Borderlines RP: White Queen

Ira,VT.

Phoe: Camping with a road trip? Why camping?

Samael: What? Don’t trust a Satanist to take his own daughter into the deep, dark Texas non-woods for a few days with little to no outside contact? Am I converting her to Satanism? Will all of my pagan friends be out there too? Is that what you’re asking?

Phoe: No, I’m asking why camping? I wouldn’t be worried about pagan friends anyways, you don’t have any friends, Sam.

Samael: Well…that was harsh.

Phoe: I try.

Sam pops the trunk of his Prius and reorganizes his stuff, moving his gear to the side but as he does so his katana falls out of its wedge and onto the concrete below with a loud clang. He picks the piece up from the ground and wedges it back into the hole from which it came.

Phoe: This is a bad idea, Sam.

Samael: What? Camping with her dad?

Phoe: No, taking her with you to the show. Do you really want her to see you like…that?

Samael: I mean, you put her in front of the tele do you not, every single show? Was that not how you first informed MY DAUGHTER that I was her father? The voice on the television helped give birth to her? And that “No dear, it’s not that he doesn’t want anything to do with you…it’s that he doesn’t know you’re his daughter?” Or did you leave the last part of that sentence out?

Phoe: That’s not fair. Y…

Samael: It’s f*cking fair as hell. Phoebe. You deprived that girl from a father. How much both of our lives could have changed had you told me sooner than a year ago. Anna…she would have had the figure teaching her who’s good or bad, the father figure everyone deserves. Hate me all you want, but f*ck all if you’re not the one who screwed up here. I left because there was no future for us when I realized you enjoyed the company of other men. I don’t even know if Anna is mine the way you screwed around…but that’s the difference between you and me, Phoebe. She is your daughter by birth. She is my daughter by choice, even if there’s a chance she’s not by blood. And I don’t care. I’ve chosen to claim this beautiful wonder as my own, and you attempted to deprive her of love. I’m never going to say you didn’t do a good job being a mother…you did your best….better than the best. But girl, even you gotta realize what two GOOD parents can do for a child from the get go.

Phoe: We both grew up with one parent each.

Samael: And do you see how mother-f*cking-upped we are? You’re a woman who couldn’t keep her legs closed and I’m a man who fights every night, begging to be set free from this monstrous life, the only thing keeping either of us going is this little girl.

Phoe: Begging to be set free? You chose this life.

Samael: I became a fighter because of you. Because I almost failed defending you the day we met from those bastards. My vision’s bad in my right eye, my right hand is lame from nerve damage…and all of that, my dear, in defense of you. I had to learn to evolve. About time you come to terms with what you think of as my selfishness as caused by you.

The door to Phoe’s house opens and out comes Anna, carrying a little roller suitcase bag. Her dark brown hair shows off the purple shirt she’s wearing, an oversized T with Josh and Nikki Dean on it, the tagline “Wrestling Royalty.”

Samael: **under his breath** I have no daughter.

Phoe: What did you say? Didn’t catch.

Samael: I said there’s my daughter.

Anna drops the bag and wraps her arms around Sam, her head to right below his ribs now. She’s getting so much bigger, even in the last year.

Samael: ‘Ello love.

Anna: You like my shirt? Mommy picked it out because she knew you’d like it because it’s a wrestling shirt.

Samael: **shooting daggers at Phoe** Oh course she did. **back to Anna** You look beautiful, love. Exquisite taste.

He high fives her with his left hand.

Samael: Just toss your bag in the trunk, I made room next to my gear.

Anna: Next to gear…k…uhh…Dad…where’s the food?

Sam grows stiff.

Phoe: You’re taking our daughter from Vermont to Mexico City, in a car, camping on the way and you didn’t remember FOOD?

Samael: Well if you must know…I fully planned on buying enough junk food to feed a small army. But then I realized with how much her and I eat, we’d be through it before we even cross the New York border. We’re just going to stop and go a lot.

He turns and looks at Anna, now on one knee.

Samael: The whole point of this trip, other than the two of us spending quality time together, is to get you to experience something you’ve told your mom you’ve always wanted. The life of a wrestler. Driving…lots of driving. But that also means lots of spots in fun places you’ve never heard of. Small holes in the wall filled with wonders you yourself have never even wondered. Little diners you, or I, can’t even pronounce. All of the sights, the sounds, the smells…all culminating at the arrival of whichever city the show is in and standing in front of tens of thousands under the smoke and strobe lights, chanting your name.

Anna: They don’t chant your name. I actually think they hate you. I was on the computer and someone said you’re their ‘piss break.’

Phoe laughs in the background, almost a piggy snort.

Samael: You’re nine. No swears. At least not in front of your mom. I swear all the time…I think I know where you get that from.

Anna smiles.

Samael: And besides, that’s why you’re coming with me this week. This is a big, big deal for me and I need one person out of the ten thousand cheering for me. If I have that one person, and that one person is you, I can’t fail love. Just chant my name and I’ll hear you over everyone else and that’s what’ll get me through the night.

Sam wraps his arms around her.

Samael: I love you. Now get in the car and buckle up. I’ll be there in a second.

Anna opens the back door and climbs in. When it closes shut, Sam looks at Anna, whose face has changed from harsh to almost emotional.

Samael: What?

Anna: You were right.

Samael: About what?

Anna: Her eyes. They’re starting to change to green. Take a close look, if you want. Your eyes are brown, mine are blue, and neither of us have family members with green eyes. I realized a couple of months ago…she’s not yours, Sam. I don’t know who’s little one she is, but I know she’s not yours and mine. I HAVE been lying to you this whole time.

Sam runs his hand through his hair, the other on his hip. He covers his eyes, rubbing the hand down his face.

Samael: I’m not daft, Phoebe. I noticed that about a month ago, that they were changing. I did a little looksee online as to how color change works, and if anyone in my family had green eyes…that it could have been recessive genetics. No luck. And you’re a ginger with blue eyes, literally the rarest combination in the world.

Anna: So what now?

Samael: What do you mean? Anna McCormack is the daughter of Samael Ahriman and Phoebe McCormack.

Phoe: You really…

Samael: Did you really think that just because you betrayed me and continued to betray and lie to me that I would care for you, or our little girl, any less? Is your opinion of me really that small?

Phoe: It’s just…the way you treat her and look at her…

Samael: My name is the one on her birth certificate. Because she is my daughter. And the daughter of the woman I loved since the age of fourteen. Even if she’s not biologically mine…like I could really give a sh*t. Family isn’t always what you make, sometimes it’s who you put into it. Your God, my God, whatever…put this gift in front of me and I’ll be damned to look it in the mouth, Phoe. We have a chance to allow a small child to grow up in a world better than we did, and become a better person than we ever could be. I’m not going to let that opportunity to change the life of even one person go by. Tell me, are you?

Phoe looks down and shakes her head.

Samael: I may not always look like a great man. I don’t even think of myself as a good man. But I’m really not a bad man. I’m just a man who does bad things to bad people and make up excuses, good or bad for it later. And I never had a reason other than ‘just do it’ to do my actions…but now I have a better world to make, because I have a new reason to fight. And like when I learned to fight for you all those years ago…this time…it’s a REAL reason.

Sam turns towards the car, as Phoe is still looking down, a mix of emotions on her face. As he faces away from her…

Samael: You just told me that the little girl you left on my doorstep after all of these years isn’t really my daughter. I bey you were expecting a violent outburst. You were expecting rage. Instead you got understanding. You got respect. Something you’ve not shown me in quite the long while. Something I will always show my daughter. Oh the outcomes of when a good man goes to war.

Sam starts walking to the driver’s door when the back of his shirt is very lightly grabbed. He stops dead in his tracks, turning around to face Phoe, who is fighting back tears.

Phoe: …th…thank you…

Samael: Forever.

Phoe drops her fingers from the bottom of his shirt, lightly touching the injured hand of Sam’s and looking at the scar on his face.

Samael: Forever fighting. For her. And for you.

Samael smiles, backing away from Phoe and getting into the car. He inserts the keys into the ignition and looks back at his beautiful daughter in a terrible shirt.

Samael: All buckled up and ready to go?

Anna: To Mexico!

Samael: **internally** Even if she’s not my girl…that’s my girl. But that shirt may end up burnt in a fire pit in Texas along the way.

Samael turns the key changes gears and backs out of the lot and onto the street, Phoe waving in the background to Anna. Out of Ira, Vermont. Onto Mexico City, with a few stops along the way.


A few days later, night has fallen, drowning the sun in its almighty power. Sam and Anna are leaning against a massive log, a campfire burning intensely in front of them. Sam is wiping his hands on his pants, marshmallow goop all over them from s’mores, while Anna is still finishing hers.

Samael: This is the first time you’ve gone camping before, right?

Anna: Yep! Mommy and me stayed in a few hotels when we went to see grandma when she was sick, and our neighbor had a bonefire for a football game once, but everyone was too drunk for me to enjoy it. I’ve never stayed outside a whole night before.

Samael: Bonfire. It’s bonfire, not bonefire. Do you know what a bonefire is?

Anna: I thought it was this. Guess not.

Samael: It’s a tarot card. Ever heard of those?

Anna: That’s what the Halloween circus lady uses in her tents, right?

Samael: Yep. Fortune tellers.

Anna: Mom never let me go in there, even with her.

Samael: I’m sorry about that.

Anna: Why? She’s the one who wouldn’t let me.

Samael: Your mom’s trying, Anna. Trust me. But I’m the reason you never got to go into those things. Why you never got to really enjoy Halloween, see the darker, more fun side of carnivals…a lot of restrictions were put on you, and it’s my fault.

Anna: Why is it your fault? You’re not really my dad, not like she can say that.

Sam’s jaw hits the grass below. He leans his head back, grabbing a beer from the cooler and popping the tab and taking a chug.

Samael: You were listening to that?

Anna: You left your window down.

Samael: F*ck. I…I mean damn. I…no….I…ugh…

Anna: Mom’s not around. You can use swears.

Samael: You’re nine years old. How can you be so calm finding out that the man you thought was your dad the whole time isn’t your dad?

Anna: Because I grew up only knowing your voice till last year. You weren’t really fully real till I met you. They called that something in school…I forget. It’s what baby animals do to the first thing they see. Prints? Can I have a Pepsi?

Sam hands her a cold can of Pepsi and wouldn’t you f*cking know it, the girl pops the tab and takes a chug back just like Sam did. He smiles.

Samael: It’s called imprinting, close. Still. I grew up with my mom, but I know who my dad was. And if I found out that he wasn’t really my dad, I would feel….traumatized. Betrayed. Hurt.

Anna moves closer to Sam, him wrapping his arm around her, his hand on top of her head.

Anna: I wasn’t lied to. I was told from when I was old enough to remember that you were my daddy. You don’t actually have to be my true daddy to be my real daddy. You should be more hurt that you were told you had a baby, then to find out you didn’t.

Samael: I’m…I’m lost for words right now. You’re so much smarter than me.

Anna: You’re old. Duh.

Sam chuckles.

Anna: And who should feel worse is mom. She was a bitch for not telling you the truth…and if she didn’t know, at least not telling you about me sooner.

Samael: Don’t call your mom a bitch. She made a mistake but no matter what she is your mom. She will ALWAYS be your mom. THAT much can never be changed. She had good reason to not tell you about me; or rather introduce us…even if she felt I was your dad until recently.

Anna: Because you’re such a rebel, right?

Samael: Where the hell are you learning all of these sayings?

Anna: I use the internet, dad. There’s actually a wrestling site I go on a lot to follow you and everyone else. They’re mostly bungholes.

Samael: Well at least I know where you picked up the foul language. But you’re supposed to be a teenager to be on those sites. Even lying about your age, how’d you get away with it?

Anna: Listen to me, of my voice were different…or you couldn’t see me and only had what I was typing to go on, would you believe I wasn’t older than I am?

Samael: Fair point.

Anna: So how much of what they say is true? How much of what those guys talk about my not real real dad is the truth.

Samael: What do you want to know?

Anna: Why do you act like such a bad guy on TV when you’re such a good guy to me and everyone I’ve seen?

Samael: Wresting…it’s a bit of a game. Not the kind you’re thinking of, but it’s more like a live version of chess, with a whole bunch of players. You’ve got your pawns, your loyal to the end soldiers that time and time again get taken out…some to never be heard from again. You have your rooks, who can always move forward, but somehow wind up going backwards.

Anna: Joe Bishop.

Samael: HAHA.

He gives her a high five.

Samael: Your knights, two steps forward, one step to the side. There’s two of them, and they have to work in unison to be able to really accomplish anything.

Anna: Cam and Nikki.

Samael: Yep. Then there’s your bishops…no pun intended, who can only move in one direction, but are almost always sacrificed for the betterment of the other pieces, even the pawns. They never win the game, take the king, get the glory. They disappear before they even get the chance.

Anna: I saw what you did to Kirkbride, you’re right. Can I play the rest of the game?

Samael: Go for it.

Anna: There’s the king. The one everyone wants to take. You take the king, you win the game, right?

Samael: If Isaac is taken down, then the game is won. Yes.

Anna: Isaac?

Samael: That’s Drakz’s real name. Isaac Cray. What a sh*tty name. Talk about parents who made mistakes. Remember, Anna no matter what me and your mom do, at least we didn’t screw up like his parents.

Anna: I’ll drink my Pepsi to that.

Sam smiles SO big.

Samael: So, love, who is the queen?

Anna: You and Josh. He’s the black queen, you’re the white.

Samael: I should be more concerned with you considering me a queen but given what I wear to the ring…the makeup and all, I’ll let it slide. But why am I not the black queen?

Anna: because the white queen moves first. Both can move how they want to, but the white queen always gets to be moves ahead because white moves first. The queen is also the most protected piece on the board.

Samael: Unfortunately I’ve got no one left. All of my pawns, knights, rooks…they all’ve been taken. Some by luck of black, and others by poor game play decisions. Who the f*ck taught you how to play chess?

Anna: Mommy loves board games. She taught me. It’s her favorite.

Samael: She ever tell you that I taught her how to play?

Anna: No.

Samael: When I got hurt, the day me and your mom met, she was good to me…making sure I was taken care of. It’s been way too many years now…and I still don’t have full feeling in my hand. That’s why I high five with my left with you when I’m trying to be cool dad. But she was at my house all the time. But there’s only so much you can do with your left hand at bedside. So I had her pull out my dad’s old glass chess set…which I think I left for your mom when we separated…

Anna: The crystal glass? Yeah. It’s SO pretty. I’m so careful not to break it.

Samael: Glad you like it. When you move out, take it with you. Make it your family heirloom when you have kids.

Anna: And know who their dad is.

Samael: It’s sad that we can be having a casual conversation, a 30 something and his nine year old not daughter daughter, about this kind of stuff.

Anna: So who’s the Chess masters then? The ones playing the pieces?

Samael: For the longest time I thought it was me and that little guy on one side, with Trace on the other side. You’ve been watching, and if you’re on internet sites reading more scoop site stuff…which reminds me, I should probably tell Phoe that you’re on those so she can block it…you’ve got a bad enough influence in your life in us…don’t need internet trolls sh*tting on your dad to make it worse. But the game’s drastically changed. I’ve got that belt sitting in my bag. Ante turned his back on me. Trace is lurking, and Dean may soon be champion. This isn’t a chess game anymore. It’s a clusterf*ck.

Anna: Then why can’t you take over again? If you were the one playing the game, and now you’re one of the pieces…is it that hard to become a player again?

Samael: That’s what I’m trying now. You’ve been watching, love. Why would I go from such a guy who kept to himself, just me and Cam sitting at that table and keeping to ourselves…

Anna: To fighting each other, and getting involved in things you shouldn’t have.

Samael: We’re both trying to take over the game, but he’s ok with taking a backseat to the Deans if it means keeping me out of power. He’s not on my side because he’s completely against the path I chose to take the place for my own.

Anna: Or he’s trying to save you.

Samael: Save me?

Anna: Don’t friends try to stop their friends from doing something stupid? Good friends, I mean.

Samael: Let me ask you, since you understand far more than you probably should. Am I wrong? Am I stupid?

Anna: No dad. You’re just not doing it right.

Samael: And what’s right?

Anna: You’re all alone, and that’s your fault. You made everyone else leave. You can only fight for so long on your own. You’re starting to become the pawn instead of the queen.

Samael: I can’t believe I’m asking a nine year old this question, but then, what should I do?

Anna: Nothing wrong with going to the right side. You’re so good. You’re so talented. So you have a different look at things…can that not benefit the good side and still let you become king?

Samael: You mean be a turncoat? I stand by what I’ve done, bad or not. I’ve calculated every move.

Anna: Their math’s better.

Sam chugs the rest of his beer and reaches into his pocket and pulls out one of his cigarettes. Before he lights it, Anna turns to him.

Anna: No. Here.

Anna hands a V2 vapor to Sam.

Samael: Where the f*ck did you get this?

Anna: I told mom I wanted you to quit with those things. I told her you were going to be a bad influence, so I wanted her to make you try this. She told me to give it to you.

Sam undoes the packaging, pulls off the cap and takes a long hit from the e-cig and exhales.

Anna: It’s not too late to pick the right side and still come out winning, Dad.

Sam traces something in the dirt beneath his legs, then he tosses his cigarette pack into the fire. He kisses the top of her head and looks up to the black night, taking another puff. Anna leans on his arm.

Samael: Baby steps.


Trace Demon is a f*cking c….well, I’m not going to go ahead and say that word because I wouldn’t want to be warned for foul language and explicit content.

I have spent the better part of the last year going out of my way to terrorize the WFWF. Samael Ahriman. Tugarin Zmey. Ante Whitner. Donnie Kent. The KKK. KKK for life. The four of us made the entire roster suffer under Tugarin’s boot, Donnie’s mind, Ante’s talent and my sword. We had it all. Everything was set. Trace Demon would wall. Drakz would fall. The pillars that have held up the WFWF for almost a decade would crumble like a proper sacking of Rome…and everything was going according to plan. Sure, we had a friction cell emerge to fight us off, the Saviors of Society…but nothing really became of them other than a few cheap wins and Dave Demento taking his new found fame and drunk driving it right into a barricade the night he got his lucky break. But other than that…we were on top of the world.

What in the ever loving f*ck happened?

I still have yet to hear from Donnie and Tugarin, someone who I actually considered a friend. Ante’s god knows where probably touting that he’s the longest reigning champion of all time when of all people Lucas f*cking Crow has the National Championship. That’s a joke in and of itself. Kind of reminds me of watching on the tele way back when and seeing Justin Tyme accidentally winning the International Championship…at least that injustice has been rectified because that title is now around my waist and will remain there for many, many months to come.

The KoKaine Konspiracy abandoned me. I was using them to get a strong foothold in the upper echelon of the WFWF and I’m the only one left properly standing. The Sakura was the death of the KoKaine Konspiracy, because not only did we crumble, the Saviors got their luckiest break yet. Now, I’m in a pickle.

I spent a year making an enemy out of an old friend, Cameron Stone. I’ve spent a year being a thorn in the side of Drakz. I’ve spent a year doing constant battle with Josh Dean. I’ve spent the better part of the last few months borderline sexually harassing Nikki Dean. It was all for me, to take the next step forward for sure, but it was also for the KKK. I saw the apple of temptation and I bit it…I bought into the KoKaine Konspiracy’s propaganda and was as much doing these dirty deeds for myself as I was for the group. I sacrificed being the top of the world and instead was willing to share the burden of the world with the group…and now they’re gone. It’s Samael Ahriman versus the world.

At first, I was ok with that. I’ve always had a lone wolf mentality, as cliché as it is. I’ve been parts of groups, be it Shawn’s personal protection agency to make sure the poor guy lived long enough to realize his dream at SuperBrawl, part of the KoKaine Konspiracy to take over the WFWF and mold it in our image or part of a marriage that failed…terribly. For being a lone wolf, I was part of a lot of groups, oddly enough the only one that worked out properly is the one that people would call the “right decision” meaning I was the good guy in it.

But now as the Lone Wolf, I’m going into a fight this week with three people who want me put out of my misery for three completely different reasons. Drakz, because Drakz is a bitter f*ck who doesn’t like that at every turn I’ve been able to upstage him, so much so that Michael Kyzer took him out on a stretcher a few years ago in a match I was involved in, and I got the honor of being the one to put Kyzer on the stretcher this time…and that f*cker’s never coming back. So now the WFWF Champion and WFWF Tag Team Champion wants revenge. Unfortunately his revenge seeking is going to be my success. At what point does bitterness and jealousy become too blinding for someone to simply move forward without tripping over their own two feet? Here I am, the lowly International Champion and the top dog is jealous of ME. It’s beautiful.

Josh Dean and Nikki Dean want me out because at every single turn I’ve interfered in his running of the SOS and…well….at least she has a legitimate gripe with me trying to sexually harass her at every turn…I won’t fault her for that. But I mean, look. I don’t think the Deans are bad people. They’re model citizens, and probably the top merch selling people in the WFWF. But the thing is, there’s always got to be a hero, but everyone loves a good villain. I think the Deans are fantastic heroes. But even if I would change my antics right this second, I would always be regarded as the foil who stood in contempt of WFWF’s wrestling royalty. I don’t know which one I’m facing this week, thanks to Trace Demon and the rest of the higher ups, but I’ve got my suspicions I know which one Drakz is going to pick. I can deal with either…but I’ve confidence in my ability to take down the WFWF Champion, his number one contender or his wife.

Then to top it off, a man who was once the second greatest friend in my life behind only Shawn, Cam, is my partner for this match. Every single second of the last year, I have been the itch that Cam Stone couldn’t scratch. The perfect drug to keep him sedated where he belonged…out of the ring and not in this business. He’s too emotional. For being the Prince of Hardcore, as I can never call him the King so long as Phillip Schneider is still breathing, he lets his emotions get the best of him. And perhaps that’s a sign that he’s truly a good man. I never thought he wasn’t, but he was never cut out for this business despite the fact that his tenure in professional wrestling trumps everyone in this match except Drakz. But I’ve spent the last year being the thing that has eluded him, and causing him absolute hell for that entire time. I’ve interfered in countless matches of his, costing him numerous victories including my little monkey wrench trick this passed show. He’s finally getting a real shot at me, and I suppose he deserves it for the hell I’ve put him through, next show for my title. But this week, he and I are being expected to work together to take down the WFWF Champion and wither of the Deans and win the WFWF Tag Team Championships. Or perhaps we’re not expected to work together and this is just Trace Demon trying to be chessmaster, cause all involved parties to self destruct so he can step in and claim the glory in the end.

I’ve got a feelin’.

The WFWF Tag Team Championships are the most prestigious tag team titles in professional wrestling. A lot of people want to be the top dog, the WFWF Champion, myself included, but there is still something gratifying about being able to hold the tag titles and know that you’re on top of the world of at least one section of this business. I know. I’ve been there. My first run as WFWF Tag Team Champion was impromptu, stepping in to become an accidental champion with Hall of Famer Raider when that f*cking twat Ace Bennett abandoned him because of The New Epoch and his own personal f*cked up mental state…side note, that guy’s got a knack for getting titles or title matches and subsequently f*cking himself over because of bad decisions…but I digress. I was champ with Raider for about a half hour, stepping in for Bennett, only to lose to Kyzer and Drakz in a fight me and Raider had no real chance in. Raider was old, trying to revive his past glory, and I hadn’t wrestled in almost two years. Kyzer was coming off of a WFWF Championship reign and Drakz is impossible to get rusty. He can get sloppy, but never rusty. We were toast, but I wasn’t going to let Raider get slaughtered alone. Back in the days when people looked on me with much more….favorable eyes.

In less favorable times in the eyes of the world, I was most recently on top of the world with Tugarin, someone…a very rare person, I called a friend despite it all. We were truly the best tag team around. Our synergy was through the roof…how odd that a Mongolian monster with no real emotion and a Satanist with evil intentions could possibly get on as well as the two of us did. I think I would be bold enough to say that me and Tugs were a better match than him and The Midget…not that Donnie would ever openly admit that Tugarin may have been more loyal to me, but he had something over Tugs that Zmey just couldn’t fight back, which is why he of all people abandoned me. And on the night that our tag team crumpled, before that convoluted tournament that put Drakz and Zmey together, we fell to Dave Demento (who later fell under the influence) and Josh Dean who, conveniently is potentially my opponent again. It was a fluke, but it happened.

I know what it’s like to be on top of some part of the wrestling world. But so does Drakz. And so does Josh. Not so much Nikki, but no one but Josh really cares about her. Cam on the other hand, has never been in this situation. He’s never been a world champion, or a world tag team champion. The most he has ever achieved despite his years in the business is to be the king of the lower card curtain jerkers as the National Champion. That doesn’t count as being on top of any one division. Here I am, the WFWF International Champion, and I don’t identify as being on top of the mid card division, because singles titles are a joke if you’re not the World champ. But the tag titles are a completely different animal. You can actually claim to be the best in the world at something. Cam’s never been there, and to top that off with the fact that he hates me and is going to be looking for any opportunity to weaken me before next week’s showdown…I should be too. But I won’t. Not this week. I’m a scum bag, but there’s a title at stake and I want it.

I am the best, and I want the world to know it. And before I get a shot at the WFWF Championship…why not beat the WFWF Champion in a different match to get into his head and under his skin?

I’ve got the opportunity of a lifetime this week. Something not too many people in this business really ever get the chance to do.

Yes, I can become the WFWF International Champion AND the WFWF Tag Team Champion.

Yes, I can turn over a new leaf in my life and try to make amends.

Yes, I can show my daughter that there’s a truly good side to me and that she’s right.

But the most important…I have an opportunity to take back what is mine. My role as chessmaster, with my fate in my hands. My chance to win the game.

Check.

Your move.