Casey was nice enough to post an introduction for his character here: http://www.ewrestling.org/newa2/index.php?...g13172#msg13172 , so NeWA as a whole can get into his character- I thought I'd return the favor for SCW. Go-go Gadget Alliance Unity! 
.[We often say "there's something you don't see, every day", in the NWA... but here's something you genuinely don't see every day. The NWA World TV champion, Gaetan LaValle, in his home.
We never get to see the inside of where he lives when he's not visiting family, or on the road. It's a small apartment in a Brooklyn neighborhood called Carroll Gardens. He's shown us the block, but never taken us inside. Even now, we basically see a dining area- with an old, newspaper-protected wooden kitchen table, a (recently-painted) wall, and a window showing us the fire escape and city outside. It's not new, its not top-of-the-line, but looks comfortable and well cared for.
And we see LaValle. He's wearing a white Oxford-style shirt, and he's taking care of his title. Using a soft eyeglass-cleaning towel and what looks like car wax, he's shining the metal plates of the belt to a dazzling gleam. This simple act tells a lot about LaValle- he clearly puts a lot of pride into his reign. After a moment, he looks up at us.]LaValle: Allo, Vegas! My name is Gaetan LaValle....
[he grins.]...but we've already
met, right? I had a month's training camp there, I had my title match there... you saw the tremendous fight I had to put on to keep this...
[He gestures to the belt, before continuing his work.]LaValle: And, if you saw, I praised your city’s SCW to the skies. Now, it seems, I have to...
[he pauses, and delivers the proverb as best he can]..."Put my money where my mouth is"- against your Casey Williams.
[He nods, having nailed it, shakes his head at what he’s gotten himself into, and continues, working on the right-side panels. By now, the gleam is bright enough to make the camera adjust to it. He keeps going, occasionally looking up as he continues.]LaValle: Now, I am
not the man to charge in blind. There's this saying- "The train of failure runs on rails of ignorance". So, you can believe that I was aware of Mr. Williams, as soon as I heard his name announced.
[He puts a final buff on the left plates of the belt, before moving on to the right.]LaValle: Still, I thank him for his last video. I did not know so much about him then, as I do now. So, I return the favor- to him, and to Vegas itself.
[He keeps working, but waves a little as he starts fresh.]LaValle: Hi, ”Casey-at-the-Mat”! You know who this is... and you know what this is
about.
Like you, I'm from a small town. Lots of French people, too- from what I understand? Only mine was much...
much smaller. The people of my St Pierre-
the whole island!- could fit in your Nashua fourteen times over.
[He continues working on the belt. At this point, you could use it to signal planes, and he’s not even on the main faceplate yet.]LaValle: It is a small corner of France- just sixteen miles from Canada, but nearly
three-thousand from Paris- but it nurtured huge aspirations. My mind made dreams, and demanded my body follow- first with parkour….then with wrestling. The amateur style.
[He stops working to deliver this next point.]LaValle: And, like you, there were those who mocked my size. You ‘too big’, me ‘too small’. We taught them the same lesson, I’m sure, just in different languages, hm?
[He holds his work up for inspection, then returns to making the center-piece shine.]LaValle: But I wanted more. St Pierre... had no way to grant those wishes. Some thought I was somewhat... touched. In the
head, you know? They wished me well, but what I wanted was somewhere bigger. First, I went to Halifax, Canada. There, in Acadia, I trained with the best- including your fellow New Hampshir...
-an? -ite? -ese? [he waves a hand here, dismissing the unfindable word for a moment.]LaValle:
Another man from New Hampshire, our former NWA World Heavyweight Champion, Cameron Eustis- from Manchester, practically your
neighbor, n’est pas? They trained me right, and they pushed me hard. By the time they were done, I could fight on the ground, on my feet, and in the air.
[He spends an extra moment on the nameplate- which now, finally, reads “Gaetan LaValle”, again- before moving on…]LaValle: But while it was "Home of the Champions"... I had to leave that home to
be a Champion. My calling first took me to Switzerland, then to the Caribbean... and then to America.
It took nearly three years to catch the eyes of the Alliance. But I
did. I became the NWA World Television Champion in Atlanta, defended it in Texas and New York... The NWA had discovered me. And while they discovered me, I discovered something about
them.[He stops, and looks dead-on at the camera, for this bit.]There was a French Champion. NWA.
Heavyweight.
World.Much like me, he was a patriot and a flyer. His name was Edouard Carpentier- and his name is struck from the books. He died in 2010. He never got his due respect.
Ever.Why? "Too French", goes one theory. “Wasn’t Lou Thesz" goes another... even though he
beat Saint Lou for the title. Who can say? All I know is, he was robbed.
I had time to think about that, once
this title was taken off
my waist.
This is why I laugh at idiots who say I’m “in” with New York’s Batee. I only trust him enough to stab me in the
front.
[He looks surprisingly calm about this part. He seems to accept it as ‘what normally happens’.]LaValle: It was a sudden "Surprise! No DQ!" sort of bout, you know? Still, it took special rules and weapons to take this off me.
[He shrugs, hugely, in a “what are you gonna do? What’s done is done” way, then switches to polishing the leather bindings for the belt itself.]LaValle: But it happened. And it gave me time to think. And prepare. When I returned, I swore that I would win justice- not just for me, but for
him.. I swore it to the
world.And I did it.
It took almost a year just to get my rematch for the title. It took a half-hour battle to reclaim it. Then I fought Chris Fury- not once more, but
three more times, to settle his claims once and for all.
[He holds the belt up for a moment, to show us…]
Now, I am here- Undisputed World Television Champion of the NWA. All it took was blood, sweat, thousands of miles, a million moments, and dozens of towns.
[…then, lays it out flat, to dry, as he continues.]
LaValle:Denver, Dallas, Houston...There were so many cities, so many to thank. Halifax taught me discipline. Nassau taught me
panache. Brooklyn taught me to box. Paris taught me
Savate.
[he points at the camera, and the viewer]
....but
Las Vegas? Las Vegas, you taught me how to be a
legend.
And so, it's to you I return, as Champion- the
only two-time World Television Champion in the last
decade-plus. [He offhandedly gestures at the belt, on the table.]
People call this a ‘secondary’ title. Some people call this belt 'the Kiss of Death'- too much work, not enough glory. I tell them to
cram it.
Others say 'the Champion makes the Championship'- that, I agree with.
This isn’t “my” title. I can’t hide in a cave with it, announce myself ‘undefeated’. No- it’s only worth anything when I can lose it. When I fight.
I
have fought, and I have bled, to lend as much honor as I can to this title. I dared the entire NWA to fight me,
before the belt, and now take on all challengers TO the belt.
That is what brings me back to Las Vegas, again....
[Smiling, he makes a small ‘what the heck?’ gesture, and asides-]
Maybe even the same hotel-room, who knows? [-before going on.]
...and
that is what brings me to Casey Williams
He’s big, true, but I’ve fought “big” before. I have no fear for him, but he's earned no hatred from me,
either. I simply say
this:
[He folds his hands, serious as a lawyer reading a will, now.]
Now you know what I had to do get here.
What I had to do to get this title back.
What I am capable of doing, to keep it.
You know what it means, what I gladly sacrifice for it.
What it would mean, to take it from me.
If Casey Williams still thinks he’s the man to take it from me? The door’s open, and
has been open. But he should know what he’s in for.
Some say I’m “Formula One in a NASCAR Sport.” Some call me “the Rabid French Bulldog”. Still others call me “The Little Citroen that Could”. But for now…
Casey Williams is the “Freight-Train of Pain”? Then, meet "the
TGV Who’s Champ of TV"!
Smaller, faster.
Advanced. Precision.
Efficient and effective.
On target for my destination, and fast as lighting.
In my way is the first man
not named “Chris Fury” to fight me for this title in
over a year. If he has some things to prove, I have a mountain
more.
Champion isn't my job. It's who I
am. I have no illusions- no real champion holds his title forever, but I know this too- I've seen the hospital in Vegas before. The only way you're prying this title from me, is to send me back.
If anyone thinks he can do it, let him come prove it. If they think it will be
anything like easy, it's
them running on rails of ignorance- straight for a
trainwreck.[He pauses a moment, then nods. He’s said what he had to say, and goes back to work. Lifting the now better-than-new looking belt, he reaches under the table, pulling out a velvet sack that comes with this sort of thing.]
LaValle: Vegas? I’ll see you soon. It will be a pleasure.
Williams? Expect to see this…
[He holds the belt up single handed.]
…for a little while.
It’s coming home with me.
[…and it’s now, literally, in the bag.]
[Fade out.]
