"O.T.F" Triumph

THE PRODIGY GROUP building stood in the background of this video. Undoubtedly Aaron Elliot was holding a meeting with Lennon Armada all in response to her loss at Conquest Colosseum.  Another topic of interest would probably be Jonah Aspinwall; the man who lost his chance at the Prodigy Championship, but was still given the card of PRODIGY by the man the video camera is focused on - James Christ.

“It’s been brought to my attention that I’m the longest reigning Prodigy champion.” James said before taking a deep drag from the cigarette that he held between his fingers. His eyes were focused on the distance, not anything in particular, but just looking somewhere that wasn’t the camera.

“Aaron has a hawk's eye for that kind of thing. I don’t count ‘em, it’s just another day in the office to me. Just like Conquest Colosseum; another day in the office. Did Jonah put up a fight? Absolutely. Honestly, it surprised me some - I didn’t expect it, no lie, and that’s why I gave him the PRODIGY card. Will he continue to earn his place? We’ll see.” He said before one last inhale, dropping the cig and stomping it out. The scraping from side to side as he twisted the toe of his Vans shoes onto the concrete, was picked up by the camera.

Exhaling a cloud of smoke, he turned to face the camera finally. “I did what I said I was gonna’ do, defend my championship and walk away with the Prodigy championship still slung over my shoulder. The best fighter is the only one that deserves to wear the championship; it’s been my motto since day one - and it rings true to this day. Week in and week out, I’ve proved to be the best - the toughest - fighter in this division, if not this company. And then I heard of Alejandro Rivera.”

James smirked a little, “Street fighter, boxer, wrestler - a jack of all trades, yeah? I heard this and needed to step into the ring with him, and it’s purely for the need to know. The desire to know who the toughest one is. A man who claims to be King, or me? What is a King without a crown, Alejandro? He’s a peasant. Just another normal man, an average joe. Another man that fills my division, promising to be something that he’s not. You may be tough, Alejandro, but the OTK - as you like to shorten it? - You are not. It’s going to be a hard crash when you fall from that high horse of yours, man, and you can cite me as the reason behind your fall and inevitable disappearance when I expose you as the fraud that you are.”

“Media has painted New York streets as some of the most dangerous around, and the stereotype of Dallas is the exact opposite. This is why you don’t believe in stereotypes. Where I grew up there weren’t horses, cowboys, ten-gallon hats and six-shooters; it was blood for blood. Keep your head down, but your eyes open. Statistically, boys and girls that grew up in my situation - in my neighborhood - didn’t make it out alive. Put down like feral dogs in the street, or thrown into a six-by-nine box with steel bars. So one could make the comparison that we’re cut from the same cloth, but the material I’m made from was pieced together scrap material. I’m unique. I’m one of a kind. You are just another cliche thug from New York city. I can’t even begin to count how many times we’ve seen that role played out.”

“You’ve played the role poorly, and now I’m about to embarrass you. A street fighter and a boxer at your age, with your experience, should body a man like me. Only a handful of years of experience in a form of combat mocked and ridiculed by you and your people. Boxers fully believe that boxing is the superior combat, but when pitted against a Muay Thai practitioner like myself, you’re going to find out that you’re out classed hands down. And it’s going to be a fucking quick realization for you, Alejandro, when my knees and elbows connect to your jaw quicker than you can think about avoiding them. This is the night where you get out-fought, big guy, and I will stand over your fallen body as the best fighter - as the most dominant fighter in this division, company and - perhaps - industry.”

He inhaled sharply, the smirk from before a distant memory as he spoke with unwavering intensity. “Every match I’ve won has been by knock out or tap out - and you’re going to be the next one, Alejandro. There’s no way around it. The only option you have, the only choice, that you have is one of those; to be knocked out, or to tap out. Which is it gonna’ be, King?”

That was it. He didn’t smirk, he didn’t smile - all he did was turn away from the camera again. Withdrawing a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, he slid one out of the pack and in between his lips.

“Can I bum one?” a small, feminine voice is heard from behind James. He turned to see Raquel Haythe standing behind him

Surprised, he offered her his pack. “Why aren’t you at the meeting?”

She smiled, taking a single cigarette and placing it between her lips. He, after lighting his own, moved his hand out with the lighter still struck. She leaned in and lit hers, inhaling before removing from her lips. “Aaron wanted to talk strategy with Lennon. Also, some fresh air is good every once in a while.”