Post by bad guy™ on Nov 11, 2013 11:05:17 GMT -5
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Hello, Jon. It has been a while since the two of us have met in this very ring. My, how much has changed. It has been years since we spoke, and even longer since we faced off, but there is something different about you, so much to that at first I almost failed to recognize that face of yours. You look ok, chap. It had been years since we were in the others presense, and as the saying goes, in order to grow, you much change. And if you fail to change, you have already lost in the evolution of life. And Jon O’Deeves, you sir, have changed, and you have changed dramatically.
I remember the yesteryears, back in the days when guys were guys, women were gals who were good for nothing but their jobs in the kitchen and you were even more useless than that. I was sitting in the back one day, watching the likes of those crack head Metal band wannabes going through the WFWF…what the hell were their names…Johnny Albright and…like…god damn what was his name…sh*t. Was it Andrew Carter? Nah…that kid sucked pretty bad, but I think it was before his time. Remember, I have selective memory, and I only care to remember things of actual relevance. But whoever it was, they called themselves the Headbangers…or Peace Sells…maybe that was their theme? No bother. Who else was around as a team at that time though? I think The Axis was still somewhat floating around, albeit it was pretty much just Kurt, Starlight and Wayne at that point because Thunder wisely jumped ship when he saw the boat had about 1500 holes in it and it was going down quicker than Billy Ray Cyrus’s career. What else was left at the time though? Not much.
Oh. I THINK The Survivors might have been around in some kind of capacity. But considering I knocked them off essentially single handedly at Super Brawl IV…yeah, not much.
So I garnered a genius idea. How about I partner up with a couple or people and try to take the WFWF by storm? At that time I was riding high off of my feud win against Reckless and David Williams (because let us be honest, I won all of the matches leading up to the finale and in truth, I am the only one who was left standing some 6 years later. I lost the battle, I won the war. To anyone who would like to argue that, I dare you. I will use my logic defying reason and mastery of selective memory to prove you all wrong!
But yeah…that genius idea. What was it? Well, I decided to make an attempt at a group of my own. Chemical Reaction had fizzled out at this point, Williams tucking his tail and running and my little nagging Reckless problem had essentially solved itself. So I figured, the WFWF was slowly starting to turn into an every man for itself territory, so a team at this point would make some very good sense. You have Thunder, Demon and…well…everyone in the Anointed just dominating the WFWF Championship scenes. Not just the WFWF Championship, but including (but not limited to) the Tag Team Championships and the International.
So what was a lowly guy like me to do? I have never made it much further up the totem pole than a few “ALMOST” shots at the time. I made it to the finals in Survival of the Fittest, and I finished third in Scars and Stripes. So what? Aside from that, I had literally done nothing to get myself noticed by the brass. Sure, I won over the fans with my never say die attitude, and do not get me wrong, that meant the world to me, but I was in this business to capture gold…something I had not been able to do yet.
And, I know I may come off as cocky and brash, but I will be the first to admit that I am not stupid. I had spent all of my time in the WFWF as essentially the giant loner who made his way from place to place, did his job, collected his check and walked out. Sure, I was earning a decent paycheck for doing something I not only loved but it allowed me to keep my mind off of…the past. But one day I was just hit with a sudden fit of inspiration. What was I truly doing here? I loved the place for sure, but what was my true reason for being there at that point? Sure, I had won some big matches, I had knocked off a couple of the best ever. Hell, I have a win over Trace Demon. Call that a fluke, I dare you. But what had I really done? What got me into the record books?
Nil
Zilch.
Zip.
Nada.
Not a god damn mother f*cking thing.
So what is there that I could do to get noticed? Why, form a team, of course. It got the Hobos titles. It got Axis…a lot more titles. So then the question became, how exactly do I manage to do that? I was a member of a team before, Chemical Reaction, for those of you with the benefit of a respectable memory. But frankly, I did not start that. Williams and I just kind of got thrown together after we worked well together when I was inadvertently thrown into Project Hardcore to help them defeat The Independent Scene back in the day. We meshed. So how to I actually sit down and start one?
So I crashed in my study one night, unable to sleep as always, and I allowed my mind to wander for a bit. There were a number of talented members on the WFWF roster at the time. There were not a ton of big names, and even fewer that would be willing to work alongside a virtual no name like myself. E? No go, for that reason. Thunder? No one wanted anything to do with that monstrous ego.
…still do not. <3
So what did that leave me with? Go figure, scraps. After combing the roster with an incredibly fine tooth comb, all that I was left with was a middle aged Two-Face look-alike, a 19 year old boy whose balls had not even dropped and some guy who went running around the locker room in skinny denims screaming “BOOM” like that mentally challenged child at a war reenactment. Wow, did I hit the mother*cking jackpot.
Well…I decided to test it out anyways. You know, the worst that could happen is that I face them, knock them off real quick, get a few wins under my belt and hope we get a better crop of greens in a few months.
Boy, did I make a big mistake counting these guys as short as I did.
A few matches in, I had a battle with Ashton at Battleground. We were booked in a No DQ match…and for the first time in my career, I was taken to the limit. Sure, I won, but Ashton proved himself a worthy adversary. I immeadiately knew I needed him for the group.
I then saw Ace Bennett and Jon O’Deeves in action and not only did they win, they impressed me. I went to the public face of the Shadow Conglomerate and I weaseled their contact information. When we all gathered, Ashton and I decided that we should work together as a unit and try to take down the powers that be. We all had something to gain, after all. Ashton wanted the WFWF Championship, I wanted notoriety, Bennett wanted a good fight and O’Deeves wanted to be able to yell BOOM in the main event of shows.
…yeah, some of our goals were not nearly as grand in design as others.
Well we lasted for a bit, we had a solid run. Ashton and I ran the group to success, gaining us victories over the likes of Trace Demon, Kronic and various other high profile names within the company. But as with any tag stable in the WFWF, or group in general, egos do not mesh, tensions collide and we all start ripping each others throats out in public. Unbeknownst to me, or O’Deeves, Ashton ook it upon himself to kick Ace Bennett out of the group by savagely attacking him backstage with what we thought was a sack of apples due to Ashton trying to take this cult of ours to a religious level. I stand by my thought that it was, in fact, rocks, but I digress.
The group, as quickly as we had risen to fame, fell into the baron pits of hell just as quickly. We did not die the heroes we wanted, but rather I allowed myself to become the villain. Once Bennett went down, this little cult Ashton had blown up into something bigger than I ever imagined, I had to step in and do something. I had a hand in creating this group. It was my choice. But without my knowing, or rather my ignorance towards it, I allowed control to be ripped out from underneath me and allowed Two-Face to take control and disintegrate my group. The group that I had created to make a name for myself and help elevate me to the ranks of the highest echelon in the WFWF…and it blew up in my face.
I had created a monster that had to be stopped. So I went to war with Ashton, yet again, and guess what. Same result. I won. Nothing doing, end of that. No fantastical climax leading to some heroic, triumphant victory of epic proportions. I just pinned him and took my victory, his pride and his life ambition with me.
But there was another member in this group, and it is the one who while we were in the group, was oddly enough the most successful. Jon O’Deeves was the wild card when I created the group. I knew Ashton was good. I thought Ace had a chance. O’Deeves is to be compared to shooting fish in a barrel. I had no earthly idea how that was going to turn out. Under the wing of myself, he could have turned out decent. Or he could have remained that little guy who runs around screaming BOOM and then running away.
Think the clip from Family Guy where Stewie constantly says various versions of “mum.” But imagine that on an infinite loop for eight months.
If I would have to have dealt with that, I think I may have killed him many, many years ago. But instead, he actually got his act together. He started modeling himself after Ashtons brashness, Bennetts in ring ability and my charisma and intelligence. The man I had the least amount of faith in actually was killing it pretty well. Now, he was no Slayer or anything…but you know, he was learning.
He actually won a couple of titles under my hand. When Revelation broke up, O’Deeves and I stuck together for a bit. It turned out that we meshed in that teacher and student kind of way. After some convincing, I got the Conglomerate to grant O’Deeves a WFWF National Championship shot at Scars and Stripes against my own brother, David Williams. The two had a hard fought match, but O’Deeves took Williams out, essentially for good, and won himself a championship in the process.
He would then go on to lose it incredibly sketchily to Joe Bishop, but then won it back at Super Brawl. Not only did I get him his first WFWF National Championship match, I also inadvertently got him a Super Brawl moment he will never forget.
And what was my payment for that treat for him?
…nothing.
And you know what, I did not care. Him winning made him look good, but it made me look better. He got himself a championship, and I successfully helped lead a guy who everyone thought was special in the derogatory meaning of the word to multiple championships and the greatest memory he will ever have in his entire life, winning the biggest prize in his division at the biggest show in our company. I helped him get there.
So that brings me to today, almost five years later. As I admitted a few weeks back, when the cameras did not fade when Yukio was done taking his tizzy fit in the middle of the ring about wanting one more title shot, I figured something was up. I saw Ace and Thunder go into the ring and cocked an eyebrow. I thought maybe they were going to call bullcrapabout how I got my WFWF Championship taken from me by Trace. Or maybe they were announcing their official entry into the Scars and Stripes battle royal. Hell, maybe the two had finally gotten on the same page and were going to form a tag team and go after the titles which…well…god knows where those two asshats hid them when they left. Knowing Drakz, he probably pawned his off for an 8 ball…or probably just chip chopped it up himself and…well…you get the point.
But nope. Ace decided to go off on one of his tangents again where he is practically begging for forgiveness and penance. We get it, dude. You are sorry for being a tool bag and siding with the Epoch. We get it, you are sorry for f*cking Mak Cross out what could have been a legitimate one on one shot against the champion. But he continued to bitch on anyways, this time about wanting to fight those he had wronged.
Well, Ace…you chose a baaaaad choice of words.
I literally did spit out my drink when I heard O’Deeves music hit. I have been shocked before, but that took the cake. I never thought his guido ass would be seen in the WFWF again. But he came out, and not only ripped Ace Bennett a wide bunghole, he did the same to me by proxy of Thunder.
Admittedly, I found it funny, coming out here and having some beef with…anyone really. I mean, sure he has some prestiege to his name, but why beef could he possibly have with me or Ace? Not to defend Ace, because that guy could toast for all I care…one less competitor at S&S and all, but what did Ace ever do to him? I would have been more understanding of the situation if Ace had drug up the corpse of O’Deeves, wherever in that cesspool of Jersey he was hiding in, and beaten him senseless for what Ashton did to him in Revelation, because believe me, Ace tried to do the same for me.
Hell, why not go after Joe Bishop? The guy took your title. Twice. I know I would be pissed at someone who took my title twice. I still give Thunder a sock now and then for ruining my WFWF International Championship reign. But you know, at least Bishop would make sense.
But why me? The f*ck I do? I won those titles for you, Jon. I have you the tools. I gave you the power. The brains. The ability. The chance. I was the mother*cking referee for crying out loud for one of the matches and you were facing my most heated rival. And yet you still hold a grudge against me? For what? Because I won you all of those things? Because I was a part of Revelation in the first place? F*ck off kid.
I do not know if you are a Gotti child or what your problem is but you have one ungodly sense of entitlement that I cannot wait to beat right out of you. I had so much respect for you. If you had beef with me, I still would have respected you. But I mean real beef. Not whatever unconscious babble that goes on in the confines of that Mafioso wannabe head of yours.
Step into that ring with me kid, I dare you. The more I think about it, the more I realize that you have no beef. You just want your name out there again, and I will be damned if you try to drag my name through the mud to do it. You had me interested when you came back. But to call me out for no reason, and to not even attempt to back up or give me some kind of cause…some reason for you to have so much fire in your eyes to take this head from upon my shoulders and put it on your mantle…
You have me confused. And when I get confused, I get angry. And when I get angry, I make sure my closest target feels the brunt of my anger until it has quelled within me. Will that take a minute? Maybe. Hour? Perhaps.
I do not give a sh*t what shape I am in physically. I do not care that I have a battle royal I must win next show. You pissed me off kid, and now you are going to go back to the hell hole I dug you out of six years ago in the first place.
I may be dying, but I sure as hell am taking you with me you little prick.
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