Secretary: “Name?”
A.C.: “A.C. Smith. I've talked with several...”
Secretary: (interrupting) “I'll call him. Take a seat.”
Taken aback slightly by the secretary's rudeness, Smith rolls his eyes and sits in one of several uncomfortable chairs by the elevator as the secretary buzzes Smith's contact.
Secretary: (on the phone) “Charlie? There's a guy named Smith here to see you.”
She hangs up.
Secretary: “He'll be with you in a second.”
A.C.: “Thanks EVER so much.”
The sarcasm isn't lost on the unnamed female secretary, nor was it intended to be. Her default setting of 'miserable' doesn't improve as she goes back to her computer, but fortunately for all parties involved, the awkward environment doesn't last long.
A man in his early-to-mid 30's walks into the lobby, and Smith seems grateful for the interruption.
A.C.: “Charlie!”
Charlie: “Andrew, it's been a while. Come on in!”
The two shake hands before hanging a right around the secretary's desk and into a corner office. Charlie shuts the door behind them, and the two sit down in much more comfortable chairs.
A.C.: “Some secretary you've got out there.”
Charlie: “Roberta? Yeah, she's not exactly the warmest, but things get done. Anyway, you said you had something for me.”
A.C.: “I do.”
Smith hands over the folder, and Charlie immediately dives in.
A.C.: “You remember I didn't have a father growing up. Turns out he didn't leave us after I was born. He was falsely imprisoned for crimes he didn't commit. He's dying of cancer now, and may not make it to Christmas. It sounds weird, but I want to do something right by him before he dies, and I know I don't have a lot of time left.
“We didn't talk much in high school, but I knew you'd risen through the ranks here pretty quickly, and I was hoping you'd be able to help me out.”
Charlie is fascinated by Smith's tale, and he continues thumbing through the documents his old acquaintance has handed over.
Charlie: “I should tell you you've got an uphill battle to fight here, A.C. This case was handled, geez, 30 years ago.”
A.C.: “I don't need a reminder of how old we are. Thanks.”
The two exchange chuckles, but Charlie quickly gets his poker face back up.
Charlie: “We understand there are tools around today that can exonerate those who are wrongly convicted of crimes. If you had something hard, something concrete, that I could work with and send to my boss, I'd do it for you in a heartbeat, but there's nothing here right now.”
A.C.: “Look at the picture of the prosecution's star witness. You see the marks on his nose? Those could've only been left by eyeglasses, and not the light kind.”
Charlie goes back to the files, trying to find the picture Smith referenced.
A.C.: “I understand you don't want to stick your neck out on a whim. You answer to someone, he answers to someone else, and so on all the way up the food chain. But that man didn't testify with glasses on, and who's to say he had them on when he allegedly saw my dad leaping out a back window while carrying jewelry he'd stolen from one of our neighbors?”
Charlie: “That's a question for a lawyer to ask.”
A.C.: “Well, he had a public defender who was positively inept, and it's not as if we can ask our witness, because he's been dead for the better part of 20 years.
“Charlie, if what I've just shown you isn't reasonable doubt, I don't know what is.”
Charlie: “You're not wrong. But here's the thing. Regardless of what you've just told me, what could I possibly do for you to help you out?”
A.C.: “Convince your boss that this is worth fighting for. In a perfect world, I'd be able to give my father what he deserves, which is taking that scarlet letter off his chest and making sure the world knows that he was right all these years.”
Charlie nods slowly.
Charlie: “It's a noble cause, one I respect more than you'll ever know. I will pitch this to my boss first thing in the morning. I'd do it now, but he's on a plane coming back from a conference in San Antonio.
“You need to know, though, that you were right. My boss reports to his boss, his boss has anywhere from one to four bosses depending on the day of the week, and they report to a guy you might have heard of.”
A.C.: “Mayor Bloomberg.”
Charlie: “Yes, that's correct. And if even ONE of them says, 'This guy is out of his mind and there's no way something like this is possible,' your crusade is stopped dead in its tracks. I want to help you, and assuming you're telling the truth, I want this to succeed, but the odds are against you, and I'd be doing a disservice by not telling you that right now.”
Smith sighs, looking back at Charlie with the same determined carriage he's displayed for most of his life.
A.C.: “Charlie, the odds have been against me my entire life. You know how many people from our old neighborhood didn't make it out alive, didn't have a chance at adulthood?”
Charlie: “From our graduating elementary school class? Well, there were 102 in total. Seven of those died before age 18, five were killed after graduating high school, and 15 more are in jail.”
Smith sits back in his chair, impressed.
Charlie: “Why do you think I took this job? If what we do here acts as some sort of deterrent to kids choosing lives of crime, then I've done something right.
“I know damn well what you faced, because I went through the same thing. We could've given up, what, a hundred different times? But we didn't. When the odds were against us, we toughed it out and we got stuff done.”
A.C. (smiling): “Why do you think I came to you?”
A pause.
Charlie: “This was a plot.”
A.C.: “No, it wasn't a plot, and I'd appreciate it if you'd use a less sinister term. But out of all the people from the NYPD and from New York City government who I could've gone to with this information, I chose you because I knew you wouldn't back down from a fight.
“You wouldn't half-ass this presentation to your superiors, act surprised when they shot you down, then come to me saying, 'Oh, at least we tried.' You're better than that. You know I'm right, you know justice needs to be done, and you know this mistake needs to be corrected.”
Another pause.
Charlie: “I make no promises.”
A.C.: “I'm not asking you to.”
Charlie: “Just as long as we're on the same page.”
A.C.: “I think we are. You've got my cell number. Don't hesitate to use it if there are any updates.”
Charlie: “Like I said, I'll bring it to my boss first thing in the morning.”
A.C.: “Noted.”
Smith stands up and turns toward the door.
A.C.: “Thanks.”
Charlie: “Don't thank me yet. We've got a long way to go.”
Smith smiles, opening the door and walking out before shutting it as he leaves. The Big Apple Asskicker walks past the receptionist's desk and pushes the down arrow by the elevator doors. After a few seconds, one shows up, and once Smith walks into the elevator and disappears from our sight, our scene fades to black.
---
Later that day, we see a dressed-down Smith in the bedroom of his New York City penthouse. His suit is hanging up on the frame of his closet as a reminder to get it dry-cleaned, and Smith is now wearing a white t-shirt and black gym shorts as he maneuvers his way around the king-size bed that sits in the middle of the room.
Suddenly, we hear the sound of a phone vibrating on a table. The camera follows Smith, who picks up his iPhone, slides his big right index finger along the bottom to unlock it, and brings it to his left ear.
A.C.: “Hey, Dad...I'm alright, how're you feeling?...It went okay. Guy said he'd pass it along to his boss and that we'd go from there...I know it doesn't sound like much, but it's all I could do...You're welcome...Don't sweat it, Dad...Alright, I gotta go do this thing. I'll keep you posted...Yeah. Bye.”
Smith brings the phone back down and ends the call before plugging it into a charger connected to an outlet in a wall. Sighing just a bit, the Big Apple Asskicker exits the bedroom and walks into the nearby living room, plopping down in his black leather recliner. What he's doing is far more strenuous than any workout one could imagine, and make no mistake, A.C. Smith is spent.
He notices the camera in his midst and regains some, though not all, of his composure. Leaning forward while still sitting down, Smith clears his throat, eyes the lens, and opens his mouth to speak.
A.C.: “Maybe it's a shot in the dark. Maybe I'm wasting my time on a system that's done so few people right, and maybe nothing's going to come of what I'm doing. But those circumstances have never stopped me from doing what's right. Somehow, someway, I firmly believe that I'm going to exonerate my father and right a wrong that cost him more than 20 years of his life.
“Some will say I'm distracted by this, undoubtedly. They'll point to last week on Overdrive, when Shione Oshima beat me fair and square. They'll point to after that match, when Leon Roberts, one of the sorest losers in APW history, jumped me as I was giving my opponent her due. There's just one problem.
“They're all going to be wrong.”
Smith pauses, letting the word 'wrong' echo around him in the empty space.
A.C.: “Professional wrestling has always been my outlet. Whenever things have gone wrong in my wife, whenever I was facing adversity, or whenever I needed to be saved from something, nothing has been more therapeutic than coming down the aisle to my entrance music and the cheers from the crowd. The ring is a second home for me because I've been doing this for so long, and one bump in the road, not unlike many bumps I've gone over in my career, isn't going to change that.
“Shione Oshima was better than me last week. It sounds like a lot to say, but it really isn't. One of the things that's made me as successful as I've been in this business is the ability to stop and recognize when there are no excuses to be made, and this is one of those times. She's destined for great things here in APW, and I have no doubt those great things will come sooner rather than later.
“Me? Well, I don't exactly have long to recuperate from what happened last Thursday night. I'm traveling to Greece in a matter of hours to put my APW Xtreme Championship on the line against Mad Mumf, a guy I've never faced before, yet at the same time, have seen all too often in my wrestling career.”
Smith sighs.
A.C.: “He's a guy that wants to make a name for himself on Overdrive and wants to do it by knocking off one of the big dogs. In this case, that's me, and what he's after is the title I've held longer than any current champion on APW's flagship brand. I respect his drive, and I respect his desire, but where he's got it all wrong is the part where he thinks he leaves Athens with my title in tow.
“He can say all he wants about his work in the military that ended with him playing a part in some highly classified work. Serving one's country is admirable to an extent, and I guess you can look at what he did as him getting a promotion of some sort. Against most people, him going in with a calm, cool, and collected mindset would serve as a huge advantage, and hell, look what he's done with that lately. He's gotten some nice wins, and kudos to him for that.
“But see, when he looks across the ring on Thursday night, he's not going to see someone overthinking things, or someone who'll be lacking composure. Mad Mumf is going to see the most even-keeled Megastar on the APW roster, someone who isn't going to be intimidated by anyone, any audience, any stage, or any stakes. That's because I've been there, done that, and bought the t-shirt, and if Mumf thinks otherwise, he's in for a big, big surprise.
“Suddenly, Mad Mumf's biggest strength, and his biggest asset against 99% of the Action Packed Wrestling roster, isn't a 'plus' anymore. It's a 'neutral.' Take the biggest strength of any wrestler away, and they'd better have a damn good backup plan. Does Mad Mumf have that?”
Smith shrugs his broad shoulders.
A.C.: “Who the hell knows?
“On the flip side, though, there's no doubt that I can beat opponents in a variety of different ways. I can intimidate them. I can overpower them. I can outwrestle them. I can outbrawl them, and I can dig down and win matches that require more grit than skill. That's one of the reasons I've had such a long reign as APW Xtreme Champion, and why I've been able to beat a list of challengers that's extremely long and wide-ranging in nature.
“Mad Mumf? He won't get psyched out, sure. What else has he got? How is he going to use his skills when the biggest tool he has isn't at his disposal anymore? Suddenly, there's a chance he turns into a one-trick pony when the man across the ring from him, a guy who has the title he wants very much, is a proverbial Swiss army knife.
“Some of the greatest efforts in sports have come when one person or team has their primary weapon taken away. However, the reason we remember them is because those athletes and teams had second and third options that stepped up and rose to the occasion. I have those back-up plans, and they've proven to be very effective. Mad Mumf, though?”
Another shrug.
A.C.: “I've never operated in secret. For better or for worse, I'm pretty much an open book, and what you see is what you get. I'm a known quantity, but just because I don't lie in the weeds and surprise people doesn't mean I can't be successful at what I do, and I've proven that over the past several years.
“I don't throw smoke and mirrors at people. I never have, and I never will. All I do is go out there and go all-out from bell to bell, and over the past year or so, very few in APW have been better at that than yours truly. What I've been able to do has been enough to beat a bunch of guys that any wrestling fan around the world would know, and I'm plenty proud of that.
“Michael Lively, Nathaniel Havok, Buckson Gooch, Delikado, Nick Watson, and plenty of others have tried everything to beat me. They all had their strengths, and I took them away and used them to my advantage. What, precisely, will Mad Mumf do to prevent that, something a bunch of people with long track records of success were unable to do?”
One final shrug, and Smith, partially rejuvenated from his earlier exhaustion, springs up out of his chair to his full 6'8” height.
A.C.: “There are some questions I don't have answers for, but that'll never stop me from doing what I do best, both inside and outside the ring. Additionally, it won't stop me from going all-out to do what I CAN control to the best of my ability, and that's what's going to serve me very well this week in Greece.
“Mad Mumf's on a hot streak of late, but he's never had to deal with someone like me. He wants what I've got, and against a lot of past APW Xtreme Champions, it'd probably be enough to win the title. But not me. I'm the guy that's not going to panic, not going to wilt under pressure, and not going to be intimidated by a guy approaching a match in a business-like fashion, because I'm wired the exact same way.
“Shione Oshima was better than me last week. I don't dispute that. Any notion that Mad Mumf is going to be better than me THIS week, though? THAT, I dispute. And I look forward to proving that wrong on Thursday night.”
Smith walks out of the shot. We hear him grabbing the hanger with his suit on it, one we saw earlier in the video, and his footsteps become quieter and quieter as our scene fades to black.
Leisurely pursuits are seen, but inside, the agenda features anything but. We see a huge sign on a nearby wall welcoming visitors to the New York City Department of Investigation, but the offices are anything but welcoming. A cold female receptionist sits at her desk, while several dozen people who hate their jobs sift through never-ending file folders on their desks.
We hear an elevator door open off-screen, and the camera twirls around to reveal the Big Apple Asskicker, A.C. Smith. Unlike his usual, casual attire, the APW Xtreme Champion is suited-up, wearing a black three-button suit jacket, matching black pants, and a black tie over a crisp white button-down shirt.
He's carrying a thick manila folder and a smile on his face, not to mention more bounce in his step than he has any right to, especially at his size and wearing thick, uncomfortable black dress shoes. He approaches the secretary, who looks up with an indifferent gaze.
Secretary: “Can I help you?”
A.C.: “Yes, I have a meeting with a Mr. McGarry.”
Secretary: “Name?”
A.C.: “A.C. Smith. I've talked with several...”
Secretary: (interrupting) “I'll call him. Take a seat.”
Taken aback slightly by the secretary's rudeness, Smith rolls his eyes and sits in one of several uncomfortable chairs by the elevator as the secretary buzzes Smith's contact.
Secretary: (on the phone) “Charlie? There's a guy named Smith here to see you.”
She hangs up.
Secretary: “He'll be with you in a second.”
A.C.: “Thanks EVER so much.”
The sarcasm isn't lost on the unnamed female secretary, nor was it intended to be. Her default setting of 'miserable' doesn't improve as she goes back to her computer, but fortunately for all parties involved, the awkward environment doesn't last long.
A man in his early-to-mid 30's walks into the lobby, and Smith seems grateful for the interruption.
A.C.: “Charlie!”
Charlie: “Andrew, it's been a while. Come on in!”
The two shake hands before hanging a right around the secretary's desk and into a corner office. Charlie shuts the door behind them, and the two sit down in much more comfortable chairs.
A.C.: “Some secretary you've got out there.”
Charlie: “Roberta? Yeah, she's not exactly the warmest, but things get done. Anyway, you said you had something for me.”
A.C.: “I do.”
Smith hands over the folder, and Charlie immediately dives in.
A.C.: “You remember I didn't have a father growing up. Turns out he didn't leave us after I was born. He was falsely imprisoned for crimes he didn't commit. He's dying of cancer now, and may not make it to Christmas. It sounds weird, but I want to do something right by him before he dies, and I know I don't have a lot of time left.
“We didn't talk much in high school, but I knew you'd risen through the ranks here pretty quickly, and I was hoping you'd be able to help me out.”
Charlie is fascinated by Smith's tale, and he continues thumbing through the documents his old acquaintance has handed over.
Charlie: “I should tell you you've got an uphill battle to fight here, A.C. This case was handled, geez, 30 years ago.”
A.C.: “I don't need a reminder of how old we are. Thanks.”
The two exchange chuckles, but Charlie quickly gets his poker face back up.
Charlie: “We understand there are tools around today that can exonerate those who are wrongly convicted of crimes. If you had something hard, something concrete, that I could work with and send to my boss, I'd do it for you in a heartbeat, but there's nothing here right now.”
A.C.: “Look at the picture of the prosecution's star witness. You see the marks on his nose? Those could've only been left by eyeglasses, and not the light kind.”
Charlie goes back to the files, trying to find the picture Smith referenced.
A.C.: “I understand you don't want to stick your neck out on a whim. You answer to someone, he answers to someone else, and so on all the way up the food chain. But that man didn't testify with glasses on, and who's to say he had them on when he allegedly saw my dad leaping out a back window while carrying jewelry he'd stolen from one of our neighbors?”
Charlie: “That's a question for a lawyer to ask.”
A.C.: “Well, he had a public defender who was positively inept, and it's not as if we can ask our witness, because he's been dead for the better part of 20 years.
“Charlie, if what I've just shown you isn't reasonable doubt, I don't know what is.”
Charlie: “You're not wrong. But here's the thing. Regardless of what you've just told me, what could I possibly do for you to help you out?”
A.C.: “Convince your boss that this is worth fighting for. In a perfect world, I'd be able to give my father what he deserves, which is taking that scarlet letter off his chest and making sure the world knows that he was right all these years.”
Charlie nods slowly.
Charlie: “It's a noble cause, one I respect more than you'll ever know. I will pitch this to my boss first thing in the morning. I'd do it now, but he's on a plane coming back from a conference in San Antonio.
“You need to know, though, that you were right. My boss reports to his boss, his boss has anywhere from one to four bosses depending on the day of the week, and they report to a guy you might have heard of.”
A.C.: “Mayor Bloomberg.”
Charlie: “Yes, that's correct. And if even ONE of them says, 'This guy is out of his mind and there's no way something like this is possible,' your crusade is stopped dead in its tracks. I want to help you, and assuming you're telling the truth, I want this to succeed, but the odds are against you, and I'd be doing a disservice by not telling you that right now.”
Smith sighs, looking back at Charlie with the same determined carriage he's displayed for most of his life.
A.C.: “Charlie, the odds have been against me my entire life. You know how many people from our old neighborhood didn't make it out alive, didn't have a chance at adulthood?”
Charlie: “From our graduating elementary school class? Well, there were 102 in total. Seven of those died before age 18, five were killed after graduating high school, and 15 more are in jail.”
Smith sits back in his chair, impressed.
Charlie: “Why do you think I took this job? If what we do here acts as some sort of deterrent to kids choosing lives of crime, then I've done something right.
“I know damn well what you faced, because I went through the same thing. We could've given up, what, a hundred different times? But we didn't. When the odds were against us, we toughed it out and we got stuff done.”
A.C. (smiling): “Why do you think I came to you?”
A pause.
Charlie: “This was a plot.”
A.C.: “No, it wasn't a plot, and I'd appreciate it if you'd use a less sinister term. But out of all the people from the NYPD and from New York City government who I could've gone to with this information, I chose you because I knew you wouldn't back down from a fight.
“You wouldn't half-ass this presentation to your superiors, act surprised when they shot you down, then come to me saying, 'Oh, at least we tried.' You're better than that. You know I'm right, you know justice needs to be done, and you know this mistake needs to be corrected.”
Another pause.
Charlie: “I make no promises.”
A.C.: “I'm not asking you to.”
Charlie: “Just as long as we're on the same page.”
A.C.: “I think we are. You've got my cell number. Don't hesitate to use it if there are any updates.”
Charlie: “Like I said, I'll bring it to my boss first thing in the morning.”
A.C.: “Noted.”
Smith stands up and turns toward the door.
A.C.: “Thanks.”
Charlie: “Don't thank me yet. We've got a long way to go.”
Smith smiles, opening the door and walking out before shutting it as he leaves. The Big Apple Asskicker walks past the receptionist's desk and pushes the down arrow by the elevator doors. After a few seconds, one shows up, and once Smith walks into the elevator and disappears from our sight, our scene fades to black.
---
Later that day, we see a dressed-down Smith in the bedroom of his New York City penthouse. His suit is hanging up on the frame of his closet as a reminder to get it dry-cleaned, and Smith is now wearing a white t-shirt and black gym shorts as he maneuvers his way around the king-size bed that sits in the middle of the room.
Suddenly, we hear the sound of a phone vibrating on a table. The camera follows Smith, who picks up his iPhone, slides his big right index finger along the bottom to unlock it, and brings it to his left ear.
A.C.: “Hey, Dad...I'm alright, how're you feeling?...It went okay. Guy said he'd pass it along to his boss and that we'd go from there...I know it doesn't sound like much, but it's all I could do...You're welcome...Don't sweat it, Dad...Alright, I gotta go do this thing. I'll keep you posted...Yeah. Bye.”
Smith brings the phone back down and ends the call before plugging it into a charger connected to an outlet in a wall. Sighing just a bit, the Big Apple Asskicker exits the bedroom and walks into the nearby living room, plopping down in his black leather recliner. What he's doing is far more strenuous than any workout one could imagine, and make no mistake, A.C. Smith is spent.
He notices the camera in his midst and regains some, though not all, of his composure. Leaning forward while still sitting down, Smith clears his throat, eyes the lens, and opens his mouth to speak.
A.C.: “Maybe it's a shot in the dark. Maybe I'm wasting my time on a system that's done so few people right, and maybe nothing's going to come of what I'm doing. But those circumstances have never stopped me from doing what's right. Somehow, someway, I firmly believe that I'm going to exonerate my father and right a wrong that cost him more than 20 years of his life.
“Some will say I'm distracted by this, undoubtedly. They'll point to last week on Overdrive, when Shione Oshima beat me fair and square. They'll point to after that match, when Leon Roberts, one of the sorest losers in APW history, jumped me as I was giving my opponent her due. There's just one problem.
“They're all going to be wrong.”
Smith pauses, letting the word 'wrong' echo around him in the empty space.
A.C.: “Professional wrestling has always been my outlet. Whenever things have gone wrong in my wife, whenever I was facing adversity, or whenever I needed to be saved from something, nothing has been more therapeutic than coming down the aisle to my entrance music and the cheers from the crowd. The ring is a second home for me because I've been doing this for so long, and one bump in the road, not unlike many bumps I've gone over in my career, isn't going to change that.
“Shione Oshima was better than me last week. It sounds like a lot to say, but it really isn't. One of the things that's made me as successful as I've been in this business is the ability to stop and recognize when there are no excuses to be made, and this is one of those times. She's destined for great things here in APW, and I have no doubt those great things will come sooner rather than later.
“Me? Well, I don't exactly have long to recuperate from what happened last Thursday night. I'm traveling to Greece in a matter of hours to put my APW Xtreme Championship on the line against Mad Mumf, a guy I've never faced before, yet at the same time, have seen all too often in my wrestling career.”
Smith sighs.
A.C.: “He's a guy that wants to make a name for himself on Overdrive and wants to do it by knocking off one of the big dogs. In this case, that's me, and what he's after is the title I've held longer than any current champion on APW's flagship brand. I respect his drive, and I respect his desire, but where he's got it all wrong is the part where he thinks he leaves Athens with my title in tow.
“He can say all he wants about his work in the military that ended with him playing a part in some highly classified work. Serving one's country is admirable to an extent, and I guess you can look at what he did as him getting a promotion of some sort. Against most people, him going in with a calm, cool, and collected mindset would serve as a huge advantage, and hell, look what he's done with that lately. He's gotten some nice wins, and kudos to him for that.
“But see, when he looks across the ring on Thursday night, he's not going to see someone overthinking things, or someone who'll be lacking composure. Mad Mumf is going to see the most even-keeled Megastar on the APW roster, someone who isn't going to be intimidated by anyone, any audience, any stage, or any stakes. That's because I've been there, done that, and bought the t-shirt, and if Mumf thinks otherwise, he's in for a big, big surprise.
“Suddenly, Mad Mumf's biggest strength, and his biggest asset against 99% of the Action Packed Wrestling roster, isn't a 'plus' anymore. It's a 'neutral.' Take the biggest strength of any wrestler away, and they'd better have a damn good backup plan. Does Mad Mumf have that?”
Smith shrugs his broad shoulders.
A.C.: “Who the hell knows?
“On the flip side, though, there's no doubt that I can beat opponents in a variety of different ways. I can intimidate them. I can overpower them. I can outwrestle them. I can outbrawl them, and I can dig down and win matches that require more grit than skill. That's one of the reasons I've had such a long reign as APW Xtreme Champion, and why I've been able to beat a list of challengers that's extremely long and wide-ranging in nature.
“Mad Mumf? He won't get psyched out, sure. What else has he got? How is he going to use his skills when the biggest tool he has isn't at his disposal anymore? Suddenly, there's a chance he turns into a one-trick pony when the man across the ring from him, a guy who has the title he wants very much, is a proverbial Swiss army knife.
“Some of the greatest efforts in sports have come when one person or team has their primary weapon taken away. However, the reason we remember them is because those athletes and teams had second and third options that stepped up and rose to the occasion. I have those back-up plans, and they've proven to be very effective. Mad Mumf, though?”
Another shrug.
A.C.: “I've never operated in secret. For better or for worse, I'm pretty much an open book, and what you see is what you get. I'm a known quantity, but just because I don't lie in the weeds and surprise people doesn't mean I can't be successful at what I do, and I've proven that over the past several years.
“I don't throw smoke and mirrors at people. I never have, and I never will. All I do is go out there and go all-out from bell to bell, and over the past year or so, very few in APW have been better at that than yours truly. What I've been able to do has been enough to beat a bunch of guys that any wrestling fan around the world would know, and I'm plenty proud of that.
“Michael Lively, Nathaniel Havok, Buckson Gooch, Delikado, Nick Watson, and plenty of others have tried everything to beat me. They all had their strengths, and I took them away and used them to my advantage. What, precisely, will Mad Mumf do to prevent that, something a bunch of people with long track records of success were unable to do?”
One final shrug, and Smith, partially rejuvenated from his earlier exhaustion, springs up out of his chair to his full 6'8” height.
A.C.: “There are some questions I don't have answers for, but that'll never stop me from doing what I do best, both inside and outside the ring. Additionally, it won't stop me from going all-out to do what I CAN control to the best of my ability, and that's what's going to serve me very well this week in Greece.
“Mad Mumf's on a hot streak of late, but he's never had to deal with someone like me. He wants what I've got, and against a lot of past APW Xtreme Champions, it'd probably be enough to win the title. But not me. I'm the guy that's not going to panic, not going to wilt under pressure, and not going to be intimidated by a guy approaching a match in a business-like fashion, because I'm wired the exact same way.
“Shione Oshima was better than me last week. I don't dispute that. Any notion that Mad Mumf is going to be better than me THIS week, though? THAT, I dispute. And I look forward to proving that wrong on Thursday night.”
Smith walks out of the shot. We hear him grabbing the hanger with his suit on it, one we saw earlier in the video, and his footsteps become quieter and quieter as our scene fades to black.
