Ramblings of a Failure

ANGEL: All that work just to get back to where I was.

Tailcoat Val has the International Championship in her possession, a trophy gained through triumph over a perpetual nuisance. Still, it's clear what he's talking about--since he's left UnMatched, that title, as prestigious as it is, remains the peak of his accomplishments.

ANGEL: And they'll say I sold my soul to do it.

He runs his fingers through his graying beard, piercing gray eyes focused on nothing in particular.

ANGEL: What soul?

He laughs a hollow, humorless laugh.

ANGEL: If I remember correctly, I was a husk--the laughingstock of this company. If I had a soul to sell, it's because Valerie pieced it back together in the first place.

Hearing her name like that feels taboo, yet it slips through Angel's lips as though he were speaking of a friend he's had for years.

ANGEL: If I had a soul to sell, it's because Shay Hoxton missed my heart when he plunged that knife into my chest at Ascendance. He drew blood, for sure, only to drown himself in it. I swam through that river and knew that I had barely escaped with my life, but I did just enough to survive.

Every word he says is colored by grittiness ground into him by the life and career he's had. Angel could say 'hello' at this point, and it would sound vaguely threatening.

ANGEL: Lost count of how many times I've slipped the noose. Executioner and all those who paid to see my demise can't be too happy. He's been waiting on me for a long time now.

Angel rubs the back of his neck just to check that that metaphor remains a turn of phrase and not a premonition.

ANGEL: And he's gonna keep on waiting.

For a second, it looks as though the segment will end there. Then something shifts in Angel's expression. Now there's life in his eyes that haven't been there for a long time.

ANGEL: Shay Hoxton, when I handed you that envelope, I looked you in the eyes and told you this wasn't personal. I meant it. I needed the title to make it understood the first time I won it wasn't a fluke. I needed that victory to say without me opening my mouth that I'm still as good as this company's best. Now that I have this title....I want more. I want what's been evading me for years.

There's a gleam in his eyes when Angel reveals his goals...the challenge that's been fueling him since his return.

ANGEL: Hoxton, I would have loved to have gone our separate ways… Seems all paths to the top of CMV go through you. You've got the number one contender on your heels along with the man who thinks he should be number one contender...but let's be honest…I'm the one you're really afraid of. And you want to know why? It's not because I've beaten you twice...well, it is...because I have...but it's more than that. I'm the opposite of everything you stand for...and yet I'm your equal. No matter what you do or say, you can't get rid of me. That Shay Hoxton is better than Brett Angel is one lie you can never get away with. So, I guess that leaves you with wishing Jacob Ziegler pulls off what you couldn't.

Angel's lips twist into a scowl.

ANGEL: Mr. Ziegler, I've heard what you've been saying. You've proclaimed that you've been around half the time but been twice the star. You've told anyone willing to give you the time of day that I'm a failure and that you will be doing Supremacy a favor by taking the title from me and beating me so badly in the process that they'll have to replace me in the Tug of War match. According to you, any replacement would be an immense improvement…be it Rubik or Rhys Matthews. Those are strong words, but that's not what I don't like about you.

His expression turns cold, and his voice lowers.

ANGEL: When you returned, you said that all you care about is the money right to the faces of the fans who were so elated to see you back in a CMV ring. That's the kind of selfishness I've been fighting against since I laced up my first pair of boots. The kind of ego and greed of a man who's only working toward what's in his best interest. The kind of man who I will fight with everything I have to keep from winning a championship that I hold...with pride. I can't do much about your attitude, but I can send you back to your hotel room empty handed…then again, maybe fistfuls of cash are all you need to get you through a tough night.

Angel chuckles, but not at his wordplay.

ANGEL: I'm a failure, huh? I suppose you're right in a way. Not a single man in the history of CMV has failed more times than I have. That's because not a single man is held to the standard that Brett Angel is. But there's a whole lot of double standards where Brett Angel is concerned. You say you're twice the star, and I won't dispute that, because that can only mean the bar for becoming a star is half as high these days. Longevity has been my greatest curse. I don't give them time to miss me. When I get knocked down, I'm right back up. I don't wait for hall of fame inductions and bigger paychecks to motivate me. Who has tried as hard as me? Reinvented themselves more times than me? And I don't have to disappear for months to do it just to return with the same, tired act. One that's not quite working as well for you this time around, I see. Guess that's what brought you to my doorstep. Crossfire's been a little too hot for you to handle…if I were a betting man, I'd wager this title match is them throwing you a bone before you get fed up with your mediocrity and quit again.  

Angel leans back in his chair and smiles.

ANGEL: Depending on who you ask, I've been on borrowed time since I made my debut. Years later, and I'm a champion once again. You think they'd learn by now to stop trying to write my eulogy, because I'm always the one who ends up dancing on their graves in the end.