Post by The Gangsta on Nov 14, 2015 23:58:24 GMT -5
Ante Whitner RP
Chapter 2 of 3: Reality
10/4/15
Seattle, Washington
Fantasy. The activity of imagining things, especially things improbable or impossible.
My world revolved around fantasies ever since I was a young boy. The thought of being a “king” never left me as a child, as a teenager, and as an adult. I often gave presidential speeches to myself and some G.I Joe figure I would have on my dresser. I would mainly talk bullsh*t because being a six year old does not give you exclusive availability to the broad and confusing world of politics.
But, when I would give these fictional speeches, I always emphasized the monarchical part. For a six year old, I carefully planned a specific plan to obtain a throne and abolish the government we have today. I still remember it to this day.
Step one: Corrupt the people.
Step two: Corrupt the institution.
Step three: Corrupt the world.
Step four: Glory.
I can blame all four of those steps on the movies my father would watch in his half-drunken state. I vividly remembered those movies, scene to scene. I recited the lines, word for word, in my fictional speeches to the Commander Cobra figure on my dresser. My mind is a little hazy on those lines, but if I were to see those movies again, I would be able to recite them again.
As a six year old, I focused on the corruption part in my addresses. I would give examples of world leaders I briefly touched on in kindergarten and how each one was different from each other. I would make up that Washington’s cherry tree landed him in jail and tell my G.I Joe that I would never chop down trees. Some pseudo-Al Gore sh*t.
I spent the past half-hour recollecting on some old photo albums I had in my drawer. After seeing the figure in one of the photos, it reminded me of the origins of my “king” fantasy. It also brought up my National title reign in particular.
It’s been about a year since I won the National title at Men and Monsters. The title that solidified my “throne-taking” steps I created over twenty years ago. It brings back the nostalgia. I want it again. I want the glory all over again.
I thought that the National title was the center of my world and everyone else’s. It may not have been the most valuable championship in the WFWF, but I always proclaimed it was. And now, a year after the matter, I don’t view it the same way as I used to.
To me, the National title now represents the youngblood, who aspire to be world champion one day. I was once apart of the youngblood faction, but a year later, I’ve shifted out of it, especially after my victory over Kyzer. I’m at the next level. I don’t need the National title anymore.
Maybe somewhere down the line, it will be cool to take back the first title I ever won in the WFWF, possibly on my retirement run. But, as of this moment, I know I’m ready for something bigger and much more grander. The International title is finally in my sights. And just like how I won the National title, the same steps come into effect yet again.
Step one: Corrupt the people. The people appreciate me now. They have a renowned respect for me, something I never grasped on until I met Josh Dean for the third time. I have to say, it feels different than the usual sh*t-talk I was given. I feel like I’m a revered hero now. And a hero deserves to be king. Step one: Completed.
Step two: Corrupt the institution. This the most important step because it factors into the third step greatly. I have to convince the WFWF that I’m the future. I have to prove something I haven’t proven before. I must show up every week, ready, willing, and able to fight anyone that dares to fight me. Step two: In process.
Step three: Corrupt the world. By the second step, the institution thinks I’m worthy of holding a championship and is willing to put me against the champion himself. But now, I have to prove the champion that I am the future as well. The champion is the world and it is time for the ultimate test. Step three: Incomplete.
Step four: Glory. After step three, I finally become the champion. As champion, I have to magnanimous, yet glorious in my reign ahead of me. With the glory of being champion, I will be able to recite the other three steps to successfully defend my title. Step four: Incomplete.
This is why I became National champion in the first place. It is also the reason why I held it for a record-breaking time. I intend on using the same steps on my new quest for the International title. I can picture it already. The lasting image of Ante Whitner holding a WFWF title again. Sh*t.
-------
I packed the last bit of my belongings, including my photo album, into the box and loaded it onto the truck. Ben was waiting outside with the truck and everything. If Kyzer and Donnie are gone, what is the point of living in Seattle? Seattle was never my home and it never will be.
I will remember my times in Seattle. The nights where Kyzer would get in his usual cocaine-fueled rage and the nights where Donnie would bring in Koreans to assist in “war plans” are just a few of the great memories I shared in Seattle. Although they’re both gone for different reasons, I’ll never forget the profound impact they had on my life.
I slowly shut the door Kyzer once bashed in. I picked up the last box and slowly walked down the creaky steps of the building. Ben was waiting outside of the truck, talking on his cell phone, and eagerly tapping his foot. He quickly got off the phone when he saw me at the bottom of the stairs.
Ben: Ante, you told me this was the last box.
Ben points to a box beside him. It held the pictures I had of myself in the ring, including the one that Kyzer broke a few months ago.
Ante: Well, I had one more.
Ben: Okay, but how come it took you twenty minutes to pack that tiny box?
I grinned.
Ante: It was an old album I haven’t looked at in a while. Tons of memories are in this thing.
Ben: Alright, whatever. Just get in the truck.
Seattle was never my home, but Yonkers always was. A part of me wanted to return to Yonkers and be more closer to Frankie, but another part of me wanted to go back to Miami to become close with Ivy. Ben ultimately chose a new beachside house in Miami, mainly because of my inability to choose which town to live in.
Ben: What exactly was in that photo album Ante?
I glanced at the apartment building one more time.
Ante: We have a long ride ahead of us Ben, just drive. I’ll explain later.
Ben: Suit yourself then.
Ben and I pull out of the driveway and ascended onto the long road ahead of us. There was one point on the highway where I couldn’t see anything but the actual road. No trees, no shrubs, nor animals. Just flat, black, open road.
About five hours in, I break the long silence we had after lunch.
Ante: What do you think is next Ben?
Ben quickly looks at me and back at the road.
Ben: What do you mean?
Ante: You know, who do you think is after me in the WFWF?
Ben: Who said that someone’s after you?
I glance at the empty, dark road ahead.
Ante: I’ve always been the prey Ben. Ever since I came to the WFWF, I’ve been nothing but a target to the sharks.
Ben: You are the shark Ante, I don’t know what you’re talking about.
Ante: I’ve never been the shark and you truly know that. I’ve had guys like Shapiro, Josh Dean, Nikki Dean, and Michael Kyzer on my ass for the whole year I’ve been in the WFWF. Who do you think will go after me next?
Ben: Ante, you’re not being hunted. You are the hunter, the metaphorical shark you mentioned before. You told me you were going after the International title. Doesn’t that make you the predator Ante?
Ante: I’m on a quest for the International title, but you and I both know that the International title won’t just come to me in a few weeks. It’s gonna be a while before I get my hands on it.
Ben: So, do you think Sam might go after you?
Ante: I don’t know, is that what you think?
Ben: Well, does Sam know that you’re going after his title?
Ante: No, why? Is that what you think?
We finally come up to an intersection, after traveling on that dead road for eleven straight miles.
Ben: To be honest, I don’t know what to think anymore. First, you tell me that you want to move back to Yonkers. Next, you tell me you would rather Miami. Then, you tell me that you’re ready to win the National title again. Then, of course, you tell me that you’re ready to face the International champion. Make up your mind Ante. He either knows your plan or he doesn’t.
Ante: I haven’t talked to him since Japan.
Ben: Then, how would he know your plan Ante? It’s common f*ckin’ sense.
Ante: Because he’s Samael Ahriman. He’s one of the most mysterious men I’ve ever met. I wouldn’t be surprised if he had some sleeper agent force after me right now. If I’m threat to him and his title, he might as well take me out early.
Ben: I won’t let that happen Ante.
Ante: What are you gonna do? You’re just my agent.
Ben quickly brakes the car and pulls over to the side of the road.
Ante: What the hell are you doing?
Ben turns to me with anger.
Ben: I’m just your agent?!
Ante: Isn’t that why I hired you?
Ben: Ante, I’ve done more things for you this year than Frankie has done in your entire lifetime.
Ante: Don’t say that.
Ben: Oh really? A paraplegic has done more for you than I have?!
I look down at the mat.
Ben: I’m sorry man. I, I didn’t mean-
Ante: Yeah, of course you didn’t.
I open the door and slam it, breaking the glass. I hear Ben shouting out my name. I walk the empty road ahead of me with disgust. Ben drives up beside me.
Ben: Ante, get back in the truck.
I completely ignore him.
Ben: Ante, come on. I don’t have time for this sh*t.
Ante: And you don’t have time for a person I’ve grown up with, lived with, and had great times with. Go f*ck yourself Ben.
Ben: I said I’m sorry. Just please, get in the truck. We have a long drive and I highly doubt you’ll walk all the way to Florida.
I stop and get in the truck.
Ben: Good. Now, we’re gonna have to stop soon to sleep and eat dinner.
Ante: Great.
We pull up to a truck stop and motel. Ben and I park the truck and enter the motel. The motel is very reminiscent of the Bates Motel, except the old lady at the front-desk was actually female and not someone trying to act like a female.
Lady: Hi gentlemen, are you looking for a room?
Ben: Uh, yes we are.
Lady: We have a room right over here.
The motel was dead and empty. No trucks or people in sight. Ben hands her the money and she shows us the room. The farthest room from the lobby. Of course.
Lady: Here you are boys. Enjoy your stay.
Ante: Thank you.
I quickly shut the door. The room was decent, considering the ghastly vibe that comes with the motel.
Ante: Ben, what kind of motel did you get?
Ben: I don’t know. I saw it online and it looked very nice. Must’ve been an old picture.
Ante: Damn it Ben.
I look out the blinds to see if anyone pulled up. It was so dark I couldn’t see a thing.
Ben: It doesn't matter Ante. We’re gonna be here for one night and then we’re off on the road again. C’mon, let’s get dinner.
Luckily, there was some fast food restaurant a few yards down the road. As we left, the old lady at the desk wasn’t there. After we ate, we came back and she still wasn’t there.
Ante: Where did she go?
Ben: I don’t know.
We slept in the room, with the suspicion that the old lady was possibly plotting to kill us. We woke up at five in the morning and she still wasn’t there. Ben left the keys on the desk and we quickly drove off.
Ante: From now on, let me do the hotel bookings please. That sh*t was gross.
Ben: Yeah, sure. Hahaha.
We make it to Oklahoma after a few hours on the road.
Ante: So, when do you think we’re gonna get in?
Ben: Um, probably tomorrow night, why?
Ante: No reason, just wondering.
Ben: No, I know why. You’re worrying about that girl, aren’t you?
Ante: A little.
Ben: I understand Ante. It’s a part of life. You have to learn to love people and clearly, you love her.
Ante: I’ve never felt that way towards anyone since you know who.
Ben: Well, you have told me you liked her before. She is pretty hot Ante. And you have money, fame, and the looks. You two are a perfect match.
Ante: Since when did you become my love doctor too?
Ben: You hired me as your agent and I’m here for anything you ask me.
Sometimes I trust Ben more than anyone else. I trusted him when I was in Seattle with Sam, Tugarin, Donnie, and Mike. I trust sometimes more than I ever would trust Frankie. In essence, he was kind of right before.
--------
A king needs a close advisor after all, right?
Here I am. Step two on my indefinite journey for the International title. I’m the predator, stalking the title in my grasp. But, what happens when the predator becomes the prey?
Lucas Crowe. I’m afraid we haven’t met before. My name is Ante Whitner, the Bloodied Eagle, the longest-reigning National champion of all-time, and the newest God-Slayer to the God-Slayer family. I am a little shocked you chose to attack me at such a time where my focus is on the International title.
It’s almost as if you brought back my past to haunt me. You currently hold the National title. I’ve held the National title for longer than you can imagine. Before you came in, I was running this place. And I don’t know if you’ve seen any matches of mine, but I’m unlike any other competitor you’ve been in the ring with.
I’m not Nikki Dean. I’m not Jack Sabbath. I’m a f*ckin’ monster. I applaud you for having the audacity to attack me at Borderlines, but I’m just putting this out there, you f*cked with the wrong man.
Now, onto my main opponent, Chase Landon. A few months ago, you were supposed to be in the triple threat match with Josh Dean and I. Luckily for us, you jump started a rivalry that lasted until a few weeks ago. Bad for you, you disappeared off the face of the Earth and was pronounced dead.
How does it feel to be called “dead?” I’m quite curious, to be honest. To feel like you are forgotten by those around you is truly astounding. I wonder how it must’ve felt when the casket was closed and you watched as they wrote your name on the tombstone.
If I vaguely recall, Donnie was on the hunt for you back in Seattle. He came up with some plan to take you and Jayson out before you would face us. Donnie was a smart man. God knows where he is, but we all wondered where you were. Everyone figured you were “dead” because you were in KKK territory and you had rubbed us off the wrong way.
I’ll never discover how you escaped Donnie’s wrath or how you kept your identity in secret for months. The landscape of the WFWF has changed since you left. I’m no longer the National champion, but hell, I broke Devilkiller’s longest record. Your former partner, Jayson Garrett, has come and gone. As many continued to ascend the ladder, I was left in the dust, almost like you, except I wasn’t declared legally “dead."
I proved to myself and everyone that not only was I alive, but I was thriving. I beat the God of F*ck himself, Michael Kyzer and may he rest in hell. And now, I’m on the path towards championship glory again. You are contestant number two to step up to the plate.
Contestant number one struck out. Perhaps you can pull a home run before contestant number three. It’s possible Chase. I know you and what you’ve done. You were the longest-reigning Tag-Team champion around the same time as I was National champion. I guess we both have a knack for extremely long title reigns.
But I promise you, the fight between you and I won’t be too long. I will make it short and sweet, with another victory to my name. Perhaps I can choose contestant number three after you fall to me.
I’m sorry it had to be this way Chase. I understand you’re here for a comeback after a long absence and that you were fed to one of, if not the, best in this company today. You’re a gunslinger, coming in for your last shot, and I’m a trailblazer, full steam ahead to glory.
The grave is calling your name Chase. Let me do the honors.
Chapter 2 of 3: Reality
10/4/15
Seattle, Washington
Fantasy. The activity of imagining things, especially things improbable or impossible.
My world revolved around fantasies ever since I was a young boy. The thought of being a “king” never left me as a child, as a teenager, and as an adult. I often gave presidential speeches to myself and some G.I Joe figure I would have on my dresser. I would mainly talk bullsh*t because being a six year old does not give you exclusive availability to the broad and confusing world of politics.
But, when I would give these fictional speeches, I always emphasized the monarchical part. For a six year old, I carefully planned a specific plan to obtain a throne and abolish the government we have today. I still remember it to this day.
Step one: Corrupt the people.
Step two: Corrupt the institution.
Step three: Corrupt the world.
Step four: Glory.
I can blame all four of those steps on the movies my father would watch in his half-drunken state. I vividly remembered those movies, scene to scene. I recited the lines, word for word, in my fictional speeches to the Commander Cobra figure on my dresser. My mind is a little hazy on those lines, but if I were to see those movies again, I would be able to recite them again.
As a six year old, I focused on the corruption part in my addresses. I would give examples of world leaders I briefly touched on in kindergarten and how each one was different from each other. I would make up that Washington’s cherry tree landed him in jail and tell my G.I Joe that I would never chop down trees. Some pseudo-Al Gore sh*t.
I spent the past half-hour recollecting on some old photo albums I had in my drawer. After seeing the figure in one of the photos, it reminded me of the origins of my “king” fantasy. It also brought up my National title reign in particular.
It’s been about a year since I won the National title at Men and Monsters. The title that solidified my “throne-taking” steps I created over twenty years ago. It brings back the nostalgia. I want it again. I want the glory all over again.
I thought that the National title was the center of my world and everyone else’s. It may not have been the most valuable championship in the WFWF, but I always proclaimed it was. And now, a year after the matter, I don’t view it the same way as I used to.
To me, the National title now represents the youngblood, who aspire to be world champion one day. I was once apart of the youngblood faction, but a year later, I’ve shifted out of it, especially after my victory over Kyzer. I’m at the next level. I don’t need the National title anymore.
Maybe somewhere down the line, it will be cool to take back the first title I ever won in the WFWF, possibly on my retirement run. But, as of this moment, I know I’m ready for something bigger and much more grander. The International title is finally in my sights. And just like how I won the National title, the same steps come into effect yet again.
Step one: Corrupt the people. The people appreciate me now. They have a renowned respect for me, something I never grasped on until I met Josh Dean for the third time. I have to say, it feels different than the usual sh*t-talk I was given. I feel like I’m a revered hero now. And a hero deserves to be king. Step one: Completed.
Step two: Corrupt the institution. This the most important step because it factors into the third step greatly. I have to convince the WFWF that I’m the future. I have to prove something I haven’t proven before. I must show up every week, ready, willing, and able to fight anyone that dares to fight me. Step two: In process.
Step three: Corrupt the world. By the second step, the institution thinks I’m worthy of holding a championship and is willing to put me against the champion himself. But now, I have to prove the champion that I am the future as well. The champion is the world and it is time for the ultimate test. Step three: Incomplete.
Step four: Glory. After step three, I finally become the champion. As champion, I have to magnanimous, yet glorious in my reign ahead of me. With the glory of being champion, I will be able to recite the other three steps to successfully defend my title. Step four: Incomplete.
This is why I became National champion in the first place. It is also the reason why I held it for a record-breaking time. I intend on using the same steps on my new quest for the International title. I can picture it already. The lasting image of Ante Whitner holding a WFWF title again. Sh*t.
-------
I packed the last bit of my belongings, including my photo album, into the box and loaded it onto the truck. Ben was waiting outside with the truck and everything. If Kyzer and Donnie are gone, what is the point of living in Seattle? Seattle was never my home and it never will be.
I will remember my times in Seattle. The nights where Kyzer would get in his usual cocaine-fueled rage and the nights where Donnie would bring in Koreans to assist in “war plans” are just a few of the great memories I shared in Seattle. Although they’re both gone for different reasons, I’ll never forget the profound impact they had on my life.
I slowly shut the door Kyzer once bashed in. I picked up the last box and slowly walked down the creaky steps of the building. Ben was waiting outside of the truck, talking on his cell phone, and eagerly tapping his foot. He quickly got off the phone when he saw me at the bottom of the stairs.
Ben: Ante, you told me this was the last box.
Ben points to a box beside him. It held the pictures I had of myself in the ring, including the one that Kyzer broke a few months ago.
Ante: Well, I had one more.
Ben: Okay, but how come it took you twenty minutes to pack that tiny box?
I grinned.
Ante: It was an old album I haven’t looked at in a while. Tons of memories are in this thing.
Ben: Alright, whatever. Just get in the truck.
Seattle was never my home, but Yonkers always was. A part of me wanted to return to Yonkers and be more closer to Frankie, but another part of me wanted to go back to Miami to become close with Ivy. Ben ultimately chose a new beachside house in Miami, mainly because of my inability to choose which town to live in.
Ben: What exactly was in that photo album Ante?
I glanced at the apartment building one more time.
Ante: We have a long ride ahead of us Ben, just drive. I’ll explain later.
Ben: Suit yourself then.
Ben and I pull out of the driveway and ascended onto the long road ahead of us. There was one point on the highway where I couldn’t see anything but the actual road. No trees, no shrubs, nor animals. Just flat, black, open road.
About five hours in, I break the long silence we had after lunch.
Ante: What do you think is next Ben?
Ben quickly looks at me and back at the road.
Ben: What do you mean?
Ante: You know, who do you think is after me in the WFWF?
Ben: Who said that someone’s after you?
I glance at the empty, dark road ahead.
Ante: I’ve always been the prey Ben. Ever since I came to the WFWF, I’ve been nothing but a target to the sharks.
Ben: You are the shark Ante, I don’t know what you’re talking about.
Ante: I’ve never been the shark and you truly know that. I’ve had guys like Shapiro, Josh Dean, Nikki Dean, and Michael Kyzer on my ass for the whole year I’ve been in the WFWF. Who do you think will go after me next?
Ben: Ante, you’re not being hunted. You are the hunter, the metaphorical shark you mentioned before. You told me you were going after the International title. Doesn’t that make you the predator Ante?
Ante: I’m on a quest for the International title, but you and I both know that the International title won’t just come to me in a few weeks. It’s gonna be a while before I get my hands on it.
Ben: So, do you think Sam might go after you?
Ante: I don’t know, is that what you think?
Ben: Well, does Sam know that you’re going after his title?
Ante: No, why? Is that what you think?
We finally come up to an intersection, after traveling on that dead road for eleven straight miles.
Ben: To be honest, I don’t know what to think anymore. First, you tell me that you want to move back to Yonkers. Next, you tell me you would rather Miami. Then, you tell me that you’re ready to win the National title again. Then, of course, you tell me that you’re ready to face the International champion. Make up your mind Ante. He either knows your plan or he doesn’t.
Ante: I haven’t talked to him since Japan.
Ben: Then, how would he know your plan Ante? It’s common f*ckin’ sense.
Ante: Because he’s Samael Ahriman. He’s one of the most mysterious men I’ve ever met. I wouldn’t be surprised if he had some sleeper agent force after me right now. If I’m threat to him and his title, he might as well take me out early.
Ben: I won’t let that happen Ante.
Ante: What are you gonna do? You’re just my agent.
Ben quickly brakes the car and pulls over to the side of the road.
Ante: What the hell are you doing?
Ben turns to me with anger.
Ben: I’m just your agent?!
Ante: Isn’t that why I hired you?
Ben: Ante, I’ve done more things for you this year than Frankie has done in your entire lifetime.
Ante: Don’t say that.
Ben: Oh really? A paraplegic has done more for you than I have?!
I look down at the mat.
Ben: I’m sorry man. I, I didn’t mean-
Ante: Yeah, of course you didn’t.
I open the door and slam it, breaking the glass. I hear Ben shouting out my name. I walk the empty road ahead of me with disgust. Ben drives up beside me.
Ben: Ante, get back in the truck.
I completely ignore him.
Ben: Ante, come on. I don’t have time for this sh*t.
Ante: And you don’t have time for a person I’ve grown up with, lived with, and had great times with. Go f*ck yourself Ben.
Ben: I said I’m sorry. Just please, get in the truck. We have a long drive and I highly doubt you’ll walk all the way to Florida.
I stop and get in the truck.
Ben: Good. Now, we’re gonna have to stop soon to sleep and eat dinner.
Ante: Great.
We pull up to a truck stop and motel. Ben and I park the truck and enter the motel. The motel is very reminiscent of the Bates Motel, except the old lady at the front-desk was actually female and not someone trying to act like a female.
Lady: Hi gentlemen, are you looking for a room?
Ben: Uh, yes we are.
Lady: We have a room right over here.
The motel was dead and empty. No trucks or people in sight. Ben hands her the money and she shows us the room. The farthest room from the lobby. Of course.
Lady: Here you are boys. Enjoy your stay.
Ante: Thank you.
I quickly shut the door. The room was decent, considering the ghastly vibe that comes with the motel.
Ante: Ben, what kind of motel did you get?
Ben: I don’t know. I saw it online and it looked very nice. Must’ve been an old picture.
Ante: Damn it Ben.
I look out the blinds to see if anyone pulled up. It was so dark I couldn’t see a thing.
Ben: It doesn't matter Ante. We’re gonna be here for one night and then we’re off on the road again. C’mon, let’s get dinner.
Luckily, there was some fast food restaurant a few yards down the road. As we left, the old lady at the desk wasn’t there. After we ate, we came back and she still wasn’t there.
Ante: Where did she go?
Ben: I don’t know.
We slept in the room, with the suspicion that the old lady was possibly plotting to kill us. We woke up at five in the morning and she still wasn’t there. Ben left the keys on the desk and we quickly drove off.
Ante: From now on, let me do the hotel bookings please. That sh*t was gross.
Ben: Yeah, sure. Hahaha.
We make it to Oklahoma after a few hours on the road.
Ante: So, when do you think we’re gonna get in?
Ben: Um, probably tomorrow night, why?
Ante: No reason, just wondering.
Ben: No, I know why. You’re worrying about that girl, aren’t you?
Ante: A little.
Ben: I understand Ante. It’s a part of life. You have to learn to love people and clearly, you love her.
Ante: I’ve never felt that way towards anyone since you know who.
Ben: Well, you have told me you liked her before. She is pretty hot Ante. And you have money, fame, and the looks. You two are a perfect match.
Ante: Since when did you become my love doctor too?
Ben: You hired me as your agent and I’m here for anything you ask me.
Sometimes I trust Ben more than anyone else. I trusted him when I was in Seattle with Sam, Tugarin, Donnie, and Mike. I trust sometimes more than I ever would trust Frankie. In essence, he was kind of right before.
--------
A king needs a close advisor after all, right?
Here I am. Step two on my indefinite journey for the International title. I’m the predator, stalking the title in my grasp. But, what happens when the predator becomes the prey?
Lucas Crowe. I’m afraid we haven’t met before. My name is Ante Whitner, the Bloodied Eagle, the longest-reigning National champion of all-time, and the newest God-Slayer to the God-Slayer family. I am a little shocked you chose to attack me at such a time where my focus is on the International title.
It’s almost as if you brought back my past to haunt me. You currently hold the National title. I’ve held the National title for longer than you can imagine. Before you came in, I was running this place. And I don’t know if you’ve seen any matches of mine, but I’m unlike any other competitor you’ve been in the ring with.
I’m not Nikki Dean. I’m not Jack Sabbath. I’m a f*ckin’ monster. I applaud you for having the audacity to attack me at Borderlines, but I’m just putting this out there, you f*cked with the wrong man.
Now, onto my main opponent, Chase Landon. A few months ago, you were supposed to be in the triple threat match with Josh Dean and I. Luckily for us, you jump started a rivalry that lasted until a few weeks ago. Bad for you, you disappeared off the face of the Earth and was pronounced dead.
How does it feel to be called “dead?” I’m quite curious, to be honest. To feel like you are forgotten by those around you is truly astounding. I wonder how it must’ve felt when the casket was closed and you watched as they wrote your name on the tombstone.
If I vaguely recall, Donnie was on the hunt for you back in Seattle. He came up with some plan to take you and Jayson out before you would face us. Donnie was a smart man. God knows where he is, but we all wondered where you were. Everyone figured you were “dead” because you were in KKK territory and you had rubbed us off the wrong way.
I’ll never discover how you escaped Donnie’s wrath or how you kept your identity in secret for months. The landscape of the WFWF has changed since you left. I’m no longer the National champion, but hell, I broke Devilkiller’s longest record. Your former partner, Jayson Garrett, has come and gone. As many continued to ascend the ladder, I was left in the dust, almost like you, except I wasn’t declared legally “dead."
I proved to myself and everyone that not only was I alive, but I was thriving. I beat the God of F*ck himself, Michael Kyzer and may he rest in hell. And now, I’m on the path towards championship glory again. You are contestant number two to step up to the plate.
Contestant number one struck out. Perhaps you can pull a home run before contestant number three. It’s possible Chase. I know you and what you’ve done. You were the longest-reigning Tag-Team champion around the same time as I was National champion. I guess we both have a knack for extremely long title reigns.
But I promise you, the fight between you and I won’t be too long. I will make it short and sweet, with another victory to my name. Perhaps I can choose contestant number three after you fall to me.
I’m sorry it had to be this way Chase. I understand you’re here for a comeback after a long absence and that you were fed to one of, if not the, best in this company today. You’re a gunslinger, coming in for your last shot, and I’m a trailblazer, full steam ahead to glory.
The grave is calling your name Chase. Let me do the honors.