PROMO: At Home With The Champ

[Toxxic 0]

Location: In Toxxic’s living room in Sacramento, California

 

Ben Hardy is sitting on a leather armchair, looking a little out of place. Above him, framed in a glass case on the wall, is a ripped, bloodied, tattered and slightly faded T-shirt bearing the Autobot insignia and the words ‘Heroic Rockstars’. To his right is the widescreen plasma TV and wall of DVDs and videos, most concerned with wrestling. Opposite him sits the grinning form of Toxxic, SWF World Champion… and former SWF Tag Champion.

 

“Toxxic, first of all I’d like to say thanks for inviting us into your home,” Hardy begins.

 

“No worries,” Toxxic acknowledges with a tilt of his head.

 

“It’s fair to say that since your return slightly over eighteen months ago it’s been something of a roller coaster ride for you,” Hardy says, “what with your feud with and then tag partnership with Landon Maddix, who is of course now our Commissioner… the unwelcome appearance from your past of Gabriel Drake… winning not one but two more World Titles, winning the Cruiserweight Title, two more Tag Title reigns… but now things seems to be on a downward turn again,” the veteran interviewer continues, adjusting his glasses. “The Fabulous Jakey hasn’t been Cruiserweight Champion for some time, now you and Austin Sly have lost the Tag Titles, and lost them to a man whom you have never lost to in all of your previous encounters, Dace Night.”

 

“Well, you’ve got to say it’s about time he won one of them,” Toxxic grins, apparently not discomforted by Hardy’s statement.

 

“Perhaps,” Hardy agrees, “but the next test is looming on the horizon; at the Clusterfuck, three days before your 25th birthday, you need to defend the World Title against Michael Alexander. You beat him earlier this year in the run-up to Genesis, but he has earned his shot by becoming the first New Blood Champion to defend the title three times, and it’s fair to say that he’s hungry for a chance to prove himself against you. What’s more, he’s publicly stated that in your last meeting you didn’t beat him, you escaped from him. What is your response?”

 

“My response is that Michael Alexander needs to quit hiding behind long words and start looking for the meanings of things,” Toxxic says bluntly. “He might claim that I ‘escaped’ him in our previous meeting, but let’s look at the facts. I went all of the last year and only lost one solitary singles match, which means that Alexander must have a really high opinion of himself if he thinks that he was about to get the second.”

 

“I think we can take Alexander’s high opinion of himself as read,” Hardy opines.

 

“Point taken,” Toxxic nods, “but let’s look at another fact. You don’t have to dominate your opponent to win a match Ben, and you don’t need to brutalise them either. You don’t have to throw them around, you don’t have to tie them in knots on the mat, you don’t need to make them bleed and you don’t need to whiz around the ring like a gibbon on speed. To win a match clean, to win a title, you need to do one of two simple things; either you need to make your opponent tap out, or you need to pin their shoulders to the mat for the referee’s three-count. In our previous meeting Michael Alexander failed to do either of those things, and that is why he lost. I pinned him, and that is why I won. And Ben,” the Straight-Edge Sensation adds, “in the SWF right now, and for the last year and a half, I have been the man when it comes to winning one-on-one matches. Whatever Michael Alexander may think of himself and whatever preparations he may make, he needs to be aware that he will be getting into the ring with the greatest in the modern-day SWF.”

 

“It’s hard to argue against your record,” Hardy nods, “but Michael Alexander has a devastating submission move in his repertoire, the Gordian Knot… and you have a history of losing big matches to submission moves.”

 

“Hnh,” Toxxic snorts, looking vaguely annoyed for the first time in the interview. “I’m not too proud to admit it Hardy, I will tap out rather than risk injury. I’m not one of these more-testosterone-then-brains freaks who will hang on and pass out. What purpose does that serve? I’ve been in there against people like that - Aecas and Insane Luchador spring to mind - and it hasn’t stopped me beating them. You just hang on until they stop moving, then hang on a bit longer in case they’re faking it.

 

“One of the reasons I’ve been as consistent as I have, and one of the reasons I’ve racked up as many wins as I have is that I know how to take care of myself in the ring,” the Straight-Edge Sensation tells his fellow Englishman. “By that I mean, I don’t stand around trading headshots with guys who swing an elbow at a thousand miles an hour, I don’t let myself get tied into pretzels by the Fleshers of this world, and I don’t subject myself to unnecessary punishment. If I know I can’t get out of the submission and I can’t reach the ropes, and I’m pretty sure the guy who’s applying it isn’t about to let go for whatever reason then yeah, I’ll tap out. And yes,” Toxxic admits, “that lost me the World Title to Landon Maddix, and then again to Ejiro Fasaki, and it lost me a match to Scott Pretzler, and my only singles loss last year came to a submission from Clark. And what happened?” he asks. “I came back and beat Landon - came back and beat him on two different occasions, as it happens. And I beat Scott in our Canadian Deathmatch, because I didn’t let him injure me in the Snowflake Clutch prior to that. As for Ejiro, well,” Toxxic shrugs, “I don’t know where he is right now, but he wasn’t taking care of himself in the ring, that’s for damn sure. Clark’s disappeared off radar too, probably to save himself the beating he knows he’s going to get if he steps into the ring with me for a fifth time.”

 

“And your loss to VDN?” Hardy prods.

 

“Sure, I tapped out to Dace,” Toxxic nods, “but let’s be honest, wouldn’t you if you were in the Torture Crab and Va’aiga was kicking you in the head? I mean, I’m pretty sure that’s against the letter of the rules anyway,” the straight-edger adds, “but on the other hand given what Sly was pulling in that match I probably can’t complain too much… my point is,” he continues, “that having a devastating submission move is one thing. Actually applying the bastard is another. Michael Alexander tried for the Gordian Knot in our last meeting, and every time he went for it I put him in his place until in the end, he gave up and tried a different approach… which is when I beat him,” Toxxic reminds Hardy. “That’s how I do it Ben, I don’t let the guy wrestle his normal match. I will let you come at me, I will see what you bring to the table, then one way or another I will out-manoeuvre you, out-think you or out-wrestle you until you have to abandon your gameplan, and when you’re scrabbling around trying to adapt I will take you apart.”

 

“Isn’t that a high-risk strategy?” Hardy enquires.

 

“Eh, maybe it would be for some people,” Toxxic shrugs, “for me, I’ve got it down to an art form. I’ve perfected it on people like Maddix, Flesher, Johnny, Danny, Hawke… anyone you care to name, really. There’s no-one in the SWF who can beat me quicker than I can work out how to beat them, fact. It’s not an approach I’d advocate for rookies,” he grins, “but when you’re as good as me, that’s just how it is.”

 

“OK,” Hardy nods, trying not to drown in egomania, “is there anything else you’d like to say? Perhaps a message for Michael Alexander himself?”

 

“Sure,” Toxxic says, and turns to face the camera. “Michael, I hope you’re paying attention to this,” he says. “I hope you’re listening hard. I hope that you sharpen up your game and at the Clusterfuck you bring everything you have. I hope you remember that last time, everything you had wasn’t enough. I hope you step up and give me some real competition for this belt,” he says, slapping it, “because I’m starting to feel that competition is sadly lacking, know what I mean? Come on, I’ve beaten everyone else,” he grins, “in most cases more than once. If you can’t do this Michael… well, we’re probably going to see Va’aiga walking into the ring with me and seeing if he can last more than ten minutes of continuous activity without Dace Night doing all the running around and taking all the shit-kicking for him, and we don’t want some gassing Maori passing out in the middle of the squared circle, do we? But Michael,” Toxxic continues, grin disappearing, “a word of advice. If you genuinely thought that last time was a fluke… if you’re still labouring under the misconception that two chopblocks and a fancy leglock is going to be enough to dethrone the most dominant SWF World Champion in history… if, above all else, you think that anything less than your very very best is going to be even nearly enough to trouble me…”

 

He leans closer, steel-grey eyes boring into the lens.

 

“…prepare to be proved wrong.”

 

 

 

FIN~