Post by jdfranchise on Feb 17, 2016 3:19:37 GMT -5
"Josh...Josh!"
I can feel a sweaty palm smacking my cheek as my vision finds Cam standing over me. He smiles and says, "Hey buddy."
"Cam?" I ask, slowly sitting up and noticing my gear. "What happened? Is it over?"
"Yeah man, the match is over."
"Did I win?"
"Kinda..."
"Kinda?"
He looks at me puzzled, as if my inquiry didn't register.
"Say, what's the last thing you remember?"
"Going for the knee on the outside and..." I say as a dizzy spell forces me back to a prone position on the trainer's table. "Yup, that's it."
"So you don't remember wrestling another 20 minutes or so after that."
"Nope, how'd I do?"
"Well, you won the title."
"Nice, so did you take it to engravers for me?"
"Not exactly."
I raise my eyebrow before asking, "Really? Well, where is it?"
"That's where the kinda comes into play."
"So I don't have the title."
"You...uh, let's just say an old enemy got involved."
"Ok," I say, turning over to my side. A nauseous feeling starts to emerge in my stomach. "I don't think I want to know the rest."
"I understand, I felt the same way."
I can feel the taste of copper in my mouth. I'm pretty sure that and my lack of recollection likely means I'm concussed. It's astounding the things a human body can do on autopilot, hmmm... I guess muscle memory has a way of suppressing basic responses. Years of training caused me to shift into my survival reflexes, and I can only imagine what I was able to do with my mind out of the way. Too many times wrestlers get sucked into thinking instead of reacting and then wonder why they aren't successful. I know this as truth because I was once one of them. Athletes exhaust so many of their resources trying to figure out a game plan to beat their opponent, abandoning their fighting instincts the moment the plan goes awry. What comes next resembles quick sand and the slow, painstaking path to defeat.
"It didn't go down the way you may think."
"I can think of a couple different scenarios right now," I retort, finally getting the room to stop spinning. "None of which look very promising."
"Is Samael Ahriman getting involved one of them?"
I look up at the sound of her voice. "Was that your call, Lila?"
Cam pushes himself off the wall before saying, "If you want, I can give you two a moment. I need to check on Penny anyway."
"Thank you, Cam." Lila says, ushering him away before turning her attention back to me. "I really do want to apologize Josh."
"For..."
"I've proven myself to be difficult to work with at times."
"Ya don't say."
"I can see your wit hasn't left you."
"Should it?"
"I'm surprised you're handling this with such...dignity."
"And I suppose you were expecting me to be storming around here throwing a temper tantrum?"
"Josh, that's still the reputation some of our constituents believe you have."
"It's a thing called maturity, Lila. Some people around here should try it," I begin. "You've had dealings with me that were less than amicable and I wasn't threatening to walk out."
"There was that conversation regarding Dave..."
"Yeah, in which I fought to make sure my friend's rights were protected."
"And we both got f*cked in that deal."
"Careful, I still represent Dave."
"I know," she concedes. "Just know I did not have any influence over what happened out there."
"While we're on the subject, enlighten me since you seem so desperate to cover your ass."
"Josh, I'm trying to be reasonable."
To clarify, Lila Sleater is not a wrestler. I'm sure there have been instances where she has received the raw end of board room deals, but she has never experienced getting the pulled out from underneath quite like this. As a competitor, the end game is to become World Champion. I did that, and due to unforseen circumstances I can't even celebrate my crowning achievement. And to think, I woke up in a good mood.
"You'll have to excuse me for still trying to wrap my head around all of this."
***
504 days.
Let's not undersell the significance of that number because it deserves recognition. An undefeated streak nearly four years long. He was beating everyone, including men who represented the last three losses on my resume. With each passing day that number took on an identity of grandeur, and the question soon became "if" anyone could best him rather than "who". When the checklist boasts names like Schneider and Demon it doesn't take a genius to realize that such a challenge is one that changes a man, sometimes for the worst. Men have went off the deep end, risking everything from pride to their livelihood for a chance at that distinction.
Who would've thought this illustrious and elusive trophy would've been bestowed on a man who comes from red Georgia clay, rusty Lincoln Continentals and 9 millimeter shell casings. The guy who was never supposed to make it this far took a mythical number and made it an afterthought, all because I was taught to finish what I started. In one three count, the paradigm shift I predicted came to fruition. But more importantly, the public perception pertaining to WFWF's roster talent in the years after a certain two individuals took their ball and went home changed. I proved that the elite is still elite, no matter when they debuted or spent time honing their craft.
Not to toot my own horn, but I've been defying what you constitute as logic for years so this was just business as usual. Consequently I did something that a 504 day hostage situation couldn't do, I made sh*t interesting around here again.
But let me digress because I feel like I need to explain how. See there is one fundamental problem with such a "dominant" champion and that is the adverse effect on roster morale. Whenever someone got close to the title there was always this... inevitably that came with wrestling him, because while he may be a lot of things he is a tactical surgeon in between the ropes. He always seemed to play the right cards and found a way to win, causing his previous opponents to go in knowing their best wasn't going to cut it. Pretty demoralizing, right? But now that he lost, there should be a reinvigoration to the fighting spirit of our roster. A sense of danger now prefaces the World Heavyweight Title moving forward because everyone has a chance at greatness if they just have faith in their own abilities. And that's pretty cool when you stop and think about how the entire culture that only benefited a singular person got turned on its ear in one night. I may have walked out of Vegas with the same title I walked in with, but I gained something far greater than that.
Validation.
A verb that confirms my being a man of action is not in vain. That's why I've gotten where I am and I urge all of my colleagues to do the same. Together we can stop this tyrannical reboot before it becomes too powerful. Myself and SOS cannot do this alone, so consider this just as much a call to arms as a word to the wise. The battle fixin' to be waged is one where you must decide which side you're on. My tag team partner now knows who his successor is at the apex and he understands that I'm even hungrier for retribution. I'm going to take every barb, every time he's denounced my aptitude as a competitor, every bit of hostility I've suppressed toward him for the sake of handling the business at hand and make him eat it. Anyone who gets in the way of that will be dealt with without mercy.
Sorry to make our relationship so complicated, Isaac, but I didn't make the decision to compromise my ethics or what was left of my good name for that belt. That'd be you. Don't worry, I won't divulge your track record because it's boring quite frankly, but you can hopefully see what I'm alluding to. All the gamesmanship and attempts to get in my head via my wife did nothing for you, because in Vegas I proved I am better than you where it counts. I'm glad you can respect my tenacity, but you can take that endorsement and shove it up your ass. You deserve the courtesy of being privy to this new pecking order in lieu of our next title defense, one that's a more accurate depiction of the WFWF World Tag Team Champions.
My advice Isaac, heed this warning. I'd hate for things to get really messy.
Josh Dean Presents
Equal Footing
Championship Connections
Atlanta, Georgia
2-7-2016
"You know, your release from jail kinda threw everyone off guard."
"Yeah, I kinda caught that."
"What I don't understand is how was Martin not made aware?" I ask, watching Dave's eyes shift. "It's ok man, you don't need to watch your back. That's why I'm here."
"You don't have to Josh."
"I know, but what kind of friend would I be?"
"Better than what I've been." He says, dropping his head in shame.
"Did you learn from it, Dave?"
"Yeah, a lot of things..."
"So there's no issue."
"I didn't tell anyone because I didn't want it going public," he begins. "There's already plenty of bad press that follows me. Besides, don't you have enough to deal with?"
"I'm fine," I assert, reaching over for my bottle of water. "Most of what I do now is client retention and brand management. I leave recruitment to my associates."
I understand Dave's a bit hesitant due to his time behind bars, but I wonder if he forgot who's still loyal. It's been eight months since they took him in and during that time I didn't hear a word, which surprised me because my own incarceration experience is one both of us could've benefited from. He's long deemed me an upstanding professional, and skeletons from my closet may elicit a breach of that faith. I'm willing to take such a chance as empathy toward his need for isolation. I recall a time where the only company I valued was my own, and I used it to form a harsh opinion regarding my surroundings.
I look at Dave, carefully planning my next words before asking, "Are you ok?"
"Well, that's kind of a dumb question..."
"It's also something no one has bothered to ask you except for us," I interrupt. "And if they have, it's probably been in the mocking fashion. So how are you really doing?"
He sighs before saying, "I wanted to die when I first got locked up. You know how there are stages of grief?"
"Yeah."
"I got through those pretty quickly, just kind of accepting there would be consequences for what happened." He says, his hands trembling. "But I seriously thought about it."
"I'm glad you didn't." I say, passing him a water bottle. "That's the easy way out."
I pause, watching as he continues to fidget in the seat. His tick makes me nervous, and I imagine continously being on edge will take a while to subside.
"Listen I've been in your corner this whole time, even when you haven't wanted it because I believe in what we're doing. And you're just as much a part of it as I am."
"I'd cut my losses if I were you." Dave warns. "My name will bring you nothing but trouble. It's too much of a distraction, especially if you're making another run to the top."
"I'll correct you on one front, I'm already there."
"Technically..."
"There's not much in the way of a technicality, I've always been at the top of this profession. Showtime was me formally announcing my arrival."
"I think it was much more than that."
"Sure, it wasn't how I would've painted the picture," I retort, taking a swig. "However, denying me leaves Trace open to backlash."
"How so?"
"He may be the boss, but he still has to keep fans coming back for the investors." I continue. "If I leave for any reason or he fires me without any justification, there'll be questions he doesn't want to answer. I've made it to where we're too valuable right now and he knows it."
"Because we've gained credibility."
"Yup." I reply. "It was easy to dismiss us before we started racking up wins and titles, but even then there was only so much upward mobility until Vegas."
"You didn't do all of it."
"No, but I kicked down our last hurdle."
"Congratulations." Dave huffs with a slightly resentful sneer.
Perhaps I'm rubbing my good fortune in his face. It's not my intention, but dammit I'm entitled to feel proud of that moment, no matter how brief. If the roles were reversed, I'd certainly be singing another number. Sitting here, watching Dave being so disconnected to the edict we mapped out makes me realize I've made it about me when this meeting was designed for him. His recent return gives us our ace, the one guy everyone overlooked by sheer absence. But with mind adjusting to that of professional and civilian, it's my job to act as a buffer so that history doesn't repeat itself.
"I'm sorry, but you know how I tend to get a little fired up."
He nods before kicking back in his chair for the first time. "It really is good to be back."
"I know." I say with a stroke of my beard. "You know both of us could stand to get cleaned up. After all, we have a standard to set."
"I think I'll keep mine for a while." He says with a chuckle. "To remind me where I've been."
"That's fair." I say, staring him in the eyes. "You know sh*t's about to get real, and I just need to know if you're going to be okay with what we may have to do."
****
As crazy as this is about to sound, and trust me I wish I could find a way to make this sound more... eloquent, but I really do have to thank Drakz and Trace Demon for showing me the true scope of their desperation. They've really gone through a whole lot of trouble to bring down a guy they never saw as an asset to WFWF. I believe the common tagline is "He's not ready for the main event, yet."
Yet.
That's an interesting word choice, don't you think Trevor? Especially when you consider the plethora of ways to question a guy's abilities. But "not ready, yet" is a compliment when I think of all the orphan and redneck quips I've heard over the past fifteen years as a professional. And throwing me out of the building in Columbus? Well that just made my day, because it's further proof that they're scared of what I've done for this company by taking the sh*ttiest of circumstances and turning it into something great. And as much as they try to deny my World Title victory at Showtime the same way they would deny getting syphilis from a prostitute, my being here is a constant reminder.
So thank you guys for inadvertently giving me the key to liberation. That doesn't bode well for either you, but I sure as hell feel a lot better.
That and the paychecks I collect from Trace Demon's bank account. Litigation motherf*cker.
This isn't about them persay, but rather the task at hand. I am still a champion, and I still have an obligation to defend my title, even if my partner and I would rather commit unspeakable crimes to each other. I'm fully ready and able to defend the title solo, since there are questions about how I came across it. That means you're f*cked, no matter who Samael chose as your partner. That's not doubting your abilities, quite the opposite actually. Unlike Drakz I think you're assertive, which will take you a long way in this business. That blind ignorance and willingness to dive into battle has caught my attention. Maybe after this match, we can sit down and have a serious conversation about some particulars surrounding this place. I'm always looking for a few more good people to help me stop WFWF from becoming a zoo.
But I need you to realize you're standing opposite of the best wrestler in the game today and the guy who just happens to be wearing the World Heavyweight Title, Trevor. You deserve that piece of information, if for no other reason than put it into perspective. I understand that you want to come in here and make an impact since your first foray didn't go so well, and maybe a tag team match will help with some abandonment issues. If anyone could understand that it would be me, since I have a story very similar to your own. I think that's why I have a level of respect for you already, because you made it here to the big time and I know that's no easy feat when you come from where we have. But when that bell rings Trevor, you are the enemy and my sole objective is to annihilate you because you're trying to take something from me. It's nothing personal, but I need to see if you're ready for this change you're preaching about. I want to see how well you really deal with animosity, because most people fold the second they get hit in the mouth and they're never heard from again.
Daniel Kirkbride.
Turgain Zmey.
Very talented individuals who disappeared at the first setback. Now they're merely a footnote in the greatest resurgence in WFWF history.
Don't be them. Be you, once you figure out who you is.
You'll find that out in Philly.
And you'll find out that you're not ready for what's being asked of you, yet.
I can feel a sweaty palm smacking my cheek as my vision finds Cam standing over me. He smiles and says, "Hey buddy."
"Cam?" I ask, slowly sitting up and noticing my gear. "What happened? Is it over?"
"Yeah man, the match is over."
"Did I win?"
"Kinda..."
"Kinda?"
He looks at me puzzled, as if my inquiry didn't register.
"Say, what's the last thing you remember?"
"Going for the knee on the outside and..." I say as a dizzy spell forces me back to a prone position on the trainer's table. "Yup, that's it."
"So you don't remember wrestling another 20 minutes or so after that."
"Nope, how'd I do?"
"Well, you won the title."
"Nice, so did you take it to engravers for me?"
"Not exactly."
I raise my eyebrow before asking, "Really? Well, where is it?"
"That's where the kinda comes into play."
"So I don't have the title."
"You...uh, let's just say an old enemy got involved."
"Ok," I say, turning over to my side. A nauseous feeling starts to emerge in my stomach. "I don't think I want to know the rest."
"I understand, I felt the same way."
I can feel the taste of copper in my mouth. I'm pretty sure that and my lack of recollection likely means I'm concussed. It's astounding the things a human body can do on autopilot, hmmm... I guess muscle memory has a way of suppressing basic responses. Years of training caused me to shift into my survival reflexes, and I can only imagine what I was able to do with my mind out of the way. Too many times wrestlers get sucked into thinking instead of reacting and then wonder why they aren't successful. I know this as truth because I was once one of them. Athletes exhaust so many of their resources trying to figure out a game plan to beat their opponent, abandoning their fighting instincts the moment the plan goes awry. What comes next resembles quick sand and the slow, painstaking path to defeat.
"It didn't go down the way you may think."
"I can think of a couple different scenarios right now," I retort, finally getting the room to stop spinning. "None of which look very promising."
"Is Samael Ahriman getting involved one of them?"
I look up at the sound of her voice. "Was that your call, Lila?"
Cam pushes himself off the wall before saying, "If you want, I can give you two a moment. I need to check on Penny anyway."
"Thank you, Cam." Lila says, ushering him away before turning her attention back to me. "I really do want to apologize Josh."
"For..."
"I've proven myself to be difficult to work with at times."
"Ya don't say."
"I can see your wit hasn't left you."
"Should it?"
"I'm surprised you're handling this with such...dignity."
"And I suppose you were expecting me to be storming around here throwing a temper tantrum?"
"Josh, that's still the reputation some of our constituents believe you have."
"It's a thing called maturity, Lila. Some people around here should try it," I begin. "You've had dealings with me that were less than amicable and I wasn't threatening to walk out."
"There was that conversation regarding Dave..."
"Yeah, in which I fought to make sure my friend's rights were protected."
"And we both got f*cked in that deal."
"Careful, I still represent Dave."
"I know," she concedes. "Just know I did not have any influence over what happened out there."
"While we're on the subject, enlighten me since you seem so desperate to cover your ass."
"Josh, I'm trying to be reasonable."
To clarify, Lila Sleater is not a wrestler. I'm sure there have been instances where she has received the raw end of board room deals, but she has never experienced getting the pulled out from underneath quite like this. As a competitor, the end game is to become World Champion. I did that, and due to unforseen circumstances I can't even celebrate my crowning achievement. And to think, I woke up in a good mood.
"You'll have to excuse me for still trying to wrap my head around all of this."
***
504 days.
Let's not undersell the significance of that number because it deserves recognition. An undefeated streak nearly four years long. He was beating everyone, including men who represented the last three losses on my resume. With each passing day that number took on an identity of grandeur, and the question soon became "if" anyone could best him rather than "who". When the checklist boasts names like Schneider and Demon it doesn't take a genius to realize that such a challenge is one that changes a man, sometimes for the worst. Men have went off the deep end, risking everything from pride to their livelihood for a chance at that distinction.
Who would've thought this illustrious and elusive trophy would've been bestowed on a man who comes from red Georgia clay, rusty Lincoln Continentals and 9 millimeter shell casings. The guy who was never supposed to make it this far took a mythical number and made it an afterthought, all because I was taught to finish what I started. In one three count, the paradigm shift I predicted came to fruition. But more importantly, the public perception pertaining to WFWF's roster talent in the years after a certain two individuals took their ball and went home changed. I proved that the elite is still elite, no matter when they debuted or spent time honing their craft.
Not to toot my own horn, but I've been defying what you constitute as logic for years so this was just business as usual. Consequently I did something that a 504 day hostage situation couldn't do, I made sh*t interesting around here again.
But let me digress because I feel like I need to explain how. See there is one fundamental problem with such a "dominant" champion and that is the adverse effect on roster morale. Whenever someone got close to the title there was always this... inevitably that came with wrestling him, because while he may be a lot of things he is a tactical surgeon in between the ropes. He always seemed to play the right cards and found a way to win, causing his previous opponents to go in knowing their best wasn't going to cut it. Pretty demoralizing, right? But now that he lost, there should be a reinvigoration to the fighting spirit of our roster. A sense of danger now prefaces the World Heavyweight Title moving forward because everyone has a chance at greatness if they just have faith in their own abilities. And that's pretty cool when you stop and think about how the entire culture that only benefited a singular person got turned on its ear in one night. I may have walked out of Vegas with the same title I walked in with, but I gained something far greater than that.
Validation.
A verb that confirms my being a man of action is not in vain. That's why I've gotten where I am and I urge all of my colleagues to do the same. Together we can stop this tyrannical reboot before it becomes too powerful. Myself and SOS cannot do this alone, so consider this just as much a call to arms as a word to the wise. The battle fixin' to be waged is one where you must decide which side you're on. My tag team partner now knows who his successor is at the apex and he understands that I'm even hungrier for retribution. I'm going to take every barb, every time he's denounced my aptitude as a competitor, every bit of hostility I've suppressed toward him for the sake of handling the business at hand and make him eat it. Anyone who gets in the way of that will be dealt with without mercy.
Sorry to make our relationship so complicated, Isaac, but I didn't make the decision to compromise my ethics or what was left of my good name for that belt. That'd be you. Don't worry, I won't divulge your track record because it's boring quite frankly, but you can hopefully see what I'm alluding to. All the gamesmanship and attempts to get in my head via my wife did nothing for you, because in Vegas I proved I am better than you where it counts. I'm glad you can respect my tenacity, but you can take that endorsement and shove it up your ass. You deserve the courtesy of being privy to this new pecking order in lieu of our next title defense, one that's a more accurate depiction of the WFWF World Tag Team Champions.
My advice Isaac, heed this warning. I'd hate for things to get really messy.
Josh Dean Presents
Equal Footing
Championship Connections
Atlanta, Georgia
2-7-2016
"You know, your release from jail kinda threw everyone off guard."
"Yeah, I kinda caught that."
"What I don't understand is how was Martin not made aware?" I ask, watching Dave's eyes shift. "It's ok man, you don't need to watch your back. That's why I'm here."
"You don't have to Josh."
"I know, but what kind of friend would I be?"
"Better than what I've been." He says, dropping his head in shame.
"Did you learn from it, Dave?"
"Yeah, a lot of things..."
"So there's no issue."
"I didn't tell anyone because I didn't want it going public," he begins. "There's already plenty of bad press that follows me. Besides, don't you have enough to deal with?"
"I'm fine," I assert, reaching over for my bottle of water. "Most of what I do now is client retention and brand management. I leave recruitment to my associates."
I understand Dave's a bit hesitant due to his time behind bars, but I wonder if he forgot who's still loyal. It's been eight months since they took him in and during that time I didn't hear a word, which surprised me because my own incarceration experience is one both of us could've benefited from. He's long deemed me an upstanding professional, and skeletons from my closet may elicit a breach of that faith. I'm willing to take such a chance as empathy toward his need for isolation. I recall a time where the only company I valued was my own, and I used it to form a harsh opinion regarding my surroundings.
I look at Dave, carefully planning my next words before asking, "Are you ok?"
"Well, that's kind of a dumb question..."
"It's also something no one has bothered to ask you except for us," I interrupt. "And if they have, it's probably been in the mocking fashion. So how are you really doing?"
He sighs before saying, "I wanted to die when I first got locked up. You know how there are stages of grief?"
"Yeah."
"I got through those pretty quickly, just kind of accepting there would be consequences for what happened." He says, his hands trembling. "But I seriously thought about it."
"I'm glad you didn't." I say, passing him a water bottle. "That's the easy way out."
I pause, watching as he continues to fidget in the seat. His tick makes me nervous, and I imagine continously being on edge will take a while to subside.
"Listen I've been in your corner this whole time, even when you haven't wanted it because I believe in what we're doing. And you're just as much a part of it as I am."
"I'd cut my losses if I were you." Dave warns. "My name will bring you nothing but trouble. It's too much of a distraction, especially if you're making another run to the top."
"I'll correct you on one front, I'm already there."
"Technically..."
"There's not much in the way of a technicality, I've always been at the top of this profession. Showtime was me formally announcing my arrival."
"I think it was much more than that."
"Sure, it wasn't how I would've painted the picture," I retort, taking a swig. "However, denying me leaves Trace open to backlash."
"How so?"
"He may be the boss, but he still has to keep fans coming back for the investors." I continue. "If I leave for any reason or he fires me without any justification, there'll be questions he doesn't want to answer. I've made it to where we're too valuable right now and he knows it."
"Because we've gained credibility."
"Yup." I reply. "It was easy to dismiss us before we started racking up wins and titles, but even then there was only so much upward mobility until Vegas."
"You didn't do all of it."
"No, but I kicked down our last hurdle."
"Congratulations." Dave huffs with a slightly resentful sneer.
Perhaps I'm rubbing my good fortune in his face. It's not my intention, but dammit I'm entitled to feel proud of that moment, no matter how brief. If the roles were reversed, I'd certainly be singing another number. Sitting here, watching Dave being so disconnected to the edict we mapped out makes me realize I've made it about me when this meeting was designed for him. His recent return gives us our ace, the one guy everyone overlooked by sheer absence. But with mind adjusting to that of professional and civilian, it's my job to act as a buffer so that history doesn't repeat itself.
"I'm sorry, but you know how I tend to get a little fired up."
He nods before kicking back in his chair for the first time. "It really is good to be back."
"I know." I say with a stroke of my beard. "You know both of us could stand to get cleaned up. After all, we have a standard to set."
"I think I'll keep mine for a while." He says with a chuckle. "To remind me where I've been."
"That's fair." I say, staring him in the eyes. "You know sh*t's about to get real, and I just need to know if you're going to be okay with what we may have to do."
****
As crazy as this is about to sound, and trust me I wish I could find a way to make this sound more... eloquent, but I really do have to thank Drakz and Trace Demon for showing me the true scope of their desperation. They've really gone through a whole lot of trouble to bring down a guy they never saw as an asset to WFWF. I believe the common tagline is "He's not ready for the main event, yet."
Yet.
That's an interesting word choice, don't you think Trevor? Especially when you consider the plethora of ways to question a guy's abilities. But "not ready, yet" is a compliment when I think of all the orphan and redneck quips I've heard over the past fifteen years as a professional. And throwing me out of the building in Columbus? Well that just made my day, because it's further proof that they're scared of what I've done for this company by taking the sh*ttiest of circumstances and turning it into something great. And as much as they try to deny my World Title victory at Showtime the same way they would deny getting syphilis from a prostitute, my being here is a constant reminder.
So thank you guys for inadvertently giving me the key to liberation. That doesn't bode well for either you, but I sure as hell feel a lot better.
That and the paychecks I collect from Trace Demon's bank account. Litigation motherf*cker.
This isn't about them persay, but rather the task at hand. I am still a champion, and I still have an obligation to defend my title, even if my partner and I would rather commit unspeakable crimes to each other. I'm fully ready and able to defend the title solo, since there are questions about how I came across it. That means you're f*cked, no matter who Samael chose as your partner. That's not doubting your abilities, quite the opposite actually. Unlike Drakz I think you're assertive, which will take you a long way in this business. That blind ignorance and willingness to dive into battle has caught my attention. Maybe after this match, we can sit down and have a serious conversation about some particulars surrounding this place. I'm always looking for a few more good people to help me stop WFWF from becoming a zoo.
But I need you to realize you're standing opposite of the best wrestler in the game today and the guy who just happens to be wearing the World Heavyweight Title, Trevor. You deserve that piece of information, if for no other reason than put it into perspective. I understand that you want to come in here and make an impact since your first foray didn't go so well, and maybe a tag team match will help with some abandonment issues. If anyone could understand that it would be me, since I have a story very similar to your own. I think that's why I have a level of respect for you already, because you made it here to the big time and I know that's no easy feat when you come from where we have. But when that bell rings Trevor, you are the enemy and my sole objective is to annihilate you because you're trying to take something from me. It's nothing personal, but I need to see if you're ready for this change you're preaching about. I want to see how well you really deal with animosity, because most people fold the second they get hit in the mouth and they're never heard from again.
Daniel Kirkbride.
Turgain Zmey.
Very talented individuals who disappeared at the first setback. Now they're merely a footnote in the greatest resurgence in WFWF history.
Don't be them. Be you, once you figure out who you is.
You'll find that out in Philly.
And you'll find out that you're not ready for what's being asked of you, yet.
