Party Time in the End Times - The Manchurian Candidate

April 25th, 2021

After placing the final piece of tape over the external nasal splint, the WFWF's head physician steps back to analyze his work. With this thumbs and index fingers forming a rectangle, he looks directly through the hand frame as he tilts his head towards each side and hums before clicking his tongue in satisfaction once his inspection yields the desired results. Ever so slightly he steps back and forth, continuing to look through the frame before lowering his hands and nodding in admiration.

Doc Svenson: ... Nailed it.

Nodding back is EBR, sitting atop the examination table. There's just something about matches with Penny Shannon that tend to find him backstage receiving medical attention, but it's not a bother. Not all visits are created equal, as his performance so elegantly declared.

EBR: Much love.

After a quick knock on the door which draws both the doctor's and patient's attention, DGX enters the room.

DGX: E ...

EBR: Aha ... what up, D.

His former associate enters the medical room as the physician removes his gloves and tosses them into the nearby waste basket.

Doc Svenson: Don't sneeze.

As the physician departs, DGX approaches the table with his hand extended. Both men clap palms, hit the backhands on the rebound, and clap palms twice more before dapping their fists in one fluid motion. Some things are like riding a bicycle.

DGX: So how's the ... motioning towards his face ... you know ...

EBR: I'm afraid I won't be as pretty as I used to be.

A nasal fracture has never been so sweet. He'll wear - if not flaunt - the gauze and splint which adorn the wound with the pride it deserves, embracing its commemoration of his time spent in the trenches. He may not walk away from war unscathed, but by God, he walks out.

And he's victorious when he does so.

A "battle scarred Shogun", to quote the eloquent Inspectah Deck.

DGX: Nice work on the win.

EBR: Back at you. Looks like we're both picking up where we left off.

DGX: As if there would be any doubt.

The statement and previous observation cause both to bob their heads in agreement. The more things change, the more they don't.

EBR: So how are you? You good?

DGX: Yeah I'm pretty good. You?

EBR: I'm good. I'm real good.

With so much in common it's near impossible for their chemistry to not be instantly rekindled.

EBR: You've kept in touch with Alex?

DGX: Not really.

EBR: Yeah me either. That's too bad.

Despite all the joys he's been blessed enough to experience during his forty years on this earth, he's briskly reminded of the personal relationships which never officially end, but rather fade away unceremoniously as the unfortunate causalities in the passage of time. For all he knows Alex Sean may be dead. Hrm.

Probably not. He likes to think he would have heard about it by now. Probably.

EBR: Here I thought we were just about to get the gang back together.

DGX: Hey speaking of, what's this about them not having Tag Titles anymore?

EBR: They don't have tag matches, period.

DGX: Damn ... guess this company just doesn't understand or value the importance of team work these days.

EBR: Right? Like I know it's a business that's predominantly based on just looking out for one's self and all ... but like seriously; you can't put your ego aside and share success with someone else without feeling threatened? I dunno ... maybe it's just me but these newer guys seem much more selfish than us old guard.

DGX: Or they just had the foresight to know there was a possibility we might come back some day ... so screw it, what's even the point, right?

Moment of silence for the Champions.

EBR: You still have the one you never lost?

DGX: Probably. Figure it's just in one of those old boxes in my attic or something.

And to think the WFWF doesn't deem the Tag Team Titles worthy of competition anymore.

EBR: Anyways, I'm glad I caught you. I happened to see that interview you did with Werner a few weeks ago.

DGX: You mean the one where he tracked me down just to get the dirt on how we would try to injure our opponents for money?

EBR: Yeah ... there wasn't another one, was there?

DGX: No, I'm pretty sure he got the only scoop he wanted.

EBR: Well look, I'm sorry you had to answer any of that. I wasn't trying to make you fall on the sword or anything, it's just that when he was filming something for me he asked me about it and I just answered honestly. That's kind of my thing now ... trying to identify and fix my flaws. You know in hindsight I used to lie a lot? Like I didn't realize how much of a pathological liar I was until I really started looking back.

DGX: And how's that working out for you?

EBR: I've been led to believe honesty is its own reward. So in a way ... I'm a rich man.

DGX: As rich as when I was paying you tens of thousands of dollars to send people to physical therapy?

EBR: See ... that's what's called a loaded question, D. Point is, I was never trying to get you caught in the blowback, so I apologize.

Nonchalantly, DGX shrugs.

DGX: The entire thing was overblown.

EBR: We were wrong, D.

DGX: Why? Because we were incentivizing what we were already trying to do? Why is everyone suddenly shocked and appalled that a violent sport has such an ugly side to it? Got news for you, E; they would have crippled you if they just had the ability. They weren't your friends either. They would have gladly taken you out as soon as they had the chance. Hell, for all we know they were making the same bets between themselves.

EBR: Maybe, but I try not to focus so much on the negativity anymore. You live longer and happier when you have a positive outlook to things.

DGX: Just being a realist.

In a way he's glad there's no longer a set of Tag Team Titles to tempt them to "run it back" for another round. He may still have much love for his old partner, but sometimes you just have to go your own way even if the destination appears to be the same. He'd like to be able to look back and enjoy the ride this time, and that might be difficult when he's diverging from the proper path to instead cut across the cactus field because it might save a few minutes on the trip.

EBR: Suppose that's just the difference between us.

DGX: That and a broken face.

This time it's EBR who shrugs nonchalantly.

EBR: Cost of doing business.

It's embarrassing to say in hindsight, but in the lead up to SuperBrawl it was lost on EBR just how much he needed someone like Penny Shannon. He understands now and is grateful to her in ways she may never know. Having recently returned to the WFWF after eight years and believing himself to be at his highest level he needed someone who was capable of bringing him down a peg or two to do just that. He recognizes now how much needed that loss, and needed the subsequent assaults, and needed the dirt to be thrown on his name like Penny was so eager to do.

He needed that adversity.

He had to prove he could respond with his back against the wall, and he had to prove he could surpass any obstacle in his way, and he had to prove he could reach a level higher than he what he erroneously believed was his highest, and he had to do it when the lights were shining their brightest and all eyes were on him, and he absolutely - undoubtedly - had to prove he could do it against someone the caliber of Penny Shannon, and perhaps most importantly he had to prove he could do it the right way. The proper way. The way that led him to return in the first place.

That was his litmus test.



And he passed with flying colors.

A temporarily broken nose that will heal on its own in three weeks time is well worth that confirmation and knowledge. It's a fair trade, and one he'd gladly make every time.

EBR: It got me exactly where I needed to be, and not a moment too late. The stars have aligned perfectly, D.

DGX: How's that?

EBR: I just defeated Penny Shannon ... Josh Dean got his match against Drakz ... there's no one in my way anymore. It's my time now.

DGX: They told you that?

EBR: Who else would it be?

DGX: Didn't that Devilkiller guy just win the number one contendership?

EBR: Nah man, watch it again. They said Devilkiller earned a future title shot. They never said the next one.

DGX: Ever the keen observer.

EBR: Gotta read between the lines, man. You've kept up with the WFWF for the last little bit?

DGX: No, nothing interested me so I had no reason to.

EBR: Well, in the past year - hey ...

DGX: What? You never called me either.

EBR: What I'm saying is, in the past year no one has a better record than me or a better win than against Penny. Maybe they didn't put that stipulation on our match officially, but for all intents and purposes ... we all knew that was the match that would determine the next challenger. And well ... now we know who that challenger is.

And unlike a year ago when he was perhaps a little too naive and presumed he could just walk in and pick up where he left off, or perhaps simply overconfident ... now he's ready. Much love, Penny. Iron really does sharpen iron.

EBR: Speaking of ... I was bleeding pretty bad so I've been here for a while ... that match between Drakz and Josh still going or ...?

DGX: It ended a few minutes ago.

EBR: ... Drakz?

DGX: Nope.

EBR: Wow ... damn ...

DGX: That much of an upset? Sounds like it bodes well for your chances.

EBR: Nah, I don't mean it like that. I don't really know him but I guess I'm happy for Josh and all ... it's just ... honestly? There was this whole thing around Drakz about how when he finally lost it would be his last match ... I just really figured it would be me who ended up doing it.

Caught off guard by that unexpected development, he momentarily laments that missed opportunity before shrugging indifferently. No use in dwelling on unfulfilled intuitions. He's far too busy for that. He has more pressing and immediate concerns. It's time to move onwards and upwards.

EBR vs Josh Dean.

Roll on.

EBR: Hrm ... feel kind of bad for Josh. I mean, five years ago he wins and is immediately screwed out of the Heavyweight Championship and he just has to ... live with it. Dwells with it for five long, arduous years until one day he just can't take it anymore and has to extract his revenge so he can get on with his life. To do that, he has to sacrifice every principle that was the foundation of his character. Evidently ... it works. He gets his Heavyweight Championship. But at what cost? Was it worth it just for what's waiting on the other side?

DGX: Sounds like a pretty compelling and interesting story when you phrase it like that.

EBR: Until he realizes what's waiting for him on the other side is a date with me.

Some people just have bad luck, if they have any at all.

DGX: Haha ... moment of silence for the champion.

It's time for him to bring his World Heavyweight Championship back home. The train's a comin', and it ain't slowing down.

EBR: Moment of silence ... for those who make going hard a lifestyle ...

So just hop on and enjoy the scenic view. It's lovely this time of year.



::: The Manchurian Candidate :::


It's been a long time since he's specifically been invited into his boss' office for an undisclosed reason. Thinking back, it must have been about ten years ago when former President & CEO King Kraig brought him in to inform him of his positive drug test and subsequently strong-armed him into agreeing to dispose of his adversaries in exchange for looking the other way.

That was the day he learned that blackmail really does work. That must be why it's so popular.

Kris Kash: You thirsty? Water, coffee, scotch? How about a can of Kash Energy? Anything you want, it won't be a problem.

With his reputation and record now spotless and pristine, it stands to reason this will be a much more comfortable and pleasant chat this time around. Despite being under his employment for a year he's had very little contact with Kris Kash, and while some less than pleasant rumblings have reached him, he knows it's immature to believe any gossip before truly getting to meet and know the man.

EBR: Could go for some tea, actually.

Kris Kash: We don't have that, but I can have my assistant run out real quick and get some if you want? We'll have time.

EBR: Oh. I didn't know this was going to be that long of a meeting.

Kris Kash: "Meeting" is so formal. Don't call it that. We're just hanging out and shooting the breeze. So how's everything, playboy?

With full eye contact Kris Kash stares at him, a giddy grin spread across his face. The longer it lingers the more it visibly transitions in seamless fashion from relaxed to goofy to self-approving to pompous.

EBR: ... You know what? Just water will be fine.

Clearly it's not worse than sitting across from King Kraig and being told to stab Alex Sean in the back and to take his Heavyweight Championship when Alex was in no position to defend himself from the pilfering of his livelihood, dignity, and most coveted possession.

But he would still prefer for it to end as soon as possible. If it all feasible, he would like to be in his car in roughly ten minutes.

Kris Kash: Bottled? Vitamin? Sparkling? I can have my assistant run out real quick and pick up a water filter?

EBR: Uh ... a bottle will suffice.

Kris Kash: Aquafina, Dasani, Voss, Perrier, Pennine Spring?

Make it five minutes.

EBR: ... Yes?

Kris Kash: My assistant will be right on that.

Putting his hands together Kash places them on his desk, looking back at EBR who subtly scans the room to see if there's an intercom he missed.

Kris Kash: So how's the nose?

Symbolically? Outstanding. Another example of justice and righteousness prevailing, not unlike what transpired between Virgil Earp and the dastardly gang of outlaws during the gunfight at the O.K. Corral.

EBR: About what you'd imagine. I don't know if you've ever had your nose broken but it feels like you think it would.

Physically? Seen better days.

Kris Kash: I bet it hurts.

EBR: Yeah that's an apt way to describe it. I'd say you got the idea. Well done.

Kris Kash: You remind me of that guy from that movie ... snapping fingers ... you know the one ... what's it called?

EBR: I dunno ... might need you to be more specific ... feels like it could be one of several ...

Kris Kash: No you know the one I'm talking about ... with that guy ... with the nose ... I can picture it and everything ... what is it?

EBR: Aha ... I mean I really don't know, man ... I don't have access to your memories ...

He looks off to the side, and in the vicinity of the door. He's never felt further away.

Kris Kash: Well anyways, as much as I love to chat with old friends, there is a reason I asked you to come in and meet with me ...

And now the curtain has been lifted and he discovers that it was a meeting all along. Call him skeptical, but EBR always had a sneaking suspicion he wasn't just in Kris Kash's office for a "chat with an old friend".

A suspicion fueled in large part because this is the first time they've ever had a conversation.

Kris Kash: ... Believe me, it's a very exciting time for us in the WFWF. As a global company and brand, we're always looking to expand the WFWF's reach and influence. After an extensive and lengthy negotiation, the WFWF and Kash Industries could not be prouder to reach an agreement with the next country to serve as host to a future WFWF event. It is truly a monumental opportunity here for the WFWF, one with the potential to not just benefit this company in the interim, but for decades to come. Equally as important, it establishes and creates an excellent working relationship between all parties involved. I don't know how much you know about business, but the goal of every great deal that's ever been made through history has been for it to be a real win-win for both sides. It's what keeps everyone willing to come back to the table. That's a little insider secret, just for you.

EBR: ... Thanks. Sounds like congratulations is in order. So uh ... good for you.

Kris Kash: I could not be more thrilled. When I bought the WFWF I had ideas on how to make it bigger and better, and to see one of my plans come into fruition is an exciting prospect. When historians reflect on the heights the WFWF has reached, they'll see that it was Kris Kash who orchestrated and signed the deal that finally allowed the WFWF to break into the ever elusive Saudi Arabian market.

That sounds about right. That's seems like the appropriate way that speech would end.

Kris Kash looks at EBR, smiling ear to ear. He expects a response from EBR, which he gets after a prolonged silence.

EBR: Well ... you certainly accomplished ... something.

Kris Kash: So that said ... I think you know why I called you in.

EBR: I have an ... inkling.

As the WFWF's elder statesman and paragon of virtue, he understands he holds the loudest and most qualified voice when it comes to issues regarding the morality and values of the WFWF. He put in a lot of work to earn that role, and it's a role he humbly embraces. He's come a long way. It feels pretty damn good.

EBR: You want to know if it's a good idea, so first off ... I appreciate you asking me. That means a lot to me on a personal level. But since you want my honest opinion, I'll be square with you; I'm not sure you really put as much thought into the optics of how this looks or how receptive the general public is going to -

Kris Kash: Oh no, playboy. This is already a done deal. There's no backing out now. There's a lot of repercussions to that. That's been made very clear. I called you in because we want the first - of hopefully many - partnerships between the WFWF and Saudi Arabia to be as historic as possible. We, and they, want the biggest event we can give them. We give them the biggest event by giving them the biggest matches with the biggest stars. Which is why ... drum rolling on desk ... we want you, EBR ... to be in the main event.

This meeting has begun to spiral out of control, but yet so slowly that he feels he should have seen it coming.

Kris Kash: Isn't this exciting!?

EBR: It's ... something ...

Kris Kash: You seem hesitant.

EBR: Haha yeah ... no sh*t.

Kris Kash: You should be excited. This is a big opportunity. Look, I don't think I'm speaking out of turn when I say your return hasn't turned out the way you wanted, am I? You came in with a lot of expectations, and can we honestly sit here and say you've met them? One could argue it's been one of the least productive years of your career.

Don't put the WFWF's inability to run more than four shows on him.

Kris Kash: Your return has been ... I don't want to say a dud, I don't want to use that word. Maybe ... inadequate, would that be fair to say? Unremarkable? Uneventful?

He continues to stare at EBR.

EBR: ... Is that a rhetorical question or did you seriously call me into your office just to get me to admit I'm irrelevant?

Kris Kash: Irrelevant! That's the word. That'll work. You've been irrelevant. This will completely remedy that. All eyes will squarely be on you. It allows you to get out of whatever rut you're in, and break from your months long stretch of - and it pains me to say this - complacency.

EBR: I'm complacent? You took six months off after Halloween!

Kris Kash: I just hate seeing you like this. You just seem so ... detached and uninterested. What happened to the EBR we all remember? The witty, brash, charismatic go-getter who couldn't ... no, wouldn't be stopped? Where nothing would get in his way? It's why we all fell in love with you. Nowadays people just think you're punching in and out of the clock. It breaks my heart, quite frankly. Where's the match promotion? Scratch that - where's the self promotion? You don't even trash talk and run down your opponents in promos or vignettes anymore. Where's the long monologues? Where are they? Because EBR ... everyone has a voice, and your voice deserves to be heard. I believe in you.

EBR: Were you ... have you followed my career at all for the last six years?

Kris Kash: Oh sure I have, of course.

EBR: ... And?

Kris Kash: ... You were big in Japan. Yep, that was the EBR we all remembered and loved. Doing it just as well as he ever has.

He's reminded that his return was brokered by, and negotiations were dealt exclusively with, Lila Sleater.

EBR: ... You didn't see a single match of mine when I was there, did you?

Kris Kash: That's no point dwelling in the past, playboy. We're looking towards the future, and the future is about you not being such a passive participant. I'm not the only one who's noticed. You're on social media?

EBR: No, not really.

Kris Kash: Not a big internet guy?

EBR: Wouldn't say that. I love my wife but she's away a lot and I still have urges, you know?

Kris Kash: Woah ... c'mon now, bro. Let's try and keep it professional here.

EBR: Really? This is the part of the conversation you find off-putting?

Kris Kash: Taking out phone Well let me just bring it up ... the opinion on you has been generally positive but there's been some detractors who think you're just missing that little something. Let me read some of these tweets. "Fact; if this is your first time seeing EBR you assume he's an inspiring tale of the first man to wrestle after being born without vocal chords". See? That's what I was saying ... "The b in EBR stands for boring" ... there's another one just like that but it says "bitch" ... this is a hashtag for "you're old when" and it says "you remember when EBR was entertaining".

EBR: This is really disappointing.

Kris Kash: Is it lighting a fire under you?

EBR: Nah I mean whatever, people are gonna say what they say and I really couldn't care less about the attention ... but damn, these insults are pretty weak. Aren't there any better ones?

Kris Kash: Some are a little more vulgar. This one says "just found out EBR has a sex tape. Really fighting the urge to watch it just to see if he ejaculates quietly".

He tries to stifle a chuckle, but ultimately fails.

EBR: ... Anymore like that?

Kris Kash: Let's see ... there's a few that talk about Japan but are vaguely racist ... oh this one's kind of good. It says "what EBR reminds me of" and it's that clip from the Simpsons where the Yakuza and the Mafia are fighting on their lawn and Homer doesn't want to leave until that little guy does something cause he knows it'll be good.

EBR: That one's not even disparaging. That one sounds like a compliment.

Kris Kash: Putting phone away Anyways ... I think you get the gist.

EBR: Sure. Basically, you're disappointed that I'm not running around acting a fool or talking sh*t anymore. Would you like me to start riding to the ring on a buffalo again?

Kris Kash: Do you want another pet buffalo? We can make that happen.

EBR: I was being facetious.

Kris Kash: You sure? I can always get you a buffalo. Just say the word.

EBR: No ... it's cruel. I understand that now.

Besides, no one can ever replace Winston. Or Winnie, as he liked to be called.

Kris Kash: I hope you don't take any of this the wrong way and think I'm just trying to insult you, because that's the complete opposite of my intentions. It's just that as a leader of men I sometimes need to inspire and help guide those who need it. You understand what I'm trying to do, don't you?

EBR: Get me to do my part to make this a highly anticipated event so that hopefully the hype surrounding it will help drown out the various voices acknowledging that for a company that prides itself on positive and progressive values we're running a show in a country with various human rights violations?

Kris Kash: Alleged violations.

EBR: And am I supposed to cut a promo in the ring afterwards, thankful for the invitation and praising their government for such forward thinking?

Kris Kash: I would never order you to do that ... now if you're naturally inclined to do so I won't stop you. It would be nice. We are their guests, remember.

EBR: You're putting me in a really uncomfortable position here.

Kris Kash: And I take that to heart, buddy. I really do. I don't want you to do anything that makes you uncomfortable. Your comfort is of the utmost importance to me.

EBR: Say, is your assistant gonna bring in that water or ...?

Kris Kash: She must be out. Turning head towards the door Cathy!? ... Cathy!? ... Yeah, she's out. She'll be back momentarily.

EBR: Not really sure why you'd even bother asking me to do this in the first place. It's clear I'm not the right guy for the job. There must be other people you could ask.

Not including Penny Shannon, Mesh, Scarlett Quinn, or Rosa.

EBR: Why are you so adamant on making me headline it?

Kris Kash: Because he specifically requested you.

EBR: ... Who? The Saudi Prince?

Kris Kash: He's actually a really big fan.

EBR: Y ... yeah?

Kris Kash: He says he's looking forward to meeting you.

EBR: Hrm ... while I may disagree with him politically and socially, I guess in all fairness I shouldn't judge someone I've never met ... people are complicated ...

Kris Kash: And remember, this isn't just a big pay day for the WFWF. Sure, I may be your boss and you may be my employee, but I don't look at it like that. As I see it, we're partners. What's good for me will be good for you. The wealth gets distributed, so when the WFWF gets paid you all get paid. That's the whole concept behind trickle down economics.

EBR: No, I don't think that's right -

Kris Kash: Looks like we'll have to agree to disagree. Point is, you'll be rewarded lucratively for your involvement.

He sold his decency and ethics for a couple bucks many times before. He's not particularly keen to do it again just for a few dollars more.

EBR: I didn't come back for the money, man.

Kris Kash: You're such an enigma. You don't want the spotlight, you don't care about the money. What is it you do want?

EBR: ... Again is that rhetorical or are you actually asking me?

Kris Kash: Of course, friend. I'm legitimately curious. You're a very hard man to read.

Gritting his teeth, Kash shakes his head theatrically. It may be done as faux-outrage, but he assumes in every joke there's an element of truth somewhere. When you're used to going through life getting everything you want it can be difficult when you finally don't.

Kris Kash: Gah, it's so frustrating but I love it. You doing you like you do ... so mysterious ... but if we're doing business together, let me know you. Let me in. What fuels and drives the man known as EBR?

For the past year he's been routinely asked why he would return to the WFWF. He could never understand why. He thought it was fairly obvious, yet out of respect for Josh Dean he wouldn't answer. It wasn't his time yet, and he would let another have his turn before he addressed what he assumed was the elephant in the room. He would give a rather routine and customary answer, and each time it was deemed sufficient if not rather uninteresting and he and everyone else would carry on with their days. Until one day he wouldn't have to, because enough days had passed and it was his rightful turn, even if it took far longer then he would have liked. Five shows in a calendar year was an unexpected and unfortunate hold up.

He wants the exact same thing he always wanted. The exact same thing that was always the goal. The exact same thing that always defined him.

EBR: The Heavyweight Championship.

Recognition.

That in a company which holds a percentage of the greatest wrestlers in the world, there is one who stands greater than all others.

And it is him.

Kris Kash: Yeah? Cool. Perfect. See? This is a great meeting. You have something you want, and I can help give it to you. It's these types of productive conversations which are the foundation for every successful business deal, just like I told you.

His tone raises a few red flags.

Kris Kash: Whispering And just between you and me? I don't really like Josh Dean that much anyways. But shhh, don't tell anyone.

And his words raise a lot more.

EBR: Let's not get ahead of ourselves ... I don't want anything handed to me.

Kris Kash: No no, of course not. I gotcha. I can vibe with that. We're on the same page, I think ... I'll tell the referee not to pick it up before you. Germaphobe? My condolences. That's rough.

EBR: Okay, I'mma try and make this as simple as I can ... my goal is the Heavyweight Championship ... but my goal isn't to just win it through whatever means necessary. Not anymore. So no, I don't want Josh Dean assaulted, or screwed, or anything that tarnishes the victory. I want to earn it ...

He would like to explain to him the entire concept of the grueling journey that is climbing Mount Everest, but it's a metaphor he opts not to share out of concern Kris Kash won't understand and instead think EBR is going to use his platform to transition to his new love of alpinism as he treks across the globe and conquers literal mountains. Or to embark on his new career as a Sherpa.

EBR: ... I just want to earn it. The right way.

The noblest of pursuits.

Kris Kash: I can vibe with that. You don't want a black mark on your legacy. Gotcha, and I hear you loud and clear.

EBR: Good ... so what you hear is, I don't want my title shot to be brokered under some shady, secretive back door meeting to get me to headline a show in Saudi Arabia because you're more concerned about how much money is coming as opposed to where it's coming from ...

A man's got to have a code.

EBR: ... Respectfully speaking, of course.

Manners, too.

EBR: That's your deal, not mine. We don't share the same beliefs ... so look man, just being upfront with you? There's nothing you can offer me that would make me feel good about doing this. Good luck with this show and all, but it's looking like I'll have to pass.

Kris Kash: ... Oh, you're pulling the rug out from under me. I'd be really mad right about now if I wasn't so impressed by your shrewdness. I admire you in a way, E. But I think we should look at the big picture here. If you want a match for the Heavyweight Championship at some point ... I'm the guy who makes that happen. There's nothing dirty or shady about it, it's just the reality of the situation. So you know ... something to think about. Do a favor for me, I'll return it for you. Quid pro quo, right? That's another little business tip for you.

There it is. A tale as old as time. When you want someone to be your personal and eager little whore, it's advantageous to hit the G spot. That way they don't put up as much of a fuss when you're raw dogging them from behind.

EBR: And if I don't you won't?

Kris Kash: No, no, no .... no. I'm not saying that. Not at all.

Which is exactly what someone who is attempting to coerce someone else against their will would say.

Kris Kash: I'm just looking out for this company's best interests.

EBR: See, I have a hard time buying that you want what's best for the WFWF when you're going to try and deny me my rightful claim as number one contender unless I engage in your little dog and pony show.

If Kris Kash is going to run the WFWF poorly he could at least run it meritocratically.

Kris Kash: Woah, let's not jump the gun. We're just negotiating here. Besides, you haven't technically earned anything yet so I haven't denied anything ... technically or legally. We're just two dudes sitting here having a talk. This is professional, not personal.

EBR: Look me in the eye and try to seriously justify the argument for anyone else getting a Championship match before me.

Kris Kash: I'm not sure if you've watched SuperBrawl but Devilkiller -

EBR: He won one match!

Kris Kash: A gauntlet match. Some people would claim he won one match, others would claim he won two. Who's to say who's right or wrong?

EBR: Is this the appropriate time to point out he was given this opportunity before he even wrestled the match because, for reasons beyond comprehension, a match involving two men making their returns and one making their debut was promoted as being for a future title shot?

Kris Kash: Well if you'll allow me to just turn the tables a little bit; who have you beaten?

EBR: ... Penny Shannon!

Kris Kash: That's just one win.

EBR: ... Why you dogging Penny like that? You know she's good.

As evidenced by his beautiful face which is now slightly less beautiful.

EBR: Real talk? You're not just dismissing me when you say it like that, you're dismissing her and that's pretty disrespectful to just - ...

Now it got weird that despite their history he's suddenly defending her from possible slights. Life certainly has a way of throwing curveballs at you.

EBR: ... Forget it. She's not important right now.

Kris Kash: Look E ... I like you. I really do. Few things would please me more than watching you live up to your potential. All you need is that one chance, that one thing that can turn your whole career around and get it back on track like I know it can. Well, this is that chance. This is a great opportunity, a tremendous opportunity, not just for you but for the entire WFWF. This is where we need your leadership. The bases are loaded, E ... taps wrist ... and I'm bring you in off the bench. We need a homerun. Hit us a homerun. Hit it over the fences ... and I'll make sure next game you're batting lead off. That's not just a guarantee ... that's a "Kash Guarantee".

EBR lets out a very frustrated and exasperated sigh before throwing up his arms in defeat. He despises that he's forced to bite but he's legitimately curious.

EBR: Rolling eyes ... What's the difference?

Kris Kash: It's better!

As if that should inspire much confidence. Sketchy deals with sketchy people tend to produce sketchy results. The person who promises you riches just to get you on board for their own gain will often end up being the one to sell you down the river for the same reason.

Kris Kash: Now look, this a big deal. There's a lot to take in, so give it some time. We don't want you making any rash decisions right now. Go home, sleep over it, give it some thought ... then just get back to me, alright? I think once you've thought it through you'll make the right choice. You know why? Because you're EBR. And I believe in you. The cream always rises to the top, right?

It's to his immense disappointment that despite walking into this meeting with an open mind he's now left with nothing but a solicitation to abandon his principles and a polite but firm request to assassinate his own character. All told, this hasn't turned out much different from the last time he was summoned to his boss' office. It can be a difficult world to navigate for the brave idealist on the best of days, but it's further complicated when it's occupied by powers that just don't share the same vision.

Kris Kash: Or, I guess in this case ... the oil rises to the top. Hehe ... see what I did there?

Or values.



Shelia: ... Would you even feel safe going?

Understandably perplexed, she stares at him as both sit at the table outside of what's just sort of become "their" coffee shop. Casually, he takes a sip of his tea.

EBR: Oh no, don't worry about me. I'll be fine. Turns out I'm his favorite.

Shelia: ... Who? The Saudi Prince?

As poor of a situation as it is for him, he can only try and imagine what she must be thinking. It's not every day that after a week of playing shows in Ibiza you return to hear that your significant other has recently been propositioned to become a political pawn for a totalitarian government.

It seems less than ideal.

EBR: I'm of the understanding he'd be willing to take me out for a nice dinner. Sounds like I could be getting the royal treatment.

Shelia: I don't even know how I'm supposed to feel about that ...

EBR: I, for one, am quite flattered.

Shelia: I can't tell if you're joking or not.

EBR: Obviously.

It is nice to be liked, though.

EBR: Yeah it's a ... it's a bit of a mess, currently.

Shelia: Have you tried telling them you don't want to go?

EBR: In not so many words.

Shelia: Shoot ... well, I'm out of ideas.

Stoically he shrugs, but it's largely for show because he was really hoping she would have one.

Shelia: What happens if you just say no?

EBR: It'll be held against me and I'll never get my go at the belt ever again.

Shelia: He actually told you that?

EBR: It was strongly implied. It wasn't that subtle.

It hasn't been lost on him that the only leverage Kris Kash had was the knowledge of his desire to pursue the Heavyweight Championship, the last and most important part needed to complete his entire reclamation project. It was the only thing Kash could use against him, and he could use it against him because it was knowledge EBR passed along offhandedly because he was asked a question and he answered honestly because doing the opposite was one of the many personal flaws he vowed to change.

So maybe next time he should just keep his mouth shut. It's not a lie if you just don't answer, not unlike the fifth amendment.

EBR: So where I'm at is I either don't do it and put myself on ice ... or I do it and let him know that I'm willing to compromise my integrity ... again ...

Part of him has to simply marvel at the fact he's yet again found himself in this type of predicament. In another life he reckons he'd be a bright eyed gal from a small town in Wisconsin with big aspirations of being a star, until the day she finds herself sitting on that casting couch and she discovers that the only thing standing between her and her dreams is the fifty year old portly and pantsless producer who replaces the gleam in her eye with the emission that sprays into it.

Some people are just too pure for this world.

Shelia: That really sucks. I'm sorry that's happening to you.

EBR: Thank you. It does suck.

He's grateful he has someone to listen to his problems, but seriously - some suggestions would be nice as well. They're a team. Pick up the slack.

EBR: I suppose I shouldn't bother asking you what you would do if you were me?

Shelia: Oh, you know what I would do.

EBR: So you'd think less of me if I do it?

Shelia: No it's ... complicated. It's a lot of personal and professional pressure they're putting you under. I'm sure there's a financial component you haven't even mentioned?

EBR: Well yeah, that's why they want me to do it. I'm just a cog in a much bigger machine. One that really wants its recurring cut of that oil money. Sounds pretty lucrative.

Shelia: On one hand ... that money could help a lot of people ...

At this juncture in his life he does fancy himself quite the humanitarian. He marches for social causes and recently started and organized an at risk youth program. Perhaps hidden underneath the rubble of this indecent proposal lies the beacon of hope that would help improve not just a community, but a currently divided nation. Perhaps saying yes has been the benevolent choice all along.

The heroic choice, even.

EBR: So you're saying I should do it?

Shelia: I dunno, I'm just trying to find the silver lining in you selling your soul.

It did take a lot of mental gymnastics for him to attempt to spin it into something it wasn't. In his experience that usually means it isn't true.

He would donate it to charitable causes though. He's good like that.

EBR: Well now I know who I'm not inviting as my plus-one.

Shelia: ... Am I even allowed to come?

EBR: ... Prob ... probably? ... I'd have to check first. Might need to get permission.

Shelia: Solid sales pitch ... In all seriousness, I really wish I could help you. That's ... that's quite the dilemma you're in.

EBR: You could make it easy for me and just tell me what to do?

Shelia: Then if you end up not liking the result you'll resent me for it and bring it up whenever you're upset. It'll be Dogecoin all over again.

It's a form of currency with a dog's face as the logo. What doesn't she see?

Shelia: Either way I'll support you, but it's ultimately your choice to make. You have to be the one to make it. You have to really ask yourself what matters most to you.

EBR: I just don't want to be a bad person.

Shelia: You're not.

He will feel like a sh*tty one, however. And on the contrary, in his experience that usually means it is true.

It's a daunting task to be asked to choose what's preferable; not being what you want to be in your career and not being what you want to be in your life. He just assumed he could be both. Yet here is.

Even the best laid plans really do go awry.

Shelia: When he brought it up to you what was your first reaction?

EBR: What I thought or what I said? I don't remember either verbatim but the second was a lot more polite.

Shelia: And what were you thinking when you left?

EBR: That it was an insult to extort me into doing something that makes me uncomfortable and compromises my ethics just so I can get personal satisfaction, and it goes against everything I stand for and how I live my life - oh ... okay then ...

Shelia: Sounds like you already know your answer, then.

Solemnly he takes another drink of his tea. Not all things end with some big spectacle or firework display. Sometimes they just do the first part. They just end.

The world of professional sports is filled to the brim with various players who dominate their respective sports and lead their leagues in every major statistical category but through no fault of their own never get to sniff the postseason. Despite their greatness they just don't get the opportunity to grasp that one remaining and elusive accolade that would put their names in the record books above all others. They don't get the one missing piece for the trophy case which would put the final bow on a career known for excellency and expertise. They don't get to stand on a podium as the confetti rains down and they plant a kiss on the physical representation of the culmination of their life's work with a smile spread from ear-to-ear because they finally get a taste of what they've been yearning for after so long.

They just don't get to play for the Championship.

Unfortunately for them, they're stuck on a poorly run and poorly coached team and they're too classy an individual to ever demand a trade.

That's him now.

And that's okay. He can make peace with that. He did everything he had to do to reach the level needed to get him on that plateau, but he can't account for when life shows up and throws wrenches into plans. That's what life is. That's the trade off when you live it ...

EBR looks across the table at Shelia who smiles back in his direction before she takes another drink of coffee on this beautiful Spring day at their favorite spot.

... and EBR lives a pretty good one.

EBR: You're so wise.

Shelia: I'm the brains behind this operation, for sure.

All he can do is laugh and appreciate life's unexpected surprises. He spent years reconditioning himself to welcome the grind of the climb and learned to embrace the mental and physical anguish of the ascent because he believed those were the only obstacles that could ever deter him from reaching the top of the mountain.

Turns out what stops him from ever scaling it is just the lack of a plane to take him there.

Speaking objectively, he can at least find the humor in that.

EBR: So in other news ... I got that faucet fixed the other day. So that's all good now.

Shelia: You call a plumber?

EBR: Nah I just Googled it and watched a five minute video and figured it out. It didn't seem that hard.

It took him a little over an hour.

EBR: By the way I've been meaning to ask; where do we keep the spare batteries?

Shelia: I dunno ... did you check the drawers?

EBR: Which ones?

Shelia: Any of them.

EBR: ... Don't we have a specific place we keep them?

Shelia: I don't even know if we have any.

EBR: Wait ... we're living in a house that doesn't have spare batteries?

Shelia: If you couldn't find any ... then apparently.

EBR: What are you? Nuts?

Shelia: Just take them from something else.

EBR: That's not the point. We should have spare batteries. What if you're using something and you suddenly need some?

Shelia: Then I'll go get some.

EBR: In the middle of the night? When everything's closed?

Shelia: Then I won't use that thing.

EBR: What if it's something you absolutely need?

Shelia: What am I using that's the difference between life and death? My toothbrush has a plug ... anything else I think I'll be okay just waiting until the morning.

EBR: That's just foolish. Amateur move.

Shelia: You want to keep a collection of various batteries in case you need them?

EBR: Yes, I do.

Shelia: And do the double-As go in the same drawer as the triples or do they get their own separate area? And will they be located with your emergency electric generators?

EBR: They will be ... once I pick up a couple. I can tell from this conversation we don't currently have any.

Shelia: Is it that big of a deal?

EBR: You won't be saying that when you're trying to brush your teeth in the dark ... and be honest with me; if I check the smoke alarms will there be anything in them?

Shelia: ... I didn't bother to look. I just assumed the previous owner would have them working.

Jokingly he shakes his head.

EBR: Man ... you think you know someone. You got me living in a death trap, woman.

They both chuckle. Untroubled and at peace with the world around him, EBR leans back in his chair as his eye is drawn to her phone which resides on her end of the table and which begins to vibrate.

EBR: You can get that if you want.

Shelia: It's fine. It can wait.

EBR: Yeah ...

It's not the sturdiest table and its wobbling is starting to become annoyingly distracting.

EBR: ... Go ahead and take it. It's no bother.

She does as EBR continues enjoying his day, putting his forth his practice in the art of mindfulness. He's become very good at it, and while he's not entirely sure if it's even possible to master a spiritual concept he has to imagine he's getting fairly close to it. He takes a mental note of this accomplishment. It could be a good thought to come back to on days when he's feeling rather blue and he needs a quick emotional pick-me-up. Abruptly, his admiration is interrupted as he catches the exhilaration on his wife's face as she finishes reading the text message.

Shelia: That was Geoff ... you remember that big festival in Arizona? We're part of it! We're in!

She beams with happiness, which compels EBR to reciprocate.

EBR: Oh snap ... that's awesome. Congratulations.

Shelia: This is huge for us! I don't even ... wow! I don't even know what to say!

EBR: Enjoy the moment. You've earned it.

Shelia: Thanks! I need to call some people, do you mind if I just ...?

EBR: Of course not, do what you need to do.

She begins to take off.

EBR: And Shelia? I'm really proud of you.

Looking back, she replies with heartfelt sincerity.

Shelia: Thanks, Ghost.

She walks off, leaving EBR alone at the table. He couldn't be happier for her. He knows how hard she works and to see it pay off for one of the good ones is the most desirable of outcomes. She's earned this. It is truly the most gratifying and rewarding feeling in the world to see your loved ones begin to achieve their dreams.

He always had such big ideas for the both of them. He would envision them standing at the highest levels of their respective fields, and together they would share that rare bond as they marvel at the captivating and majestic views that lie before them. Truly, they had reached their full potential and achieved the greatness they so desperately seeked.

Shelia is well on her way. One day it's a music festival held over two weekends in Tucson, the next it's the song that plays during the closing credits of a critically acclaimed HBO show, followed by being in the top ten artists streamed on Spotify, until the pinnacle is reached and she stands on that stage in front of her peers and graciously accepts her first Grammy.

There is no limit when one aims for the sky.






Meanwhile, he'll be down on the ground below hoping that she remembers to give him a call if she's going to be home late so he doesn't stay up worrying again.

They were supposed to be on top together. That was the plan and it was going famously. Why doesn't he get rewarded for his hard work? He put in the time. He put in the effort. He put in the blood, the sweat, and if not for the lacrimal gland issue he would have put in the tears. Where's his prize? Where's his moment in the sun? Where's his performance to be played on all the highlight reels for decades to come? Six long years and it amounts to what?

Keeping up the house in Los Angeles he moved to for her? Looking after the dog if they rescue one? Raising the kids when she decides to have them? Buying a minivan because it'll just be easier that way?

Oh sure, he'll still get to have his little wrestling career on the side. Everyone should have a hobby to help them pass the time. He can't wait to be backstage at shows, watching Shelia perform duets with the Alicia Keys and the Adeles and the Elton Johns (possibly hologrammed depending how many years) of the world before he gets to go out wrestle the opening match against Napoleon f*cking Weisgarber and other trivial junk which devalues his name and undermines his skill because his punishment for not being Kris Kash's dancing monkey is to be essentially blacklisted like he's a f*cking communist sympathizer living in Hollywood in the 1950s. His career won't officially be over, but it sure as f*ck might as well be.

EBR; a once great man brutally slaughtered in the most undignified and horrific of ways while his desecrated remains decay slowly in the sun like common roadkill no one bothers to clean up. Legend speaks of poltergeists; specters which were untimely taken but which never vanish and instead roam the world, seeking vengeance against the wary souls who have wronged them through acts of malevolence ... but the timer for the oven is just about to go off and he has to go put in another load of laundry. Those carpets could also use a good vacuum, the floors need a moppin', and those shelves need to be cleaned ASAP before that dust turns into dirt. After such an exhausting day he likes to unwind with a glass of red wine while he continues to construct his model train set in the basement, and what do you know? He just doesn't have any time left over for haunting.

The railway is certainly something else, though. It even goes into the tunnel!



What the f*ck is this sh*t? Everything he worked for and it amounts to that? What a f*cking waste. F*ck that.

That's not the way it was f*cking supposed to be. That's not EBR. That wasn't the goal. They're a team. She's the Beyoncé to his Jay-Z, not the Oprah Winfrey to his f*cking Stedman.

Shelia gets to ascend and reach every milestone and aspiration on her way to immortality while he just gets to ... stand there. He gets to stand there, just looking up like some dope. Just a dope.

That's him now.

Just an inadequate, unremarkable, uneventful, irrelevant f*cking dope with a broken f*cking nose standing there holding his wife's f*cking purse.









Okay, he really needs to calm down right about now.

After breathing in through his nose for a count of four he holds that same breath for seven seconds. Over the course of eight seconds he blows it forcefully through his mouth. He repeats that cycle.

He feels better, but just to err on the side of caution he makes sure to do it twice more.

Okay. Now he's in a much more pleasant state of consciousness. He just needed to relax a little bit. He just needed a moment to collect himself and gather his thoughts. He's thinking a little more clearly now and he can assess the situation head on with a coolness and calmness which is much more fitting for someone with his disposition. Don't want to start acting irrationally or anything. It's far more prudent to be influenced by reason as opposed to emotion.

Embracing the stillness, he keeps his eyes glued straight ahead and towards the empty chair opposite himself. Live in the moment. Just exist. Don't sweat the little things. There are no problems. Only solutions.

Reveling in his tranquility and serenity he briefly shakes his head and chuckles to himself. That was a close one. Looking back on it he kind of lost himself for a minute there. He was in a dark place but he's fine now. He's good. He's back. EBR's back now. The spirit that is the Poltergeist can never die.

It will live on in immortality for all of time.

At the top of the mountain.

Just like he planned.

After several passing moments in this beautiful state of bliss, he removes his phone from his pocket and makes a call. It really is a nice day out today. This is his kind of weather. Very comfortable. After a few rings the call is answered.

Kris Kash: ... Playboy! What's happening, my man?

Taking the final sip of his tea, he continues to piercingly stare in the direction of the empty chair.

EBR: So ... quid pro quo, right?

Specifically, Shelia's purse which hangs over the back of it.



When's EBR gonna come out and play?

Inquiring minds want to know.

To start, I suppose a bit of an apology is in order. I hope no one has mistaken my silence with some type of standoffishness, or that my alias is simply derived from a newfound propensity for ghosting. The truth is far, far less interesting.

It goes against the grain, but I'm not much for whatever ... this is. I guess you could say it just isn't my vibe. I understand why it's done and why others might do it, but I just don't feel the urge to hype myself up by tearing others down in the process. That's not the kind of validation that inspires me. We can sit here, or stand here, or be wherever the hell here even is and insult one another until the sun rises and sets, and what have we really accomplished? None of it really matters once we get into the ring, does it?

Felt like that was proven pretty definitively at SuperBrawl, courtesy of yours truly.



Sorry if that was a little patronizing. I'm trying to work on my flaws, but it's a marathon not a sprint, you know?

All I'm trying to say is I don't get any particular enjoyment out of the act, and we're supposed to throw away anything we don't derive joy from. That's just me, and I cast no preconceived judgement on anyone else. We all have to do the things we have to do to help us get through the day, and I've made a very conscious and concentrated effort to block and remove the negativity and resentments which have historically defined who and what I was in my previous tours of duty. Putting myself back in that space is a stark contrast to who I want to be. So alas, I choose not to.

Sorry to disappoint anyone who's been yearning for the old me. The playground tactics, the clownishness, the goonery, and the smut that I would rub on this company may have made for entertaining viewing but it's a lot more fun when you're the one who just gets to watch and not end up living with the repercussions.

So to answer the aforementioned hypophora - I regret to inform you that he won't be coming out to play. Not today, not tomorrow, and next week doesn't look very good either. Your boy went and grew up, and now work takes up most of his time and he doesn't have any left for childish games. This is grown man business now. Don't need the noise, don't need the distractions, and don't need my limited time wasted. I much prefer to spend it in more productive and positive ways.

You may be thinking to yourself "hey E, that all sounds good and we're feelin' 'ya but aren't you, in a way, doing right now exactly what you said you didn't want to do? Don't you have weights to lift or film to watch or youth to steer in the right direction?". To that I say "why, yes" attentive viewer, or reader, or listener or however else you're consuming this little message of mine. So why am I starting now?

A common courtesy.

I just want to let Josh Dean know that I'm waiting for him.

Just a friendly heads-up.

I want him to have as much time to prepare for me as I will for him. I don't want him having any surprises or to be caught off guard. I want him to study my every move for as long as I will his. I want him to watch all the tape he needs to watch, from here to the XWA to my time in Japan. And if he has trouble getting access to the latter's library, this is an offer to give me a call so I can hook him up. I even have the copies with the English commentary dubbed in.

I want Josh at his absolute best. That's the only Josh Dean I want. There would be no more appropriate way to kick-start my latest run as World Heavyweight Champion then by beating the greatest version of Josh Dean there is. The Josh Dean who is officially recognized as the greatest in the WFWF because at this moment, he is. It's a mantle I will humbly concede to our illustrious Champion.



For now.

The interesting thing about moments? They tend to pass.

But that's the future, and I'm a staunch supporter of living in the now. How do you do, Mason?

I've been aware of you for some time. You make yourself noticed, and while I may not necessarily condone it, I can at least appreciate the hustle. It can be difficult to burst through the door once you get you foot in it, and in the land of giants chopping people out at the knees is a tried and true method to bring people down to your size. You're a cutthroat self-starter because that's what you think you need to do to survive. I don't know if that's by your own doing or if the idea's just been planted into your head via your association with Tyson Watts. Either way, that chip you have on your shoulder is hard to miss. They tend to appear when one feels overlooked and underappreciated. Frankly, this company isn't doing you any favors in that department.

I read the little blurb they put out to advertise our match, and I fear they're putting the wrong ideas into your head. See, this is a match that's been promoted a million times before us and will be plugged ad nauseam once we're both gone.

The young upstart against the grizzled old veteran. It's been done to death, and I've gotten the pleasure of being on both ends. And every time - every time - they say the same thing.

"He may not have the accomplishments, but he's hungry!"

I worry you believe that. Not because I'm afraid you'll listen and use it as motivation. I would expect you to give me nothing less. I expect a hard fought match between us, and I'd love nothing more then to shake your hand afterwards and acknowledge the work you made me put in. What bothers me about it is now the table's been set and after believing you have everything to prove you're prone for yet another massive disappointment, and so poorly timed after your latest appearance. They're hyping this up as such a big challenge for you, all while condescendingly talking down to you and in subtle ways implying you're not on my level. They don't need to do that. That our match isn't for your Vanguard Championship makes that point clearer than words ever could.

Damn, that sounded harsh. I didn't mean it to come off like that. My bad, man.

What I'm trying to say is, they're force feeding you bulletin board material to sell this as something it isn't. They're trying to enlarge that chip on your shoulder so that you're even more belligerent and focused, but all they're ultimately doing is causing you to place unfair and lofty expectations on yourself that, at present time, you're not just not likely to meet. And why would you? It's the nature of the game. I've been doing this almost as long as you've been alive. I damn well better have a firmer grasp on this than you. Your biggest advantage is some unfounded claim that you're "hungrier", but let's just analyze the situation and look at it from both ends to get a better picture on the reality of the situation.

I'm a forty year old man who's significantly closer to the end of his career than the beginning, and who has to work harder than everyone else before the match even starts by putting in countless hours of training to get into a peak physical condition just so I'm not hindered by the disadvantage Father Time is adamant on placing on me.

You think I'd even be here if I wasn't the hungriest I've ever been?

I'm all about giving back, and God willing one day I strive to be able to sincerely call myself a philanthropist, but it's with my deepest regrets that I must inform you I still have a lot of work to do before I can truly be my best self. Turns out I still have a bit of that selfish streak. I ain't just here as a locker room leader looking to help out the next generation and pass along years of wisdom, and I'm certainly not here to be the old man who gets put out to pasture by someone younger so they can elevate themselves in the process. I'm not Albert Pujols being designated for assignment. I'm Tom F'n Brady, and it's the end of December.

That's something everyone should have learned at SuperBrawl the same time Penny Shannon did.

So don't take any setbacks too hard, and don't come in expecting this to be your coming out party. Now maybe I'm wrong and maybe you're recognizing you're playing with house money, and maybe you feel free as a bird knowing this is nothing but an exhibition for you with no stakes. I truly, truly hope so. I'd hate for that annoying chip to get so big it begins to blur your vision, and I'd hate to indirectly shake your confidence more than it already is. And look John, this isn't me laughing at you. Quite the contrary. I'm sorry you had to go through that. SuperBrawl was supposed to be the biggest moment of your career, so I can sympathize. At times it can be an ugly and ruthless business, and I know how indignant it is to be manipulated and used by someone who claims to have your best interests in mind, and I know It's an inglorious collapse when they inevitably cut the strings that were once used to make you dance.

Wrestling has a way of humbling you like that.

It's a harsh lesson everyone learns at some point and hopefully for your sake you did. You're supposed to win, not make statements. None of that happens to you if you had just wrestled to win the match, as opposed to wrestling to make some point by beating up a girl suffering from catatonia who appeared incapable of fighting back. Don't get it twisted; far be it from me to criticize anyone when I lived in the glass house I called home, but a simple pin attempt at literally any point in the match would have gotten you the victory. You just chose not to do so.

Surely you had your reasons. I'm sure you calmly rationalized and concluded that if Mesh can still find ways to travel to and from each show on time she must not be that far gone, or thought doctors wouldn't clear her if she wasn't medically capable so you might as well take her up on her offer to be a human speed bag, or maybe it was just animosity reaching a point of no return. Look John, no one understands the frustration of having a victory over Anna Ahriman tainted because of unrequested interference from Mesh like I do, but you gotta let go of that anger, man. What do you have to show from holding onto it, other than the lasting image of you looking up at the lights because you let yourself extend the match long enough for Tyson Watts and Dion Jackson to run a fast one on you?

This is a business. The people you don't know will vex you, and the people you do know will use you and exploit you and stab you in the back. It's hard not to take it personally ... so make it easier on yourself and just don't. Be a professional, even if no one else will. It'll be worth it for the day you can look back and appreciate that you didn't have to debase yourself for personal satisfaction. It's a truth I know far too well, being one of the few who serves as both a benchmark for the heights a career can soar when one's actions strive to take him further than anyone before him, and later a cautionary tale when those actions ultimately go too far.

Be victorious, not notorious. Take it from me; it's a lot more satisfying in the long run.

Maybe that has value or insight for you or maybe it doesn't. Maybe it's just unsolicited advice you didn't ask for and maybe I'm just an old man sitting on a log rambling and preaching to anyone who'll listen. We both know you're going to do what you're going to do regardless of what I say and I can't say I blame you. We're complicated creatures and life isn't so black and white. Maybe you'll make mistakes or maybe you won't, but fortunately for you'll be able to correct those mistakes and still have a ten year career ahead of you.

That's why despite the difference in accomplishments, it's I who's envious of you. I don't have that kind of time on my side anymore. There's no starting over for me, and there's no slowing down when you're racing against the clock. I returned almost twelve months ago, so that's one of my last remaining years gone and I don't have that many left to spare. I can't wait for the storms to pass anymore, and I don't always get to make the best decision. Instead, I can only make the best of the decisions I have available.




But enough about me. It's unbecoming to complain when I've been so blessed.

Best of luck to you, John. You seem like a swell kid and I wish you well. One day it might be your time and you might use me or someone like me as a stepping stone to the greatness you seek, but it won't be now. Come at me with everything you have. I encourage it. I welcome the tune-up and would like a good challenge before my match with Josh. Just so you know though? I do hit back.

As for you Josh, and I'll refer to you directly because I assume I have your attention at this point ...

... best of luck as well. I hope the news of our impending match didn't come as a blindside or caught you when you weren't expecting it. But then again, you had to have seen this coming, didn't you? Who else would it be at this point? I waited very patiently until it was my turn at the front of the line, and after repaying my dues I'm simply collecting what I earned because I did just that - earned it. Actually earned it. Not "came in entitled" earned, or "demanded it based on past accomplishments" earned, or "snatched the belt and ran off like a thief in the night" earned.



Hrm. I was just razzing you, Josh, but I apologize for being so rude. Something about this unspecified void tends to bring out nasty, old habits. As I said, I'm just really not a fan of it. It would behoove me to do some yoga and re-focus on my mindfulness. I highly recommend it. You've seemed angry lately, Josh.

Bring your best and I'll bring mine. Let's keep it clean though, shall we? After so much pessimism circulating through this company over the years I'd much prefer to represent it with the same values and principles that lay the unwavering foundation of my character.





See you in Saudi Arabia.