Holden is seated on his little couch in his tiny mobile home, holding a cotton ball. The Resistance World Championship rests in his lap. He rips it in half and stares at it, confused. He reaches off camera and grabs a bag of cotton balls. He takes one out and rips it in half again easily. Still confused, he does this three more times. Finally, he shrugs.
“I don't get it. I just don't get it. What kind of cotton balls are you using, Arthur? I mean, yeah, I'm not the strongest guy in SHOOT Project, but I can easily rip through cotton balls, so I don't really know what that metaphor was all about. You know, I used to work at a library, and I just really think that those resources might be useful to you because I'm just not sure if you know what, like, some words mean.”
“But…credit where credit is due. That was quite a spooky tale you weaved. Just in time for Halloween, right? And I totally get why you're in charge of Sammy Rochester because man, that was all downright poetic in the description of horrendous violence that you intend your big child monster to enact on me.”
Holden grins slyly at the camera, popping his neck side to side.
“Here's the thing, though: I know Sammy's dangerous. I'm a student of this game. I've watched old SHOOT. I've seen the Sammy Rochester era with Jacob Mephisto. Hell, I know about Sammy's extracurriculars outside of the ring, problems in various mental health facilities and whatnot. I know he's a big, scary guy, and I know that Zenith is going to be a long, painful night.”
“But you know something, Sammy and Arthur? The weirdest thing always seems to happen. Everybody always says Sammy Rochester is going to kill the person that he's in the ring with. And then they get in the ring with him and are booked the next week; perfectly capable of combat. And this keeps happening over and over and over again until the mystique of Sammy Rochester wears off, no one really cares that there's a big toddler in the ring, and he just kind of… vanishes. He goes off somewhere, he goes on one of his many extracurricular adventures, and when everyone has forgotten about him, a new wrestling psychopath trots him out. And usually Sammy has a fresh coat of paint, that new wrestler smell.”
“I know the game; you've got to play up how dangerous the guy who doesn't know how to talk is. And I fully recognize that he is very dangerous. He has hurt people very, very badly. He has also come and gone from this company multiple times, and in all those times has not accomplished much.”
“Ringleader Arthur Pleasant, head of the demonstrance big top circus, is living out the carnie wrestler dream that has been in this sport since… what? The 1800s? Behold the freak, fear him children, be glad that I keep him behind metal bars.”
Holden does spooky fingers at the camera
"Suicide, right? That's what we're calling my challenge. You called it that, and I know others on the internet or in the dirt sheets are also saying the same thing. This Nobody indy kid has bit off more than he can chew, not only challenging Sammy Rochester to a match, but also making it no-disqualification. Sammy's going to choke him with a chain. Sammy's going to squeeze his eyeballs out. Sammy's going to do all manner of awful horror show things to this poor kid, whose only accomplishment is holding an indie title. Shoot, I've already heard that people in Alexei’s camp are calling my title win a fluke.”
"But, like, what do you expect me to do? Sammy lawn darts me into the ringpost, cracks my teeth, and leaves me bloody, and I'm supposed to… move along? I'm not supposed to be audacious? I'm not supposed to accept open challenges? I'm not supposed to believe that I can take anybody on this roster? And then when I sit around waiting for opportunities, and I no longer get booked on the shows, what then? Everyone will say he didn't do enough, he didn't take enough chances, he didn't take any risks, he relied on his natural talents but wasn't willing to take any big swings.”
“I’m not suicidal, I’m audacious, as audacious as anyone in this company, and what I’m discovering is that a lot of you SHOOT Project veterans have egos like cotton balls, soft and easy to tear into. You beat me in the ring, Arthur, but you had to show that my mere challenge got under your skin by siccing Sammy on me after the match. You’re so bothered that I…what? Did my job as a wrestler and answered an open challenge that YOU set forth.”
“Poor old Arty had to put some work in because none of the ‘real’ names wanted to give him the time of day. Hey, don’t take it so personally, Pleasant. I saw you all alone on the dance floor and thought you needed a partner. Now, you’ve decided your big man wants a dance to, and brother, we’re going to tango.”
“Sammy’s going to hurt me, but I’m going to give him some of that shit back. See, you’re right, Arty. I could die a nobody out there, but the thing about being a nobody is that there is a freedom to it. If I lose, everyone forgets. If I lose, it’s embarrassing for a day or two and then everyone moves on.”
“But if I win…and I can win, Sammy…if I win…well…”
“Who gets forgotten…like they’ve been forgotten before.”
Holden smirks and winks at the camera.
“See you soon.”