Post by Nova Jackson on Jul 11, 2024 18:58:06 GMT -5
Make ‘em Believe
In the heart of downtown Kansas City, amidst the towering skyscrapers and bustling streets, Nova stands resolute in an earth green suit paired with a crisp polo shirt. His attire, complemented by green and white Nike sneakers. The city pulses around him with the rhythm of rush hour—a cacophony of honking cars, the murmur of pedestrians, and the occasional street performer’s melody weaving through the air. Neon lights flicker overhead, casting intermittent glows on the pavement below, where Nova stands with purpose.
![](https://i.pinimg.com/736x/13/13/6d/13136d40cbf75ef174216139bc46475f.jpg)
His gaze is fixed on the cityscape, a blend of architectural wonders and historic facades. Nova moves with a deliberate stride, each step echoing his determination. As he passes a local cafe, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee mixes with the scent of rain-washed streets, momentarily catching his attention. A street vendor hawks handcrafted jewelry nearby, their vibrant displays catching Nova’s eye briefly before he continues his path, adjusting the lapel of his suit with a subtle gesture of self-assurance amidst the city’s whirlwind.
Nova: "Welcome to my playground, where the echoes of legends past blend with the pulse of this city. Downtown's alive with the pulse of the city, Neon lights flicker, casting shadows pretty. I'm here, dressed sharp, eyes locked on the prize, Monday Night Smash, where Mad Dog meets his demise. See, I've trained hard, honed my skills like a blade, Focused and ready, no room for charade. Mad Dog, you're a coal miner, tough as they come, but in the ring, I'm the rising sun.”
As he speaks, the city seems to pulse with his words, the energy building towards the clash that awaits. Nova's eyes reflect the resolve of a warrior prepared for battle, each syllable a declaration of intent. The rhythm of his speech matches the beat of the city, a seamless fusion of artistry and raw determination. As he continues his monologue his eyes slightly drift to the skyline, and even though his words are all business, putting his best foot forwards in his promo, but mentally, he finds himself in a memory.
10 Months Ago –
As the final echoes of clashing mats and heavy breathing subside, Nova and Jakob Hysteria stand in the center of the training arena, their bodies glistening with sweat under the fluorescent lights. Beside him, Jakob Hysteria, his mentor and training partner, runs a hand through his wild mane of hair, a grin of satisfaction creasing his face. The air crackles with the residue of their intensity, a shared dedication to their upcoming challenges evident in every sinew of their tired but resilient bodies.
Jakob : “I hear you’re talking with WGWF.”
Nova: “A couple others too, but they are the big one.”
Jakob : “And you think you’re ready for this? You’ve trained what, 8 months, and you think you can be in a company like that?”
Nova looks down at the mat, almost in shame. Jakob has been there with him since day one, if anyone outside of himself, knows what he is capable of, its him. Yet the words of doubt in his voice rings deeper than any move in the ring.
Nova: “Of course.”
Jakob : “I don’t believe you, and neither will anyone else!”
Jakob kicks Nova in the mid-section, quickly lifts him up, but Nova reverses with a back slide. Shoves Jakob away from him but grabs his arm for a ripcord. Jakob quickly turns around with a jumping head kick, sending Nova to the mat, which allows him to quickly roll into a defensive position on one knee.
Nova: “Then I will just have to make them believe then!”
After Nova's defiant declaration, Jakob Hysteria stands over him, his expression a mix of sternness and pride. He brushes a hand through his unruly hair, strands clinging damply from the exertion of their training session. The fluorescent lights overhead cast sharp shadows across his face, accentuating the intensity in his eyes as he stares down at Nova.
Jakob : "Belief isn't given, kid. It's earned. You think those guys at WGWF are gonna care about your ambition? They'll eat you alive if you're not ready."
Nova pushes himself up from the mat, meeting Jakob's gaze with determination etched in every line of his face.
Nova: "I'll show them what I'm made of. Just watch."
Even after 10 months, the trouble to get to this point, a second chance. First attempt was a failure, not having any traction. Not only embarrassing himself, but the trust that Jakob put in him, helping him get to this company. “MAKE ‘EM BELIEVE”. The goal of any professional wrestler, of any athlete. Making them believe, the opponent, the crowd, the company. In order to be a success, everyone has to believe in you. Who you are, what you do, being fake will only be the end of opportunity.
![](http://static1.squarespace.com/static/58c70a0dd2b8576b5074454b/58c9ac319de4bbfcb04fec1b/5980a69d914e6ba7ea63b0f6/1520262868783/OddlyCorrect_KansasCity1.jpg?format=1500w)
The rich smell of coffee floods Nova’s senses, snapping him back into the present from thought. The Oddly Correct, unassuming yet inviting, welcomes coffee aficionados and casual passersby alike. Inside, the air is rich with the aromatic symphony of freshly ground beans and the gentle hum of conversation. The decor, a blend of rustic charm and modern artistry, creates an ambiance both comforting and inspiring. Nova, dressed sharply in an earth-green suit, steps up to the counter, his eyes gleaming with purpose. The barista, a master of their craft, greets him with a knowing smile.
Nova’s order is a ritual – a finely crafted pour-over, its essence captured in a moment of alchemical perfection. The barista moves with grace, each step a dance, each motion deliberate, as water meets grounds in a slow, swirling embrace. As Nova waits, he takes in the surroundings, the art-adorned walls telling stories of local talent and far-off inspirations. The soft clink of ceramic and the gentle hiss of the espresso machine blend into a melody that fills the space. Finally, the coffee is ready, its surface shimmering with promise. Nova accepts the cup with a nod of gratitude, the warmth seeping into his hands, grounding him in this moment of tranquility before the storm of the ring. He takes a sip, the flavors unfolding with complexity and depth, much like his journey.
Nova: “Mad Dog, your soul forged in the earth, like the deep, earthy notes of this coffee. Your grit is undeniable, but this week, I bring a different breed of hunger, sharp and invigorating. In the ring, your past meets my future, just as the rich bitterness of this brew meets the promise of a new day. I won’t downplay your accomplishments; I may be young, but I’m not naive. You've carved your path, and I respect that. But understand this: while you were forging yourself into a diamond, I've lived and breathed this journey. Every setback, every sacrifice—it's all led to this moment. Monday Night Smash isn’t just another match; it’s my proving ground.”
Nova pauses, locking eyes with the camera as if addressing Mad Dog directly. The coffee shop around him fades into the background, leaving only his intense gaze and unwavering determination in focus.
Nova: “Mad Dog, prepare yourself. Because come Monday night, in the heart of Kansas City, under the neon glow, there will be no doubt. This isn’t about just winning; it’s about showing the world who I am and what I’m capable of. You've had your time in the spotlight, now it's mine to rewrite the story. We all watched you let opportunities slip away. Get ready to witness history being made.”
With that, Nova takes one last sip of his coffee, the taste lingering on his tongue like a promise of victory. The sounds of the coffee shop gradually return, blending with the distant echoes of the city outside. The stage is set, and the countdown to Monday Night Smash begins, where Nova’s journey from doubt to determination will culminate in a clash that will redefine his career.
![](https://media.giphy.com/media/2uI8VmNs79JUPppJg7/giphy.gif)
Nova jolts awake, expecting to find himself in his bed. Instead, he is on the floor of a pitch-black room, his blanket draped over his legs just as it was when he went to sleep. A slow, creeping fog swirls around him. As he looks around in confusion, a voice pierces the darkness.
"Malik!"
His eyes widen in shock. He hasn't heard his first name in a long time. Slowly, a form begins to materialize from the fog, its features eerily familiar, almost as if he were looking into a mirror. The figure phases in and out of the darkness and fog, more specter than person.
"Malik, you've left home all alone… and now you find yourself in a hole. One oh so very deep, and no one to help you out of it."
Nova: "Sometimes you have to figure it out yourself."
"But you're 0 and 2, Malik. And now you think you can beat the miner? What hard work have you done to give you this delusion?"
Nova has had enough. He throws the blanket off, which quickly disappears upon hitting the floor. Pausing for a moment, confused by what just happened but accepting the situation, he turns back to the figure floating around him.
Nova: "Assuming you're some sort of spirit of doubts present, the worst attempt at a Christmas story ever. Malik may not have done much, but Nova Jackson, I have. I'm well aware of my failings with WGWF in the past. It all but got me fired. Don't try to lecture me on what's at stake here. I am well aware of my position, or lack thereof. Mark is not someone to take lightly. I've kept my focus on him, something I lacked before, as you so kindly pointed out."
"You could have played any sport, but you chose… Pro Wrestling? I bet your family is so proud of your… well… lack of accomplishments."
Nova: "They made their choice when I left. They know how to get ahold of me. Apparently through guilt in my dreams."
"Oh, is this some sort of fantasy for you? Am I just a figment of your imagination?"
Nova looks down at the endless darkness below, a slight smirk forming on his lips. He slowly shakes his head back and forth.
Nova: "What I think is your time is over, and your attempt failed. So why don't you go live in someone else's mind? I've given up on guilt, and I'm ready to change things."
The figure moves closer, invading Nova's personal space. Nova stands his ground, staring into the endless void that is the figure's face.
"Then why am I here?"
Suddenly, Nova's eyes fly open. He sits up, this time in the bed he expected to be in. Drenched in sweat, he looks around the darkened room, ensuring it was all just a dream. Taking a deep breath, he sits on the edge of his bed.
Nova: "Lesson learned.... don't eat Taco Bell.... after spending the day at the Zoo. Bad combination...."
As he sat on the edge of his bed, Nova couldn't shake the dream. The specter's words echoed, taunting him with doubts he thought he'd conquered. The figure's resemblance to himself was unnerving, a reminder of his internal battles.
He took a deep breath, centering himself. The past months had been a whirlwind of challenges, each testing his resolve. The pressure to prove himself and make his mentor proud weighed heavily. Yet, in quiet moments, he found strength in his journey.
Nova glanced at a family photo on his nightstand. It wasn't just his fight; it was for them too. Despite the hardships, he wouldn't have it any other way. The dream reminded him of his vulnerability but fueled his determination.
He stood, stretched, and looked out at the city lights. "Make 'em believe," he whispered. It was a promise to himself, his family, and everyone who doubted him. The journey was far from over, and he was ready for the next challenge.
In the heart of downtown Kansas City, amidst the towering skyscrapers and bustling streets, Nova stands resolute in an earth green suit paired with a crisp polo shirt. His attire, complemented by green and white Nike sneakers. The city pulses around him with the rhythm of rush hour—a cacophony of honking cars, the murmur of pedestrians, and the occasional street performer’s melody weaving through the air. Neon lights flicker overhead, casting intermittent glows on the pavement below, where Nova stands with purpose.
![](https://i.pinimg.com/736x/13/13/6d/13136d40cbf75ef174216139bc46475f.jpg)
His gaze is fixed on the cityscape, a blend of architectural wonders and historic facades. Nova moves with a deliberate stride, each step echoing his determination. As he passes a local cafe, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee mixes with the scent of rain-washed streets, momentarily catching his attention. A street vendor hawks handcrafted jewelry nearby, their vibrant displays catching Nova’s eye briefly before he continues his path, adjusting the lapel of his suit with a subtle gesture of self-assurance amidst the city’s whirlwind.
Nova: "Welcome to my playground, where the echoes of legends past blend with the pulse of this city. Downtown's alive with the pulse of the city, Neon lights flicker, casting shadows pretty. I'm here, dressed sharp, eyes locked on the prize, Monday Night Smash, where Mad Dog meets his demise. See, I've trained hard, honed my skills like a blade, Focused and ready, no room for charade. Mad Dog, you're a coal miner, tough as they come, but in the ring, I'm the rising sun.”
As he speaks, the city seems to pulse with his words, the energy building towards the clash that awaits. Nova's eyes reflect the resolve of a warrior prepared for battle, each syllable a declaration of intent. The rhythm of his speech matches the beat of the city, a seamless fusion of artistry and raw determination. As he continues his monologue his eyes slightly drift to the skyline, and even though his words are all business, putting his best foot forwards in his promo, but mentally, he finds himself in a memory.
*****
10 Months Ago –
As the final echoes of clashing mats and heavy breathing subside, Nova and Jakob Hysteria stand in the center of the training arena, their bodies glistening with sweat under the fluorescent lights. Beside him, Jakob Hysteria, his mentor and training partner, runs a hand through his wild mane of hair, a grin of satisfaction creasing his face. The air crackles with the residue of their intensity, a shared dedication to their upcoming challenges evident in every sinew of their tired but resilient bodies.
Jakob : “I hear you’re talking with WGWF.”
Nova: “A couple others too, but they are the big one.”
Jakob : “And you think you’re ready for this? You’ve trained what, 8 months, and you think you can be in a company like that?”
Nova looks down at the mat, almost in shame. Jakob has been there with him since day one, if anyone outside of himself, knows what he is capable of, its him. Yet the words of doubt in his voice rings deeper than any move in the ring.
Nova: “Of course.”
Jakob : “I don’t believe you, and neither will anyone else!”
Jakob kicks Nova in the mid-section, quickly lifts him up, but Nova reverses with a back slide. Shoves Jakob away from him but grabs his arm for a ripcord. Jakob quickly turns around with a jumping head kick, sending Nova to the mat, which allows him to quickly roll into a defensive position on one knee.
Nova: “Then I will just have to make them believe then!”
After Nova's defiant declaration, Jakob Hysteria stands over him, his expression a mix of sternness and pride. He brushes a hand through his unruly hair, strands clinging damply from the exertion of their training session. The fluorescent lights overhead cast sharp shadows across his face, accentuating the intensity in his eyes as he stares down at Nova.
Jakob : "Belief isn't given, kid. It's earned. You think those guys at WGWF are gonna care about your ambition? They'll eat you alive if you're not ready."
Nova pushes himself up from the mat, meeting Jakob's gaze with determination etched in every line of his face.
Nova: "I'll show them what I'm made of. Just watch."
*****
Even after 10 months, the trouble to get to this point, a second chance. First attempt was a failure, not having any traction. Not only embarrassing himself, but the trust that Jakob put in him, helping him get to this company. “MAKE ‘EM BELIEVE”. The goal of any professional wrestler, of any athlete. Making them believe, the opponent, the crowd, the company. In order to be a success, everyone has to believe in you. Who you are, what you do, being fake will only be the end of opportunity.
![](http://static1.squarespace.com/static/58c70a0dd2b8576b5074454b/58c9ac319de4bbfcb04fec1b/5980a69d914e6ba7ea63b0f6/1520262868783/OddlyCorrect_KansasCity1.jpg?format=1500w)
The rich smell of coffee floods Nova’s senses, snapping him back into the present from thought. The Oddly Correct, unassuming yet inviting, welcomes coffee aficionados and casual passersby alike. Inside, the air is rich with the aromatic symphony of freshly ground beans and the gentle hum of conversation. The decor, a blend of rustic charm and modern artistry, creates an ambiance both comforting and inspiring. Nova, dressed sharply in an earth-green suit, steps up to the counter, his eyes gleaming with purpose. The barista, a master of their craft, greets him with a knowing smile.
Nova’s order is a ritual – a finely crafted pour-over, its essence captured in a moment of alchemical perfection. The barista moves with grace, each step a dance, each motion deliberate, as water meets grounds in a slow, swirling embrace. As Nova waits, he takes in the surroundings, the art-adorned walls telling stories of local talent and far-off inspirations. The soft clink of ceramic and the gentle hiss of the espresso machine blend into a melody that fills the space. Finally, the coffee is ready, its surface shimmering with promise. Nova accepts the cup with a nod of gratitude, the warmth seeping into his hands, grounding him in this moment of tranquility before the storm of the ring. He takes a sip, the flavors unfolding with complexity and depth, much like his journey.
Nova: “Mad Dog, your soul forged in the earth, like the deep, earthy notes of this coffee. Your grit is undeniable, but this week, I bring a different breed of hunger, sharp and invigorating. In the ring, your past meets my future, just as the rich bitterness of this brew meets the promise of a new day. I won’t downplay your accomplishments; I may be young, but I’m not naive. You've carved your path, and I respect that. But understand this: while you were forging yourself into a diamond, I've lived and breathed this journey. Every setback, every sacrifice—it's all led to this moment. Monday Night Smash isn’t just another match; it’s my proving ground.”
Nova pauses, locking eyes with the camera as if addressing Mad Dog directly. The coffee shop around him fades into the background, leaving only his intense gaze and unwavering determination in focus.
Nova: “Mad Dog, prepare yourself. Because come Monday night, in the heart of Kansas City, under the neon glow, there will be no doubt. This isn’t about just winning; it’s about showing the world who I am and what I’m capable of. You've had your time in the spotlight, now it's mine to rewrite the story. We all watched you let opportunities slip away. Get ready to witness history being made.”
With that, Nova takes one last sip of his coffee, the taste lingering on his tongue like a promise of victory. The sounds of the coffee shop gradually return, blending with the distant echoes of the city outside. The stage is set, and the countdown to Monday Night Smash begins, where Nova’s journey from doubt to determination will culminate in a clash that will redefine his career.
*****
![](https://media.giphy.com/media/2uI8VmNs79JUPppJg7/giphy.gif)
Nova jolts awake, expecting to find himself in his bed. Instead, he is on the floor of a pitch-black room, his blanket draped over his legs just as it was when he went to sleep. A slow, creeping fog swirls around him. As he looks around in confusion, a voice pierces the darkness.
"Malik!"
His eyes widen in shock. He hasn't heard his first name in a long time. Slowly, a form begins to materialize from the fog, its features eerily familiar, almost as if he were looking into a mirror. The figure phases in and out of the darkness and fog, more specter than person.
"Malik, you've left home all alone… and now you find yourself in a hole. One oh so very deep, and no one to help you out of it."
Nova: "Sometimes you have to figure it out yourself."
"But you're 0 and 2, Malik. And now you think you can beat the miner? What hard work have you done to give you this delusion?"
Nova has had enough. He throws the blanket off, which quickly disappears upon hitting the floor. Pausing for a moment, confused by what just happened but accepting the situation, he turns back to the figure floating around him.
Nova: "Assuming you're some sort of spirit of doubts present, the worst attempt at a Christmas story ever. Malik may not have done much, but Nova Jackson, I have. I'm well aware of my failings with WGWF in the past. It all but got me fired. Don't try to lecture me on what's at stake here. I am well aware of my position, or lack thereof. Mark is not someone to take lightly. I've kept my focus on him, something I lacked before, as you so kindly pointed out."
"You could have played any sport, but you chose… Pro Wrestling? I bet your family is so proud of your… well… lack of accomplishments."
Nova: "They made their choice when I left. They know how to get ahold of me. Apparently through guilt in my dreams."
"Oh, is this some sort of fantasy for you? Am I just a figment of your imagination?"
Nova looks down at the endless darkness below, a slight smirk forming on his lips. He slowly shakes his head back and forth.
Nova: "What I think is your time is over, and your attempt failed. So why don't you go live in someone else's mind? I've given up on guilt, and I'm ready to change things."
The figure moves closer, invading Nova's personal space. Nova stands his ground, staring into the endless void that is the figure's face.
"Then why am I here?"
Suddenly, Nova's eyes fly open. He sits up, this time in the bed he expected to be in. Drenched in sweat, he looks around the darkened room, ensuring it was all just a dream. Taking a deep breath, he sits on the edge of his bed.
Nova: "Lesson learned.... don't eat Taco Bell.... after spending the day at the Zoo. Bad combination...."
As he sat on the edge of his bed, Nova couldn't shake the dream. The specter's words echoed, taunting him with doubts he thought he'd conquered. The figure's resemblance to himself was unnerving, a reminder of his internal battles.
He took a deep breath, centering himself. The past months had been a whirlwind of challenges, each testing his resolve. The pressure to prove himself and make his mentor proud weighed heavily. Yet, in quiet moments, he found strength in his journey.
Nova glanced at a family photo on his nightstand. It wasn't just his fight; it was for them too. Despite the hardships, he wouldn't have it any other way. The dream reminded him of his vulnerability but fueled his determination.
He stood, stretched, and looked out at the city lights. "Make 'em believe," he whispered. It was a promise to himself, his family, and everyone who doubted him. The journey was far from over, and he was ready for the next challenge.