<i>(We fade in on a gym interior – possibly the same one we usually see in Aaron Jones’ promos, though this looks to be a different section of it. In the center of the camera shot is a weight bench, on which Jones is seated. Various and sundry weight equipment is visible on all sides of the bench. If anyone else is actually in the room, though, they’re not to be seen. Jones has the worn-out, sweat-drenched appearance of someone who might not know his limits, and he exhales deeply before addressing the camera)</i>
<b>Aaron Jones:</b> You ask for honesty, you get sweeping predictions of the future presented as inevitable.
It’s what I deserve, I guess, for not being clearer.
<i>(Jones stretches his arms, then his neck, in the exaggerated fashion of a person who isn’t quite sure how to get them to stop aching)</i>
<b>Jones:</b> I never said threats were unusual for you, of course. I’m pretty sure I’m the only member of the EPW roster who doesn’t threaten his opponents, and there are good, solid reasons for that.
What was unusual for you – or so it seemed to me, anyway – was the tone. Less evil genius, more ’80s movie jock. I’m half expecting the phrase “sweep the leg” to work its way into your next round of proclamations.
That whole “beat you to death and then bathe in your blood” line might sound normal coming from an Anarky or a Sean Stevens or even a Cameron Cruise, if you really piss him off. But from you?
Shoot, re-watch the video you just filmed for me a month from now and try to make it through the whole thing without wincing and saying, “Ugh, is that what I sounded like?” It’s going to be like hearing your voice on an answering machine for the first time.
I get it. You’re upset about losing. I know alllllllll about that.
You’re feeling pangs of insecurity that you might not be the center of the EPW universe for the next few weeks. You’re probably a little spooked that the next time you have to put that World Heavyweight Title on the line, maybe you won’t be able to keep it on a technicality.
Hey, I don’t blame you. I’d probably feel the same way in your position. And for that matter, who’s to say I wouldn’t also deal with those feelings by doubling down on the threats of permanent injury?
So I know where you stand. And you know where I stand. I laid it out pretty simply, I think: I might not win, but I won’t back down.
Anyway, the threats I’ve heard before. And the attempts to diminish my reasons for being here in EPW, I’ve heard those even more often.
Frankly, I don’t expect a lot of people to fully understand my motivations, especially if they haven’t been there themselves. And at any rate, if I had completely different motivations for stepping in the ring, I’m sure everyone would try to diminish those too.
That’s how this works, right?
No, First, what’s got me curious here is those bold guarantees of yours that I leave Aggression 71 on a stretcher. Or maybe in a body bag, as I half expect you to claim the next time I see your smiling face.
I asked you for truth, and what you gave me was clairvoyance.
It’s a neat parlor trick.
But here’s the thing: You’re not the first psychic to pull that image up in his crystal ball.
In fact, I’ve seen that image pop up in so many crystal balls, I’m starting to think it’s just the same piece of stock footage being played over and over again. Just Photoshop in two new faces, and you’re good to go.
Rezin and Anarky threatened to utterly destroy me. So did Malcolm Joseph-Jones, if I cost him his place in the King of the Cage tournament. And those six other guys I shared the ring with in that Television Title match? Heck, the only ones who didn’t threaten to kill me were the ones who didn’t say anything at all.
Take a close look, First.
I’m. Still. Here.
Now you’re going even further than they did. You’re making an iron-clad guarantee that my career ends at Aggression 71.
Is that really the bar you want to set for yourself?
I don’t doubt that you’re bigger, stronger, faster, smarter than me. I don’t doubt that I’m outmatched. World champion versus winless in singles competition – who do you suppose those odds favor?
But First, I’m willing to bet this isn’t the first guarantee you’ve made.
I’m willing to bet that you swore up and down you wouldn’t lose your title to Anarky. Or to Cameron Cruise. Or that you wouldn’t lose to Sean Stevens all those times before you finally beat him.
In fact, the first time Dis was running around EPW, I bet you swore – to yourself, if no one else – that that wasn’t the way you’d ever do business.
That’s the tricky thing about predicting the future, First. Sometimes your good intentions just aren’t enough to turn vision into reality.
Trust me on that one, First. I know what I’m talking about. I’ve got more good intentions than I know what to do with, and not a whole lot to show for them.
You might head to that ring fully planning to end my career, but there are a million things that can go wrong for you. Don’t forget, you’ve got a lot of enemies – enemies who might relish the thought of you being humiliated.
But let’s say that doesn’t factor in. Let’s say that from the first ring entrance to the final commercial break, our match at Aggression 71 is just the First and Aaron Jones – no walk-ons, guest stars or cameos except the referee.
You might dominate me in that ring. You might seek to injure, not to win. You might have a game plan laid out in advance, with all plays engineered to lead to grievous injury.
I think you’ll find, though, that I’m not quite the easy prey you believe me to be.
Do I stand a good chance of winning this match? Nah. Even I’m not going to make that claim. You stand a very, very good chance of beating me.
But destroying me? Injuring me? Ending my career?
You’ve made a lot of guarantees, First. And guarantees aren’t really my thing.
But because you’re the world champion, I’ve got an extra-special one just for you.
You’re not getting rid of me.
You may beat me, bloody me, break my bones – but you’re not getting rid of me.
That is the only guarantee you’ll get from me.
And you know what, First?
Right now, it’s the only guarantee I need.
<i>(Jones stares into the camera for a second or two before getting up and switching it off, cutting things to black)</i>