Post by Dex on Aug 23, 2016 12:32:21 GMT -5
I Am The Resurrection
A Dex RP.
"Dex is going to lose again!"
Cut that sh*t out as fast as you can. Remove it from your mind and pretend it never ever even happened. Dexter Brett Kingsley has arrived in the only way he knows how, with a lock, a tap, and a bonafide guaranteed win at SuperBrawl against some lackadaisical chubby chick. Things are finally beginning to click into place, as if they never left, because God knows he owes me one for what I've been through lately. Hospital beds, angry old men, the art of drunken wrestling, and baseball bats, I've seen all there is to this industry. I've climbed the mountaintops more times than any man I've ever squared with one on one in that ring. Think about it for a minute. The only man I've yet to go toe to toe with is Drakz, everyone else is a has-been, was-been, or never been. The sacrificial lamb, Makoto Nishiyama, falls in that final category, and will stay there until the higher-ups get a nice endorsement from the Jenners.
Winning is the aphrodisiac, it's the stuff of real self pleasure; the stuff they sell you on in pills, drinks, but nothing ever comes close to the real deal. It's time I felt that again. And I only want to re-live that feeling of me standing over a downed body, claps from the crowds, smile on face; and that championship growing closer and closer.
Whoever you are, whatever you claim to be when we play dress-up, you will only know the feeling that I've forgotten. Because a night of victory erases the greatest doubts. I'm Dexter Brett Kingsley. And I'm the best this company will ever see. Write it in your books, because this night is one of history, the night a new era began.
~
Dex had spent the better-part of his weekend entrenched in the lure of booze and panties littered all around his floor. Chauncey, Dex's butler, had become responsible for hand-washing them. He was the only one who seemed to be upset. Dex had won a match, but he felt as if he conquered the world itself. He felt the same vigor as if he held the WFWF World Championship up again. Everything seemed to be within his grasp, and nothing had felt unattainable. He wanted to bottle up whatever he had felt, and release it in spurts for the rest of his life. He was happy, perhaps, for the first time.
He was lying in bed next to Kristina, wearing the same lingerie from several nights before. Dex had cradled her head with his hands, and smiled as she slept. He'd linger his fingers through her red hair, creating circles. Dex was lost within his fantasy, would he ever ask her to marry him? Would he ever want to be married? Only after a few questions would he rest his desire with the fact alone, that the business he was involved in was the epitome of uncertainty. He felt he could die or become permanently injured at any time, he wouldn't put her under that kind of danger. He wanted to protect her, and guard her from the world that he knew was constantly turning.
It was at this moment that he heard a knock on the door. He figured it to be important, as he heard Chauncey's uppity footsteps barge into the bedroom, his face stricken with a sense of urgency.
"Dexter there's someone, rather important here to see you." His leathered old face seemed to blush at Kristina.
"You get a name or anything?" Dex visibly frustrated with the incompetence of his butler. He figured that his butler wasn't necessarily the most talented of folks; he had actually attended the University of Oxford, before he was removed for a sexual scandal involving several professors. Chauncey was once the charmer.
"No sir, it's better you tend to it alone." Dex nodded his head at Chauncey's statement, quickly putting on a t-shirt and a pair of shorts. His hair greasily covered his forehead, with his overgrown five o'clock shadow needing a quick shave.
Dex walked with Chauncey towards the lobby. Dex was surprised to see a man wearing a black trench-coat, along with a fedora. His hands gripped several folders as he sat on Dex's exotic couch.
"Dexter pleased to meet you." The man abruptly got up and shook Dex's hand.
"You are?"
"Detective Stein. Sam Stein."
"Okay."
"I believe someone in our agency told you about what happened, correct?"
"I don't know if we're thinking about the same thing here Detective." Dex had a puzzled look on his face. He was sure it wasn't the effects of his alcohol.
"About your father."
"It's a bit of a shame isn't it." Dex had a tragic look upon his face. He was aware of the news, but he had tried not to think too much of it. His father and he did not have the best of relations. His father was an old, handicapped, drunkard, scarred from the constant whispers of lost soldiers of a political war. The two rarely had genuine conversation. When he was alive, he spoke of the fields in which he lost his friends, the children he'd shot because they had a gun draped around their neck.
"He was shot cold-blooded in the middle of the night. It's a damn tragedy if you ask me."
"My father always used to keep a gun underneath his mattress. Said if anyone tried to barge in, he'd fire a few rounds before they saw what was coming." The two laughed for a brief moment.
"We did find the rifle you're talking about. Your father wasn't a registered gun owner. It was a burned gun."
"He hated the government more than he hated me." The two chuckled for a short moment again.
"We are making major leaps in the investigation of your father's murder. As an organization, it's our responsibility to be completely transparent with the victims of these tragic instances."
"I agree completely." Dex uttered the words, but he knew deep down that he didn't feel them at all. He was beginning to doubt that he and his father had anything besides superficial contact and the name of 'father and son.' There were things that he would rather stay hidden and lost within the desolate files of yester-year. There were too many things to be revealed, too many things to be known that would destroy him piece by piece. He had enemies that would use whatever tactic necessary to beat him out of his own game.
The detective inched closer, and for a moment Dex seemed to be almost squeamish. Detective Stein pulled a card from within his coat pocket.
"Mr. Kingsley, I'd like you to have this. Let me know if you ever need anything. And I'll let you know if we ever have anything new." Dex reluctantly unlatched his fingers to allow the card to slip in. Chauncey could see Dex's suspicion from a mile away, and was looking at him, almost hawkishly.
"Thank you Detective. Be careful getting out of the drive-way, you might get lost." Dex chuckled.
"It's a maze to pull in here, I think I'll be fine on my way out. Take care." He placed his hand on Dex's shoulder for a brief moment, before parting ways. Chauncey and Dex waited a brief moment for the detective to leave the manor. They stood, almost frozen in time, until the hard slam of the door was heard all throughout the home. He proceeded to slip the card within his pocket, loudly sighing.
"Dexter what is the issue? What is it?"
"There are some things that are better left in the dark."
"I'd agree with you there, an investigation cannot hurt can it?"
"It can. That's the old home that I wished I'd never have to go back to."
""So now you must?"
"I have to. None of this is about murder." He moved along towards his couch, and collapsed atop it, running his hands through his hair nervously.
"Do you not care for your father's death? Justice must be done Dexter."
"I don't know Chauncey. Maybe it was his time. I've got to focus on the living." Chauncey was disgusted the immediate moment that Dex said that phrase. He was appalled, all he could visualize was his empty funeral- followed by the image of Dexter negligently laying local girls in his absence.
"Very well. Tell me what I must do."
"I've got this Chauncey. It's my issue. It's time I started to focus on myself and bridge the gap from the past. There are too many things out there that can destroy everything I've built up."
"Understood."
"I'm going to fix this before they realize that anything was wrong at all."
~
Cam Nitta.
Cam Nitta.
You've got nothing on the horizon except a loss at Horizon.
I have learned long ago that in this business, there is nothing worse than an ally. You become dependent on that person, you enable them to see all your weak-spots, and soon-enough you have your catastrophic 'Et tu, brute?' It happens all the same. I've seen it happen far too many times to ever consider allowing it to happen. There are far too many times in this life when things are just out of our control. We reach out, grasp what we can, and move on feeling satisfied that we single-handily changed things. But the way the universe works, sorry to break it to you, but you didn't change anything, because it was already coming to you.
Here I am, talking this spiel about how you can trust no one in this business. It's true. Go back and find every tag team to ever exist in the WFWF and see how they all end. There is always a Caesar and there is always a filthy Brutus just waiting to stab behind your back. But the universe has simply forced me to make allies and depend on others. Because I'm booked in a tag team match with nothing for me to say other than 'okay.' I don't want to say okay. I wish I could head up to the brass and demand my rightful world title shot, but that isn't how this world works.
You see. I will explain how this world works, and how these jigsaw pieces fit forcefully into my own world.
Cam Nitta. Cam Nitta and I have squared off before. He's beaten me. He got a good jab at me and took the match, but if I've learned anything from my time in the WFWF, it's that I am Rocky. A loss does nothing to me. It powers the beast that prowls within and tells me that I need to hit the gym harder, I need to be more ruthless, I need to trust less, and I need to focus more on me.
Cam doesn't even know who he is, so who I am to discern him? He clamors on and on about how his IQ is higher than the average person, yet he loses a few every time he enters that ring and gets his head smashed against the turnbuckles. As you watch him in the ring, you can already see the math equations falling piece by piece. He doesn't know what he wants. He's a kid with no drive, no ambition, and no purpose.
There is nothing weaker in this world than someone with absolutely nothing. Nitta, I will not show you anything new. Everything that'll happen when we enter the ring has already been done. You've lost the inner battle within, you've forgotten the will of the warrior, and you will suffer due to your lack of passion. To you, I'm just the guy that'll beat you. But you better be damn glad that I couldn't care less about kicking your ass. I've bigger things to attend to. I've got my Apollo Creed with a different result. You're a no one, with nothing, you've already beaten yourself. I'll all but roll you over and show you what you already know.
Cam is just a name. A guy I'll beat and call it a day. But he's got Future on his side. And I've got a champ.
Here I am, talking this spiel about how you can trust no one in this business. It's true. Go back and find every tag team to ever exist in the WFWF and see how they all end. There is always a Caesar and there is always a filthy Brutus just waiting to stab behind your back. But the universe has simply forced me to make allies and depend on others. Because I'm booked in a tag team match with nothing for me to say other than 'okay.' I don't want to say okay. I wish I could head up to the brass and demand my rightful world title shot, but that isn't how this world works.
You see. I will explain how this world works, and how these jigsaw pieces fit forcefully into my own world.
Cam Nitta. Cam Nitta and I have squared off before. He's beaten me. He got a good jab at me and took the match, but if I've learned anything from my time in the WFWF, it's that I am Rocky. A loss does nothing to me. It powers the beast that prowls within and tells me that I need to hit the gym harder, I need to be more ruthless, I need to trust less, and I need to focus more on me.
Cam doesn't even know who he is, so who I am to discern him? He clamors on and on about how his IQ is higher than the average person, yet he loses a few every time he enters that ring and gets his head smashed against the turnbuckles. As you watch him in the ring, you can already see the math equations falling piece by piece. He doesn't know what he wants. He's a kid with no drive, no ambition, and no purpose.
There is nothing weaker in this world than someone with absolutely nothing. Nitta, I will not show you anything new. Everything that'll happen when we enter the ring has already been done. You've lost the inner battle within, you've forgotten the will of the warrior, and you will suffer due to your lack of passion. To you, I'm just the guy that'll beat you. But you better be damn glad that I couldn't care less about kicking your ass. I've bigger things to attend to. I've got my Apollo Creed with a different result. You're a no one, with nothing, you've already beaten yourself. I'll all but roll you over and show you what you already know.
Cam is just a name. A guy I'll beat and call it a day. But he's got Future on his side. And I've got a champ.
~
"You've got the car loaded up don't you?" Kristina spoke beneath her breath. Her heart loudly beating with each second spent.
"I've got just enough in the back." He smirked, as they drove silently in the night. They avoided light, and moved from curb to curb on the basis that they would entirely avoid their prospect.
"Any chance there's a bat or two?" Kristina turned from the front-seat, and fiddled around with the equipment.
"Three aluminum bats. Check." She lifted one up for a brief moment before dropping it down.
"I spy a steel chair and some rope." Her eyes fluttered from weapon to weapon, almost gaining a sick sort of satisfaction.
"Quiet down." Dex urged, as they had the windows lightly cracked. Dex had become the epitome of paranoia. He'd already thought of every scenario in which the late-night drive would cause much suspicion. Black tinted windows crawling through the night were cause of concern to any man - or woman.
"This little detour has been very expensive."
"I consider it a vacation." She jokingly smiled, taking a few moments to revert to her serious-state.
"You sure that's our girl?"
"I know that's our girl. Look at her hair, what other girl would walk around these streets at this time? She's probably out buying drugs or something for all I know." She spoke with an obvious tinge of disgust. Sickened to have thought of Penny Shannon for any degree of time at all.
There was a long pause of silence. As she walked along lit up stores, they had to be as inconspicuous as possible. Detouring at every cross-section or so, turning on the local radio station and settling upon bubble-gum pop, that Kristina viciously nodded her head to at every recycled beat. Kristina wasn't Dex's priority at the moment. His heart had stolen by another woman. He wasn't quite sure if he wanted to kill her or if he wanted to f*ck her, but he was sure she was waiting to be f*cked at the big show.
And there was only one man that was capable of doing it, and the whole world just pause for a brief moment, as the man gets his comeuppance.
"Penny's going into that drug-store right down there. How about you send you on a mission?" Kristina caught chills the moment Dex said that, she hadn't forgotten her previous confrontation with Penny, and she wasn't deemed to repeat it. Kristina felt demeaned in Penny's eyes, and she had that long and quite distant stare that only psychopaths seem to share.
"I can't."
"What do you mean you can't? You talked to her the last time?"
"I'm your girl, not your b*tch! She's yours! Why don't you go out and kick her ass instead of bribing people to do it?!" Dex took a long and hard sigh, as he watched Penny stroll into the drug store, the doors slowly sliding. He tried to focus on it's motion, and the way it slid against the floor. If he hadn't focused his mind for a brief moment, he wasn't sure what type of hell he would delve into. It would be the one he wouldn't be able to recover from. One where even the greatest of believers would sin away their lives with one action. It would tear a piece of him off and enslave himself to Satan.
"Stay here." Dex parked the car beside the store and placed an aluminum bat within his bag, it's end poking out. He would stand right beside the door of the store, feeling the chill of the night, and the falsities of vacation that he promised Kristina. But the feeling of revenge boiled his blood and heated him up from the inside out. He waited.
With each step he heard, he gripped his hands around the bat and planted his feet ready to swing. After hearing and learning steps, he'd figured out that a woman of her stature would have a slight pitter patter. But he was growing impatient and wanted an ultimatum sooner rather than later. It was time. Penny Shannon exited the building with a bag in her hand. Dex remained unseen.
He gripped his hands on the bat and engaged in his swing. He set up perfectly, and executed perfectly. Though he paused, reluctantly, the barrel of the bat inching away from her hair. She continued to walk along and she hadn't noticed Dex. He continued to follow her along the barren streets, hiding behind every newspaper stand and creeping from shadow to shadow.
She paused mid-walk, looking down towards her phone. As if a sporadic notification popped up. Dex wished he'd been manipulative enough to instigate the distraction. But it was room enough for improvisation. And the time was right. The time had never been more right, and would never be more right than that moment. Alone in the shadow of night, helpless and distracted. He could end it without ever stepping foot in the ring.
In that second or so, the thoughts were racing within Dex's head, pointing in every single direction.
You have to do it.
Do you not remember what the hell she did to you?
She could have crippled you and ended your career?
That's what she wanted to do and she would have.
Do you not remember the ambulance lights?
Flickering back and forth?
Your bride to be, heart throbbing with uncertainty?
The world ending before your eyes?
You need to release the hate inside that's burdening you.
You need to release and end your pain, just as you've done before.
It's all just metamorphosis.
The strong survive, and the weak perish.
You're the deliverer of change and evolutionary habit.
No woman could ever best you.
You need to prove it to yourself, and to the world.
Dexter Brett Kingsley is no joke.
He needs his gold at SuperBrawl, and settling for a woman is a loss regardless.
He's the best.
He released his grip on the bat and allowed it to roll along the desolate road. He bowed his head down for a brief moment, before Penny Shannon continued on her late night venture. He sighed again, as the hate that burdened him fluttered away. He desperately wanted to end her in every way possible. But he simply could not bring himself to release what he had left for dead, in the abyss that was his soul.
He couldn't believe that he wasn't able to execute his demonic antics. He was once the devilish brute who claimed to come from the skies itself. Inflicting his own moral supremacy on his victims. But that was the past, and he was firmly planted in the realities of this world. Perhaps he had changed far too much. But he couldn't bring himself to inflict the hatred that he wished he could.
"I am the resurrection and the life." He'd long forgotten those verses, but that phrase rattled within his head, the exact moment that he decided not to inflict damage on Penny Shannon.
"Have I forgiven my Judas?"
Future. The future for me could not be brighter. I knew from the very first day that I set foot in that ring that I'd be the very best. Just the way I'd look at men and see them shake within their boots. I've dethroned many, and conquered much, that the future almost seems quite bare and boring. It'll just be a slaughter. And now I know how Drakz seems to feel. Future for him is just a name, when in reality, he is Past. The Future is a man far before my time. Draped in his costume, and his super-hero antics, I feel no fear and know no threat. You've had success in the past. You've done the very thing that I'm doing as we speak. You earned your way into the WFWF Hall of Fame. You've immortalized yourself among the greats. And to that I say congratulations.
But for you to even think, that you can compare to the talent of today, is beyond arrogance. Things have changed around here for the better. This company has risen to new heights, and has soared far further than it ever did when you were around. And I was at the pinnacle of it all. I stepped upon mountaintops and fought immortals. You fought along basins and beat retirees who no one remembers. You've had cancer. Bone cancer. To think a frail, weathered old man can beat me, is beyond delusional. Not even adding the fact that this super-hero get-up seems to be drilled within your head.
Since you've returned you've beaten, Vass? The slayer? Otherwise known as Van, the druggie. You've beaten, at this point, essentially no one since your return. Vass, guy's stoned out of his mind that he alone counts for half a match. I just can't stand your arrogance. How you come into this ring and think that the talent here is anywhere comparable to how it once was. Because it isn't. I'll show you not only how this company has grown, but also how your time has come to pass. Because Future, I'm the real future. I'll beat you as soft as I can, and end it for you in a way that won't leave you debilitated in the center of the ring. Because after a knock on the head or two, you can lose the hero costume and go back to your life's true purpose. Real estate.
"I've got just enough in the back." He smirked, as they drove silently in the night. They avoided light, and moved from curb to curb on the basis that they would entirely avoid their prospect.
"Any chance there's a bat or two?" Kristina turned from the front-seat, and fiddled around with the equipment.
"Three aluminum bats. Check." She lifted one up for a brief moment before dropping it down.
"I spy a steel chair and some rope." Her eyes fluttered from weapon to weapon, almost gaining a sick sort of satisfaction.
"Quiet down." Dex urged, as they had the windows lightly cracked. Dex had become the epitome of paranoia. He'd already thought of every scenario in which the late-night drive would cause much suspicion. Black tinted windows crawling through the night were cause of concern to any man - or woman.
"This little detour has been very expensive."
"I consider it a vacation." She jokingly smiled, taking a few moments to revert to her serious-state.
"You sure that's our girl?"
"I know that's our girl. Look at her hair, what other girl would walk around these streets at this time? She's probably out buying drugs or something for all I know." She spoke with an obvious tinge of disgust. Sickened to have thought of Penny Shannon for any degree of time at all.
There was a long pause of silence. As she walked along lit up stores, they had to be as inconspicuous as possible. Detouring at every cross-section or so, turning on the local radio station and settling upon bubble-gum pop, that Kristina viciously nodded her head to at every recycled beat. Kristina wasn't Dex's priority at the moment. His heart had stolen by another woman. He wasn't quite sure if he wanted to kill her or if he wanted to f*ck her, but he was sure she was waiting to be f*cked at the big show.
And there was only one man that was capable of doing it, and the whole world just pause for a brief moment, as the man gets his comeuppance.
"Penny's going into that drug-store right down there. How about you send you on a mission?" Kristina caught chills the moment Dex said that, she hadn't forgotten her previous confrontation with Penny, and she wasn't deemed to repeat it. Kristina felt demeaned in Penny's eyes, and she had that long and quite distant stare that only psychopaths seem to share.
"I can't."
"What do you mean you can't? You talked to her the last time?"
"I'm your girl, not your b*tch! She's yours! Why don't you go out and kick her ass instead of bribing people to do it?!" Dex took a long and hard sigh, as he watched Penny stroll into the drug store, the doors slowly sliding. He tried to focus on it's motion, and the way it slid against the floor. If he hadn't focused his mind for a brief moment, he wasn't sure what type of hell he would delve into. It would be the one he wouldn't be able to recover from. One where even the greatest of believers would sin away their lives with one action. It would tear a piece of him off and enslave himself to Satan.
"Stay here." Dex parked the car beside the store and placed an aluminum bat within his bag, it's end poking out. He would stand right beside the door of the store, feeling the chill of the night, and the falsities of vacation that he promised Kristina. But the feeling of revenge boiled his blood and heated him up from the inside out. He waited.
With each step he heard, he gripped his hands around the bat and planted his feet ready to swing. After hearing and learning steps, he'd figured out that a woman of her stature would have a slight pitter patter. But he was growing impatient and wanted an ultimatum sooner rather than later. It was time. Penny Shannon exited the building with a bag in her hand. Dex remained unseen.
He gripped his hands on the bat and engaged in his swing. He set up perfectly, and executed perfectly. Though he paused, reluctantly, the barrel of the bat inching away from her hair. She continued to walk along and she hadn't noticed Dex. He continued to follow her along the barren streets, hiding behind every newspaper stand and creeping from shadow to shadow.
She paused mid-walk, looking down towards her phone. As if a sporadic notification popped up. Dex wished he'd been manipulative enough to instigate the distraction. But it was room enough for improvisation. And the time was right. The time had never been more right, and would never be more right than that moment. Alone in the shadow of night, helpless and distracted. He could end it without ever stepping foot in the ring.
In that second or so, the thoughts were racing within Dex's head, pointing in every single direction.
You have to do it.
Do you not remember what the hell she did to you?
She could have crippled you and ended your career?
That's what she wanted to do and she would have.
Do you not remember the ambulance lights?
Flickering back and forth?
Your bride to be, heart throbbing with uncertainty?
The world ending before your eyes?
You need to release the hate inside that's burdening you.
You need to release and end your pain, just as you've done before.
It's all just metamorphosis.
The strong survive, and the weak perish.
You're the deliverer of change and evolutionary habit.
No woman could ever best you.
You need to prove it to yourself, and to the world.
Dexter Brett Kingsley is no joke.
He needs his gold at SuperBrawl, and settling for a woman is a loss regardless.
He's the best.
He released his grip on the bat and allowed it to roll along the desolate road. He bowed his head down for a brief moment, before Penny Shannon continued on her late night venture. He sighed again, as the hate that burdened him fluttered away. He desperately wanted to end her in every way possible. But he simply could not bring himself to release what he had left for dead, in the abyss that was his soul.
He couldn't believe that he wasn't able to execute his demonic antics. He was once the devilish brute who claimed to come from the skies itself. Inflicting his own moral supremacy on his victims. But that was the past, and he was firmly planted in the realities of this world. Perhaps he had changed far too much. But he couldn't bring himself to inflict the hatred that he wished he could.
"I am the resurrection and the life." He'd long forgotten those verses, but that phrase rattled within his head, the exact moment that he decided not to inflict damage on Penny Shannon.
"Have I forgiven my Judas?"
~
The Future.
The Future is all but set in stone.The Future.
Future. The future for me could not be brighter. I knew from the very first day that I set foot in that ring that I'd be the very best. Just the way I'd look at men and see them shake within their boots. I've dethroned many, and conquered much, that the future almost seems quite bare and boring. It'll just be a slaughter. And now I know how Drakz seems to feel. Future for him is just a name, when in reality, he is Past. The Future is a man far before my time. Draped in his costume, and his super-hero antics, I feel no fear and know no threat. You've had success in the past. You've done the very thing that I'm doing as we speak. You earned your way into the WFWF Hall of Fame. You've immortalized yourself among the greats. And to that I say congratulations.
But for you to even think, that you can compare to the talent of today, is beyond arrogance. Things have changed around here for the better. This company has risen to new heights, and has soared far further than it ever did when you were around. And I was at the pinnacle of it all. I stepped upon mountaintops and fought immortals. You fought along basins and beat retirees who no one remembers. You've had cancer. Bone cancer. To think a frail, weathered old man can beat me, is beyond delusional. Not even adding the fact that this super-hero get-up seems to be drilled within your head.
Since you've returned you've beaten, Vass? The slayer? Otherwise known as Van, the druggie. You've beaten, at this point, essentially no one since your return. Vass, guy's stoned out of his mind that he alone counts for half a match. I just can't stand your arrogance. How you come into this ring and think that the talent here is anywhere comparable to how it once was. Because it isn't. I'll show you not only how this company has grown, but also how your time has come to pass. Because Future, I'm the real future. I'll beat you as soft as I can, and end it for you in a way that won't leave you debilitated in the center of the ring. Because after a knock on the head or two, you can lose the hero costume and go back to your life's true purpose. Real estate.
~
Lucas Crowe.
Just how much of a champ are you? How long before that belt is another man's baby?
Lucas Crowe.
Just how much of a champ are you? How long before that belt is another man's baby?
I'm teamed with the champ, who is nothing but destined to lose his match at SuperBrawl. But with the notion of future, and The Future in my mind, I can't help but allow it to race along and pick apart what everyone knows to be true. I like to tell myself at night that I'm a positive person, but there is seemingly no way for me to sugar-coat it bud. You've got a whirlwind coming your way that only someone like me can stop. Lucky for you, we're in the same match, on the same side. Just be lucky I'm not coming for the gold that should be sitting on my shoulder. Never-mind about that. The title you hold is too small for me, I see my name in lights, headlining SuperBrawls, and getting complementary visits from super-star adult-stars. I'm the becoming the best, while you're swimming in mediocrity. You know damn well that David Brennan is coming in hot against you.
I'm worried for you Crowe. You aren't all that bad. But I've seen you all but before. Big guy, little patience. Big moves, no substance. I want you to keep to yourself as much as possible. I'm afraid the minute the name Brennan is mentioned, you'll run off and try to kill a WFWF analyst. Thirty days is nothing for you, I'm sure you've seen a few years inside a cell. I'm a good guy Crowe. I'll keep him off your mind just long enough for me to lock a submission hold and get the win.
Keep to yourself and it'll all be fine. I'll win it for you, so you're able to head onto SuperBrawl unscathed. Mentally and physically ready for the wildcard that is David Brennan. We'll fight sometime down the line. But as far as I'm concerned, we've become allies. That alone is concerning for me. I only have one piece of advice that I can give to my partner. Don't stab me. Don't f*ck me. Don't ever f*ck me Lucas Crowe.
Now that that's off the table, alls good. We will go out and I'll pick up the pin. You do whatever you do at SuperBrawl to delay the inevitable, and I'll keep shooting for the stars until I get there. Which is soon. Very soon. Crowe, for you the end is nigh. I'll just do what I can to get the devil out of your mind.
I'm worried for you Crowe. You aren't all that bad. But I've seen you all but before. Big guy, little patience. Big moves, no substance. I want you to keep to yourself as much as possible. I'm afraid the minute the name Brennan is mentioned, you'll run off and try to kill a WFWF analyst. Thirty days is nothing for you, I'm sure you've seen a few years inside a cell. I'm a good guy Crowe. I'll keep him off your mind just long enough for me to lock a submission hold and get the win.
Keep to yourself and it'll all be fine. I'll win it for you, so you're able to head onto SuperBrawl unscathed. Mentally and physically ready for the wildcard that is David Brennan. We'll fight sometime down the line. But as far as I'm concerned, we've become allies. That alone is concerning for me. I only have one piece of advice that I can give to my partner. Don't stab me. Don't f*ck me. Don't ever f*ck me Lucas Crowe.
Now that that's off the table, alls good. We will go out and I'll pick up the pin. You do whatever you do at SuperBrawl to delay the inevitable, and I'll keep shooting for the stars until I get there. Which is soon. Very soon. Crowe, for you the end is nigh. I'll just do what I can to get the devil out of your mind.
~
Dex.
Dex.
The future is written with my pen, and framed along my wall. I will reap the fruits of my labor. I will win because I deserve to. I out-work everyone else.
I am the resurrection and the light. Believe in me and you shall reap all the pleasures of this world. Because I cannot be stopped. This is where the streak of legends begins.
I am the resurrection and the light. Believe in me and you shall reap all the pleasures of this world. Because I cannot be stopped. This is where the streak of legends begins.
I dont know good luck 
