Post by Jackson Burnside on Mar 24, 2023 10:06:27 GMT -5
It's March 18th, back at the Liacouras Center for the post-Access Denied media appearance. Folks have come and gone, some UWL officials remain at the long table at the front of the room. It isn't a packed audience, just a few local media people for some regional sports reels and a handful of pro wrestling-adjacent Internet columnists. The noise picks up and some cameras flash as the new Heritage Champion enters the room from the left. The Weatherman holds up the Heritage Championship with a grin on his face.
Burnside hasn't changed out of his ring gear yet, though he wears the sunglasses he's usually seen with backstage and carries a folded umbrella. Whether or not it is one of the newer HERITAGE CHAMPION designs he debuted weeks ago is unknown. Curiously he is carrying a tan plastic bag in his other hand and we cannot see what's inside it. Burnside walks along the back of the table to his empty seat in front of a few microphones. On the way he shakes hands with a few people and exchanges some words. He places the Heritage Championship down on the table and ensures that it faces outward and that the center plate is clear as day. The Weatherman puts his umbrella down on the table as well, then plops himself down. The tan plastic bag is placed under the table.
He lets out a big sigh.
Jackson Burnside:
"Few more people need to come out here after me. Let's get it done. You first."
He indiscriminately points to somebody in the audience.
Journalist 1:
"Well that was some kind of match out there. What'd you make of the first ever Artist Atelier Match?"
Burnside is reaching down into his bag while the question is asked. There's a moment of silence when the question is done as Burnside shuffles around. He sits back up and places an empty jar to a blender on the table.
Jackson Burnside:
"It was fun, dude. You go into a match like this and expect it to be a fight. That's what the forecast says isn't it? We fought, sure. I got a few nice bruises, but I was always going to beat Leonardo. In a wrestling match, in a fight, or in... whatever *that* was out there. It was a a good time. I won my belt back, Leo got to show off his art... Uh, well before it got destroyed. And little Calliope got a wardrobe improvement." This gets a chuckle from the crowd. Without missing a beat Jacckson returns to his bag. After a moment he pulls up two small objects and holds in his hands. He resumes. "Might make it my personal match. Maybe give Leo a call and he can help me organize the next one, hah. Thanks for the question brother. Who's next?"
A few of the journalists clamor over each other. The two objects Burnside grabbed are revealed to be, eggs? He puts one down carefully to ensure it won't roll and splatter on the floor, and then casually cracks the other into the jar. A second journalist manages to get the floor. Although she seems distracted by whatever Burnside is doing.
Journalist 2:
"Weatherman, how does uhm... how uh, does it feel to have recaptured the Heritage Championship? Do you uh, have any id- plans? Plans for what you want to achieve?"
He finishes cracking the second egg into the jar. Burnside casually tosses the eggshells into his bag, then returns under the table to grab something else. When he sits back up, he keeps whatever he grabbed out of view under the table.
Jackson Burnside:
"I see what you're doing, brother. Sneaking in two questions. Y'know truth be told I've had a lot of time to think on that. What am I gonna do when - that's when, not if - I beat Leonardo and took this belt for the second time." The Weatherman lifts a quart of a thick, white liquid - undoubtedly milk - and begins to pour it slowly into the jar alongside the eggs. "A lot of time to think, and to do a bit of homework. And well, I noticed a trend you see. There's never been a very, long-tenured Heritage Champion. The longest title reigns are marked with asterisks, because they happened during a hiatus in the company, or the title was temporarily retired."
The milky egg mixture fills about 3/5ths of the blender jar as the milk jug empties. Burnside throws it down at his side, then grabs the jar by the handle. He swirls it around a little bit before putting it down. He does all of this while answering the question.
Jackson Burnside:
"See, what happens a lot is Heritage Champ moves on to bigger and better things. I've done it myself, I'm sure everyone remembers. The Weatherman, or I suppose the Superbeast as I was known then, was Heritage Champ for a few weeks before winning the Coronation Cup. Then, I went on to lose the title because I was focused on becoming UWL...Worlds Heavyweight Champion. I did just that, because Superbeast or Weatherman, I keep my promises. And after I won that title, I had four words for the boys and girls on the active roster." He leans forward for emphasis. "'Try and take it.' Right now I feel like a winner. 'Cause again, truth be told I wasn't in a good place after losing the World Title... losing to that... CALEB HART!!!... Now, the storm's cleared. The rains stopped, the sky is open. And... And there's a rainbow, brother! At the end of that rainbow, not a pot of gold, but a gold title. Not guarded by a leprechaun, but a Weatherman. So I want everyone, anyone to try and take it. The Heritage Title, it's not a stepping stone. I'm gonna be Champ for as long as I can. Beat everyone who tries to steal my treasure. Make this belt-" He puts his hand on the belt in front of him. "-synonymous with a humble weather man. Synonymous with Jackson Burnside."
There's some clamoring and nods of approval. But Burnside doesn't see the nods, for he is back down removing a final thing from his bag. It's small, unmarked plastic bottle of a clear liquid. He removes the cap and adds a generous pour into the jug. What's left is some vile concoction. The third question comes as Burnside returns the bottle of clear liquid to the bag.
Journalist 3:
"Okay, I knw we're all wondering. Jackson what,... what in the world are you doing?"
He holds the pitcher up and smiles. The eggs swirl at the bottom of of the jar as Jackson gives it another small spin.
Jackson Burnside:
"A little post-match tradition, dude. Keeps me strong."
He raises the jar in a salute and then pounds it back. In about twelve seconds the jar is empty to the clear disgust and revulsion of everybody nearby. Burnside winces just a bit, but otherwise no sells how disgusting it may or may not actually be. He slams the empty pitcher down on the table and grabs up his title belt.
Jackson Burnside:
"WOOOO! And that's a Champion! That's who everyone of ya'll is gonna have to beat to take this baby away. This to everybody, and I don't mean just the active UWL wrestlers. You want some, than come and get it. You want this title, you come and get it. But you go chasin' tornados you better be ready to torn to shreds. Brother, you wanna face the hurricane-force winds, be prepared to catch a Stop sign in your spleen! You come for the Weatherman, get ready to be uprooted and ripped apart. And that's it, I'm finished."
He stands up and holds the belt up high again. No doubt it's an interesting shot, empty jug of milk and egg in front of him. Burnside holds the belt up to his face with one hand, the strap dangling down to the floor, and points into the crowd with a slick, satisfied grin on his face.
Burnside hasn't changed out of his ring gear yet, though he wears the sunglasses he's usually seen with backstage and carries a folded umbrella. Whether or not it is one of the newer HERITAGE CHAMPION designs he debuted weeks ago is unknown. Curiously he is carrying a tan plastic bag in his other hand and we cannot see what's inside it. Burnside walks along the back of the table to his empty seat in front of a few microphones. On the way he shakes hands with a few people and exchanges some words. He places the Heritage Championship down on the table and ensures that it faces outward and that the center plate is clear as day. The Weatherman puts his umbrella down on the table as well, then plops himself down. The tan plastic bag is placed under the table.
He lets out a big sigh.
Jackson Burnside:
"Few more people need to come out here after me. Let's get it done. You first."
He indiscriminately points to somebody in the audience.
Journalist 1:
"Well that was some kind of match out there. What'd you make of the first ever Artist Atelier Match?"
Burnside is reaching down into his bag while the question is asked. There's a moment of silence when the question is done as Burnside shuffles around. He sits back up and places an empty jar to a blender on the table.
Jackson Burnside:
"It was fun, dude. You go into a match like this and expect it to be a fight. That's what the forecast says isn't it? We fought, sure. I got a few nice bruises, but I was always going to beat Leonardo. In a wrestling match, in a fight, or in... whatever *that* was out there. It was a a good time. I won my belt back, Leo got to show off his art... Uh, well before it got destroyed. And little Calliope got a wardrobe improvement." This gets a chuckle from the crowd. Without missing a beat Jacckson returns to his bag. After a moment he pulls up two small objects and holds in his hands. He resumes. "Might make it my personal match. Maybe give Leo a call and he can help me organize the next one, hah. Thanks for the question brother. Who's next?"
A few of the journalists clamor over each other. The two objects Burnside grabbed are revealed to be, eggs? He puts one down carefully to ensure it won't roll and splatter on the floor, and then casually cracks the other into the jar. A second journalist manages to get the floor. Although she seems distracted by whatever Burnside is doing.
Journalist 2:
"Weatherman, how does uhm... how uh, does it feel to have recaptured the Heritage Championship? Do you uh, have any id- plans? Plans for what you want to achieve?"
He finishes cracking the second egg into the jar. Burnside casually tosses the eggshells into his bag, then returns under the table to grab something else. When he sits back up, he keeps whatever he grabbed out of view under the table.
Jackson Burnside:
"I see what you're doing, brother. Sneaking in two questions. Y'know truth be told I've had a lot of time to think on that. What am I gonna do when - that's when, not if - I beat Leonardo and took this belt for the second time." The Weatherman lifts a quart of a thick, white liquid - undoubtedly milk - and begins to pour it slowly into the jar alongside the eggs. "A lot of time to think, and to do a bit of homework. And well, I noticed a trend you see. There's never been a very, long-tenured Heritage Champion. The longest title reigns are marked with asterisks, because they happened during a hiatus in the company, or the title was temporarily retired."
The milky egg mixture fills about 3/5ths of the blender jar as the milk jug empties. Burnside throws it down at his side, then grabs the jar by the handle. He swirls it around a little bit before putting it down. He does all of this while answering the question.
Jackson Burnside:
"See, what happens a lot is Heritage Champ moves on to bigger and better things. I've done it myself, I'm sure everyone remembers. The Weatherman, or I suppose the Superbeast as I was known then, was Heritage Champ for a few weeks before winning the Coronation Cup. Then, I went on to lose the title because I was focused on becoming UWL...Worlds Heavyweight Champion. I did just that, because Superbeast or Weatherman, I keep my promises. And after I won that title, I had four words for the boys and girls on the active roster." He leans forward for emphasis. "'Try and take it.' Right now I feel like a winner. 'Cause again, truth be told I wasn't in a good place after losing the World Title... losing to that... CALEB HART!!!... Now, the storm's cleared. The rains stopped, the sky is open. And... And there's a rainbow, brother! At the end of that rainbow, not a pot of gold, but a gold title. Not guarded by a leprechaun, but a Weatherman. So I want everyone, anyone to try and take it. The Heritage Title, it's not a stepping stone. I'm gonna be Champ for as long as I can. Beat everyone who tries to steal my treasure. Make this belt-" He puts his hand on the belt in front of him. "-synonymous with a humble weather man. Synonymous with Jackson Burnside."
There's some clamoring and nods of approval. But Burnside doesn't see the nods, for he is back down removing a final thing from his bag. It's small, unmarked plastic bottle of a clear liquid. He removes the cap and adds a generous pour into the jug. What's left is some vile concoction. The third question comes as Burnside returns the bottle of clear liquid to the bag.
Journalist 3:
"Okay, I knw we're all wondering. Jackson what,... what in the world are you doing?"
He holds the pitcher up and smiles. The eggs swirl at the bottom of of the jar as Jackson gives it another small spin.
Jackson Burnside:
"A little post-match tradition, dude. Keeps me strong."
He raises the jar in a salute and then pounds it back. In about twelve seconds the jar is empty to the clear disgust and revulsion of everybody nearby. Burnside winces just a bit, but otherwise no sells how disgusting it may or may not actually be. He slams the empty pitcher down on the table and grabs up his title belt.
Jackson Burnside:
"WOOOO! And that's a Champion! That's who everyone of ya'll is gonna have to beat to take this baby away. This to everybody, and I don't mean just the active UWL wrestlers. You want some, than come and get it. You want this title, you come and get it. But you go chasin' tornados you better be ready to torn to shreds. Brother, you wanna face the hurricane-force winds, be prepared to catch a Stop sign in your spleen! You come for the Weatherman, get ready to be uprooted and ripped apart. And that's it, I'm finished."
He stands up and holds the belt up high again. No doubt it's an interesting shot, empty jug of milk and egg in front of him. Burnside holds the belt up to his face with one hand, the strap dangling down to the floor, and points into the crowd with a slick, satisfied grin on his face.
