Post by THE Tristan Slater on Aug 6, 2017 11:18:17 GMT -5
"LET'S GO SLA-TER! LET'S GO SLA-TER! LET'S GO SLA-TER!"
I feel the chant reverberating off my body as if twenty thousand bats are using me for echolocation as I find my back against a set of turnbuckles. The rough leather from each buckle rub against the flesh of my back giving me a slight burning sensation every two feet.
I don't know where I am as I am groggy and It's as if everything around me is running in super slow motion.
My head is lowered before and the next thing I feel is someone raising my chin up. My eyes flutter enough for me to make out a forearm coming up and rocking my head up and backwards with a violent whiplash effect. My vision in blurry as if I spent entirely to much time throwing back some adult beverages... Wait... I don't drink.
My knee's feel as if they're going to buckle at any given moment yet the sounds of someone screaming in my ear; yet to me it sounds more like a whisper that bounces off my ear drums but I'm barely able to make out.
"TRISTAN! DO YOU WANT TO GIVE IT UP?"
I can feel my head sway back and forth from right to left. Desperately I attempt to open my eyes but the strength to do so isn't there. When do I ever want to give up? When have I ever given up? Never! Why the fuck would I give up now? It's a stupid question to ask someone that's as glorious as I am. Finally my eyes flutter a bit where a black and white stripped shirt comes into focus yet not completely as the room is spinning and it's hard to grasp. The chant I once heard now sounds more like static than a chant. It's as if a bomb has went off in my vicinity as it's more like a piercing sound that I can't seem to shake.
I'm pulled out from what can only be one of the four corners of the ring where I feel my right arm go across the back of someone's neck. The next thing I feel is being lifted up vertically for what seems like an eternity before my back crashes against the canvass and the air is driven out of my lungs.
What the FUCK is going on? Why do I feel powerless?
The piercing sound invading my ear drums slowly starts to fade away when I feel a sharp pain to the right side of my rib cage causing my body to flinch is felt.
The sounds of someone screaming in my ear as there's individual pounds on the mat at the exact time the scream is heard.
ONE!
TWO!
Thrusting my left shoulder up off the mat stops the screams and the pounding on the mat as nothing but sheer instincts are what guides me. I feel the weight of a body raise up off my chest before I feel someone picking me up off the mat; as I'm picked up the mat peels off my back due to the sweat. I'm driven backwards until my back crashes against a set of rough leather turnbuckles once again. Reality for whatever reason doesn't seem to be setting in as I can't seem to focus on what exactly is unfolding. Raising my head up to look at what's coming my direction a blurred figure is coming my way. Reactions kick in as I manage to throw a reverse elbow up catching the jaw of this man and he staggers backwards giving me a chance to get a little breathing room.
Deep breaths are taken as I try to fill my lungs to capacity. I feel sharp pains all over my body as if needles are stabbed into my flesh at different times.
I run out from the corner at this unknown figure only to feel arms wrap around my waist, his grip feel that of a bear which is followed by being hurled over his head with a release over head Belly to Belly suplex that sends me flipping over landing hard on my back and all the oxygen that I fought to get expelled from my lungs making it incredibly hard to breath.
It's almost as if the world around me has stopped.
In this one moment I feel as if I'm in zero gravity and it's as if I am floating.
Trying desperately to get my eyes to focus on anything at all is a defeating challenge. What is going on here? Why am I not able to get myself together?
"ARE YOU OKAY?!?"
I feel someone grasp my right hand giving it a light squeeze to which I am able to slightly squeeze back twice yet at I try to focus on the individual but all I make out white and black stripes of a shirt. There's another figure entering the my vision who shoves what I assume is the official out of the way.
I am able to lift my head up off the canvass only to feel it violently kicked back down forcing the back of my head to slam into the canvass. My neck whiplashes and I feel something pop. The left side of my neck suddenly starts to feel as if it's on fire! The heat is so intense that tears start to accumulate in the corners of my eyes.
My entire body is screaming at me as all the sound surrounding me tunes completely out. Dead silence.
I try to speak but words aren't coming out.
"THUMP
THUMP"
The sound of my heart beating on the inside of my chest is enough seemingly cause my body to jump with each beat.
"THUMP
THUMP."
I feel my eyes grow heavy again. The fight to open them is more of a struggle than one can put into words.
"THUMP
THUMP."
The weight of my eye lids has gotten the better of me as they close and all that surrounds me is pitch darkness and dead silence.
What the fuck is going on? Did someone slip me something?
"Hey brother."
I know that voice.
"Brother."
The weight holding down my eyelids starts to lift to the degree that I am able to slowly start to open them. My vision is still bury but after several seconds everything comes into focus where I see John Cable leaning over me.
JOHN CABLE- "You might want to snap out of it."
I attempt to mutter out some words.
TRISTAN SLATER- "What's... Going... On??"
I still feel pain being inflicted to my body as I react by clutching at my ribs. It's as if I'm actively being stomped on with sheer force every two seconds.
JOHN CABLE- "Um what's going on is you're getting your ass handed to you right now as we speak."
TRISTAN SLATER- "This isn't real? You're not real?"
JOHN CABLE- "Technically I am real but am I really standing over you right this second and physically talking to you? No. At this very second you're getting your ass kicked by M.D.K. in front of a sold out Madison Square Garden. You might want to get your ass up and fight back because it's not looking to pretty for you right now."
TRISTAN SLATER- "Wait... What?"
With a bat of my eyes all focus is restored and I'm positioned back against a set of turnbuckles to the sight of MDK's right fist hurling towards my face! I throw my right left arm up blocking the shot and come back with a right hand of my own... Only it passes right through MDK as if he was a ghost.
TRISTAN SLATER- "That's impossible."
MDK brings me out of the corner where he spins me around clasping his arms around my waist where he drops me on the back of my head with a release German suplex.
Why isn't my offense doing anything to this man? He's a mortal man just like everyone else which is why he should be feeling the effects, but yet he's not. He's a machine that is ready to demolish my unblemished record while taking away what I covet the most, the World Heavyweight Championship.
... That's unacceptable.
MDK picks me up off the mat where he delivers the Hell Shot! I am rolled over on to my back.
"ONE!"
"TWO!"
"THREE!!"
DING... DING... DING...
Masters: The winner of this contest and NEW WGWF World Heavyweight Champion... M.D.K!!
Those words took what was left of my breath away. Over fifteen months of being undefeated in singles action came to an end and the reality that I have lost everything that I hold near and dear. Life seemingly stopped as I laid on that mat looking up at the lights of Madison Square Garden and for the first time I can see clearly. The site of MDK's arm being raised in victory turned my stomach.
He's handed the WGWF World Heavyweight Championship as he dangles it over my bloody body...
Just like that... It was over.
I rolled out to the floor where I was rushed by EMT's and officials. My body is props up between two officials as I can hardly put weight underneath me as my knee's start to buckle. I'm being helped up the ramp there's an ovation as John "The Beast" Cable is coming towards me. Upon his arrival he takes the place of the official on the right side. My arm is put across his shoulders as I state.
TRISTAN SLATER- "You where right, John... I got my ass whipped."
JOHN CABLE- "What are you talking about?"
John asks as we reach the top of the ramp and disappear behind the curtain. Camera's follow us through the gorilla position where countless WGWF officials and agents rush over give aid as they take me around the corner to the trainers office. Immediately they strap a velcro strap around my left arm and start checking my blood pressure. I'm seated in a chair not really knowing how I even got there. There's several voice speaking but the only one I focus on is that of the Glorious Mandingo Man Beast.
JOHN CABLE- "You're right... You got your ass whipped out there."
TRISTAN SLATER- "What are you talking about?"
John is puzzled as I continue.
TRISTAN SLATER- "I don't even know."
John suddenly begins to move his mouth and speak but my hearing as suddenly and quickly tuned out as I close my eyes as a soft melody starts to play within the confines of my own head.
"Hello darkness my old friend."
"I've come to talk with you again."
My soul escapes my body as I am floating over the trainer's office. I'm looking down watching John have a lucid conversation with me.
"Because of visions softly creeping."
WGWF Trainer finishes checking my blood pressure as they move me over to a bed.
"Left it seeds while I was sleeping."
I see from above they help lay me down on the trainers table and for the first time I see that my face is a crimson mask. The trainer starts to clean the blood; some of which is dried, from my face and forehead.
"And the vision that was planted in my brain, still remains."
I try to yell out at the top of my lungs but no words are able to come out... Instead my soul is sucked back down into my body as I once again go completely dark.
"Within the sounds... Of silence."
I'm completely lost and in a state of confusion when I'm felt like I'm slapped in the face seemingly snapping me out of my state as I'm sitting in the Glorious New Breeder's locker room still in my wrestling gear. My head rests in the palm of my hands before a slowly lift my head upon hearing my name being called.
"Tristan."
Looking up I see Denise Essex with a camera crew.
DENISE ESSEX- "This probably isn't the best time but the WGWF Universe is still in shock as your undefeated streak and your World Title run ended tonight at Madison Square Garden by the hands of MDK. It was a brutal and vicious affair and with MDK leaving victorious the world wants to know what's next for "Glorious" Tristan Slater?"
She's right...
This isn't the time nor the place because apparently my world has just come crashing down in front of everyone else very eyes... But why can't I remember?
"GLORIOUS" TRISTAN SLATER- "My title reign hasn't come to an end! Why is everyone telling me that I was beaten?!?! Summer Madness hasn't even happened yet! Everyone else BUT you guys seem to think that I've lost my title when the Goddamn match hasn't happened yet!"
Denise once again states.
DENISE ESSEX- "Actually the match has happened and is already over. You was defeated in one of the most lopsided WGWF World Title Matches in recent history."
"GLORIOUS" TRISTAN SLATER- "LIAR!"
I exclaim at the top of my lungs bringing the Glorious New Breed dressing room to a dead silence.
"GLORIOUS" TRISTAN SLATER- "I am the World Heavyweight Champion and I will remain the World Heavyweight Champion for as long as I damn well choose too."
DENISE ESSEX- "Um... Are you delusional? Did MDK drop you on your head one to many times for you to come to the realization that you're still World Champion?"
I stand up from the bench looking down at Denise as I calmly state.
"GLORIOUS" TRISTAN SLATER- "I think I'd like for you to leave now."
There's a knock heard coming from the dressing room door. The camera pans back to reveal MDK standing in the doorway waving the WGWF World Heavyweight Championship back and forth with a shit eating grin on his face. Just as I dart towards the door everything goes pitch black.
"GLORIOUS" TRISTAN SLATER- "What the fuck is all this!"
Frustrated doesn't even begin to describe where I am right now at this exact time; hell confused doesn't either because one minute I'm apparently in a ring with MDK and the next I'm floating above a trainer's room. This doesn't make sense and it doesn't add up... And why the FUCK is Denise telling me I just lost the WGWF World Heavyweight Championship?
"Mr.. Slater, do you know why we've called you in?"
Suddenly we come back to see me sitting at the end of a conference table in front of the WGWF Board of Directors as well as WGWF General Manager Flash Rotten. There's a lot of unfamiliar faces surrounding me all of which are staring right at me.
"GLORIOUS" TRISTAN SLATER- "Where the fuck am I?"
My eyes shift around the room picking up some finer details; mainly the shot of the Staples Center off in the distance as I look out a large window towards the far head of the table while Flash chimes in.
FLASH ROTTEN- "You're at the WGWF headquarters in Los Angeles, California."
"GLORIOUS" TRISTAN SLATER- "Uh huh, funny thing... I was just in front of Denise Essex."
Flash and Adam Barker are seated at the end of the conference room table as they're shown glancing over at each other wondering what the fuck I am talking about before they shift their attention back towards me.
ADAM BARKER- "You've been sitting here for the last thirty minutes."
"GLORIOUS" TRISTAN SLATER- "Wait... What? No I haven't."
How is all this even possible? There's not a logical explanation that can explain how or why all of this is unfolding. I KNOW I was just sitting in front of Denise Essex and not sitting in the Board Room at the WGWF Corporate Offices.
None of this adds up.
FLASH ROTTEN- "Mr.. Slater; with all due respect, you actually have been here for at least a half hour as we have been discussing what our next move is going to be with you after that horrible display at Summer Madness opposite MDK."
Again with this whole Danny situation. What the fuck is this? Reliving my last seven months? Because that's exactly what it feels like. For eight months Danny's been nipping at my ankles like a little Chihuahua clamoring for my attention and no matter how many times you beat his ass he simply hasn't learned his lesson when it comes to standing toe to toe with the Glorious One. I've carved my reputation over the last year and a half by hoisting this company up on my broad yet sexy shoulders and harboring all the weight as your previous World Champions crumbled under the pressure, right Kyle? At least I didn't get beat by Nathan Miles, I digress.
I'm the guy who you should be on your knee's, worshipping at my feet for gracing any of you with my presence.
I'm the guy that the people pay to see.
I'm the guy that is single handedly responsible for the WGWF's doors being open right now. Yes, you all play your part like the good little foot soldiers you are, Danny included... But the spotlight shines its brightest when cast down upon my body, upon me. Nobody, and I mean nobody can say that other than me when you really sit back and look at where the company was a year ago to where it is now.
Finally you have quality World Title matches with exceptional promotional work to sell it.
Finally you a guy on top of the mountain that actually gives a shit about what kind of product he puts out there for the consumption of the wrestling fans around the world.
... And finally you have a guy that actually backs up everything that comes out of his mouth.
"GLORIOUS" TRISTAN SLATER- "Define horrible?"
Horrible simply isn't a word in my vocabulary. I mean look at the display I put on against Cable several weeks back because there's already Match of the Year talk surrounding that one.
When's the last time anyone can say I did something that wasn't... Glorious?
ADAM BARKER- "You where there. You tell me how I can salvage the career of a guy like you, a guy that has raised the bar so high, a guy that we put so much money behind to have one of the single greatest matches of the year... Only to have that guy phone it in like you did at Summer Madness?"
"GLORIOUS" TRISTAN SLATER- "Is my name Paul Frost?"
FLASH ROTTEN- "No."
"GLORIOUS" TRISTAN SLATER- "Do I look like Famine of the Vile?"
ADAM BARKER- "No."
"GLORIOUS" TRISTAN SLATER- "Exactly. Now those are guys that phone shit in on a daily when they're involved in the product. What was so bad about Summer Madness? Nobody can tell me anything other than I apparently shit the bed with match it self."
The sheer notion that I have done something so horrible, so outrageous that it has drawn this much heat from the company baffles my mind.
ADAM BARKER- "I am not here to get into or rehash the single biggest tragedy in WGWF history. Ultimately we brought you here today so that we can come to terms upon your release from the company."
I can feel my jaw drop.
"GLORIOUS" TRISTAN SLATER- "Are you fucking serious? You guys want to release the only ratings generator you got?"
I've never been the kind of guy that has to resort to begging to get or keep a job and I damn sure am not about to start now.
I can't help but to laugh under my breath while leaning forward placing my elbows on the large, shiny brown conference room table.
"GLORIOUS" TRISTAN SLATER- "If that's what you boys feel like you need to do than by all means let's sign the paperwork and I'll be on my way."
FLASH ROTTEN- "Um... It's already in front of you."
Glancing down between my elbows that a props on the table there's in fact a file folder with a black pen sitting on top of it.
"GLORIOUS" TRISTAN SLATER- "How the fuck..."
Okay now I'm totally confused as I've been sitting here for what I'm told is thirty plus minutes and the entire time this file folder has been sitting in front of me and I simply didn't notice? Bullshit.
"GLORIOUS" TRISTAN SLATER- "How did this get here? Who put this here?"
I ask as my attention is directed towards Adam Barker.
ADAM BARKER- "Are you on something? It's been sitting there the entire time you have."
Lowering my head looks at this tan file folder I take a deep breath before opening the file. My eyes start to scan the form in front of me which is on a WGWF letter head. It is in deed my release from the company.
To my left sitting on the table is a black felt pen. I take it with my right hand and put the pen to paper inking my release from the WGWF.
"GLORIOUS" TRISTAN SLATER- "I hope you guys know what you're doing."
I calmly state as I slide the folder out towards the center of the table while raising my head seeming by passing the rest of the WGWF Board Members until Flash and Adam are locked in my sights.
"GLORIOUS" TRISTAN SLATER- "I'm not going to flip out. I'm just going to say that there's plenty of other companies for me to conquer, for me to lead like I've done here for the better part of a year. I'm not sure what's going on and at this point I don't really care. My sole purpose now is to put this company out of business... Oh wait, you boy's just did that."
Before I can say anything else there's an intercom in front of Adam that has a female voice cut in.
"Mr.. Barker."
Adam reaches over holding down a button.
ADAM BARKER- "Yes."
He states as he the releases.
"Your 11:30 is here."
Pressing back down on the intercom button Adam states.
ADAM BARKER- "Send him in."
Adam releases the button as his attention directs towards me.
ADAM BARKER- "Well Mr.. Slater we're through here and we here in the WGWF wish you the best of luck in your future endeavors."
There's a single laugh under my breath as I get up out of the chair and start to walk across the conference room reaching the dark brown double doors. I open both doors to exit the conference room when I'm met with the WGWF World Heavyweight Championship dangling in front of my face.
ADAM BARKER- "Ah, M.D.K. come on in, champ."
The title belt starts to lower down but just before his face is revealed...
BEEP!
BEEP!
BEEP!
BEEP!
My eyes open as I sit straight up in my bed, sweat rolling down my brow with fast breaths being taken.
BEEP!
BEEP!
BEEP!
BEEP!
It takes a second for me to snap out of it and realize I'm in the confines of my penthouse apartment right off South Beach in Miami. My attention shifts towards my nightstand where my alarm clock is going off.
Reaching over I slap the snooze button before throwing my legs over the side of my king size bed with my feet resting on the carpeted floor and my hands resting on my knees.
TRISTAN SLATER- "What the fuck was all that?"
Trying to make sense of it all it's like a light bulb goes off above my head as I state.
TRISTAN SLATER- "The title."
Standing up out of bed at 7:30A.M. I look across the room at my black dresser with silver pull handles where resting comfortably is the WGWF World Heavyweight Championship.
TRISTAN SLATER- "Thank God."
I rub my hands across my face as my reality starts to set in that I was dreaming the entire time. I drop my hands to my side as I walk over to my dresser where I am looking at the gold plate of the WGWF World Heavyweight Championship.
TRISTAN SLATER- "The only way he would ever defeat me is in his dreams."
It brings a sly smile to my face before I shift my attention to the wall beside the dresser where a thick black leather belt is hanging. I stand in front of the belt as I start to look at the details I've put on it.
Chris Page x2
Hunter
Famine of the Vile
Vega$
Andy Johnson x2
Extinction
Paul Frost
John "The Beast" Cable
All the names are written in white as to pop out from the black of the belt.
TRISTAN SLATER- "Come Summer Madness Danny Tenegra will be but just another notch."
The rough leather rubs against my finger tips as I run the fingers of my right hand across the notch that will soon belong to Danny Tenegra.
The scene fades.
A GLORIOUS PROMO:
The time is finally upon us, Danny.
The moment that you and I have eagerly been building towards draws near.
Summer Madness 2017.
Madison Square Garden.
Sold Out.
They're going to be jam packed to the brim anticipating this one moment, this one confrontation where I finally shut that dick sucker of yours once and for all while labeling you obsolete, Danny. Obsolete is a perfect word to describe you since you returned to the WGWF nearly eight months ago as a surprise entrant to the 2017 West Coast Rumble; the very West Coast Rumble that you walked away from as the winner and earned your FIRST shot at the World Title in what? A decade? Great fucking job! I label you as obsolete because while at one point in time you MIGHT have been the hottest piece of talent on the roster that time has drawn to a close and greatness has been replaced by Gloriousness. Before we really get started with the verbal ass raping of Danny Tenegra allow me to take a moment to preface this with the single biggest fact that rests between you and I right here, right now at the moment in time. You sir... You don't have a leg to fucking stand on when it comes to talking about "Glorious" Tristan Slater. Every thing that you've thrown at me over the last several months has been bitch slapped right back down your throat at each and every turn on this long and winded road to Summer Madness, you know it and I know it. Basically Danny, you've lost this war before you've even stepped on the battlefield, brotha. What could you POSSIBLY bring to the table that stands any merit against me? Huh? Really sit back and thick about it, Danny. You've already blown your load and you haven't even hit the bedroom yet; prematurely. Don't you worry though; as it's a mistake many others before you have made. You're like Mike Tyson, punched out.
You've claimed that I'm a transitional Champion... Six months later here I stand holding on to a title you spent barely thirty days with while slaying any and everyone that's come across my path.
You claim that I hide behind a Man Beast... Yet you're too stupid enough to think my ego would allow that? Where's John been lately? Has he been fighting my battles? Has he ever fought my battles? The last time I checked I won the WGWF Intercontinental Championship with John's involvement, the last time I checked I beat Paul Frost to win the World Heavyweight Championship, the last time I checked I defended the title against Chris Page, the last time I checked I beat you and Paul Frost at Wrestle Wars, the last time I checked you COULDN'T beat me in singles action with the title on the line and the last time I checked I didn't have to attack you from behind like a coward in an attempt to avoid a fight.
You've told me that I'm over rated... Yet I demolish every one that has come across my path, yourself included. I have a better record against you than any other talent walking the face of the fucking planet; face it. Sure, the argument can be made that I have not legitimately beaten you, not put those shoulders to the mat or forced you into submission... But when it comes to wins and losses involving matches featuring you and I; you can't touch me. It's funny, truly it is. It's almost as funny as you thinking that I was going to walk out of Pick Your Poison with a loss hanging over my head, it's almost as funny as you thinking that this would end the Glorious New Breed when in actuality Slater versus Cable on Brawl elevated us to even higher levels. We did the exact opposite of what you did, we stole the fucking show.
What did you do?
You did the exact same thing you've done since the West Coast Rumble... Bare minimum.
There's a plethora of reasons that make me superior to you; one of the many on the laundry list rests with WORKING to get where I am at, and while at one point in the past you MIGHT have busted your ass here in the present you've done absolutely nothing but run your mouth about who's better than who while taking pinfall loses to a skirt. I'll dive more into that a little later. While you'll make your excuses for losing, while you will do and say ANYTHING to help you save face it's all too little too late, Danny. You're suppose to be riding a wave of momentum and yet you're actually running on empty following your latest failure opposite a guy you call a lackey and the next name to earn his notch on my belt, Kyle Shane. People have asked me in airports, on podcasts and at New Breed Functions why I've elected to remain as quiet on Monday Night Brawls or not bothered to speak on you throughout my promos or at appearances... It was all psychological and it was all a game because I wanted to unload my guns on you when it fucking matters like right here, right now for example. Here I stand on the cusp of of six month with my first WGWF World Heavyweight Championship and poised to walk into Madison Square Garden to do battle against what can only be described as a legitimate rivalry in which the rules have been thrown out the window, in which there are no count outs or disqualifications and there MUST be a winner. Now, here's where my motivation for this kicks into high gear because I'm an egotistical prick that LOVES to remind people how long I've gone without being pinned or forced to submit and I love adding notches on my belt. Since I returned over a year ago there's but ONE man that has crossed my path that I can not say has made my glorious list of victims; Danny Tenegra, or as you all know him as M.D.K... Side note, that will be the only reference to an acronym you're going to get out of me today... But come Summer Madness your name will FINALLY make the night that I carve your notch on my belt because come Summer Madness you're not going to have a Paul Frost to fall back on to take the loss, you're not going to have a coutout to rely on in order to keep you somewhat relevant in the World Title scene because once we're done YOU'RE done!
Look to what degree YOU had to stoop to at our contract signing on Monday Night Brawl.
You and Alyce jump me after I arrive to the building, you take me to a broiler room and try your best to secure me so I didn't show up for the contract signing and the World Title would have been HANDED to you. I wonder exactly why you felt the need to orchestrate that? Hmmmm... Let me think... Oh wait, I got it. You FEAR me. Your attempt failed... But had it succeeded you wasn't content with having the title awarded to you. Doesn't that sound an awful lot like Paul Frost? No wonder you two got a long so well towards the beginning of the year.
You in deed FEAR me... And rightfully you should.
You've been in the ring with me countless times over the course of 2017 and managed to leave in victory ONE time.
You know deep down inside that cold heart of yours that you CAN'T beat me; more importantly you know deep down inside you WON'T beat me.
... And you might have gotten away with screwing me out of my title had you bothered to lock the doors to that broiler room and not allowed a Harley Quinn toothpick to bound my arms and ankles together with duct tape of all things. You couldn't spring for zipties? Much like everything you've tried with me... You failed, sounds all too familiar. I thoroughly hope that you enjoyed beating me down as I foiled your initial plan, I hope that you relished at my bloodshed and I hope the pleasure that you attained when you jabbed that pen into the flesh of my forehead and forced my signature on that contract in my own blood satisfied whatever sadist desires because mark my words, boy... I've bleed before and I'll bleed again, I've been beaten down before but yet I still fight back, there's absolutely NO QUIT running through these veins and the only thing you managed to accomplish was completely fucking yourself by further motivating me into ripping your head from your shoulders and playing basketball with it! Come Summer Madness the book on Tristan Slater and Danny Tenegra will FINALLY come to an end and it's going to end EXACTLY as it ultimately began... With a "Glorious" victory by my hands. There's going to come a time and a place when I'll be defeated; it's GOING to happen as I know the reality of my situation. It's just not going to come to an end by your hands, Danny. Try as you might and try as you will but ultimately you're going to fall on your face flatter than you did against Alyce Starchylde. Words cannot describe just how badly I am craving this confrontation. The mere thought has me salivating because once I end you once and for all there's absolutely NOTHING you can do or say other than I am the better man; ultimately that's all this has ever been about, or at least that's the way I view it. It didn't get personal until YOU made it personal. Look back at all of our interactions dating back to when you rudely interrupted my Championship celebration back before Wrestle Wars. Even then you strolled down to the ring and immediately jumped on Cable verbally before completely disrespecting me. What did that get you? A solid right hand followed by your ass being dropped like a bad fucking habit. YOU did that, Danny. You are the one behind Alyce's attacks against me because at the end of the day YOU need an advantage against me... You know it, I know it and the entire world knows it... And it's Okay, bro. It comes with the territory of being the World Heavyweight Champion that I wish you could fully understand but that would take a successful World Title defense HERE in the WGWF for you to completely understand. Even though you made it personal I stood back and allowed you to spill you verbal diarrhea in a feeble attempt to garner some cheap heat all the while showing up against your hand picked opponent and leaving victorious, all the while with each and every booking slaying the competition like there's no tomorrow while you have tried your hand at a mental and physical game that's gotten you absolutely nowhere.
Great-FUCKING-Job.
What's funny about this entire situation rests with the fact that you don't have an endgame and with how sorely you've underestimated me not only as the WGWF World Heavyweight Champion but more importantly as a talent in this business we all know and love as Professional Wrestling... It's going to bite you in the ass. You're about to learn the hard way that I have always been five steps ahead of you on this yellow brick road to Summer Madness because I've got you right where I want you which is firmly in the palm of my hands. There's nothing that will stand in my way of ending you once and for all. Alyce? Nah, she's going to be dealt with and the rest of my boys are going to stand by waiting for someone, ANYONE to stick their nose in this in an attempt to render you aid as my foot makes its way up your ass. New York City isn't going to be big enough for the destruction that I am going to put you through. Do you hear me, Danny? Hmmm? Do I have you undivided attention just yet? In case you haven't quite figured it out yet there's nothing about you that strikes fear in my heart nor brings me any intimidation. My eyes are firmly on the prize my man and that prize is standing over your busted up and broken body in the most famous arena in the United States... You're not man enough to stop me. You talk an okay game but when it's time to put up or shut up the mouth seems to stop moving and reality starts to sink in that not only are you not good enough to defeat me, hell you're not good enough to beat the lackey.
They say that all good things must come to an end.
And while this blood feud has been great for the federation and our fan base it's going to finally come to an end and it couldn't come at a better time as I've found myself bored when it comes to dealing with you and I can't think of a better place to end it once and for all than the historic halls of Madison Square Garden. It seems every time we step in the sacred building I'm cast in some sort of non sanctioned affair; last year it was Famine inside the Devil's Playground, before that it was Lunacy is a Street Fight and before that it was my Glorious New Breed counterpart John Cable in a Street Fight... Seems like New York City likes to hosts some of my more classic WGWF affairs so it's fitting we close this book just like I've closed so many others. As we are poised; two men ready, willing and able to lay it all on the line, two men that are willing to beat each other within an inch of their lives and two men that have nothing but hate and disdain running through their veins for each other... Only one man is going to walk out, Danny.
... You're looking at him.
This comes down to me versus you.
One on one.
Man to boy.
All your tricks, all your twists and your turns you've elected to take will all be for nothing, Danny.
You've played the game well, Danny... I've played it flawlessly.
You've got nothing in your arsenal, NOTHING that you can come at me with that you've not already done so as you've followed the bread crumbs I left for you, you've followed them to Summer Madness and come Summer Madness I'm going to do the world a favor by beating you in the middle of that ring like I should have done at Wrestle Wars Eleven all the while firmly establishing that you are nothing... But inferior. I've played this human game of chess better than you... Not only have I played better than you, I'm the Queen to your pawn and with each and every move and it will all culminate at Summer Madness with a checkmate.
So this is it, Danny.
This is the final shot fired, bomb dropped and match that you and I are going to have for quite some time.
I have something that you want and in order for you to get it you're going to have to pry it out of my cold, dead hands... Something that is easier said than actually done. I truly feel bad for you as you're simply a dead man walking; and you're walking into a situation where I can use any and everything that's not nailed down at my disposal. Kinda sucks for you as I'm just as gifted a fighter as I am a wrestler, it kinda sucks for you that I have a high threshold for pain, it kinda sucks for you that the more someone beats on me the more they're driving me to establish my dominance all while labeling them... Inferior.
That's not a bad thing, Danny.
That's a GLORIOUS thing.
I feel the chant reverberating off my body as if twenty thousand bats are using me for echolocation as I find my back against a set of turnbuckles. The rough leather from each buckle rub against the flesh of my back giving me a slight burning sensation every two feet.
I don't know where I am as I am groggy and It's as if everything around me is running in super slow motion.
My head is lowered before and the next thing I feel is someone raising my chin up. My eyes flutter enough for me to make out a forearm coming up and rocking my head up and backwards with a violent whiplash effect. My vision in blurry as if I spent entirely to much time throwing back some adult beverages... Wait... I don't drink.
My knee's feel as if they're going to buckle at any given moment yet the sounds of someone screaming in my ear; yet to me it sounds more like a whisper that bounces off my ear drums but I'm barely able to make out.
"TRISTAN! DO YOU WANT TO GIVE IT UP?"
I can feel my head sway back and forth from right to left. Desperately I attempt to open my eyes but the strength to do so isn't there. When do I ever want to give up? When have I ever given up? Never! Why the fuck would I give up now? It's a stupid question to ask someone that's as glorious as I am. Finally my eyes flutter a bit where a black and white stripped shirt comes into focus yet not completely as the room is spinning and it's hard to grasp. The chant I once heard now sounds more like static than a chant. It's as if a bomb has went off in my vicinity as it's more like a piercing sound that I can't seem to shake.
I'm pulled out from what can only be one of the four corners of the ring where I feel my right arm go across the back of someone's neck. The next thing I feel is being lifted up vertically for what seems like an eternity before my back crashes against the canvass and the air is driven out of my lungs.
What the FUCK is going on? Why do I feel powerless?
The piercing sound invading my ear drums slowly starts to fade away when I feel a sharp pain to the right side of my rib cage causing my body to flinch is felt.
The sounds of someone screaming in my ear as there's individual pounds on the mat at the exact time the scream is heard.
ONE!
TWO!
Thrusting my left shoulder up off the mat stops the screams and the pounding on the mat as nothing but sheer instincts are what guides me. I feel the weight of a body raise up off my chest before I feel someone picking me up off the mat; as I'm picked up the mat peels off my back due to the sweat. I'm driven backwards until my back crashes against a set of rough leather turnbuckles once again. Reality for whatever reason doesn't seem to be setting in as I can't seem to focus on what exactly is unfolding. Raising my head up to look at what's coming my direction a blurred figure is coming my way. Reactions kick in as I manage to throw a reverse elbow up catching the jaw of this man and he staggers backwards giving me a chance to get a little breathing room.
Deep breaths are taken as I try to fill my lungs to capacity. I feel sharp pains all over my body as if needles are stabbed into my flesh at different times.
I run out from the corner at this unknown figure only to feel arms wrap around my waist, his grip feel that of a bear which is followed by being hurled over his head with a release over head Belly to Belly suplex that sends me flipping over landing hard on my back and all the oxygen that I fought to get expelled from my lungs making it incredibly hard to breath.
It's almost as if the world around me has stopped.
In this one moment I feel as if I'm in zero gravity and it's as if I am floating.
Trying desperately to get my eyes to focus on anything at all is a defeating challenge. What is going on here? Why am I not able to get myself together?
"ARE YOU OKAY?!?"
I feel someone grasp my right hand giving it a light squeeze to which I am able to slightly squeeze back twice yet at I try to focus on the individual but all I make out white and black stripes of a shirt. There's another figure entering the my vision who shoves what I assume is the official out of the way.
I am able to lift my head up off the canvass only to feel it violently kicked back down forcing the back of my head to slam into the canvass. My neck whiplashes and I feel something pop. The left side of my neck suddenly starts to feel as if it's on fire! The heat is so intense that tears start to accumulate in the corners of my eyes.
My entire body is screaming at me as all the sound surrounding me tunes completely out. Dead silence.
I try to speak but words aren't coming out.
"THUMP
THUMP"
The sound of my heart beating on the inside of my chest is enough seemingly cause my body to jump with each beat.
"THUMP
THUMP."
I feel my eyes grow heavy again. The fight to open them is more of a struggle than one can put into words.
"THUMP
THUMP."
The weight of my eye lids has gotten the better of me as they close and all that surrounds me is pitch darkness and dead silence.
What the fuck is going on? Did someone slip me something?
"Hey brother."
I know that voice.
"Brother."
The weight holding down my eyelids starts to lift to the degree that I am able to slowly start to open them. My vision is still bury but after several seconds everything comes into focus where I see John Cable leaning over me.
JOHN CABLE- "You might want to snap out of it."
I attempt to mutter out some words.
TRISTAN SLATER- "What's... Going... On??"
I still feel pain being inflicted to my body as I react by clutching at my ribs. It's as if I'm actively being stomped on with sheer force every two seconds.
JOHN CABLE- "Um what's going on is you're getting your ass handed to you right now as we speak."
TRISTAN SLATER- "This isn't real? You're not real?"
JOHN CABLE- "Technically I am real but am I really standing over you right this second and physically talking to you? No. At this very second you're getting your ass kicked by M.D.K. in front of a sold out Madison Square Garden. You might want to get your ass up and fight back because it's not looking to pretty for you right now."
TRISTAN SLATER- "Wait... What?"
With a bat of my eyes all focus is restored and I'm positioned back against a set of turnbuckles to the sight of MDK's right fist hurling towards my face! I throw my right left arm up blocking the shot and come back with a right hand of my own... Only it passes right through MDK as if he was a ghost.
TRISTAN SLATER- "That's impossible."
MDK brings me out of the corner where he spins me around clasping his arms around my waist where he drops me on the back of my head with a release German suplex.
Why isn't my offense doing anything to this man? He's a mortal man just like everyone else which is why he should be feeling the effects, but yet he's not. He's a machine that is ready to demolish my unblemished record while taking away what I covet the most, the World Heavyweight Championship.
... That's unacceptable.
MDK picks me up off the mat where he delivers the Hell Shot! I am rolled over on to my back.
"ONE!"
"TWO!"
"THREE!!"
DING... DING... DING...
Masters: The winner of this contest and NEW WGWF World Heavyweight Champion... M.D.K!!
Those words took what was left of my breath away. Over fifteen months of being undefeated in singles action came to an end and the reality that I have lost everything that I hold near and dear. Life seemingly stopped as I laid on that mat looking up at the lights of Madison Square Garden and for the first time I can see clearly. The site of MDK's arm being raised in victory turned my stomach.
He's handed the WGWF World Heavyweight Championship as he dangles it over my bloody body...
Just like that... It was over.
I rolled out to the floor where I was rushed by EMT's and officials. My body is props up between two officials as I can hardly put weight underneath me as my knee's start to buckle. I'm being helped up the ramp there's an ovation as John "The Beast" Cable is coming towards me. Upon his arrival he takes the place of the official on the right side. My arm is put across his shoulders as I state.
TRISTAN SLATER- "You where right, John... I got my ass whipped."
JOHN CABLE- "What are you talking about?"
John asks as we reach the top of the ramp and disappear behind the curtain. Camera's follow us through the gorilla position where countless WGWF officials and agents rush over give aid as they take me around the corner to the trainers office. Immediately they strap a velcro strap around my left arm and start checking my blood pressure. I'm seated in a chair not really knowing how I even got there. There's several voice speaking but the only one I focus on is that of the Glorious Mandingo Man Beast.
JOHN CABLE- "You're right... You got your ass whipped out there."
TRISTAN SLATER- "What are you talking about?"
John is puzzled as I continue.
TRISTAN SLATER- "I don't even know."
John suddenly begins to move his mouth and speak but my hearing as suddenly and quickly tuned out as I close my eyes as a soft melody starts to play within the confines of my own head.
"Hello darkness my old friend."
"I've come to talk with you again."
My soul escapes my body as I am floating over the trainer's office. I'm looking down watching John have a lucid conversation with me.
"Because of visions softly creeping."
WGWF Trainer finishes checking my blood pressure as they move me over to a bed.
"Left it seeds while I was sleeping."
I see from above they help lay me down on the trainers table and for the first time I see that my face is a crimson mask. The trainer starts to clean the blood; some of which is dried, from my face and forehead.
"And the vision that was planted in my brain, still remains."
I try to yell out at the top of my lungs but no words are able to come out... Instead my soul is sucked back down into my body as I once again go completely dark.
"Within the sounds... Of silence."
I'm completely lost and in a state of confusion when I'm felt like I'm slapped in the face seemingly snapping me out of my state as I'm sitting in the Glorious New Breeder's locker room still in my wrestling gear. My head rests in the palm of my hands before a slowly lift my head upon hearing my name being called.
"Tristan."
Looking up I see Denise Essex with a camera crew.
DENISE ESSEX- "This probably isn't the best time but the WGWF Universe is still in shock as your undefeated streak and your World Title run ended tonight at Madison Square Garden by the hands of MDK. It was a brutal and vicious affair and with MDK leaving victorious the world wants to know what's next for "Glorious" Tristan Slater?"
She's right...
This isn't the time nor the place because apparently my world has just come crashing down in front of everyone else very eyes... But why can't I remember?
"GLORIOUS" TRISTAN SLATER- "My title reign hasn't come to an end! Why is everyone telling me that I was beaten?!?! Summer Madness hasn't even happened yet! Everyone else BUT you guys seem to think that I've lost my title when the Goddamn match hasn't happened yet!"
Denise once again states.
DENISE ESSEX- "Actually the match has happened and is already over. You was defeated in one of the most lopsided WGWF World Title Matches in recent history."
"GLORIOUS" TRISTAN SLATER- "LIAR!"
I exclaim at the top of my lungs bringing the Glorious New Breed dressing room to a dead silence.
"GLORIOUS" TRISTAN SLATER- "I am the World Heavyweight Champion and I will remain the World Heavyweight Champion for as long as I damn well choose too."
DENISE ESSEX- "Um... Are you delusional? Did MDK drop you on your head one to many times for you to come to the realization that you're still World Champion?"
I stand up from the bench looking down at Denise as I calmly state.
"GLORIOUS" TRISTAN SLATER- "I think I'd like for you to leave now."
There's a knock heard coming from the dressing room door. The camera pans back to reveal MDK standing in the doorway waving the WGWF World Heavyweight Championship back and forth with a shit eating grin on his face. Just as I dart towards the door everything goes pitch black.
"GLORIOUS" TRISTAN SLATER- "What the fuck is all this!"
Frustrated doesn't even begin to describe where I am right now at this exact time; hell confused doesn't either because one minute I'm apparently in a ring with MDK and the next I'm floating above a trainer's room. This doesn't make sense and it doesn't add up... And why the FUCK is Denise telling me I just lost the WGWF World Heavyweight Championship?
"Mr.. Slater, do you know why we've called you in?"
Suddenly we come back to see me sitting at the end of a conference table in front of the WGWF Board of Directors as well as WGWF General Manager Flash Rotten. There's a lot of unfamiliar faces surrounding me all of which are staring right at me.
"GLORIOUS" TRISTAN SLATER- "Where the fuck am I?"
My eyes shift around the room picking up some finer details; mainly the shot of the Staples Center off in the distance as I look out a large window towards the far head of the table while Flash chimes in.
FLASH ROTTEN- "You're at the WGWF headquarters in Los Angeles, California."
"GLORIOUS" TRISTAN SLATER- "Uh huh, funny thing... I was just in front of Denise Essex."
Flash and Adam Barker are seated at the end of the conference room table as they're shown glancing over at each other wondering what the fuck I am talking about before they shift their attention back towards me.
ADAM BARKER- "You've been sitting here for the last thirty minutes."
"GLORIOUS" TRISTAN SLATER- "Wait... What? No I haven't."
How is all this even possible? There's not a logical explanation that can explain how or why all of this is unfolding. I KNOW I was just sitting in front of Denise Essex and not sitting in the Board Room at the WGWF Corporate Offices.
None of this adds up.
FLASH ROTTEN- "Mr.. Slater; with all due respect, you actually have been here for at least a half hour as we have been discussing what our next move is going to be with you after that horrible display at Summer Madness opposite MDK."
Again with this whole Danny situation. What the fuck is this? Reliving my last seven months? Because that's exactly what it feels like. For eight months Danny's been nipping at my ankles like a little Chihuahua clamoring for my attention and no matter how many times you beat his ass he simply hasn't learned his lesson when it comes to standing toe to toe with the Glorious One. I've carved my reputation over the last year and a half by hoisting this company up on my broad yet sexy shoulders and harboring all the weight as your previous World Champions crumbled under the pressure, right Kyle? At least I didn't get beat by Nathan Miles, I digress.
I'm the guy who you should be on your knee's, worshipping at my feet for gracing any of you with my presence.
I'm the guy that the people pay to see.
I'm the guy that is single handedly responsible for the WGWF's doors being open right now. Yes, you all play your part like the good little foot soldiers you are, Danny included... But the spotlight shines its brightest when cast down upon my body, upon me. Nobody, and I mean nobody can say that other than me when you really sit back and look at where the company was a year ago to where it is now.
Finally you have quality World Title matches with exceptional promotional work to sell it.
Finally you a guy on top of the mountain that actually gives a shit about what kind of product he puts out there for the consumption of the wrestling fans around the world.
... And finally you have a guy that actually backs up everything that comes out of his mouth.
"GLORIOUS" TRISTAN SLATER- "Define horrible?"
Horrible simply isn't a word in my vocabulary. I mean look at the display I put on against Cable several weeks back because there's already Match of the Year talk surrounding that one.
When's the last time anyone can say I did something that wasn't... Glorious?
ADAM BARKER- "You where there. You tell me how I can salvage the career of a guy like you, a guy that has raised the bar so high, a guy that we put so much money behind to have one of the single greatest matches of the year... Only to have that guy phone it in like you did at Summer Madness?"
"GLORIOUS" TRISTAN SLATER- "Is my name Paul Frost?"
FLASH ROTTEN- "No."
"GLORIOUS" TRISTAN SLATER- "Do I look like Famine of the Vile?"
ADAM BARKER- "No."
"GLORIOUS" TRISTAN SLATER- "Exactly. Now those are guys that phone shit in on a daily when they're involved in the product. What was so bad about Summer Madness? Nobody can tell me anything other than I apparently shit the bed with match it self."
The sheer notion that I have done something so horrible, so outrageous that it has drawn this much heat from the company baffles my mind.
ADAM BARKER- "I am not here to get into or rehash the single biggest tragedy in WGWF history. Ultimately we brought you here today so that we can come to terms upon your release from the company."
I can feel my jaw drop.
"GLORIOUS" TRISTAN SLATER- "Are you fucking serious? You guys want to release the only ratings generator you got?"
I've never been the kind of guy that has to resort to begging to get or keep a job and I damn sure am not about to start now.
I can't help but to laugh under my breath while leaning forward placing my elbows on the large, shiny brown conference room table.
"GLORIOUS" TRISTAN SLATER- "If that's what you boys feel like you need to do than by all means let's sign the paperwork and I'll be on my way."
FLASH ROTTEN- "Um... It's already in front of you."
Glancing down between my elbows that a props on the table there's in fact a file folder with a black pen sitting on top of it.
"GLORIOUS" TRISTAN SLATER- "How the fuck..."
Okay now I'm totally confused as I've been sitting here for what I'm told is thirty plus minutes and the entire time this file folder has been sitting in front of me and I simply didn't notice? Bullshit.
"GLORIOUS" TRISTAN SLATER- "How did this get here? Who put this here?"
I ask as my attention is directed towards Adam Barker.
ADAM BARKER- "Are you on something? It's been sitting there the entire time you have."
Lowering my head looks at this tan file folder I take a deep breath before opening the file. My eyes start to scan the form in front of me which is on a WGWF letter head. It is in deed my release from the company.
To my left sitting on the table is a black felt pen. I take it with my right hand and put the pen to paper inking my release from the WGWF.
"GLORIOUS" TRISTAN SLATER- "I hope you guys know what you're doing."
I calmly state as I slide the folder out towards the center of the table while raising my head seeming by passing the rest of the WGWF Board Members until Flash and Adam are locked in my sights.
"GLORIOUS" TRISTAN SLATER- "I'm not going to flip out. I'm just going to say that there's plenty of other companies for me to conquer, for me to lead like I've done here for the better part of a year. I'm not sure what's going on and at this point I don't really care. My sole purpose now is to put this company out of business... Oh wait, you boy's just did that."
Before I can say anything else there's an intercom in front of Adam that has a female voice cut in.
"Mr.. Barker."
Adam reaches over holding down a button.
ADAM BARKER- "Yes."
He states as he the releases.
"Your 11:30 is here."
Pressing back down on the intercom button Adam states.
ADAM BARKER- "Send him in."
Adam releases the button as his attention directs towards me.
ADAM BARKER- "Well Mr.. Slater we're through here and we here in the WGWF wish you the best of luck in your future endeavors."
There's a single laugh under my breath as I get up out of the chair and start to walk across the conference room reaching the dark brown double doors. I open both doors to exit the conference room when I'm met with the WGWF World Heavyweight Championship dangling in front of my face.
ADAM BARKER- "Ah, M.D.K. come on in, champ."
The title belt starts to lower down but just before his face is revealed...
BEEP!
BEEP!
BEEP!
BEEP!
My eyes open as I sit straight up in my bed, sweat rolling down my brow with fast breaths being taken.
BEEP!
BEEP!
BEEP!
BEEP!
It takes a second for me to snap out of it and realize I'm in the confines of my penthouse apartment right off South Beach in Miami. My attention shifts towards my nightstand where my alarm clock is going off.
Reaching over I slap the snooze button before throwing my legs over the side of my king size bed with my feet resting on the carpeted floor and my hands resting on my knees.
TRISTAN SLATER- "What the fuck was all that?"
Trying to make sense of it all it's like a light bulb goes off above my head as I state.
TRISTAN SLATER- "The title."
Standing up out of bed at 7:30A.M. I look across the room at my black dresser with silver pull handles where resting comfortably is the WGWF World Heavyweight Championship.
TRISTAN SLATER- "Thank God."
I rub my hands across my face as my reality starts to set in that I was dreaming the entire time. I drop my hands to my side as I walk over to my dresser where I am looking at the gold plate of the WGWF World Heavyweight Championship.
TRISTAN SLATER- "The only way he would ever defeat me is in his dreams."
It brings a sly smile to my face before I shift my attention to the wall beside the dresser where a thick black leather belt is hanging. I stand in front of the belt as I start to look at the details I've put on it.
Chris Page x2
Hunter
Famine of the Vile
Vega$
Andy Johnson x2
Extinction
Paul Frost
John "The Beast" Cable
All the names are written in white as to pop out from the black of the belt.
TRISTAN SLATER- "Come Summer Madness Danny Tenegra will be but just another notch."
The rough leather rubs against my finger tips as I run the fingers of my right hand across the notch that will soon belong to Danny Tenegra.
The scene fades.
A GLORIOUS PROMO:
The time is finally upon us, Danny.
The moment that you and I have eagerly been building towards draws near.
Summer Madness 2017.
Madison Square Garden.
Sold Out.
They're going to be jam packed to the brim anticipating this one moment, this one confrontation where I finally shut that dick sucker of yours once and for all while labeling you obsolete, Danny. Obsolete is a perfect word to describe you since you returned to the WGWF nearly eight months ago as a surprise entrant to the 2017 West Coast Rumble; the very West Coast Rumble that you walked away from as the winner and earned your FIRST shot at the World Title in what? A decade? Great fucking job! I label you as obsolete because while at one point in time you MIGHT have been the hottest piece of talent on the roster that time has drawn to a close and greatness has been replaced by Gloriousness. Before we really get started with the verbal ass raping of Danny Tenegra allow me to take a moment to preface this with the single biggest fact that rests between you and I right here, right now at the moment in time. You sir... You don't have a leg to fucking stand on when it comes to talking about "Glorious" Tristan Slater. Every thing that you've thrown at me over the last several months has been bitch slapped right back down your throat at each and every turn on this long and winded road to Summer Madness, you know it and I know it. Basically Danny, you've lost this war before you've even stepped on the battlefield, brotha. What could you POSSIBLY bring to the table that stands any merit against me? Huh? Really sit back and thick about it, Danny. You've already blown your load and you haven't even hit the bedroom yet; prematurely. Don't you worry though; as it's a mistake many others before you have made. You're like Mike Tyson, punched out.
You've claimed that I'm a transitional Champion... Six months later here I stand holding on to a title you spent barely thirty days with while slaying any and everyone that's come across my path.
You claim that I hide behind a Man Beast... Yet you're too stupid enough to think my ego would allow that? Where's John been lately? Has he been fighting my battles? Has he ever fought my battles? The last time I checked I won the WGWF Intercontinental Championship with John's involvement, the last time I checked I beat Paul Frost to win the World Heavyweight Championship, the last time I checked I defended the title against Chris Page, the last time I checked I beat you and Paul Frost at Wrestle Wars, the last time I checked you COULDN'T beat me in singles action with the title on the line and the last time I checked I didn't have to attack you from behind like a coward in an attempt to avoid a fight.
You've told me that I'm over rated... Yet I demolish every one that has come across my path, yourself included. I have a better record against you than any other talent walking the face of the fucking planet; face it. Sure, the argument can be made that I have not legitimately beaten you, not put those shoulders to the mat or forced you into submission... But when it comes to wins and losses involving matches featuring you and I; you can't touch me. It's funny, truly it is. It's almost as funny as you thinking that I was going to walk out of Pick Your Poison with a loss hanging over my head, it's almost as funny as you thinking that this would end the Glorious New Breed when in actuality Slater versus Cable on Brawl elevated us to even higher levels. We did the exact opposite of what you did, we stole the fucking show.
What did you do?
You did the exact same thing you've done since the West Coast Rumble... Bare minimum.
There's a plethora of reasons that make me superior to you; one of the many on the laundry list rests with WORKING to get where I am at, and while at one point in the past you MIGHT have busted your ass here in the present you've done absolutely nothing but run your mouth about who's better than who while taking pinfall loses to a skirt. I'll dive more into that a little later. While you'll make your excuses for losing, while you will do and say ANYTHING to help you save face it's all too little too late, Danny. You're suppose to be riding a wave of momentum and yet you're actually running on empty following your latest failure opposite a guy you call a lackey and the next name to earn his notch on my belt, Kyle Shane. People have asked me in airports, on podcasts and at New Breed Functions why I've elected to remain as quiet on Monday Night Brawls or not bothered to speak on you throughout my promos or at appearances... It was all psychological and it was all a game because I wanted to unload my guns on you when it fucking matters like right here, right now for example. Here I stand on the cusp of of six month with my first WGWF World Heavyweight Championship and poised to walk into Madison Square Garden to do battle against what can only be described as a legitimate rivalry in which the rules have been thrown out the window, in which there are no count outs or disqualifications and there MUST be a winner. Now, here's where my motivation for this kicks into high gear because I'm an egotistical prick that LOVES to remind people how long I've gone without being pinned or forced to submit and I love adding notches on my belt. Since I returned over a year ago there's but ONE man that has crossed my path that I can not say has made my glorious list of victims; Danny Tenegra, or as you all know him as M.D.K... Side note, that will be the only reference to an acronym you're going to get out of me today... But come Summer Madness your name will FINALLY make the night that I carve your notch on my belt because come Summer Madness you're not going to have a Paul Frost to fall back on to take the loss, you're not going to have a coutout to rely on in order to keep you somewhat relevant in the World Title scene because once we're done YOU'RE done!
Look to what degree YOU had to stoop to at our contract signing on Monday Night Brawl.
You and Alyce jump me after I arrive to the building, you take me to a broiler room and try your best to secure me so I didn't show up for the contract signing and the World Title would have been HANDED to you. I wonder exactly why you felt the need to orchestrate that? Hmmmm... Let me think... Oh wait, I got it. You FEAR me. Your attempt failed... But had it succeeded you wasn't content with having the title awarded to you. Doesn't that sound an awful lot like Paul Frost? No wonder you two got a long so well towards the beginning of the year.
You in deed FEAR me... And rightfully you should.
You've been in the ring with me countless times over the course of 2017 and managed to leave in victory ONE time.
You know deep down inside that cold heart of yours that you CAN'T beat me; more importantly you know deep down inside you WON'T beat me.
... And you might have gotten away with screwing me out of my title had you bothered to lock the doors to that broiler room and not allowed a Harley Quinn toothpick to bound my arms and ankles together with duct tape of all things. You couldn't spring for zipties? Much like everything you've tried with me... You failed, sounds all too familiar. I thoroughly hope that you enjoyed beating me down as I foiled your initial plan, I hope that you relished at my bloodshed and I hope the pleasure that you attained when you jabbed that pen into the flesh of my forehead and forced my signature on that contract in my own blood satisfied whatever sadist desires because mark my words, boy... I've bleed before and I'll bleed again, I've been beaten down before but yet I still fight back, there's absolutely NO QUIT running through these veins and the only thing you managed to accomplish was completely fucking yourself by further motivating me into ripping your head from your shoulders and playing basketball with it! Come Summer Madness the book on Tristan Slater and Danny Tenegra will FINALLY come to an end and it's going to end EXACTLY as it ultimately began... With a "Glorious" victory by my hands. There's going to come a time and a place when I'll be defeated; it's GOING to happen as I know the reality of my situation. It's just not going to come to an end by your hands, Danny. Try as you might and try as you will but ultimately you're going to fall on your face flatter than you did against Alyce Starchylde. Words cannot describe just how badly I am craving this confrontation. The mere thought has me salivating because once I end you once and for all there's absolutely NOTHING you can do or say other than I am the better man; ultimately that's all this has ever been about, or at least that's the way I view it. It didn't get personal until YOU made it personal. Look back at all of our interactions dating back to when you rudely interrupted my Championship celebration back before Wrestle Wars. Even then you strolled down to the ring and immediately jumped on Cable verbally before completely disrespecting me. What did that get you? A solid right hand followed by your ass being dropped like a bad fucking habit. YOU did that, Danny. You are the one behind Alyce's attacks against me because at the end of the day YOU need an advantage against me... You know it, I know it and the entire world knows it... And it's Okay, bro. It comes with the territory of being the World Heavyweight Champion that I wish you could fully understand but that would take a successful World Title defense HERE in the WGWF for you to completely understand. Even though you made it personal I stood back and allowed you to spill you verbal diarrhea in a feeble attempt to garner some cheap heat all the while showing up against your hand picked opponent and leaving victorious, all the while with each and every booking slaying the competition like there's no tomorrow while you have tried your hand at a mental and physical game that's gotten you absolutely nowhere.
Great-FUCKING-Job.
What's funny about this entire situation rests with the fact that you don't have an endgame and with how sorely you've underestimated me not only as the WGWF World Heavyweight Champion but more importantly as a talent in this business we all know and love as Professional Wrestling... It's going to bite you in the ass. You're about to learn the hard way that I have always been five steps ahead of you on this yellow brick road to Summer Madness because I've got you right where I want you which is firmly in the palm of my hands. There's nothing that will stand in my way of ending you once and for all. Alyce? Nah, she's going to be dealt with and the rest of my boys are going to stand by waiting for someone, ANYONE to stick their nose in this in an attempt to render you aid as my foot makes its way up your ass. New York City isn't going to be big enough for the destruction that I am going to put you through. Do you hear me, Danny? Hmmm? Do I have you undivided attention just yet? In case you haven't quite figured it out yet there's nothing about you that strikes fear in my heart nor brings me any intimidation. My eyes are firmly on the prize my man and that prize is standing over your busted up and broken body in the most famous arena in the United States... You're not man enough to stop me. You talk an okay game but when it's time to put up or shut up the mouth seems to stop moving and reality starts to sink in that not only are you not good enough to defeat me, hell you're not good enough to beat the lackey.
They say that all good things must come to an end.
And while this blood feud has been great for the federation and our fan base it's going to finally come to an end and it couldn't come at a better time as I've found myself bored when it comes to dealing with you and I can't think of a better place to end it once and for all than the historic halls of Madison Square Garden. It seems every time we step in the sacred building I'm cast in some sort of non sanctioned affair; last year it was Famine inside the Devil's Playground, before that it was Lunacy is a Street Fight and before that it was my Glorious New Breed counterpart John Cable in a Street Fight... Seems like New York City likes to hosts some of my more classic WGWF affairs so it's fitting we close this book just like I've closed so many others. As we are poised; two men ready, willing and able to lay it all on the line, two men that are willing to beat each other within an inch of their lives and two men that have nothing but hate and disdain running through their veins for each other... Only one man is going to walk out, Danny.
... You're looking at him.
This comes down to me versus you.
One on one.
Man to boy.
All your tricks, all your twists and your turns you've elected to take will all be for nothing, Danny.
You've played the game well, Danny... I've played it flawlessly.
You've got nothing in your arsenal, NOTHING that you can come at me with that you've not already done so as you've followed the bread crumbs I left for you, you've followed them to Summer Madness and come Summer Madness I'm going to do the world a favor by beating you in the middle of that ring like I should have done at Wrestle Wars Eleven all the while firmly establishing that you are nothing... But inferior. I've played this human game of chess better than you... Not only have I played better than you, I'm the Queen to your pawn and with each and every move and it will all culminate at Summer Madness with a checkmate.
So this is it, Danny.
This is the final shot fired, bomb dropped and match that you and I are going to have for quite some time.
I have something that you want and in order for you to get it you're going to have to pry it out of my cold, dead hands... Something that is easier said than actually done. I truly feel bad for you as you're simply a dead man walking; and you're walking into a situation where I can use any and everything that's not nailed down at my disposal. Kinda sucks for you as I'm just as gifted a fighter as I am a wrestler, it kinda sucks for you that I have a high threshold for pain, it kinda sucks for you that the more someone beats on me the more they're driving me to establish my dominance all while labeling them... Inferior.
That's not a bad thing, Danny.
That's a GLORIOUS thing.