Xander Valentine vs. Drake Hemingway

[Konrad Raab]

2 RP Limit for singles

3500 word max per RP

Deadline: 11:59:59 pm ET Wednesday, October 6, 2021

[Xander Valentine]

1 of 2: https://scwexecutioner.wordpress.com/202...d-insults/

[Xander Valentine]

For forty days, Jesus searched for answers in the desert. For forty days, he challenged his being through starvation, not only in a physical sense but also a metaphorical rebuff to the temptation offered up by the Devil. He learned the nature of his soul. For forty-nine days, Buddha avoided physical comforts and pleasure, so-called earthly desires, during his fasting to find much the same enlightenment. We as men lose context to our roles, our place. We lose sense of who we are, become blind to the truths we hold and allow for our mind’s intelligence to conjure delusions.

And Drake, you’re no different.

And Drake, you’re a lesser man as a result.

And I know, I shouldn’t cast the first stone. I know that I stand on shaky grounds, for me to be a judge of character is me to expose myself to all the well-deserved criticisms about my personhood. But I rip my shirt, show my bare chest, and welcome any scarlet letter to be carved into my flesh. I’m a sinner, Drake. I’ve made many mistakes during the course of my life, grievous errors in judgement, fallen before my insecurities, and lashed out against the world for my weakness. But I’ve decided…

No more.

And I whipped off the blindfold, stepped up before the mirror and stared deep into my own eyes. And what did I see? A soul filled with torment, afflicted by guilt and darkened by resentment. I was supposed to be the promised one, the most dominant force in combat sports. And then I went off the rails, hampering my career. I found excuses. I blamed others. I didn’t take accountability. I lost sight of what I was fighting for, just fought out of instinct. Fought other men’s battles. Fought pointless wars over nothing but vanity. My insanity held me back as a person, as a soldier, as a goddamn champion. But through providence, perhaps divine, perhaps not, I’ve found footing on solid ground once more. I know what I am fighting for, who I am fighting for, and what accomplishments I’m capable of. Through suffering, I eventually found a purpose and through that purpose, my will to live--- no, my will to ascend has been renewed. The fever dream is over. The shroud has dissipated. And my eyes are open wide, staring ahead, with my chin held high.

I’m back.

And I can’t help but see you as the antithesis to my metamorphosis, Drake. I can’t see you as the same lost soul swimming in a slimy fish bowl. If my memory serves right, you’ve been in SCW with Loretta by your side, to make a difference, shape the world in your vision. But how did that work out? You found challenges in the adversity that rose before you. And instead, lowering yourself, committing yourself to that chosen path forward, you ran away. Makes me wonder if that was really your calling. If you weren’t simply a tool for Loretta to use to see her own fulfillment instead of yours.

And now you’re back, again fighting another person’s battle. Shows me you lack your own purpose. You’re clinging on to others in order to find a reason to stand and fight. And I get it, nothing is scarier than being left adrift on the ocean blue. Nothing is more terrifying to the driven than a lack of direction. We’re both spear points, needed to be direct towards some greater goal. Right now, you’re searching for that answer in all the wrong places. Minvera isn’t God, but the Devil. You need to dig deep, pull back your ribs and look within to find what you’re missing, to find your true purpose. Until you do that, you’re nothing but a mercenary, a spiritual vagabond wandering from war to war, never returning to a mindset called home.

I smell the stench of decaying flesh upon you. I hear your shallow breathing. Your heartbeat is faint, Drake. The task before me isn’t glamorous, it’s particular. This week on Breakdown, I’ll scavenge the remains of a Jackal. I’ll peck at his eyes. All in order to live for another day, another day where hopefully I can be given a second chance. Your flesh is sustenance for me, Drake. A win over you is the incerinent that helps my fire burn hotter, putting heat on SCW to give me an opportunity to reclaim my place at the very top of the proverbial food chain. And I know, I know regardless of my assessment regarding your character, that a poorly aimed rifle can still kill. You pack firepower. You’re a loose cannon that very well could sink this ship I’m sailing if I am not careful.

But that doesn’t me I’m afraid, only wise and cautious.

I know the threat you provide. And in the back of my mind, I keep wondering how much more dangerous it would be if you were fighting for yourself. If your soul and mind were aligned to form a blade. If you were fighting for your own war, for your own machinations. You have all the tools that are required to be a mover and shaker, with enough power to divert the winds of destiny towards whatever direction you desire. Only if you find the missing component in the formula, you could set in motion a chain reaction that will end with your mark being left on this sport. You could be a force of nature. But that’s a lot of ‘ifs’, nothing material, nothing locked in, and that is going to be made apparent when I share the ring with you. Like I did to Glory, like I did to Asher, and now it’s your turn.


You’re going to see the contrast between us. The whole world will too.

And if you’re not careful this week, you’ll fade to black.

Another victim, another lost soul left buried under the sands of time, destined to be forgotten.