((He lives in a one-room apartment...))

((He lives in a one-room apartment, four floors up...))

((He lives in a one-room apartment, four floors up, with a window facing the west coast...))

((He lives in a one-room apartment, four floors up, with a window facing the west coast, and covered parking if you're lucky enough to find a spot before the "good spaces" fill up. The name on his post office box isn't his either...well at least the last name isn't. When he signed his first big contract he started using his mothers maiden name on his lease agreements. He did so as a precautionary measure against any would be stalkers...or even total idiots who felt the need to get close to him.))

((Back in a small gym now, somewhere in LA, he's covered in sweat and exhausted. And he's kind of glad now that he never shot an interview from his apartment...))

November: So the point you were trying to make Jackson is that you can get to me any time you want to...is that about right? Well the point I'm making now is that you're a fucking idiot. Because that wasn't even my house. So I guess that means you're only using like 1% of your brain then...as opposed to the 2% that's usually divided by the 55% that goes in to make up the 110% of the common denominator of pi.

And I thought all of that up with a cold, and my brain in a sling. 

(("Don't try to rely on others to make you into something you'll never be. If you want to be that thing then do it on your own...because I'm not about to help you out." The words ring truer for him now as his gaze shifts to the left slightly...watching someone work the speed bag.))

But hey I'll give you a B minus for effort...you deserve at least that much. I mean you did go through the phone books I suppose, and you did find a Kyle Lee, and you did post a sticky note on Mr. Lee's door...eww...scary stuff there. Scary like your sinister laugh scary, and that's scary.

Ok no...no it's not...not really. But then again there's very little I find scary or intimidating about you. With or without your tazer and your M.o.A cronies. Oh yeah, you can probably rough me up at a Vengeance event with all that's at your disposal...but that doesn't mean I have to fear you. And at the rate you're going...I'll never have reason to fear you. So how about instead of wasting your time posting sticky notes on doors, or watching little kids in the park, or planning your next "heinous" beat down...you oh I don't know spend some time in a gym training? I mean the last time I suggested that to you you told me that you didn't need to train, and had all the ability you needed to beat me.

And then I beat you.

How about you just take my advice this time around and hit the weights...maybe get a little sparring in? Or you know...don't and we could just repeat what happened two or three-weeks ago.

((A brief pause...as he drops his eyes down, and then back up...))

On second thought...I don't think I'll be showing up for our match on Tuesday. Simply because I can't trust you to give me a fair match. So rather then have security escort me down to ring side, or spend hours on working on a way to keep myself safe in that match...I'm just not going to show up.

So yeah...you can call me a coward, and I'll live with that because well I am, but hey I'm a coward with a title, and your an idiot with one less title shot. Maybe if you were like Fate or something I'd take my chances, but you're nobody...your not worth the possible beat down and or other lame M.o.A tactic. Sucks to be you.

((There's just one last thing...))

Let's get something straight Joe...I pinned you, and then Jackson hit you with a chair...Not the other way around. Glad that's settled. 

((black...))