“The records keep playin’ that same damn tune, don’t they, Bronson?”

[FADE-IN: on JUSTIN VOSS, in his garage at home.  Shifter in hand as he kneels beside a Harley Davidson Superglide Custom with ape hangers, a slight grin on his face as he addresses the camera.]

JUSTIN VOSS: 
“People waltz on into YOUR house singin’ that samn old song that you’re so sick of?  If that’s the case, Bronson, your needle must keep jumpin’ coz I’VE heard that same record your playin’ a thousand times by a thousand guys JUST LIKE YOU.”

[VOSS puts the shifter on the ground and stands, dusting his hands off on his pants leaving a track of grease.]

VOSS:
“See, you all think that because you speak with your fists you can shout louder than me.  The fact of the matter remains, Bronson, every time you knock me down I’ll get back up and I’ll hit you twice as hard.  So I beg you to just TRY and knock me out, brother. 

“I double dog DARE you.” (taps his chin twice with a finger)

[Pointing into the horizon like he could pin-point the DEFIANCE locker room.]

VOSS:
“How many of those guys backstage at DEFIANCE incite you to hit them as hard as you can, man?  Tell you to bring everything you got?  Poke the angry dragon with a stick in the eye? 

“None.”  (makes a zero gesture at the camera)

“That’s how many.  None of them do.  Because they fear you, Bronson.

“You’re a brute.  You’re a menace.  You’re a bad, BAD man, Bronson.  The Bombastic Bronson Box.  The first DEFIANCE Champion.”

[Snicker.]

VOSS:
“Look at my knees, Bronson..” ( points at his knees) “...they ain’t shaking.  They’re dead still. 

“They’re dead still coz I DON’T fear you.  I’m not scared of you.  You could’ve won every damn belt this joint has got, at the same time, melted them down into a big old solid gold bar and come swingin’ at my head when we collide at Retaliation and I STILL won’t be scared of you.

“And do you know why?   Do you know WHY this old has-been doesn’t bat an eyelid at the Wargod, Bronson?  Because just like YOU I’ve faced a million guys who’ve tried to do exactly what you’re sayin’ you’re gonna do.  You’re not the only old dog that’s been around the block, Bronson.  Every time I stepped into a ring people wanted to take my damn head off.  EVERY – TIME!  When you’re a smug faced sonofabitch like I used to be everybody’s gunnin’ to take you down and spread your blood like butter on bread. 

“Guys bigger and better than YOU have tried to do it.” (waggles a finger at the camera)

“And they’ve tried to do it and they’ve FAILED, too.

“When we go head-to-head, you’ll come with all intents and purposes of knocking my block off, sending me to damnation, but you’ll fall short when I fold you up like a concertina in the middle of the DAMN RING WITH A vDRIVER!”

[As the words course adrenaline through his veins, VOSS’ breathing becomes erratic.  His hands bawled into fists.]

VOSS:
“You talk about breaking me.” (displays the fresh air to one side of his body like there were something there) “You talk about disrespecting me.” (moves his hands to the other) “But the FACT of the matter remains, you simply have NOT come across someone like me before inside of a wrestling ring, Bronson. 

“You mock what you call a quest for reconciliation but I think you’ll find there is no atonement on my agenda WHATsoever, Bronson.” (clucks his tongue – shakes his head)

“I’m just finding peace with myself, man.  That’s why I stood in for Tom Sawyer and fought side-by-side with the Good Fight, man.  To find peace with myself.  Peace with the big JV.  Not YOUR God. 

“Albeit, it’s funny you should mention religion because I’m not a man who believes in deities and bad stories about magicians and crosses.  

“I’m a man who believes in people, Bronson.  People.

“Respect to you, brother, you NEED somethin’ to help you sleep at night.  Something to believe in makes that drab, dreary life of taking your frustrations out on others a little easier to stomach when you’ve got a confessional booth, a little wine and the cracker that leaves a taste in your mouth almost as bad as the one you’ll be left with when I kick your arse. 

“You NEED that, Bronson.  Religion does that for you.

“But there’s no Almighty in my life outside of my immediate family.  My parish is the people who come to that wrestling arena and give me the time of day to entertain them.  My church is the Church of Fight, man. 

“The Church of Fight!” (shadow boxes an uppercut)

“That’s where you get down on one knee, bow your head, pray to your God that the next punch doesn’t knock you STONE – COLD – DEAD!”

[On the last word, VOSS runs a thumb menacingly across his throat.  Matter of factly, eyes wide with the newest surge of adrenaline, VOSS eyeballs the camera nodding his head.]

VOSS:
“You’re a prayin’ man, Bronson, I know.  The good Lord was the salvation for your soul but I AM the damnation for the sad, sorry meatsack of a shell wrapped ‘round it, man.

“Shout.  Scream.  Stomp your feet.  Growl like a grizzly bear, brother, none of it means nothin’ to me except for WHAT goes down in the Lone Star Expo Center at Retaliation when I show you that I ain’t just any ordinary outsider, Bronson.

“I’m no fly by nighter, brother.” (waggles a finger at the camera)

“I’ll show you, ALL of you... that I’m JUST as DEFIANT as the rest’f ya.”

[Points down the barrel of the camera.]

VOSS:
“Just... as... DEFIANT!”

[FADE to BLACK!]

More Propaganda | View Justin Voss's Biography