Post by TheNewBreed on Mar 16, 2019 17:13:51 GMT -5
7 Months Ago...
“I was ensured after our last run-in, SIR, that I would be left to run the WGWF with FULL autonomy from the Board of Directors, and this is cle...” the familiar whine of the WGWF's General Manger, Flash Rotten (when he feels he is being slighted) echoes through the open door to his office.
Moments pass before his shrill tone carries back out into the lobby of his office, where his secretary sits awkwardly tapping away on her keyboard.
“Need I remind you of the stipulation that allo....” his voice grates shrilly as his frustration and indignation rises as he tries to hold his tone in check.
“I am well aware of what the increment costs of damages and liability insurance are like with men the likes of Xmyles and Lunacy running rampant in the WGWF, and I am very aware of the lawsuit potential wi...” he states flatly as the dawning of the precarious situation he finds himself is finally upon him.
Cowardly as Flash Rotten may be... a dumb man he was not.
He could see the errors in his judgment, and if this was any indicator of the future to come, he knew what he had to do.
“No... Adam... I understand the position the WGWF and it's Board are in, and I... I will do what has to be done. Trust that it will be handled immediately.” Flash finishes solemnly before we see him, standing behind his desk in a disheveled dark blue suit, his hair flung in odd directions to each other, and a slew of papers on his desk in front of him. He rests the phone receiver back in it's cradle before sighing a heavy sigh, and looking towards the door.
“Deloris. Get John Cable's office on the phone. Set up a meeting with him here in my office at his earliest convenience.” he says with a far away glare in his eye, thinking of the next move he has to make to stay in the role of power around here without sinking the ship he captains to do it, as the scene fades to black.
* * *
2 Weeks Later...
“Thank you for making the time to come in and see me Mr. Cable. I appreciate the...” Flash says as he extends his hand across the desk professionally, his tone metered and precise, polite but not friendly, and particular not to be offensive, but prickly and slick at the same time.
John stares at his hand for a moment before unbuttoning the two shiny black buttons of his suit coat and taking a seat on the edge of the cushioned chair opposite the desk, ignoring the attempted handshake all together.
“Mr. Rotten then?” John looks at him almost quizzically.
“Look... you and I both know what happened was bullshit, Flash, and no matter how you slice it, I want what belongs to me and I don't give...” John starts, his teeth gritted, and his tone already giving away to the writhing emotions boiling just under the surface about it all...
“You're right, John.” Flash says simply, a slight smile lilting at the edge of his mouth.
“Seriously, I didn't waste my fucking time to come down here to be pandered to about...” John says, deflated a bit, and slightly bewildered at the turn in events from the last several interactions he had had with the office and with Flash specifically on this point.
“You're right, John. Seriously. When you're right, You're Right, and You are Right, John.” Flash says almost joyously.
John Cable stares in disbelief, and mistrust at the man behind the desk for a moment and his mouth gapes open and closed like a fish out of water briefly... much to the secret joy of Flash Rotten in the moment of his plot hook deal of a lifetime.
“No, really, and in fact, I have all of the legal documentation right here to rightfully re-instate you as the WGWF World Heavyweight Champion right now... if you don't mind... we'll need you to sign right here, please...” Flash says as he pushes a single sheet of paper across the desk with a fancy office pen made of what appeared to be red and black marble wrapped in rings of gold, but knowing Flash Rotten, was more likely plastic and cheap, and motions to the line at the bottom next to his own signature as the GM.
John stood up and took the paper in his hand in a swoop, and stared at the words on the page as if they would catch fire and disappear into the void forever.
It was a very short document for the weight this page carried, not just for John, but the whole of the WGWF, but there was no need for loophole jargon and clauses with the contract before him. The screw-job was evident, and it didn't matter.
He had a choice to make:
Either sign the paper, be the WGWF World Heavyweight Champion if only in the record books, and go into the Four Way Elimination match match coming up as the Defender of the WGWF from the history they would make for it...
Or don't sign it, and have the WGWF file bankruptcy, close it's doors forever, and lose the chance to prove to the men who have been crowing to the heavens how he couldn't do it just how wrong they all were, but worst yet, forfeiting his title reign forever.
The chance to actually hold the WGWF World Title in his hands, as his own, for any number of days before being screwed out of it again with bullshit tactics and ambushes was the thing that drove John harder than any other thing in his life.
He wanted to hold that Title and BE the Champion he knew he could be... and yet... so far in his entire career here, he had been pushed out of the top spot by his own shortcomings for so long... and yet, here... it was finally in his lap... but it was in the end days, the final moments of a burning building before it's weight forced in on itself from the outside and it devours it's own rage in a puff of smoke and debris, and all he wanted to do was have tomorrow to celebrate it just a bit longer.
In the moment, John wanted to drive his fist so far into Flash's brain he would never find his knuckles again.
But as he read the paper over and over again, John understood what was at stake for Rotten... and for himself... and for the whole of the WGWF.
He knew if he didn't sign the paper he would get his just due in cash and royalties... but he would never again get a chance to get in the ring with likes of MDK, Kyle Shane, or Tristan Slater ever again.
John was never driven in his career with the WGWF to make more money for the New Breed... but instead to challenge himself with the best talent the world had ever seen, and to make sure that those who didn't at least respect his abilities in the ring learned to fear him... and he hadn't finished either of those tasks in the WGWF, and without his signature on this page of paper, he never would.
John would do anything to go into Summer Madness and defend the WGWF World Heavyweight Championship against Starchylde, Slater, and MDK, with or without the belt in his hands... even sign this paper.
John slams the page on Flash's desk and lifts the pen in to his fingers. With a quick twist, the nib juts from the hollow body and he signs his name on the bottom line of the paper with a rushed flourish.
John throws the pen on the desk and turns towards the door in a huff.
“We'll see you soon Champ. Maybe you'll get to hold you're belt after the Pay Per View, huh?” Flash calls out to Cable as he exits the doorway and the scene fades to black.
* * *
Now... I don't know if you see this is a victory in actuality or in practice, Flash... but I have a bit of news for you.
Having me sign away my rights to sue you to keep my contract valid and not force you to pay out my lump sum contract fees and all royalties associated to my name for the next 20 years only makes sense for me... and I'd tell you why, but I don't have to. You worded that contract just right, to the point, and bare bones as it was, on purpose.
You wanted to make it perfectly clear to me that you knew before I got there that day I was going to sign the damned thing, and you were right.
I don't need you're money, or your job Flash. I don't even really want it.
For years now, I have giving the paycheck I earn here in the WGWF to various Charities on behalf of the WGWF anyway, so the payout on my contract doesn't even interest me.
Hell, the threat of financially crippling the WGWF into bankruptcy doesn't even tickle my fanciest whim you idiot, even though I would if you pushed me just to buy the whole damned thing and force you out of a job for this stunt you pulled right here, but in the end... It doesn't serve my purpose, or my agenda to do it.
No... I know you know all of that already, Flash.
I see your deeper play... and I know why you did it.
It was the only way to get the Board off your ass for the financial ramifications of a lawsuit, and ease the shareholders who were putting pressure on the Board, and if anything ever remains a constant, shit rolls downhill, doesn't it MDK?
Well if it isn't a predicament we find ourselves in then, huh, Flash?
In the end, I think you'll find your plan still lacking, and in reality, it's me who comes out on the winning end of the paperwork deal, you know, Flash?
Forcing a reversal on that farce of a restart to the match leaves me as the WGWF World Heavyweight Champion going into the next Pay Per View, and a win on MDK in the record books. It's justice served, and hope for another day for the Breeders out there celebrating my win with me all around the world, and in that Hope, comes the day of Summer Madness... and a solidifying of my true legacy once and for all.
That's the only thing I needed from the WGWF, Flash, and you just handed it to me on a silver platter.
* * *
3 Weeks Later...
The WGWF Summer Madness logo flashes across the screen before the image of Derrick Diamond and Flash Rotten sitting ringside at one of the biggest Pay Per View events of 2018.
“It has been a crazy ride tonight, Derrick.” Flash says wiping sweat from his brow.
“It sure has, Flash, and that isn't about to stop yet!” Diamond returns.
“Not with our Main Event looming, pitting Alyce Starchylde, Tristan Slater, and MDK against the WGWF World Heavyweight Champion, Johnathan 'the Beast' Cable in a 4 Way Elimination Match to end all of the questions once and for all about who is the rightful World Heavyweight Champion!” Flash shrieks in excitement.
The fans in the background fly into a frenzy as the scene twirls away in the audience and comes back to the sounds of bodies hitting canvas and the fans loud cheers and boos are already pitched to a frenzied point.
The match has gone on for what seemed to all of them to be more like forever than any measure of minutes imaginable.
The night had been grueling, and in each of them a brighter fire burned than any of the others had seen before tonight.
So much was on the line here between these four athletes, that each and every one of them had so much desire and need in them to survive to see the final bell toll for them, that they had long ago surpassed the limits they thought they would endure, and were each running on fumes and hope more than any real function of mind.
Instinct at this point was all that drove their limbs to move, to block, to assault the others... anything it took to end the fight in another and make it closer to the finish line and a peaceful rest...
MDK, favoring his left leg heavily, whips Cable into the ropes and stumbles along behind him close. A massive clothesline sends the Beast over the top rope and onto the floor, where MDK, as battered as the other three, topples over with him in a tangle of limbs.
Slater climbs the guardrail on the outside to his feet slowly, his forehead oozing crimson streaks across his face and his eyes glazed over as if he were off in a far away land as Starchylde perches behind him on the top rope, her lip bloody and her eye swollen nearly shut. As he climbs gingerly to his feet, Alyce holds her left arm in to her chest and raises her right to the crowd before launching into the sky.
The entire arena standing, the roar of the crowd fading to silence in her mind, sailing, slowly, across the gap between the ring and the guardrail, measuring her turn, aiming her body to land the killing blow that would end Slater here and now... and then she knew.
Slater snapped to, instinct driving his head out of the way, grabbing her in mid air under the leg, and driving her back and head against the wall with a sickening thud heard over even the roar of the crowd as it fell silent, briefly, before a loud “OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO” cries out from each on e in unison.
Her body slumps on the floor and Slater tosses her leg off of his lap as he sprawls across the floor, taking the moment to regain his breath and try to make sense of his path to victory through the pain of his body screaming at him in every fiber.
Blood drips from Alyce's ear and nose, her eye purple and black with tinges of blues throughout. A crimson bubble pops from her nostril as EMT's rush the ring and the referee waves her out of the match.
“Alyce Starchylde has been deemed eliminated from the match!” Diamond shouts with enthusiasm.
“It looks to me like Slater might have killed her! She took one hell of a hit there in that reversal!” Flash yells out, caught up in the excitement of his commentary partner, the crowd, and the night.
“We will keep you all informed of her condition as we learn what's going on as the EMT's begin to tend to her at ringside, but what's this? Cable and MDK have untangled themselves and are making their way to their feet on the other side of the ring, and Slater has finally rolled inside, but hasn't quite gotten to his feet!” Diamond calls the action around ringside.
Slater clutches his ribs as he lays on the mat. MDK and Cable have climbed to their feet finally, clutching the apron to steady themselves as they try to regain their focus and get back into the match.
The moments go by so slowly for the three men... wrapped up in this vile struggle of hatred and betrayal beyond the confines of friends or work rigors, but on a base level... gutteral... parts of each of their very being tied inextricably to these minutes forever...
MDK drives a heavy boot into the midsection of Cable clutching the apron, and the Beast doubles over, holding the ring with one hand to steady himself. Slater rolls to his knees and tries to push himself off the mat.
Again, MDK pulls a leg back, and drives it into Cable's midsection, driving him backwards along the apron. Slater stumbles to his feet and backpedals against the ropes catching himself on the top cable and coiling up focusing on MDK on the other side of the ropes.
MDK reaches down and pulls John upright shoving him back into the ringpost, and loads up a huge knife edge chop as Slater rifles through the ropes and drives both feet into MDK's face with a baseball slide that sends him across the floor and into the wall bodily.
Slater crawls back into the ring slowly as John regains himself laid up against the ringpost as MDK sprawls across the mat on the floor. John reaches for Slater's leg, but Tristan drives a boot into his swollen, disfigured face, and sends him back first into the ringpost, bouncing off and rolls across the floor trying to shake the cobwebs from his brain.
Tristan gets to his feet in the ring, the fans going crazy, and turns slowly soaking the adulation and hatred in in equal measures with his arms outstretched, basking in the moment of it all, and he can feel it.
His time has come... and it's... right... now!
John and MDK are making their way to their feet on the floor outside... the fans are rabid in their cheering... Diamond and Rotten are losing their minds at the broadcast table as he winds himself up before launching off of the ropes and flying over the top steel cable towards the pair of combatants on the floor outside... and here... in this moment... after the years John and Tristan and MDK had fought and warred among and with one another... the experience came crashing together...
John slid just to the left and reached right... MDK slid right and reached left, and Slater tried in vain to adjust, but there was nothing left but to let it play out as it would.
Tristan crashed into MDK and Cable with all the force of his flight...
With a quick twist by MDK and John to change Tristan's momentum, the men catch Slater across the arms and shoulders and spin Slater in an opposite angle to increase the velocity, and drive him shoulder first across the top of the wall, spilling him into stands as he sprawls out across the chairs and fans alike.
“Slater's arm is broken!!!” Flash screams into the mic.
“OH MY GAWD!!!” Diamond exclaims, disgusted.
Slater's arm dangles at his side at a sickening angle as he screams in anguish and flails across the floor as the scene twirls away into the crowd and the roaring of the fans once more to spin around the arnea and focus back some time later to see Slater still sprawled across the chairs on the outside, EMT's tending to resetting his dislocated shoulder and to a few of his more serious injuries and Starchylde being loaded, against her will, onto a stretcher.
The bloodbath between MDK and John Cable rages on, both men swollen and battered, blood spatters cover them both from forehead to knees. Smears of crimson finger marks are spread across the canvas and the walls on the outside as the fans scream wildly for the gore before them.
This is what they all came to see, right here... the blood-sport that would surely have been the main event.
And here, as Cable tries to step under and lift MDK with a fireman's carry, the experience of Tenegra pays off as he side steps the move and instead drives a boot into the weak knee of Cable out front and sends him to one knee on the canvas.
Driving the point of his boot into the back of Cable's knee, he steps over and reaches under the neck from behind and drops back into a modified Step Over Dragon Sleeper, sending them both to mat with MDK riding John's back on the way down, driving the air from his lungs with both of their weight and he puts the pressure on the knee and throat of Cable with the angle and leverage of the lock.
John thrashes his arms against the mat and tried to gain some leverage against MDK, but the air runs out fast, and his vision blurs in the moment as sweat and blood mix in his eyes and panic begins.
MDK yanks back hard on John's neck, pulling with everything he can, but John reaches out with both arms and by chance... feels the steel cable with his fingers.
He strains towards them and finally, before the blackness sets in, but not before the damage has been done, grasps the rope in his hand and holds on for everything he's worth as the ref breaks the hold. Finally, air rushes into John's lungs again as he gasps for it in gulps as he clutches at his throat with now freed hands, pain coursing through his body in nearly nauseating waves. He hears MDK screaming at him, hears the thuds of his boots on the mat as he creeps closer and closer... and just as he is about to land a double axe handle smash, John reaches back and yanks his leg out from under him, sending MDK backwards onto the mat as john rolls through underneath and turns the leg into an ankle lock and rolls up into the hold, now the rolls reversed as John twists against MDK's ankle as hard as he can.
After trying to reach the ropes and John dragging him back into the center of the ring, finally MDK rolls through the reversal and drives his boot into John's face sending him out of the ankle lock and flying into the ropes across the ring.
John rocks back into the ropes and launches himself across the ring at MDK, arm out for a clothesline, but MDK pancakes as John hops over him and comes off of the other side. MDK leaps to his feet and the pair collide in the middle of the ring with a collar and elbow tie up .
The two men struggle against each other to gain footing before Cable digs in and shoves MDK backwards one step at a time into a corner. Bending him backwards across the ropes the ref counts four before John goes to break, but MDK drives a lifting knee into his gut underneath, and thumbs him in the eye to the roaring boos of the crowd before lifting his arms innocently into the air and claiming he didn't do anything as the ref questions him.
John turns back to face MDK in the corner to catch a boot to the side of the head as MDK lifts himself into the corner and drives his foot forward to make space between him and the Beast in the close confines of the corner. A quick jab followed by a European Uppercut has the Beast reeling as MDK backs him out of the corner, and tosses John arm up to step under going for the Hellshot, but John ducks under and reverses but driving his shoulder under and lifting MDK into the air in a reverse Torture Rack setting him up for a Reverse Darkest Hour, and MDK is helpless locked in high above the canvas as John shifts him around his shoulder and drives him face-first into the mat in a tangled heap, both men sprawled out on the canvas motionless.
The ref hesitates, watching to see I the men will move to get up, but with no response from either man, the ref grabs both men by the wrist and raises them up, letting them both go before dropping to the mat.
1...
The ref grabs both men by the wrist again after motioning 1 to the crowd, and lets them go again to fall to the mat.
2...
The ref grabs them men again and raises their arms before letting them fall, as MDK's crashes lifeless to the mat and John raises his back into the air at the last moment signaling his victory, defending the WGWF World Heavyweight Championship against three of the best in the company, surviving as the Champion once more.
3...
As the bell rings, Alyce Starchylde breaks free of the stretcher on the ramp, and races back into the ring, rolling under the bottom rope and pulling on MDK to get him free of the heap of limbs.
Flash Rotten makes his way into the ring with the World Heavyweight Championship over his shoulder. Alyce screams at MDK and smacks him across the face before he comes to and groggily shakes his head side to side.
John struggles to his feet slowly as Alyce notices Flash and John in the ring. She snatches the Belt from Flash and rears back as John makes it to his feet, cracking him across the already bloodied face with the golden plate, sending him crashing back to the mat.
Alyce shoves Flash backwards through the ropes to the floor outside, and then helps MDK to the apron as they flee back up the ramp with the Title in tow leaving John laid out in the ring, still the WGWF Champion with no Title to show for it as the show comes to an end and the scene fades to black.
* * *
1 Week Later...
“What the hell does that even mean? You're saying I could sue them, and I would be justified, and the courts would see the debt as valid, but they would have 30 years to pay the full amount of the payout, and it wouldn't even matter anyway because, POOF... it's just all gone!?! The existence of the entire WGWF is just gone...?!?!” John struggles to understand the team of lawyers answer to his inquiry of action.
“Well, Mr. Cable, technically, that is a proper assessment. I mean, you CAN surely sue the WGWF, and would in fact earn you quite a large sum of money, but with the pending bankruptcy, and the other associated costs with the fines levied towards the company and several other factors, the courts would probably rule in your favor, but would be forced to stretch the payout over at least 30 years, and with injunctions for damages, and other lawsuits pending for damages and civil suits involving several other of the roster of superstars employed by the WGWF, it would be safe to assume you would never actually see the first payout. In addition, while you ARE still recognized as the World Heavyweight Champion in the WGWF, pas part of the bankruptcy case, all assets of the WGWF have been seized and dealt with otherwise, and as such you will not be receiving the WGWF World Championship Title Belt, and are in fact the last Champion of a dead company. Congratulations, Sir. We're sorry, but there is really nothing that we can feasibly do about it at this point, and it would be best if you just let it go.” the thin brown haired man stated matter of factually, but compassionately enough as to not offend the man before his colleagues stood up each in turn behind him and filed out of the room quietly leaving John to his thoughts.
* * *
Two Months Ago...
'Children' by Robert Miles plays on John's phone as he pulls it from his charcoal gray suit pants and absent mindedly presses the green button on his screen.
“Hello?” he says with a voice dry and cracked.
“Well, Mr. Winthrope, we have a proposal you may be interested in, so I hope you have a moment to discuss it?” an oddly familiar voice, heard from the mysterious call in another WGWF Superstar'sOne Night Only Promo not long ago, echos on the other end of the line as John sets a pen on his desk and looks at the screen for the first time.
Private Caller
“What proposal did you have in mind exactly?” John asks cautiously. It was odd for anyone he didn't know to have this number at all, let alone anyone who would call him with their number blocked.
“As the last official WGWF World Heavyweight Champion, I would assume that if there were to be a reunion showing in any capacity you would appreciate the chance to headline it, correct??” the voice asks, almost knowing the answer before it asks.
“For starters, until a whole slew of employees get what's owed them, me included, the WGWF can't have a show... so shove it up your ass and lose this number.” John says between grinding teeth.
“Now, John... by the end of the afternoon, if all goes as planned from this point till then, your check will be in your hand, as will lots of others. I assure you the WGWF will not be violating court orders, or functioning outside of the legal spectrum for this show, but I will tell you that if you turn down this opportunity, there will not be another phone call, and no way for your to gain a contract for the pay per view to come. It's a now or never situation Cable, and I think you would be remiss if you were to fail to capitalize on an opportunity to right so many wrongs suffered in your life all at once... don't you?” the voice asks almost rehearsed, as if they had already had this very conversation and had practiced the words like a sonnet before a crowd.
“What do you mean?” John asks plainly, trying in vain to hide in interest in the prospect.
“Many people in the WGWF, from the upper echelons of management all the way to the locker room have slighted you, John, in one fashion or another over the many many years you have tread these hallways. Men from your distant past like Raziel, who spent years telling the world how you would never succeed, just to poof and disappear when you came into your own, never to be given the chance to prove your claims of being better than he even after proving otherwise on more than a few occasions. Or men from a more recent past like Chris Page who still claims to have an auditory cricket tick to this day over your ignoring his offers of a match you never felt you needed to take to prove anything. If those aren't as enticing, what about the unanswered offer to Kyle Shane to come back and try again against the Beast after your dismantling of his reality and invocation of a classic textbook midlife crisis, or the chance to climb into the ring with Tristan Slater and MDK and once and for all settle the matter over the WGWF World Heavyweight Championship, getting the Title handed to you in celebration with your Breeders all around the world? Among those I am sure is at least ONE reason for you to sign a contract for one night... because we all know you don't need the exposure or the paycheck.” the voice coos comfortably confident in the signing of their target.
“So, which match would it be?” John asks coolly.
“The card has not been finalized as of yet, but when it is, the participants of the show will be notified. Are we to assume you will be signing then, Mr. Cable?” the voice asks hopefully.
“Oh yeah... but you have misjudged the motivation in me to fight THIS fight... and I am tired of being underestimated. Where do I meet to sign the contract?” John asks as the scene fades to black.
* * *
So many things run through your mind in moments like these, you know?
Of course you do, because here we all sit, alone in our heads exactly like everyone else on the eve of a night like tonight, and we are all thinking the exact same thing.
Well... tonight determines my place in history... it decides unequivocally how I am remembered in the annals of WGWF History FOREVER!
Except it isn't.
At all...
If Kyle Shane wins it all and walks away the GOAT of the WGWF in this moment of moments...
It doesn't change the fact that we all know that Kyle Shane is obsessed to the brink of madness with the perfection of his achievement list and the ticks on his bedpost of the men he has felled inside that ring are more important to him than any story he has ever told you of the girls in his life that all represent something he lost because of his obsession and inability to get over himself and truly love another being more than his own image.
It doesn't change the fact that when Kyle Shane doesn't get his way with management he tries his hand in greener pastures where he think that the world will just be what he thinks it should be, and for a while it is, until it isn't again, and he comes crawling back with stories of how we should worship him again... hell, his entire life he has spent time on our planet telling us how we should all worship the ground he walks on because he is the best, and there isn't anyone out there that on any given day he hasn't bested.
His accolades speak for themselves.
He is insanely decorated in the ring and has won so many matches he would have lost count already if he wasn't so busy telling us how may times he has beaten so and so and how many matches he has set records in.
To be perfectly honest, one of the highlights of my entire decades spanning career was beating you, Kyle Shane... but not because I won... purely on how I took your game, the vaunted talent you possess, and I turned it upside down and beat you at your own methods.
No matter who walks away the winner at One Night Only, it's all the same... and if you are coming into this match like Kyle is, trying to make a lasting impression and solidify you legacy by winning here and being labeled the Greatest WGWF Superstar of ALL Time, there is only disappointment here for you.
On this night, things will transpire, and someone will give it their all, and at the end of the night, when the dust settles and the equipment is all packed, your legacies are already your own. You have proven all the points you are going prove in the WGWF, and you have lived the lives you have lived already.
Those fans out there, and the stars in the locker room and the trolls online... they all already know who you are to them, and nothing you do this one night is going to change any of that for any of them ever.
If Page wins, he is still the manipulative manager guy who has always been one step ahead of the stars because he has the advantage of making the deals and wheeling the backstage action like no one else ever has. He has nothing left to prove to any one, and he doesn't need to try for any other ego's to be soothed either. He is doing this show for him, and him alone... to do a thing he wants to do... because he wants it.
All it means is on this one night in March in 2019, one man won a match and some fans saw it. The clips will survive on the internet and become memes and inspirational posters for ages.
None of that is because of how much work you put in to win or lose, or how many times you told the fans you were the best and proved it.
This night is about ending the bullshit... putting it to rest, and moving on with my new career in the WWWN Just like Kyle has made his way to the top of the PCW and became their World Champ, I have been blazing a trail of my own elsewhere, and laying waste to the rookie before me while the Breeders cheer for me while I make my way towards a World Title of my own.
Very few of the other competitors here have made a name for themselves anywhere outside of he WGWF for the last 7 months. Does that mean they are rusty and out of shape? Maybe... But none of that matters to me. None of it is important. None of it makes a bit of difference to the task at hand.
Where everyone else seems to want to bottle the past and keep the glory of the place they call home alive, I have become accustom to 'Home' being burnt to the ground by those who would hurt me... and tonight... when I walk out of the War Games match as the Greatest of All Time... I am finally going to be the man to burn the homes of each and every one of YOU to the ground!
I will end the WGWF... and I have been given but one more opportunity to do so.
The transgressions I have endured at the hands of those behind the curtains in every company I have ever worked in will be squelched in a fire that likes none have ever seen before.
Shane Carver screwed me because he didn't like my opinions on how he ran his company...
Sean Corvik screwed me because he was afraid I might become better than he was...
and the WGWF has screwed me for so long I have come to expect it, like many others have...
and now... I end it all in a blaze of glory that will turn the lights of the WGWF off in a fashion it will never recover from.
Eat your heart out Xmyles... while you're focused on ending Chris Page for what he took away from you, I will show you how to truly END the WGWF.
Good luck to you all... it's going to get dark from here, so bring your night light and pack your picnic basket.
The Beast is hungry... and he knows as the sun sets on the last age of the WGWF Era, it can be no other to end the shit show that has been the WGWF save for the one John Cable.
Come one... came all... to the show... and be sure to stay for the end credits.
This time, it really is Game Over... for us all.
* * *