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Neville Sinclair · (07-13-2017)

Bath 860 BC

A royal was not supposed to wallow in the mud. Prince Bladud sat in sheer misery watching the pigs he had been forced to attend to. Months ago, he was a Briton Prince living in the lap of luxury, now he sat and watched pigs wallow in their own shit.

Leprosy

It was a horrid word, an awful disease. But it was his entire identity now. His skin was blotched up, dripping blood in certain parts. Pretty soon he would start losing fingers, maybe his entire hand. And everyone wanted to stay away from him. Knowing it’s contagious nature, people would scream at the sight of him, and things were degenerating fast. Very soon he would be entirely unrecognizable, a shell of the man he once was.

Here you Go

He dumped the slop into the pen the pigs sat in. At least they would be fed. This was the last place he’d ever want to end up. His will to live was slowly being sucked up. He wasn’t sure what would degenerate faster, his skin or his desire to live a life this way. His world was falling down around him.

But there was still hope. He wasn’t sure whether to trust in religion or science, but he knew that something had to give. He was a noble. People like him mattered. What kind of world could it be if people like him could die from diseases as awful as this. If there were gods, they would save him. If there was scientific research, he would know about it. Things had to change, he could feel it.

The pigs have it lucky

There was something about the innocence of the pigs that almost looked appealing. He remembered seeing pigs with skin problems like him as a kid, they would be slaughtered swiftly. But lately he couldn’t remember seeing any pigs like that. Maybe they knew something he didn’t. Maybe this banishment to the pigs could be something he could learn from. Maybe there was something the pigs knew that he didn’t.

They already treat me like a pig, maybe it’s time to become one

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Bath, ENG July 13, 2017

[Image: bath-the-roman-baths-monuments-122-large.jpg]

Neville Sinclair sat quietly in the hot springs. Bruises and slowly healing wounds covered his body. He needed this. He closed his eyes and took in the warmth of the bath-like water he was sitting in. It felt so good. Joaquin Rodrigo’s “Fantasia Para un Gentilhombre” played softly in the background. He needed times like this. It had been a whirlwind since he had joined the XWF. Things were moving too fast. He was already a champion, and everyone knew his name. Last week he found himself forgetting where he had come from. Winning the television championship had made him feel even more elevated than he had when he joined. But then the attack happened.

Neville opened his eyes and looked at his shoulder. If there was any part on his body that hurt more than anything, that was it. Looking carefully at it, Neville tried to count the number of colours he could identify. He found 14 shades of purple, 3 shades of yellow and a unique shade of green he hadn’t seen before.

Aughh

He rotated his shoulder slowly and felt the pain that came with it. This was because of that damned Jack Cain. Some day, he would make him pay. He hoped that he could turn his entire body into an artistic colour wheel that rivalled even a computer’s colouring capability. He breathed in deeply and started to speak.

The mineral pools here in Bath are a national treasure. I could sit here for hours. While many people are content to simply soak in Epsom salts, or find themselves in a hot tub. This is where I come to feel better. This is where I come to heal. This is a special place.

Neville begins to pull himself up from the pools to sit on the ledge

Last week was a travesty, but I give full credit to Jack Cain. He actually learned something. Neville Sinclair can be hurt. I’ll bet with the tear I was on, people were starting to wonder. You see, most days I can take a hit and come back to use it against people. But surprise attacking me as he did, I wasn’t going to get up from that. I am a mere man.

Neville smiles as he speaks the last sentence. He knows that pain only makes him stronger. This wasn’t something to be down on, this was something to learn from.

But here’s the cost it came to you, Jack Cain. Now the entire federation knows how much of a coward you truly are. Even to the point that you get disqualified in your chance to win your title back. Jack Cain, the “champion” finds himself ineligible in his chance to exact revenge because he can’t even wait until the bell goes. I know I’ve come into this federation claiming that everyone here is ridiculously stupid, and this shows it! So good luck Jack Cain, I’m done with you for awhile. You go be angry somewhere. Spouting film-noirish nonsense to people who want to listen and trying to prove yourself to be tough in whatever way you can, even to your own detriment. Are you proud to be just another regular star in this federation, holding no title of consequence and being beat by better men than yourself?

Neville shakes his head and walks over to a table where a smuggled bottle of Grangestone 21 yr. Single Malt Scotch sits. He knows he’s not supposed to be drinking this in here. But he fucking needs it right now.

So here’s what you’ve taught me, Jack Cain. You see, while I’ve been teaching you things about being a better person in general, I’ve been learning from you. I’ve learned that while I can be a better person than you, I must fight like those I think are beneath me. You hurt me because you fought like an animal. A savage if you will. The next time we meet, I will stoop to your level. Maybe there’s something to becoming “like the pigs”. Maybe I need to unleash my most animalistic nature. This attack has hurt and wounded me, but it’s also strengthened me. Which brings me to this week.

Neville pours himself another shot and quickly downs it.

I finally have my first real title defense this week, and I’m excited. But it took me a second to figure out who I’m against. I’m finally done with Jack Cain and management throws R.L. Edgar against me? R.L. Edgar for the television title? I’m not sure if that says something more about me or the weakening of the TV title. Management, do you really think that little about the television title that you give him a title shot? The guy honestly looks like a walking Meth billboard, it makes perfect sense that he’s from Ohio. I was even going to make a joke about him listening to Nickelback, but then I watched some past fights and realized what his theme music was. I’m getting riled up just thinking about him because I can’t believe that I have to face him. I won’t even call him white trash because it’s a complete step up to what he actually is – human garbage. Is this guy even going to stop having sex with his sister long enough to show up for the fight? Really XWF?

Neville chucks his scotch glass onto the ground, the sound of breaking glass echoing through the building.

And so I have to spend my time going up against RL Edgar, the most stereotypical American in this federation. And he thinks he’s a millennial.

Neville shakes his head, and then bursts out laughing. It starts as a slight giggle, but progresses into an all out fit of laughter. Neville can barely hold it together. Thinking of RL Edgar fills him with an unsuppressed urge to laugh. Neville laughs for about 2 minutes before he can compose himself. Laughter echoes through the pool area.

I can’t even begin to try and understand the difference between white trash and millennial. You’re a poor, white, American man who has nothing going for you in this life. You’ll never hold a decent paying job, and you can’t ever imagine getting yourself an education, because you’re just too “angsty” and stupid to hold anything. Come on RL, Millennials are just white trash found above the Mason-Dixon line. And the kicker is the Nickelback. What “millennial” listens to Chad Kroeger whine about today being his last day? Hilarious. So RL, I hope you’re watching, let me teach you one or two things really quickly. First Lesson,

Accept Who You Really Are

While the entire room sits empty, there are some pictures near the front showing people enjoying the pools for themselves. Neville looks up to one of an overweight man wearing a speedo, and laughs

RL, this man is better than you. You might see a fat, slightly gross-looking man wearing far too little. But I see a man who’s confident in who he is. He doesn’t give a shit what you think. I can’t say that about you, can I? You define yourself in terms that you can’t live up to. It’s embarrassing to see you try to live up to this “millennial” hype and you can’t even do it right. I’ve seen you twice on tv now, and I can already point out 100 reasons why you’re not a millennial. I don’t even think you know what word means. You need to learn who you really are. Go on a journey, discover. My recommendation would be to spend a week at a KOA campsite in Tennessee watching badly pirated mixed martial arts and drinking beer that contains the word “lite”. Not even light, they spell it L-I-T-E. But don’t get me started on that. You see RL, you might not understand who you are, but I know exactly who you are.

Neville glares into the camera, looking excited to call out this millennial moron.

The words I would use to describe you are “Not a Champion”. That’s the clearest way I can see anything. You lazily got put into this match and will be embarrassed this Saturday. This is the closest you will get to anything even remotely interesting in this federation, and by god, I know you’re going to blow this. The sadness you feel inside RL, this isn’t a mental health issue, it’s because you know you’re a second rate human being. You look at the world and see that there are people like me out there, and you know that you can never be that. Embrace that. Give up. It’s what your generation is good at anyway.

Neville’s heart is pounding as he says this. There’s an excitement to call out someone so delusional. He didn’t even know RL Edgar, but already he couldn’t stand him. If he had to stand in the same room as a guy like him, Neville knows he would have to cross the room and stand apart from him. He really didn't like this man.

Second lesson RL….

Stop being so damn entitled

One of the defining characteristics of the “Millennial” generation is the entitlement that comes from them. They think they’re owed everything in life and never work to get there. Even when they work somewhat hard, they think it’s a ticket to a pay-raise or getting ahead in life. RL, you have not put in the work to earn this title shot. Any chance you have to think you’re going to win this is pure entitlement. I don’t know who you performed fellatio on in order to get this title shot, but seeing your name as an opponent has come as a total shock to me. I’m lucky enough to know I’ve earned this title. I’m lucky enough to know that I’m able to beat some of the better fighters in this federation.

Neville cringes as he thinks of Jack Cain again

But what do you know about yourself? You know that you’ve whined yourself into a title shot with a bona fide superstar. And I guarantee that you know that you’re going to get your ass handed to you. I hope the fight this week has kept you up at night. I hope that you’re scared. You should be.

Neville thinks about the story of Prince Bladud. This was his time of slumming with the pigs. It didn’t feel fair, but he knew he wanted to be a champion who took on anyone. So RL Edgar would have to do. The important thing is that he learned from his time with the pigs. Otherwise this entire week would be completely useless. This week Neville would fight at his most animalistic. This week Neville would take up every ounce of rage and ire he felt towards Jack Cain, and use it to destroy RL Edgar. Hopefully no one would even remember that name after this week. This was going to be a squash match.

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