You take your car to work, I'll take my board


The salty water of the Pacific arrived on the beach with a light crash and sent a cascade of foam up the hill and over the toes of Shinsuke Nakamura. The King of Strong Style sat in the sand, surfboard proudly jutting out of the ground behind him as a backrest. A slight breeze pushed at his straggly wet hair as he basked in the sunlight. Many other occupants of the beach passed by without noticing the champion on his day off, but a few who did would trade a shaka on their way to or from the water.

Life as champion had been a double-edge sword so far. As Nakamura himself had established, being the champion was like being a wall. It was like being the end boss. Other people now had to fight for the right to face him, and he was a commodity that had to be paid for now. His matches were now prestigious. In a way, it was exactly why he came to American wrestler, to be treated like an event. On the other hand, being the big bad at the end of the stage means you're left standing still at the edge of the screen. Time out of the ring runs the risk of becoming time out of practice, and time out of shape. Being on the board was helping keep Shinsuke in shape physically, but more importantly for the test that was to come, it helped him center himself mentally and spiritually. He had to be sure that he stayed sharp. Baron Corbin took advantage of that, caught him off-guard. He had to prove that he wasn't going to go soft during his time on top, and he demonstrated that at Warfare. But he had simply replaced Corbin with a feral animal, it seemed. There was a hunger for greatness in Jimmy Havoc's eyes, something intriguing and dangerous and respectable.

For all the legends he had faced, this young boy may prove to be his greatest challenge to date.

And when you're out of fuel

Matt Striker nervously looks offscreen and takes a deep breath. "Please welcome my guest at this time....the Breakout Champion, Shinsuke Nakamura."

The King of Strong Style shimmies his way onto the interview set, Breakout Title wrapped tightly around his waist underneath a red leather jacket. Striker clears his throat and turns towards his subject. "Shinsuke, tonight you make the first defense of your Breakout Championship. How do you feel going into this match?"

Nakamura feigned throwing a punch at Striker and laughed. “What did I say, Speedbag? Do you remember? I told you, I told the world, the line to the top now goes through Shinsuke’s Gate. All are welcome to try and pass, but it is locked up tight.

Jimmy Havoc, you are the first to make an attempt. You already know that this is the biggest match of your career. You’ve realized the truth- when you fight Nakamura, that is the main event, anywhere in the world, anywhere on the card. This is no accessory, Havoc. When a belt belongs to Nakamura, it becomes the most prestigious title in all of wrestling. History has its eyes on you now, Jimmy. There is no electricity in the world like the arena during a Nakamura fight. And believe me, Speedbag, this is going to be a fight.

Havoc, you are a mystery to me, too young, too underground, and that may still be an advantage to you. But while I may not speak the best, I know how to listen. And I have heard you. I have heard you talk about your death matches. I have heard you talk about your blood and guts. So I know, you are not afraid. You will not run away, you will not flinch. You think your history prepares you for strong style.

You poor, sad fool.

The light tubes cut your skin. The tables and ladders bent your back. The chairs and bats and hammers rattled your brain around in your skull. You’ve been bruised, you’ve been broken. Your body can handle anything. But strong style is about more than the body. Strong style is about the spirit. Tell me, Jimmy Havoc, have you ever been kicked in the very essence of your being? Have you ever been struck so hard it called the souls of your ancestors forth to check on you?

You’ve heard them shouting. Boma ye. Boma ye. Kill him. Kill him. And you say you aren’t afraid to die. But you will learn, some deaths are greater than others, Jimmy. Some cuts go deeper."

Striker nods and carefully chooses the words for his next question. "Of course, there is a chance that Jimmy Havoc never would have become the number one contender if you hadn't attacked Baron Corbin during the four-way match on Warfare, after agreeing to give him a title shot. What was your reasoning for this change of mind?"
With maximum pomp and dignity, William Regal walks off of the interview set. Striker's eyes track him as he walks past, looking away from Nakamura. Shinsuke pops the bottom of Striker's hand, sending the microphone flipping through the air into his waiting grasp. He turns to the camera. "Yeaoh."

He turns to hand the microphone back to Striker, thinks again, twists the bottom off and lets the batteries fall into his hand, pockets them, and then gives the dead mic to Striker before moonwalking off camera.

I'm still afloat