Post by wmh on Sept 4, 2024 10:05:54 GMT
In a gritty gym in Miami, the air thick with the smell of sweat and determination. The walls are lined with old-school boxing posters, the clang of weights echoes through the space, and the dim lighting casts long shadows. In the corner, William Miller Harris stands, his rugged frame glistening with sweat as he finishes a set of bench presses.
William Miller Harris: So, here we are in Miami, the city of dreams and broken promises. But let me tell you something—I'm not here to play nice, and I'm sure as hell not here to make friends. I’m here to climb to the top, to be the star, to be the name everyone remembers.
Harris grabs a towel, wiping the sweat from his brow, his eyes never leaving the camera.
William Miller Harris: Eamon Keane. A man with a reputation, a man who's as dangerous as he is unpredictable. And now I’m supposed to team with him? Let’s be real—I don’t trust Keane as far as I can throw him. He’s a renegade, a wild card. But I can’t deny the man’s a great wrestler. Together, we’re a force to be reckoned with, even if we’re on different pages. But mark my words, Keane, I’ve got my eye on you.
He stands up, pacing slowly, his intensity building with each word.
William Miller Harris: Barry Moran, Metallica Panther II—you two think you’ve got what it takes to stop me? To stop us? Let me tell you something, boys. I’ve been in this business longer than you’ve probably been alive. I’ve fought the best, I’ve beaten the best, and I’m still standing. You think you can derail my path to the top? Think again.
He pauses, his expression hardening as he stares into the lens.
William Miller Harris: I’ve seen it all, done it all, and now it’s my time. I didn’t come this far to be second best. I’m going to be the star, the name on everyone’s lips, and nothing—no team, no wrestler, no obstacle—is going to stop me. So, Keane, Moran, Panther—get ready. Because once I step into that ring, there’s only one outcome. I win, I rise, and I take my place at the top where I belong.
He glares at the camera for a final moment before walking off, the camera fading to black.
William Miller Harris: So, here we are in Miami, the city of dreams and broken promises. But let me tell you something—I'm not here to play nice, and I'm sure as hell not here to make friends. I’m here to climb to the top, to be the star, to be the name everyone remembers.
Harris grabs a towel, wiping the sweat from his brow, his eyes never leaving the camera.
William Miller Harris: Eamon Keane. A man with a reputation, a man who's as dangerous as he is unpredictable. And now I’m supposed to team with him? Let’s be real—I don’t trust Keane as far as I can throw him. He’s a renegade, a wild card. But I can’t deny the man’s a great wrestler. Together, we’re a force to be reckoned with, even if we’re on different pages. But mark my words, Keane, I’ve got my eye on you.
He stands up, pacing slowly, his intensity building with each word.
William Miller Harris: Barry Moran, Metallica Panther II—you two think you’ve got what it takes to stop me? To stop us? Let me tell you something, boys. I’ve been in this business longer than you’ve probably been alive. I’ve fought the best, I’ve beaten the best, and I’m still standing. You think you can derail my path to the top? Think again.
He pauses, his expression hardening as he stares into the lens.
William Miller Harris: I’ve seen it all, done it all, and now it’s my time. I didn’t come this far to be second best. I’m going to be the star, the name on everyone’s lips, and nothing—no team, no wrestler, no obstacle—is going to stop me. So, Keane, Moran, Panther—get ready. Because once I step into that ring, there’s only one outcome. I win, I rise, and I take my place at the top where I belong.
He glares at the camera for a final moment before walking off, the camera fading to black.