Post by Deleted on Feb 2, 2013 8:23:38 GMT -6
Nobody knows my mind better than me.
Yet, many purport to do so. Everybody thinks they know what goes on inside my head, that they can see some innate cowardice or a perpetual need to be praised; now it is the quest to create doubts within my psyche to paint a picture of a champion who knows his time is up.
You couldn’t be any more wrong.
I have absolutely no doubts in my mind, Mike. Whilst the masses may question me and you may continue to boldly predict your absolute victory, just as you have done for the past three months in a continuous cycle to mask your own insecurities, I have remained steadfast in my faith. I believe in myself, unwaveringly, unquestionably and unshakably.
No, this isn’t about me doubting myself, this is simply about erasing the doubts others have in me. Whilst I have never lost belief in my abilities, it has become apparent that the actions of Lex Sense have allowed a vision of me as a coward to solidify, complete with you steadfast support of course. Every single man, woman and child has swiftly forgotten that I took this belt from Andrew Jacobsen fair and square after a hard fought contest, simply because I have been as much a victim of the machinations of a giant as you.
Lex Sense has created questions about my legitimacy as champion where there should be none just as much as he has created “what ifs” inside your head about what might have been. These questions allow men like you to cling to the fallacy that I am a coward devoid of talent purporting to be a champion for as long as I can avoid my date with destiny, which you will all predict is the day I find myself inside a ring with you.
I have retained my title successfully two times in a row, if I was the flavour of the month who kissed the babies and told everybody how wonderful everyone is they would be lauding me as the greatest man to have ever lived and forming queues to kiss my ass, but because I happen to be the villain they spend their time portraying me as a coward, hiding from the inevitability of my defeat. Not that we can allow facts to get in the way of things….
I will not allow this perception to be perpetuated any longer, that is why this week I have covered every base imaginable so that when I beat you, because I will, there will be no more excuses to explain away my victory. No more questions marks. No more cries of foul play.
Just the undeniable fact that I am the absolute pinnacle of New Championship Wrestling, the apex predator, the king of the castle….
The undisputed NCW World Champion.
It is going to be just you and me, a ring and the most important prize in professional wrestling on the line, no more outside interference, no more cheap tricks and no more living within the rules. I am going to do what I do best and leave you begging for one more chance when you know there are none, feverishly collecting the shards of your shattered dreams.
Margins in wrestling are narrow things. Though I must admit, amongst all of your self-professed skills, I never realised that predicting the future was one of them.
At Breaking Away I was seconds away from, allegedly, passing out and subsequently passing on my world title after a mere month at the top of the food chain. Yet, nobody knows whether I would or wouldn’t have limply relinquished my belt, nobody can say for sure that I would have submitted to the tortures of your Heavenly Intervention.
At Mind Games you had me on your shoulders and once again, you were allegedly moments away from driving a knee into my face, sealing the third pin and then riding off into the sunset with my world title draped across your shoulder. Yet, curiously enough, nobody knows if you would have pinned me successfully, I’ve kicked out of Widowmakers and a multitude of other physically traumatic manoeuvres before.
My point?
You can’t just re-write history with such a steadfast authority, Mike. I deal with facts. At Breaking Away you tasted the business end of Lex’s boot, and I capitalised, just like you would have done if it was me he laid out. At Mind Games, Lex punched you in the face to give you the deciding pinfall, that the rules stipulate that you cannot win via a disqualification isn’t my fault, you chose the stipulation and failed to fulfil the conditions for victory.
You may call it being inches away from becoming world champion, but the reality is that it could have been millimetres; neither method of measurement would have changed the fact that you just weren’t good enough in the end. That is what separates good wrestlers, from great ones. Good wrestlers can touch the prize, they can practically taste it, but they just cannot grasp it and even if they do, they never hold onto it for very long. Great wrestlers do not fail by such slim margins; they succeed in grasping firmly onto the target and proceeding to dominating their division.
I’ve felt the bitter taste of having victory snatched away from me by the narrowest of margins. Ricky Johnson didn’t dominate me, he didn’t reduce me to a green rookie with a few flicks of his wrist, but he did get the job done when I couldn’t.
At Reborn, I just wasn’t good enough, there were no excuses, no grandiose conspiracy holding me down, Ricky was simply better than me but in that defeat I learned a valuable lesson. At Breaking Away and Mind Games, no matter how you try to re-write the story, I left as champion by any means necessary.
And I will do the same this Sunday.
I learnt that victory at all costs must always supersede losing honourably, the latter is vastly overrated because, truly, there is no honour in defeat. Breaking my body to prevent you from relinquishing this belt from me and failing, despite giving my all, will not be good enough. I do not look for the positives in defeat because I will never accept it in the first place. Second best will never be satisfactory to me.
You can puff out your chest, trot out your clever little lines and you can smile that cocky little smile all you like but when you get in the ring with me, all of that gusto, all of that bravado, will evaporate quickly when you realise that I am done playing games. I have toyed with you like a cat plays with its food, but now I am ready to strike the deathblow because I’m done tormenting you in your final moments for my own amusement.
At Metamorphosis, I will shut you up, once and for all.
In England, there’s a famous saying, about putting the cart before the horse, one which describe you to an absolute tee, Mike.
Every week you sit your ass down in front of a camera and you tell the world how superior you are to me and if you could only get that one more chance to prove it, without the big bear Lex Sense or the dastardly Kelly Fox, you will absolutely, positively succeed without a shadow of a doubt. I admire your confidence, but on the other hand I pity your delusional sense of grandeur.
You’ve been maxing out your credit card on confetti and balloons for the past three months, yet I have crashed the party each and every time. You always think the job is done, but you always neglect to finish it when the opportunity presents itself, then you stamp your feet and cry like a baby because I’ve not played fair like you’re the first girl to have her heart broken.
There will come a time, Mike, where you’re going to have to actually prove you’re as good as you say you are instead of simply standing there and saying you’re amazing.
I’ve already done it, I could sit here and list all of my accolades and caress my own ego until this camera runs out of tape but at the end of the day, for all the arrogance I possess within my body I have actually proven everything I claim already whilst you have been a champion without a belt ever since the summer.
Before the Road to the Gold it was a forgone conclusion that you would win and you would obviously vanquish the vastly inferior Andrew Jacobsen, because hey, you’ve beaten him before right? Remind me, what happened there?
When I became world champion you continued your defiance in the face of facts and continued to run down the champion until I finally granted you an opportunity to come and do everybody a favour and remove this burden I am too weak to carry. Can somebody just get the video on YouTube so we can see what the result of that match was?
Then, when I managed to totally fluke my way to a victory over you, I grovelled and gave you another chance, despite the fact I am terrified of losing to you and could have picked anybody else, and even allowed you to pick the stipulation so you could easily dismantle me, just like you said you would….
Ok, maybe I am be facetious, but the point still stands, Mike, you always think the battle is over before you’ve even so much as put your breastplate on. Hell, look at you this week, you’re so convinced that I need to “cheat” to win or find a technicality that you are positive that I simply cannot crash the party at all. Over confidence may be a consistent ailment to literally 99% of the roster, admittedly, but they haven’t had chance after chance like you have only to fail at every attempt.
When you roll into Metamorphosis on Sunday you will have had a quarter of a year to remove this belt from my waist, most men get one shot, two max, yet here you are, blessed with a third, having earned none of them. Yet, despite failing so many times you’re still convinced of your superiority because you can cling to dirty finishes to sooth the wounds of defeat.
Yet, there will be no more excuses one this Sunday is through.
I admire how much you believe in yourself, Mike, but there comes a time where perhaps the penny has to drop and you realise that for weeks you have told everybody how it was always going to be a foregone conclusion that you would emerge as champion from a match with me, yet every single time you’ve had to backtrack and blame somebody else.
If you fail this Sunday, the only person left to blame will be yourself and after the mental wall you have built to hide you from the truth, I worry what may happen to you when it comes crashing down.
Now, I don’t expect you to come out here and say “Oh, well, I will probably lose, but I am going to give this my best shot”. Of course not. I know you’re going to tell everybody that you’re going to win because acting like a loser before the bell has rung has only one conclusion, that isn’t my point.
My point is that sooner or later, you’re going to have to either follow through with your promises or be man enough to admit that perhaps, and I know this might difficult for you to comprehend, you were wrong. That maybe, just maybe, I deserve to be in the privileged position I occupy not because I wrapped my lips around Kelly’s ass cheek or because of Lex Sense but because, no matter how great you think you are, I have proven myself to be every inch a champion.
I am happy to admit Mike that you’re a talented wrestler, but what separates you and I is our mental strength. I have tasted the bitterest of defeats, but I learned from them whilst you have just scrambled for explanation to comfort yourself before proclaiming yourself the King elect time and time again.
To be a success in this business, you have to evolve, but you’re still the same cocky, arrogant jack ass you were three months ago. You haven’t changed one iota despite the fact you’ve consistently been outwitted, outmatched and outwrestled. If you stand still, you will be left behind, and although you won’t accept this, Mike, once you lose this Sunday you’re going to be left in a very uncomfortable place.
You will be an aimless soul, devoid of purpose.
You will know that your fate is no longer in your own hands, that you cannot chase the crown again until outside forces re-build the bridges you have burned in the wake of your pious blaze to your greatest desires.
They say that you learn the most about a man in his worst hour, once Metamorphosis is done we will learn just who you really are. We will be able to evaluate your quality.
Are you truly the next break out star, or are you just another cocky little man who, when it came to it, just couldn’t put his money where his mouth was?
I know where my money is.
Yet, many purport to do so. Everybody thinks they know what goes on inside my head, that they can see some innate cowardice or a perpetual need to be praised; now it is the quest to create doubts within my psyche to paint a picture of a champion who knows his time is up.
You couldn’t be any more wrong.
I have absolutely no doubts in my mind, Mike. Whilst the masses may question me and you may continue to boldly predict your absolute victory, just as you have done for the past three months in a continuous cycle to mask your own insecurities, I have remained steadfast in my faith. I believe in myself, unwaveringly, unquestionably and unshakably.
No, this isn’t about me doubting myself, this is simply about erasing the doubts others have in me. Whilst I have never lost belief in my abilities, it has become apparent that the actions of Lex Sense have allowed a vision of me as a coward to solidify, complete with you steadfast support of course. Every single man, woman and child has swiftly forgotten that I took this belt from Andrew Jacobsen fair and square after a hard fought contest, simply because I have been as much a victim of the machinations of a giant as you.
Lex Sense has created questions about my legitimacy as champion where there should be none just as much as he has created “what ifs” inside your head about what might have been. These questions allow men like you to cling to the fallacy that I am a coward devoid of talent purporting to be a champion for as long as I can avoid my date with destiny, which you will all predict is the day I find myself inside a ring with you.
I have retained my title successfully two times in a row, if I was the flavour of the month who kissed the babies and told everybody how wonderful everyone is they would be lauding me as the greatest man to have ever lived and forming queues to kiss my ass, but because I happen to be the villain they spend their time portraying me as a coward, hiding from the inevitability of my defeat. Not that we can allow facts to get in the way of things….
I will not allow this perception to be perpetuated any longer, that is why this week I have covered every base imaginable so that when I beat you, because I will, there will be no more excuses to explain away my victory. No more questions marks. No more cries of foul play.
Just the undeniable fact that I am the absolute pinnacle of New Championship Wrestling, the apex predator, the king of the castle….
The undisputed NCW World Champion.
It is going to be just you and me, a ring and the most important prize in professional wrestling on the line, no more outside interference, no more cheap tricks and no more living within the rules. I am going to do what I do best and leave you begging for one more chance when you know there are none, feverishly collecting the shards of your shattered dreams.
Margins in wrestling are narrow things. Though I must admit, amongst all of your self-professed skills, I never realised that predicting the future was one of them.
At Breaking Away I was seconds away from, allegedly, passing out and subsequently passing on my world title after a mere month at the top of the food chain. Yet, nobody knows whether I would or wouldn’t have limply relinquished my belt, nobody can say for sure that I would have submitted to the tortures of your Heavenly Intervention.
At Mind Games you had me on your shoulders and once again, you were allegedly moments away from driving a knee into my face, sealing the third pin and then riding off into the sunset with my world title draped across your shoulder. Yet, curiously enough, nobody knows if you would have pinned me successfully, I’ve kicked out of Widowmakers and a multitude of other physically traumatic manoeuvres before.
My point?
You can’t just re-write history with such a steadfast authority, Mike. I deal with facts. At Breaking Away you tasted the business end of Lex’s boot, and I capitalised, just like you would have done if it was me he laid out. At Mind Games, Lex punched you in the face to give you the deciding pinfall, that the rules stipulate that you cannot win via a disqualification isn’t my fault, you chose the stipulation and failed to fulfil the conditions for victory.
You may call it being inches away from becoming world champion, but the reality is that it could have been millimetres; neither method of measurement would have changed the fact that you just weren’t good enough in the end. That is what separates good wrestlers, from great ones. Good wrestlers can touch the prize, they can practically taste it, but they just cannot grasp it and even if they do, they never hold onto it for very long. Great wrestlers do not fail by such slim margins; they succeed in grasping firmly onto the target and proceeding to dominating their division.
I’ve felt the bitter taste of having victory snatched away from me by the narrowest of margins. Ricky Johnson didn’t dominate me, he didn’t reduce me to a green rookie with a few flicks of his wrist, but he did get the job done when I couldn’t.
At Reborn, I just wasn’t good enough, there were no excuses, no grandiose conspiracy holding me down, Ricky was simply better than me but in that defeat I learned a valuable lesson. At Breaking Away and Mind Games, no matter how you try to re-write the story, I left as champion by any means necessary.
And I will do the same this Sunday.
I learnt that victory at all costs must always supersede losing honourably, the latter is vastly overrated because, truly, there is no honour in defeat. Breaking my body to prevent you from relinquishing this belt from me and failing, despite giving my all, will not be good enough. I do not look for the positives in defeat because I will never accept it in the first place. Second best will never be satisfactory to me.
You can puff out your chest, trot out your clever little lines and you can smile that cocky little smile all you like but when you get in the ring with me, all of that gusto, all of that bravado, will evaporate quickly when you realise that I am done playing games. I have toyed with you like a cat plays with its food, but now I am ready to strike the deathblow because I’m done tormenting you in your final moments for my own amusement.
At Metamorphosis, I will shut you up, once and for all.
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Silence begins to consume Xander Famularo as he sits in his locker room, mulling over his defeat to Mike Laszlo, the first in single matches for almost a year. His thoughts begin to consume him as the world passes by outside his locker room, though it feels as though he is being left behind. Suppressing his rage for a moment he lets out a deep sigh, emitting all of his ingrained frustrations at the direction of his career since Wargames before suddenly the silence is broken as he hears the mocking sound of sarcastic clapping.
Just the man I wanted to see.
Xander looks, a rage flashes in his eyes as they lock on the figure of the world champion who stands in the doorway.
What do you want? I swear, this had better be good Verona.
Roberto raises his hands.
Easy there big fella, I come in peace.
I could have figured otherwise considering what you’ve put my father through you’re your own amusement the past two months.
Put him through? Honestly, Xander, don’t you think you’re over reacting a little? Has it ever occurred to you that if I really wanted to mess with your father I’d think of far more imaginative ways than to purposely place him with a female psychiatrist considering his propensity for flirtation?
Roberto pauses as Xander just shrugs.
Besides, I need to reignite that fire inside you. You’ve been docile for way too long.
You mocked my father on purpose?
Come on, you know me well enough by know the realise that when I do something, I do it for a reason. Torturing Simon and your father simply for the hell of it doesn’t really rank highly on my agenda.
So did this all to deliberately piss me off?
Yes.
And I thought you were meant to be smart?
You can drop the bravado Xander, remember I was the only man capable of putting you down at your peak, I’m hardly stupid enough to come in here and prod at you if I thought you’d snap my jaw off.
I might do still…
Verona snorts, his nostrils flaring as he laughs to himself.
Cute. Listen, I’ll cut to the chase, Xander. You’ve gone soft. Ever since Jacobsen pinned you all you’ve done is coast along, turning up for a paycheque whilst each week the pride you instilled into that locker room erodes away to be replaced by self-interest and deceit. You inspired people to better yourself, yet all you’ve done is fall into the same potholes the rest of them have.
So? Even if I was at my peak again, I’m rarely even booked. They roll me out for novelty matches like Laszlo to make him look credible to fight you then I don’t hear anything from them in weeks.
That, my friend, can change.
Really? Says who?
Me.
Roberto takes a few steps into the room, stopping a few feet away from the imposing figure of Xander.
Listen, big guy. I tried to get your attention by making you think I was messing with you dad for kicks to see if you still had that desire inside you and when you threatened me it was like watching the old Xander, the one who dragged me to the brink last year. The Xander who deserves to be in the spotlight.
So?
So I want to put you back where you belong. I wasn’t lying when I said I was here to save this company from consuming itself and leaving talented men like you to rot whilst pensioners like Awesome waltz back in here for the big pay day. You should be dominating the main event along with me, we were always meant to be the next generation of superstars. Why should I be the only man on top holding this company up from the cesspit when you and I, together, can drag this company to where it belongs?
Valid points….but tell me, what’s in this for me?
I am offering you your dignity back, Xander.
And in return?
You help me make this company prosper. There are others who share this vision, all you have to do is join me in making it a reality.
And does Kelly consent to this… vision?
Roberto scratches his head before looking back at Xander.
Kelly does what is best for business. She needs us to fight her battles in the ring, to bring about a new dawn. She knew what she was getting into when she entered a contract with me, she’s not stupid enough to have buyer’s remorse.
You give me your word that I will return to where I belong? Even if it eventually leads us into conflict?
I always do what is right for business, cowardice is not my bedfellow. If you earn a shot at me, I’ll gladly give you it. This isn’t about using you as a puppet.
A small pause descends upon the pair before suddenly, Xander stands up. As Verona’s body goes tense he is soon relieved when the giant extends a hand.
Then you have a deal.
Welcome aboard.
When will I know to strike?
I’ll send you a sign.
A wry smile runs delicately across Roberto’s lips.
Personally.
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Silence begins to consume Xander Famularo as he sits in his locker room, mulling over his defeat to Mike Laszlo, the first in single matches for almost a year. His thoughts begin to consume him as the world passes by outside his locker room, though it feels as though he is being left behind. Suppressing his rage for a moment he lets out a deep sigh, emitting all of his ingrained frustrations at the direction of his career since Wargames before suddenly the silence is broken as he hears the mocking sound of sarcastic clapping.
Just the man I wanted to see.
Xander looks, a rage flashes in his eyes as they lock on the figure of the world champion who stands in the doorway.
What do you want? I swear, this had better be good Verona.
Roberto raises his hands.
Easy there big fella, I come in peace.
I could have figured otherwise considering what you’ve put my father through you’re your own amusement the past two months.
Put him through? Honestly, Xander, don’t you think you’re over reacting a little? Has it ever occurred to you that if I really wanted to mess with your father I’d think of far more imaginative ways than to purposely place him with a female psychiatrist considering his propensity for flirtation?
Roberto pauses as Xander just shrugs.
Besides, I need to reignite that fire inside you. You’ve been docile for way too long.
You mocked my father on purpose?
Come on, you know me well enough by know the realise that when I do something, I do it for a reason. Torturing Simon and your father simply for the hell of it doesn’t really rank highly on my agenda.
So did this all to deliberately piss me off?
Yes.
And I thought you were meant to be smart?
You can drop the bravado Xander, remember I was the only man capable of putting you down at your peak, I’m hardly stupid enough to come in here and prod at you if I thought you’d snap my jaw off.
I might do still…
Verona snorts, his nostrils flaring as he laughs to himself.
Cute. Listen, I’ll cut to the chase, Xander. You’ve gone soft. Ever since Jacobsen pinned you all you’ve done is coast along, turning up for a paycheque whilst each week the pride you instilled into that locker room erodes away to be replaced by self-interest and deceit. You inspired people to better yourself, yet all you’ve done is fall into the same potholes the rest of them have.
So? Even if I was at my peak again, I’m rarely even booked. They roll me out for novelty matches like Laszlo to make him look credible to fight you then I don’t hear anything from them in weeks.
That, my friend, can change.
Really? Says who?
Me.
Roberto takes a few steps into the room, stopping a few feet away from the imposing figure of Xander.
Listen, big guy. I tried to get your attention by making you think I was messing with you dad for kicks to see if you still had that desire inside you and when you threatened me it was like watching the old Xander, the one who dragged me to the brink last year. The Xander who deserves to be in the spotlight.
So?
So I want to put you back where you belong. I wasn’t lying when I said I was here to save this company from consuming itself and leaving talented men like you to rot whilst pensioners like Awesome waltz back in here for the big pay day. You should be dominating the main event along with me, we were always meant to be the next generation of superstars. Why should I be the only man on top holding this company up from the cesspit when you and I, together, can drag this company to where it belongs?
Valid points….but tell me, what’s in this for me?
I am offering you your dignity back, Xander.
And in return?
You help me make this company prosper. There are others who share this vision, all you have to do is join me in making it a reality.
And does Kelly consent to this… vision?
Roberto scratches his head before looking back at Xander.
Kelly does what is best for business. She needs us to fight her battles in the ring, to bring about a new dawn. She knew what she was getting into when she entered a contract with me, she’s not stupid enough to have buyer’s remorse.
You give me your word that I will return to where I belong? Even if it eventually leads us into conflict?
I always do what is right for business, cowardice is not my bedfellow. If you earn a shot at me, I’ll gladly give you it. This isn’t about using you as a puppet.
A small pause descends upon the pair before suddenly, Xander stands up. As Verona’s body goes tense he is soon relieved when the giant extends a hand.
Then you have a deal.
Welcome aboard.
When will I know to strike?
I’ll send you a sign.
A wry smile runs delicately across Roberto’s lips.
Personally.
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In England, there’s a famous saying, about putting the cart before the horse, one which describe you to an absolute tee, Mike.
Every week you sit your ass down in front of a camera and you tell the world how superior you are to me and if you could only get that one more chance to prove it, without the big bear Lex Sense or the dastardly Kelly Fox, you will absolutely, positively succeed without a shadow of a doubt. I admire your confidence, but on the other hand I pity your delusional sense of grandeur.
You’ve been maxing out your credit card on confetti and balloons for the past three months, yet I have crashed the party each and every time. You always think the job is done, but you always neglect to finish it when the opportunity presents itself, then you stamp your feet and cry like a baby because I’ve not played fair like you’re the first girl to have her heart broken.
There will come a time, Mike, where you’re going to have to actually prove you’re as good as you say you are instead of simply standing there and saying you’re amazing.
I’ve already done it, I could sit here and list all of my accolades and caress my own ego until this camera runs out of tape but at the end of the day, for all the arrogance I possess within my body I have actually proven everything I claim already whilst you have been a champion without a belt ever since the summer.
Before the Road to the Gold it was a forgone conclusion that you would win and you would obviously vanquish the vastly inferior Andrew Jacobsen, because hey, you’ve beaten him before right? Remind me, what happened there?
When I became world champion you continued your defiance in the face of facts and continued to run down the champion until I finally granted you an opportunity to come and do everybody a favour and remove this burden I am too weak to carry. Can somebody just get the video on YouTube so we can see what the result of that match was?
Then, when I managed to totally fluke my way to a victory over you, I grovelled and gave you another chance, despite the fact I am terrified of losing to you and could have picked anybody else, and even allowed you to pick the stipulation so you could easily dismantle me, just like you said you would….
Ok, maybe I am be facetious, but the point still stands, Mike, you always think the battle is over before you’ve even so much as put your breastplate on. Hell, look at you this week, you’re so convinced that I need to “cheat” to win or find a technicality that you are positive that I simply cannot crash the party at all. Over confidence may be a consistent ailment to literally 99% of the roster, admittedly, but they haven’t had chance after chance like you have only to fail at every attempt.
When you roll into Metamorphosis on Sunday you will have had a quarter of a year to remove this belt from my waist, most men get one shot, two max, yet here you are, blessed with a third, having earned none of them. Yet, despite failing so many times you’re still convinced of your superiority because you can cling to dirty finishes to sooth the wounds of defeat.
Yet, there will be no more excuses one this Sunday is through.
I admire how much you believe in yourself, Mike, but there comes a time where perhaps the penny has to drop and you realise that for weeks you have told everybody how it was always going to be a foregone conclusion that you would emerge as champion from a match with me, yet every single time you’ve had to backtrack and blame somebody else.
If you fail this Sunday, the only person left to blame will be yourself and after the mental wall you have built to hide you from the truth, I worry what may happen to you when it comes crashing down.
Now, I don’t expect you to come out here and say “Oh, well, I will probably lose, but I am going to give this my best shot”. Of course not. I know you’re going to tell everybody that you’re going to win because acting like a loser before the bell has rung has only one conclusion, that isn’t my point.
My point is that sooner or later, you’re going to have to either follow through with your promises or be man enough to admit that perhaps, and I know this might difficult for you to comprehend, you were wrong. That maybe, just maybe, I deserve to be in the privileged position I occupy not because I wrapped my lips around Kelly’s ass cheek or because of Lex Sense but because, no matter how great you think you are, I have proven myself to be every inch a champion.
I am happy to admit Mike that you’re a talented wrestler, but what separates you and I is our mental strength. I have tasted the bitterest of defeats, but I learned from them whilst you have just scrambled for explanation to comfort yourself before proclaiming yourself the King elect time and time again.
To be a success in this business, you have to evolve, but you’re still the same cocky, arrogant jack ass you were three months ago. You haven’t changed one iota despite the fact you’ve consistently been outwitted, outmatched and outwrestled. If you stand still, you will be left behind, and although you won’t accept this, Mike, once you lose this Sunday you’re going to be left in a very uncomfortable place.
You will be an aimless soul, devoid of purpose.
You will know that your fate is no longer in your own hands, that you cannot chase the crown again until outside forces re-build the bridges you have burned in the wake of your pious blaze to your greatest desires.
They say that you learn the most about a man in his worst hour, once Metamorphosis is done we will learn just who you really are. We will be able to evaluate your quality.
Are you truly the next break out star, or are you just another cocky little man who, when it came to it, just couldn’t put his money where his mouth was?
I know where my money is.
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Snowflakes begin to fall delicately from the sky, settling on the vast white tundra which has consumed the small park, the lake topped with a shining crust of ice as a wind whips around the trees, whistling through the naked branches. Figure of a man sits alone on a bench, wrapped in a long coat whilst scarf warms his neck whilst another makes the slow march towards him. As his companion grow closers, he looks up…
Hello, Jake. You got my message I take it?
I did... though I thought the location was a little, curious. It’s unorthodox even for you.
You can never be too safe.
Jake sites beside Roberto, the crunch of the snow reverberating around them as they stare straight ahead, alone.
You’re still avoiding Kelly then?
I’ll speak to her when I am good and ready, but what we have to discuss doesn’t concern her.
I thought everything concerned her?
She was made aware of the consequence of her error, now we will clean it up.
The pair share a brief pause.
It’s time then?
We both knew it was coming ever since Lex stuck his nose into my business at Mind Games. That was a wakeup call.
Good. I’ve been looking forward to it, Kathy has grown fond of her blood lingerie.
Roberto smile, letting a little laugh escape his lips before shaking his head.
I’m glad to hear you’re spending my money wisely, Jake.
You’ve got to enjoy the finer things in life, Roberto. I’d rather spend my money on my family than on wasteful addiction like most of the guys, even if my methods of extracting it are less than moral.
Good to know you’ve got your priorities right. Though, the money I am paying you isn’t tainted my friend, it is for the continuation of a pure process of evolution that this company must undertake to re-establish itself at the top.
You don’t need to justify it to me.
As long as you get paid, right?
Exactly.
Roberto smiles again, his breathe erupting in a plume of smoke as it meets the cold air.
That is what I like about you, Jake. Despite being a xomplex men you’re awfully simple in your motivations.
What can I say, I am to please.
Just remember, this isn’t just about money. This is about ensuring that a man of your stature and value to the company finally gets the respect he deserves for all his years of dedicated service. You’ve paid your dues and you deserve to be lauded as a legend in NCW.
And here was me thinking I sucked.
Suddenly, the tone is Roberto’s voice changes.
I am serious. You’re portrayed as a joke, when you should be held in the same regard as the men whose names they wax lyrical about every year in the Hall of Fame season. We’re going to make sure that men like you gain the recognition you deserve from now on.
Oh, stop, you’ll make me blush.
It’s time to make a statement, Jake. One that they can’t help be listen to.
So Xander agreed?
Roberto nods slowly.
He is just waiting for a signal.
I assume you already have something in mind?
I’m always one step ahead.
Verona turns to look at Jake.
It’s time an itsy bitsy spider was flushed down the waterspout.
It’s like you read my mind.
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Snowflakes begin to fall delicately from the sky, settling on the vast white tundra which has consumed the small park, the lake topped with a shining crust of ice as a wind whips around the trees, whistling through the naked branches. Figure of a man sits alone on a bench, wrapped in a long coat whilst scarf warms his neck whilst another makes the slow march towards him. As his companion grow closers, he looks up…
Hello, Jake. You got my message I take it?
I did... though I thought the location was a little, curious. It’s unorthodox even for you.
You can never be too safe.
Jake sites beside Roberto, the crunch of the snow reverberating around them as they stare straight ahead, alone.
You’re still avoiding Kelly then?
I’ll speak to her when I am good and ready, but what we have to discuss doesn’t concern her.
I thought everything concerned her?
She was made aware of the consequence of her error, now we will clean it up.
The pair share a brief pause.
It’s time then?
We both knew it was coming ever since Lex stuck his nose into my business at Mind Games. That was a wakeup call.
Good. I’ve been looking forward to it, Kathy has grown fond of her blood lingerie.
Roberto smile, letting a little laugh escape his lips before shaking his head.
I’m glad to hear you’re spending my money wisely, Jake.
You’ve got to enjoy the finer things in life, Roberto. I’d rather spend my money on my family than on wasteful addiction like most of the guys, even if my methods of extracting it are less than moral.
Good to know you’ve got your priorities right. Though, the money I am paying you isn’t tainted my friend, it is for the continuation of a pure process of evolution that this company must undertake to re-establish itself at the top.
You don’t need to justify it to me.
As long as you get paid, right?
Exactly.
Roberto smiles again, his breathe erupting in a plume of smoke as it meets the cold air.
That is what I like about you, Jake. Despite being a xomplex men you’re awfully simple in your motivations.
What can I say, I am to please.
Just remember, this isn’t just about money. This is about ensuring that a man of your stature and value to the company finally gets the respect he deserves for all his years of dedicated service. You’ve paid your dues and you deserve to be lauded as a legend in NCW.
And here was me thinking I sucked.
Suddenly, the tone is Roberto’s voice changes.
I am serious. You’re portrayed as a joke, when you should be held in the same regard as the men whose names they wax lyrical about every year in the Hall of Fame season. We’re going to make sure that men like you gain the recognition you deserve from now on.
Oh, stop, you’ll make me blush.
It’s time to make a statement, Jake. One that they can’t help be listen to.
So Xander agreed?
Roberto nods slowly.
He is just waiting for a signal.
I assume you already have something in mind?
I’m always one step ahead.
Verona turns to look at Jake.
It’s time an itsy bitsy spider was flushed down the waterspout.
It’s like you read my mind.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------