For all your boasts and bluster, all you have against me is one match. I remember three years ago on Dynasty when your only significance to me was as a whipping boy. Good times. So you had one victory, admittedly in convincing fashion, but at the end of the day that's just one match. That doesn't dictate or decide anything else that happens in the future. That isn't the standard; it's the exception, and I'm going to prove that this coming Sunday night when I turn that wrestling ring into your own personal hell, Tyler Parker. I mean, really, my career ended "some time ago"? Until the Grand Rampage, everybody already assumed your career was reduced to ashes, that you'd become an old man sitting in a rocking chair telling his grandkids stories about how great he WAS. Yet you're dragging MY career through the mud just like Ares Vendetta when he pummeled your head through that ambulance window. He rearranged your facial structure. He turned you into an unconscious, bloody mess and you worked your absolute hardest trying make a comeback attempt because he shattered your career like glass, and now you're trying to pick up the few remaining pieces of what was left. That Grand Rampage you came back at, trying to return to the scene and revert to the threat you once were, all you managed to do was become an also-ran, a trivia question that will be asked to future generations of wrestling fans: "Who were the final ten men eliminated in Y2Impact's 2016 Grand Rampage victory?" You'll be on that list, Tyler. The vengeance I exacted at the Grand Rampage wasn't enough to satisfy me, but if you look at that match and you witness me outlasting everyone and breaking the record for longest amount of time in a Grand Rampage match after having entered at lucky number three, you can't honestly say my career's been reduced to shreds. If anything, I should be praised for adapting to my surroundings and overcoming all these obstacles that have been set out before me. But instead you assume I'm the same guy that I was in 2014 who was wrestling on fumes, just trying to get a paycheck, a man without any passion for the sport. I didn't lose to you for lack of skill. Remember when you speak my name that you're talking to a former Extremist of the Year, a six-time World Champion, a warrior who was thrown into the fire that is the Grand Rampage and not only escaped victorious, but unscathed -- UNBURNED. And now you're back, fanning the flames, crying foul and excusing your humiliation by saying I don't know "what it's like" to be in the ring with Ares Vendetta. I knew what it was like before the Grand Rampage when that excuse for a champion couldn't pull his weight on Voltage and cost our short-lived team the tag match against Mr. DEDEDE and Phoenix Winterborn. But the real difference here is that despite you saying I was scared of what I'd see in the mirror when I look at myself, nobody in this business can intimidate me. 

Not you, Mr. DEDEDE, Ares Vendetta, or anyone else. But while you're slandering my name and making ignorant assumptions, why don't you tell us, oh wise one? What exactly is the Heart Break Gal using me for? Have I interfered in any of her matches? Have I unfairly come to her aid against other opponents? Fact is, the Heart Break Gal was a famous world-class wrestler before I ever entered the fray, but you're too shortsighted to see that because, in your own words, you're single-minded. And that's great, you can direct your focus to one target without ever straying from the course, but that same one-track mind is making you oblivious to the other end of the spectrum when it's right underneath your nose. You can't possibly view the whole mountain by only looking at one side, yet that's exactly what you're doing. 2014 was the worst year of my career, the nadir of my fortunes, and the Heart Break Gal wasn't standing by my side. I didn't have her hooked around my arm entering that fateful PFP match against you -- and LOOK what happened. I'm not saying I need anybody, but I already know you're going to insinuate some BS about how I can't succeed on my own, as if you've been struck with a sudden case of amnesia about the events of Grand Rampage. But that's fine, I don't need to answer to anyone, least of all you. The Heart Break Gal didn't need me to be great and I don't need her to be great; we just enhance each other, like pancakes and maple syrup, melted butter and baked potatoes, grass and water. In case you hadn't noticed, I've already gotten my fair share of victories over Mr. DEDEDE. I beat him at the "EAW Finale," my Hexa-gun bandmates and I silenced him months ago and it was only at Reckless Wiring that he came out of the woodwork and finally notched a win over me. That stipulation was never fair, but I still agreed to do it because unlike the rest of this roster that expects everything to be given to them because they're too entitled to try and earn anything, I have the courage to take risks. That's why I sought entry into this year's Grand Rampage despite knowing the odds. I'm living by the sword, but I'm not dying by it; I'm wielding it. You miss one-hundred percent of the shots you don't take, so why pass the ball? That's why I betrayed you, Tyler, because I gave you a rare gift and you abused it. Somewhere along the way of being labeled the "Quintessential Successor," you got this silly little idea in your head that you could become better than me -- that the sequel could outdo the original. So you're right, I twisted that rusty knife and I dug into your flesh because you didn't understand what it meant to carry on my legacy... And you still don't. Look at all the inexplicable losses I took BEFORE our clash at Pain for Pride 7 and you'll quickly notice a pattern. I was losing to scrubs that would have been dominated by me in years past. I WAS a shell, but in the time since then? I've been reborn. Now I'm dashing out of my cocoon and you, in your folly thinking you're going to stare in the eyes of the same guy that you handily defeated at Pain for Pride, aren't going to know what to do when your words ring truer than you ever could have imagined. I'm not the Y2Impact that you knew. I'm not the same Y2Impact. I'm BETTER. You're The Monster? What good will your horns be when I cut them off? Zilch, because I'm The Machine.

Out of all the ants crushed beneath my feet that flapped their gums and bragged about how they're going to create their legacy by destroying mine, you're the only one that's ever managed to take my mantle. But that's fine, because by returning at the Grand Rampage you not only renewed your hunger and shocked the audience; you finally returned my gift with one of your own. Instead or resting on your laurels or trying to start a family, you came back. That's the worst mistake you could ever make, because in doing so you inadvertently gave me a chance to exact revenge, and that's a target I'm not going to miss.

Yeah, we're boys still.  Went through a couple of companies acting like
jackasses as we pummeled nobodies and legends alike into whiny pools of blood, broken bones, and 
crushed hopes and dreams.  Some good times, some bad times, but those times made us who we were,
who we are, and most importantly, who we are going to be.

Who we were... We were Legion.  A few warriors defending a turf that didn't want to be defended.  As hard as 
we fought, as hard as I drove myself to accomplish a mission, or to reach and grab at whatever shiny
equipment I so desired.  As much pride as I took in being apart of it, in the end, that country was to
weak to stand as a whole or be saved from the bane that would see it dead.  I hold no feelings towards
the brand or label nor do I hate the ones we fought.  My experience is better because of any person I've 
stepped in the ring with.
 The thing is, we didn't stop as a result of those battles, we took the experience and pushed forward.
When we look back at whatever adventures we have completed in life, we take the good, and reproduce it,
we take the bad and we change it til it is something that is beneficial to our future.  If we don't, the future 
tramples us, and despite anything we may have done to better the world, the future only see us as old and 
unchanged.  Perhaps, stupid.  The future wants change.  They still look to the past in order to see how to change it.

Who we are... we are killers.  Life hasn't stopped us.  Death hasn't stopped us.  
Whatever trials we have endured in the past, still we stand, ready to fight or to flight.
Ready to win, to lose, to draw.  Ready to succeed and ready to die.  Ready for the highest of the highs.  
Ready for the lowest of the lows.  Prepared for the ghosts of our pasts to remind us just who we have
become.  Prepared for the future to show us what we can earn, and what it is we deserve.  What it is
we will become.  Will we be eaten by the other wolves, will an unlikely hero overcome us? Will the 
villain of the day overwhelm us?  I know the answers.  No, No, and No.  I know this from experience of 
who I was, I know this from that fire in my heart that wants the future to have the same greatness that
we forged with our blood sweet and tears, and I know this, because I still have the will to give to this 
great company, to the fans, and to myself, right here and now.    

Who we will be... who knows?  Not even the "Gods" of the day can say they truly know what will happen
tomorrow.  They may plan, and have all their hopes written in stone, and then,  {~snap~} chaos... change. 
 The future is constantly changing.  It is the chaos that all the rebels, freaks,
and lunatics speak that they are.  Until we take the unknown, and make it law, it is always there waiting to make us fail, 
and also giving us the platform that we may succeed.
waiting to take all The Pizza Boys in the world to an obscure rest, or waiting for him to become the
hero the world hopes he can be.  I hope he can be that hero, Tony, that won't stop me from hitting him
harder than he's ever been hit.   Whether he walks into Dynasty at 100%, in a full body cast, or somewhere in
between won't change the fact I will come at him with the same respect I'd come at you if that's what the card reads.

The kids hurt, it would appear, I'm rested and hungry.  I've watched him, I know how good he is.  I'm just saying, I'm 
a bad ass.  6,9 280 lbs of cold steel with the blood still stained on it.  This is the hook of my song, and the truth 
of what I am.  I have beaten greatness, I am beating people, and I will continue to do so.  It's what I know.  
It is my experience of past present and future.  I'm a killer, I'm a winner, I'm a champion.  Forever.  No one can take these things away from me.

Marie is sitting back stage, filing her nails and paying little attention to the interviewer standing beside her.

"La Diva answered your statements from earlier this week - can we get a comment from you?"

Marie doesn't stop filing her nails, but smiles vaguely. "Of course. I was very happy to see her fire back, it was getting boring to see her twitter feed light up with every name except the names of her upcoming opponents."

"Wouldn't it be beneficial for her to be distracted this Monday?"

"Tabernak, I don't want to win only because my opponent thinks nothing of me." Marie rolls her eyes. "I want to win because I destroyed everyone in that ring at their very best. Otherwise I may as well be fighting paper dolls. Every single match, I go out there, I'm trying to prove something. What am I proving if I'm the only one trying? I'm made a fool. I hope she comes with her very best. I hope she enters the ring with her sights on me."

"This is a Battle Royal, are you concerned about the numbers?"

Marie laughs softly, examining the long, tight points of her fingernails.

"Not concerned. Excited. It wasn't the smartest thing, maybe, standing up and shouting names, calling attention to myself. But what else was there for me to do? No matter what, it's an uphill battle - I may as well ensure that it's interesting."

"Is there anything you'd like to say to La Diva before your match on Battleground?"

Marie pauses, her expression thoughtful. She taps her nails against her leg, leaving little pink marks in her skin.

"Pace yourself. Nothing can endure like La Corriveau can."

Stoner Promo with Drake and Jones (ft. Y2Impact)
Just Hexa-friends being silly (No Eris. She's "injured". We do not speak of her. I don't miss her, shut up). And calm the fuck down, we're not going to take over EAW again. It's just us hanging out.

[It was the middle of the night, at the roofdeck of The Mercenary Lair. A woman's laugh is heard along with intense music, as smoke in its intensity started to fill the atmosphere. Camera pans quickly to one side of the deck, and there she was. The Heart Break Gal. Hair red, like a fuckin' cherry, with a darker shade of red lipstick on the smirking lips. She begins to speak loudly in a villanous tone]

Heart Break Gal: PREPARE FOR TROUBLE...

[She leans on the wall, arms crossed, wearing a white long-sleeved top with the letter "R" on it, matched with her white mini-skirt, and black boots. The Camera pans to another side of the room, a familiar face was seen. Drake Jaeger. Wearing black sunglasses, black wrestling trunks, black trench coat, and black boots, with a toothpick between his teeth, sticking out of his mouth.]

Drake Jaeger: And make it Double!

[The Camera cuts to HBG looking at the camera]

Heart Break Gal: To protect EAW from degradation..

[It cuts again to Drake looking at the camera, alternating between the two in the next few lines:]

Drake Jaeger: To beat all jackasses for domination!

Heart Break Gal: To denounce the evils, of truth and love!

Drake Jaeger: To extend our reach to the stars above!

Heart Break Gal: HBG...

Drake Jaeger: ... Jaeger!

[The next cut shows HBG and Drake Jaeger back to back, and posing for the camera]

Heart Break Gal: TEAM FUCK-IT, WILL RUN YOU OVER WITHOUT A DOUBT!

Drake Jaeger: Surrender now, or prepare to TAP OUT OUT OUT!

..

..

[And then there's nothing. No Meowth. Nothing but silence, as HBG and Drake still lean on each other back-to-back, looking over each other confused why Meowth hasn't come out. Getting impatient, HBG then walks over to the door to the inside of the lair and opened it... And there was the missing Meowth]

Tiberius Jones: No fuckin' way I'm doing this. There's just NO WAY!

Heart Break Gal: OH, why not? You look better than Drake and I!

[Tiberius Jones didn't look any different in his street clothes. What made him "Meowth" though, is that someone -- it was Drake -- scribbled whiskers on his cheeks]

Tiberius Jones: I look ridiculous, man! I look like someone who just passed out from a night of drinking and one of his drunk buddies decided to draw penises on his face, except this is worse than that! 

Drake Jaeger: I don't know about you, but that looks to me like a fine work of art.

Heart Break Gal: SHUSH now, you guys. This is serious stuff. I let you guys wear whatever you wanted despite having team outfits made literally months ago while we were in Hexa-gun, and right now, I'm the only one in full costume! And I'm willing to bet that's the exact reason why you guys don't look as fabulous as I do!

[HBG poses, as if she were a superhero. Drake then leans to Tiberius]

Drake Jaeger: Yo, can you believe this woman?

Tiberius Jones: She's delusional! And I thought we were worse off when Cerebrus STOLE our...

Drake Jaeger: We do not speak of that!

[HBG glares at them, as she can hear them clearly despite nearly whispering]

Heart Break Gal: AS I WAS SAYING! THIS is me now. A member of Team Rocket just chasing after a stupid pikachu, which doesn't even make any fucking sense why she wants it, but she wants it anyway... and somehow finds a way to not get the job done! She is capable of flying rocketships like it was second nature to her as she sneaks in the scene in a fucking hot air balloon completely undetected! She is capable of breathing underwater like it's not even a problem! She is capable of plotting schemes, dominating the entire show, taking out every puny trainer in the distance and somehow still finds herself blasting off to the sky while the boring, incompetent, one-dimensional protagonist who couldn't even win against the Elite Four in any fucking region pats himself on the back for a job well done like it's the best thing that's ever happened to his ten years of existence in this world! Where's the justice in that, HUH? 

Tiberius Jones: I think she's having an emotional breakdown, Drake... This is real bad. Should we call Y2Impact downstairs?

Drake Jaeger: No no no, that's not necessary. I got this. I know HBG like I know the back of my hand, and I know just the thing to make her feel better.

[Drake Jaeger takes out his phone, and browses youtube for a moment, and then hands the phone to HBG. She snatches it angrily right out of his hands and views the content]

Tiberius Jones: Are you showing her a Pewdiepie video?

Drake Jaeger: No, I'm showing her a much bigger loser than that.

[HBG, still looking at the screen, begins to chuckle a little, and then she laughs. What once was a frustrated emotion turned stress-free in just a moment as she views a video called "CRINGIEST WRESTLER GOT BUTT KICKED AT PRE-SHOW" featuring none other than Cloud Matsuda in a sad attempt to address HBG in their match at Voltage] 

Heart Break Gal: HAH! Sometimes I wonder if this is all just part of the act, or if Cloud Matsuda has reached a different level of tryhard in her entire existence, as she says the stupidest things she can come up with as points in order to make a fucking statement. Am I wrong about this? Am I missing something? Am I supposed to believe that she is so fucking important and that there's a reason why everyone should pay attention to her when in fact she's the literal definition of a transitional Champion?

She is categorized among ignorant cunts like Erica Ford and Azumi Goto who like to make a big fuckin' deal out of winning meaningless matches and listing them as accomplishments.  She is that sad little cunt who hasn't done anything great in her life, except for holding a Championip she couldn't even keep for a fucking month. I swear to fucking christ I've taken longer naps than that reign, and now as compensation, she looks over her address book and starts listing what her friends has achieved and make them her own so she doesn't feel like too much of a fucking loser. Shit, if it actually worked that way, then I'd be the undisputed "Greatest of All Time" by now for my six World Championship reigns, my 4 Tag Championship reigns and my 3 Vixens Champion reigns, am I right?! Seriously, Cloud Matsuda is that one little fangirl suffering from obesity caused by her binge eating disorder, as she watches from the crowd the unveiling of a new era of Wrestling, like it's supposed to mean something to me, and despite her not being a part of it to begin with! 

That's the fucking level we're at right now, guys. That's how fucking sad her situation has become! And it's people like Cloud Matsuda that makes me SO THANKFUL for the world that I wasn't born in the same environment as her, and that I was wired much differently. That I have more passion and drive in my fingertips, and that I have a better grasp on reality that most people don't. I get it though. I get that I lost a match, a main event that could have defined my career as it would have defined others, I suppose it's just as important for Cloud Matsuda losing a fucking pre-show before anyone even noticed that she is Champion. I get that we both want to do our best, and that we both want to rise from this loss, but I don't fucking dwell on these things because there's bigger and better things on the road for me. I put my game face on the next match like the loss never fucking happened because there is no use on getting stuck in the mud over a depressive state just because my "friends" won the match I should have won. Cloud and Cailin are Champions, I get that. But what's so fucking moronic about this whole thing is that Cloud lets herself become overshadowed by Cailin's slightly respectful reign, and pretend that hers is the same way! Whenever I take a loss, I pay the price, I don't get drawn in by consolation prizes or "thanks for playing" letters and this idiotic eye-twitching "me and my friend are former champions, so we're steps ahead of you" reasoning because I am not okay with losing my matches. I refuse to pretend that I'll be standing still here, as undeserving idiots wave around what I had my eye on. I move on and I improve, because I know that the next step I should take is forward. It's just another day in the office for The Heart Break Gal. Just another match I competed in. But sadly, it's not enough me. It's never going to be. I would gladly start from the beginning and push even further, if it means having gold in my grasp. Jesus, look at this bitch. She's made ten fucking steps and thinks its comparable to a thousand of mine. Do I really have anything to fear?

Tiberius Jones: It seems not. Is she okay, Drake? It seems like she's okay.

Drake Jaeger: Ah, classic comedy from Cloud Matsuda. Works everytime. 

[Then from inside The Mercenary Lair, the door opens to the roof deck. It was Y2Impact, wearing black pants, purple jacket and his blonde hair is spiked up. He has a pokeball in his hand]

Y2Impact: So... Does this fit me right? 

Heart Break Gal: It's amazing! Now THAT's full costume, trainer Gary Oak!

Y2Impact: That's right. I'm the best. (Nods his head and looks at HBG) You can't ignore my girth. 

Heart Break Gal: (smiles) That, we can't. Time to film now before TJ's whiskers fade!

Tiberius Jones: Oh, come on now.

[HBG chuckles and signals everyone to get into position as they started filming again the biggest plot twist: Gary Oak STEALS Team Fuck-it's pikachu which they stole from Ash (may or may not be played by Brian Daniels)! :O:O:O]

The camera opens up on a sterile hospital room, devoid of anything but a bed, some machines, and a television.  The glow of the television reflects off of the unblinking eyes of a bandaged and bruised Pizza Boy as a barbaric figure leaps from a a pile of armored bodies vainly attempting to try and pin him to the ground.  He locks eyes with a towering androgynous figure in the distance.  The barbarian chucks a lofty spear, nearly twice his size in length.  It flies toward the demigod in the distance, catches a chain between two piercings on it's body, and rips them clean from it's flesh.  The figure's demeanor breaks as blood trickles from his tiny wounds and the soldiers bury the barbarian beneath their metallic bodies.

"Did you ever see 300? I've probably sat here in this room and watched it about....well, 300 times since Triple Threat.  It's not much of an Oscar nod, but it's an inspiring and mythical tale of these 300 Spartans against the world.  The world's so big that it doesn't take this little group of gladiators seriously, but through tact and sheer will, the Spartans most certainly make a dent.  That's been my career so far."

The camera pans down Pizza Boy's motionless, drugged up body and down to his hand.  It's gripped tight into a fist, probably to the point of atrophy from it's joints going immobile for so long.  Between it's mummified monkey's paw like fingers the faint vision of black and white vinyl cloth can be made out.  The camera cuts back up to the narrowed, somewhat pleased, looking eyes of the Pizza Boy as he stares back.

"Sometimes making a man doubt himself is as good as any golden crown.  Sometimes making a God bleed is all it takes to turn around a religion.  You might bleed too in the process.  It's quite likely you'll bleed more, but that's expected, you expect to bleed, but them? Watching them learn that they can be cut, watching them learn they can be beaten, it's indescribably more fulfilling.  It's like watching a child realize that it can control it's limbs, such a simple thing that yesterday was thought impossible now stands as common knowledge, and that knowledge brings doubt in everything once understood about your little bubble, and doubt breeds fear."

PB's thumb strokes the tiny sliver of Judas' mask cupped in his palm, like a small child rubbing his security blanket for comfort or even relief from pain.

"Butcher, you and I are a lot alike; we're both dumb, we're both paid mercenaries in a sense, we love spaghetti, and neither of us really excel in anything outside of professional wrestling.  Hurting people is what we do best, despite goofy antics and smiling demeanor, we know why we do what we do and that it's often more selfishly motivated than the crowd might want to believe. I've heard plenty of 'we're not so different, you and I' Bond villain speeches since stepping into this business, and I know that you have too, so I'll spare you the semantics and get down to business."

A hand gently grips Pizza Boy's shoulder.  He winces before lifting his tired eyes up to see Tony Rolland standing at his bedside adorned in a familiar black mask.  PB smiles in drugged up recognition as his mentor stares into the camera and continues talking.

TROLL: "This kid right here? He's the world to me.  I'll never tell him that, and even if I did he'd never accept it as fact, but he is.  You and I, we go back a ways.  We've bled many men for the sheer pleasure of making them realize their own mortality, we've smote Gods and Monsters alike in the name of a company that never appreciated a damn thing we did for them, and we've even found ourselves at odds and held nothing back as we danced down paths of destruction like a married couple doing the tango.  We've bled for each other, both willingly in sacrifice and at each other's own hand....but this kid?...this kid."

TROLL's usually cold and morose gaze turns wide in sick fascination as he stares own at his alter ego's protege.  The camera zooms in on PB once more as a dazed, yet pleased, smile crosses his groggy face.  Panning back out, Tony's sporting his fabled red mask of competition.

Anthony R. Rolland: This kid has more heart than either of us ever displayed.  Probably partially due to the cold hard fact that he has a heart at all.  You and I are just crazy son's of bitches with a blood lust.  We were just pitbulls on a leash waiting to be pointed toward anything that smelled like an intruder.  Insanity doesn't drive him.  Blood lust doesn't drive him, not really.  This kid legitimately wants peace and justice, and sadly this business has none of that to offer him.  Hard work doesn't always pay off, and he knows this better than anyone, but even now if you were to throw him a bone and take it easy on him, which you wont, he'd reject it and slap you in the face until that inner pitbull retracted it's teeth once more...which it would.

Tony unlaces his red mask and pulls it off.  The camera follows the red hood as it's lain across PB's chest in a gesture of respect.  Panning back up, Tony's back to his old standard green mask.

Tony Rolland: The truth is that no matter how many faces I've had over my career, no matter how goofy, serious, or dangerous I've ever been, I've never been half as good as this kid.  I mean, sure, I'm a better wrestler...I mean, duh, but he's got something else that even my 4th wall breaking ways couldn't conjure into existence.  He doesn't have a legacy, he doesn't have multiple personality disorders, or a hatred for anyone, or a fetish for spaghetti fucking like you and I.  He's just a guy.  A hapless guy who rung the wrong doorbell and found the wrong family of nuts in some carny lounge singer and the pro wrestling gimp chained up in his backyard.  You and I, we tell ourselves that we chose this life, but did we really? Or were we predestined to be the blood warriors of this industry? Were we born into war? And do we really have the choice of walking away?

Tony takes off his mask and lays it next to his red one on PB's now sleepily rising chest.  He hangs his bare face in the shadows as he bows his head in mourning.

Tony Rolland: No.  I don't think we do.  But him? He does.  He could have so much more if he only walked away, if he bowed to the whims of Zack Crash or HexaGun or the Mercenaries, or Judas, Drake and Jones, but he wont Butch.  He simply wont lay down and die.  He wont take off his boots, HBB's boots, and hang them up and go back to flipping pizzas, even though he seems to love every aspect of that life.  It's not in him to quit.  They'll have to wheel him out in a body bag before this little lovable lunatic lays down and dies, and that's what makes him better than you and I.  He stays because he chooses to fight the good fight.  We stay because we're just two rabid dogs who know nothing but fighting and chasing our tails.  And that's why you're going to lose, Butcher.  That's why despite the outcome, despite his physical well being, despite my wishes that this kid would just pack it up and go home to live a happy life with his real family and not have a hospital bed on standby in every city he lands in on this wretched little floating blue ball in space, he's always going to win because the people will always view him as the winner,because he'll never not give it his all.

Tony turns to face the door, his face still obscured in the shadows has he makes his way to the exit.  He suddenly stops and bows his head once more.

Tony Rolland: It's time for war elephants like you and I to make our way to the boneyard, John Smithy.  We may have been legion, but he is the 300, and despite the fact that we are many, we'll never be enough.  Welcome to New Sparta, prepare to die.

Tony exits the room just as Leonidas kicks the unsuspecting antagonist into the pit as the vegetable Pizza Boy stares on in glassy eyed wonder.

A Battleground Promo Part 2

This is pure torture! Listening to you talk is even more torture than being subjected to sitting on a chair and watching a full season of True Vixens, a show that is so terrible that I'm voting for Trump so he can build a wall around it. Here's a basic recap of last night's episode: 

Aria: OH MY GOD, I’M SO UNSYMPATHETIC AND UNRELATABLE AS A HUMAN BEING.  

Cailin: I HAVE NOTHING OF INTEREST TO SAY, BUT IT DOESN'T MATTER BECAUSE I'M JUST A PLASTIC DOLL MADE FOR EAW'S MALE VIEWERS. 

Tarah Nova: I'M ONLY HERE CAUSE I FUCKED DEDEDE.
 
Stephanie Matsuda: [Gorilla Noises] 

*Roll Credits* 

Ad nauseam, repeat. Although I do have to congratulate the show on one aspect, I've had insomnia over the last couple nights and it was the sure-fire cure to making me sleep like a baby, I haven't seen such riveting television since C-SPAN. I love the fact that Aria Jaxon would criticize me for taking the low road and insulting her Formation as if she is a quick-witted Saint incapable of doing it herself, yet, she's built her whole career around crude insults and sass towards other Vixens. You are not the white knight savant that takes the high road when it comes to your opposition, because you have shown in the past that you will make snippity little comments about physical looks and behaviors. You might have been the "Jenny from the block" that grew up from an impoverished state but you now represent the 1% of the population that those urban area kids dream of.  You are not a role model, instead you are something that has become unrecognizable to that young girl at home who clutches onto your action figure so desperately. You are now a modicum of success that the little girl will never be able to reach, you are the modicum of success that someone like Cailin Dillon and Stephanie Matsuda might never reach. You are on top of the food chain and you look inadvertently down on that little girl who wants to be just like you, and even if you pretend to crouch down and attempt to be on her level, that perch is mighty high and it will continue to grow until you are no longer in her eyesight.  

I've grown accustomed to being alone at the top and I'm alright with it, I don't need to represent myself to others; especially you. If I want to take a cheap shot here and there, then I'll take a cheap shot. I don't surround myself with other people who could potentially be enemies, because friends come and go in a matter of days sifting through life as nothing more than shadows of memories and mistakes. I love how your preaching unity and respect but everyone can see the writing on the wall, and if not, then just take a look at all the drama that happened with the Specialist Title... of course, during your ascension to the Vixen's belt you weren't really there for any of it, but it's time for you to finally be in the thick of the pettiness that stains the group that you formed.  For being true vixens I've never seen someone act more fake than the "support" and compliments that you give out to all of your teammates because I've seen just how insulting, vulgar, and crass you can be when they become your opposition. That is when the true Vixen known as Aria Jaxon starts to come out. That's the Aria Jaxon that I'm going to fight at Battleground, just a hint of the challenge that I've been looking for in the last couple of months.  You throw little side barbs with the best of them and sooner rather than later, you'll be the catalyst that ends the Formation you created.  

In other words, you're kind of a fucking bitch.  

I'm sure you'll pick up your head and smile at that notion, but before you let your ego get out of control, I just want to affirm that you were the second choice of opponents I wanted to fight. I needed a warm up match before the main event, you feel me? I can't say I'm a little disappointed in what you had to say, cause I expected more, but it's on course with someone who has been praised as being excellent even if there are more talented people that surround her. That's what happens when you win one event and cash it in with months of mediocrity, but that one event did get you enough opportunities to finally get that title around your waist. Good job, I guess. Realize this though, I'm currently the longest reigning champion on the roster, I've proven that my belt is higher than the EAW Championship that Aren Mstislav holds because I bested that belt in a Champion vs. Champion match. I've proven time and time again that this belt that is around my waist, is the single hardest belt for anyone to capture... because they have to go through me. I've just been standing idly by, playing around with those who wish to even sniff the territory that I've gained ever since I've stepped foot within this organization. That is what makes us so similar, we both came in around the same time, we've both suffered but we both came out as champions. That is where the similarities end though, because this is only the beginning for me, and whether you want to admit it or not, you've hit your peak. Everything else is downhill, and reality will catch up faster than Aren waking up and seeing your "morning" face.  

I'm completely fine with Aren as champion, because I just got here. I'm still relatively new and I got a long road ahead of me, but I just want to make sure that I don’t take the same route as your beloved, and constantly lose the chances that are given to me over and over again. The pedestal of the Interwire Championship continues to grow in legend, as it's prestige climbs higher and higher and records continue to be broken. This isn't being egotistical because all one has to do is look at the tape, and see that I've been dominant ever since the year 2016 started, even in my failed quest for the EAW Championship, I never lost a match to the world champion. I can make a claim for that world title right now, but I won't... I'll let Aren keep his reign, you'll still be champion for the time being. Enjoy yourselves, and your success because I'll be there for the disappointing breakup, the domestic violence and restraining orders, and I'll be there to pick up the broken pieces whenever you want to join My Millennium. Don't worry, it isn't anything sexual... you are well below my standards.

(Christian is sitting in his normal chair again and has a stack of paper near him. He grabs the first sheet of paper and turns it to the camera, showing quotes from The Nas.)

“Your arms are too short to box with God.” – The Nas

(He places the piece of paper aside and grabs the next sheet of paper. He repeats this process.)

“Will beat your candy ass.” – The Nas

“Do you smell what The Nas is cooking?” – The Nas

(He stops there and places the quotes he read on top of the remaining sheets of paper. He walks across the room and throws them in the trash. He sits back down and puts his legs up on the table and crosses them.)

Don’t get confused ladies and gentlemen, what I threw those papers in was not Detroit, it was a wastebasket. Huge difference — well, actually not really. Sorry, I tried you guys, I really did. Anyway, let's talk to the man of the hour, The Nas! Let me start out by saying that you have always been a creative young lad, haven't you? Always coming up with the most thought out catchphrases of our generation! When it comes to you — you never have to scrape the bottom of the barrel, hmm? But tell me, why do you get all the fun?! Let me try this game. Let's see, oh I got it, Nas, what I'm about to say to you is what I call a pipe bomb. I totally made that up on the spot, just like you did. On a more serious note, I noticed you were pissed off today. I'm not making assumptions here because you said it yourself, you didn't initially feel like talking today, so I guess I forced you to? Oh how could I forget, I was holding a gun to your head, my bad. You even said that you are wasting your time on me, which I find funny. I guess it's more of an inside joke because just about all of my opponents have felt the same way as you do. They look at me and they automatically assume that they will blaze right through me like a hot knife through butter and then they will go on to pick up the victory like it was nothing. They won't even lose a drop of sweat! Obviously, they don't view me as a threat! Besides, how could little ol’ me cause them any damage or discomfort for that matter? I can’t even land a scratch on them! But even with all of that, they still take time out of their day, multiple days a week might I add, to respond to my words, which I thought had no value? This begs the question, why waste your time on me then? Their reasoning will never make sense to me, but oh well. Moving on, I recall you saying the phrase, “Respect all, fear none!” That's a motto you live by. Many people live by that motto actually, but I'm not one of those people. Truth be told, I don't respect many people, especially in EAW. Why would I? No seriously, give me a reason to. Now obviously there are a few exceptions, like some of the hall of famers and more specifically Starr Stan, because he beat me recently. The match was held under lucky circumstances, though. Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, I'm getting my hand raised and you will hear the ring announcer say, “HERE IS YOUR WINNER, CHRISSSSSTIANNN LOCKKKKKKE!” Truth be told, I wasn't even going to mention Starr again. I was ready to move on and focus on you and you only. But of course, you took a shot at me, when you said I choked against him. I get it, you pretended the fans would say that to me this Sunday, trying to deflect the inevitable consequences, but it did not work. In response, I would normally be pissed off. I would have veins popping out my neck like you did when you first opened your mouth today, but I'm not mad because of the person that is saying it. And that person is a man that is irrelevant in every sense of the word. And I know Nas, I know that i-word is thrown around a lot these days, so much so it's kind of sickening. It's a cheap insult, I get it, but that word easily describes you. The fact is I’ve already passed guys like you and Liam weeks ago, when it comes to the pecking order. In fact, since I've been here, you haven't done shit besides get a few wins over Liam and you were very proud of your last victory over a bunch of scrubs, calling it a “monumental” win. Really?! That was monumental? Nobody even remembered that match or its outcome until I literally just brought it three seconds ago. It's an afterthought, just like your entire career and as far as I'm concerned you belong in the trash, along with those papers and the homeless capital of America, Detroit. But back to me supposedly “choking” at Triple Threat. Actually, after giving it some thought, I change my mind. Instead, I would love to know how your match went at that same free-per-view, since you are so damn important and must see, surely you were booked? Ohhhh but that's right, you weren't. Hey, don't be sad, I'm sure you had a great showing in the Grand Rampage. Oh you weren't in that either? But you talk such a big game, I'm so confused? I guess it's fair to say you don't usually back up what you say, huh buddy?

(Christian’s jaw drops and acts shocked. He covers his mouth with his left hand.)

Or at the very least, Ashten has lost a little hope, when it comes to The Nas. You see, while guys like Phoenix and I are setting the Voltage world on fire, quickly working our way up the ranks, separating ourselves from the pretenders, guys like you stay where you are because you are comfortable with being in the middle of the pack. You are unwilling to take risks while I stand up to guys I “shouldn't”, like Starr Stan. You see I'm not going to wait for opportunities to come my way. Im going to take them because I simply don't have patience when it comes to bullshit, which just so happens to be what everybody smells when you obnoxiously ask them. Perhaps that was too harsh. Perhaps I'm taking out my anger on you, which may be unfair because I don't hate you. That would be like a lion hating on a jackal, it doesn't make sense because that lion is well aware that he could end that jackal any given second. But in this case, that jackal thinks he has a chance. He thinks he will walk away from the beat down that awaits him, unscathed. How wrong he is but it doesn't matter since the Nas captivates the people! He's the “People’s Choice”, for a reason! What the actual reason is, I do not know, but let's pretend he has this cult like following like his biased mind believes. How do you captivate these people Nas? Is it from your little catchphrases? Is it from your eyebrow raise? Your elbow pad strip show? It's certainly not from your actual wrestling ability, which doesn't grade out too well on every scale you can think of. Yeah, you listed all your moves, which I will talk more about in a few minutes, but for the time being, let's just say that they are all very basic. Now, let's talk about these so called fans of yours. You said something along the lines of your fans that are mothers, would want to throw their babies into the ring so you could kiss them, which is dangerous in itself right? That's almost as reckless as the mother at the zoo who stopped watching her four year old son, who then fell into a gorilla’s “home” and was later shot. Oh before I forget, speaking of animals, you said you are going to whoop my monkey ass, which is kind of funny because if I said the same thing to you, I would be called racist and would be stoned by today’s soft and whiny society. Gotta love double standards! But back to these mothers wanting you, a grown man they barely know, kiss their bundles of joy. Why? Because then they will be blessed with greatness, or at least that's what you say. The Nas is so damn great, right?! Nah man, you probably should have kissed yourself by now, if that's how it works because let's just say you are lacking when it comes to the talent department. Just a food for thought scenario, that's all. Let's talk about your next demographic of fans, which are teenagers. Obviously teenagers are all about social media these days, so surely they would want to get a picture with you, like you said, and being the good guy that I am, I will allow them to take their selfies with their “next Gawd” after our match, when I drag your unconscious body to them and hold you upright and place my hand on your face so you can smile for the camera and I'm sure with all those filters they have, they can filter out your black eyes. Yes, that's right, I would do that for you! Oh stop, don't mention it man! You are very welcome. 

(Christian smirks briefly)

You know, I feel like your father right now, Nas. Meaning I'm kind of disappointed in you, which is a feeling he would be all too familiar with. I'm disappointed by your response. Because you see, all you did was live in your little imaginary world and talk about how this match will go, move for move. It was very underwhelming, so much in fact, I would rather serve jury duty again or go to the dentist than listen to such an inaccurate summary of how this match will actually pan out. For instance, with all the moves you listed, it appears you anticipate this match to go ten minutes or so, when that's not going to happen. I'll gladly take this time and educate you on how this will actually play out. My theme will hit to the typical chorus of boo’s due to their jealously, then you will come out to crickets because people barely know who you are anymore and then I will kick you in the head right after the bell rings, knocking you out for a few seconds. I could end it there, but I will show you an ounce of respect, by letting you wake up first, since you did say I am one of the best all round athletes in all of EAW. So, I will let you get up to your knees before I hit you with another kick. I will climb up to my perch and then, you will drown from a current. Next, I will leave the ring and I will let Liam get his cheap shots in, as I continue to make my way up the ramp. That's how it's going to go, I hate to break it to you. So no, you will not be pinning me and you won't be making me tap out like a “bitch”, which was something Stan couldn't even do, so yeah, you have no chance. Lastly, you said I have to make it in EAW because if I fail, I have nothing to fall back on. While you can afford to leave EAW again and make a trip down to Hollywood. For the very first time this week, you are correct. EAW is all I have. Professional wrestling is my love, my addiction — my everything. I've been wanting to do this since I was three years old. It’s what keeps me going. While you? You don't care. You could go film movies and become a D list celebrity and that to you, would be a success, especially if you compare it to your lackluster EAW career. So I guess when something isn't working out, it is smart to have a backup plan. Fortunately for me, I've been pretty damn great at this wrestling thing for a long ass time, so I don't have to search for other jobs or worry about whether or not I will be able to put food on the table. 

(Christian pauses for five seconds)

I've only been here for a few months, but my voice has already been heard loud and clear. My level of performance speaks for itself, while you? You can leave tomorrow and nobody would even notice that Aren’s and Aria’s number one cheerleader is gone. So please, do us all a favor and leave again. I'm sure we'll see you come crawling back to EAW once Hollywood slams the door in your face as well. 

(Camera fades to black)

Most say that life is entirely too short-- but what they don't realize is that for the unfortunate, life is entirely too long. They say you cannot wait for something better to come forever. They say that time will run out if you wait too long. If you're not ready for what is around that corner, then you may as well be irrelevant, and not show up at all. 

Piff Fumador. It took a while for you to show yourself. Better late than never, I guess. You said it Piff. You said it exactly. This IS the biggest week of your career. It's the biggest week of MY career as well. Cash In The Vault qualifier? Oh, I fully intend to qualify this week. You're gonna crush my dreams this week you say, Piff? Well, then, Piff, you had better crush me in that ring. By crush me, I mean you had better kill me. I say kill me, because that is the only way that I will allow you to keep my shoulders down on the mat for three seconds, and that's just something YOU'RE gonna have to deal with! All the battles I've been through since I first arrived here. No. No. NO. Not the ones I've been in inside that ring. I'm talking about the shit that I'VE been through, that I had to endure from humble beginnings here, just to get here to this point. Get this chance! A chance to truly show that, not am I a rising star amongst stars, but THE(E) STAR. You see, Piff, success is not just having all your heart desires, you may be capable of being great someday, but you still reside in the apartment of failures even with that New Breed Championship, where guys like ME know and understand what it takes to succeed! I watched what you had to say Piff, and quite frankly I have to be honest. I thought the video feed was placed on repeat every time I had to hear you say that not only were you going to qualify for CITV, but that you were going to walk in as New Breed Champion. No real substance to what you were saying really, and no rhyme or reason. You didn't convince me that you are fearless, Piff. By constantly repeating the same stuff throughout, you simply came off as someone who was trying to convince themselves that they can overcome the obstacles that are stacked against you this week. 

You dare to compare the mentorship and tutelage that I accepted a few months back from The Hall Of Fame Champion, Xavier Williams, to your Brokeback Mountain moments with a perennial loser like El Landerson? Piff, in three months as Xavier's protege, I've learned and understand more than you ever will in your EAW career! You got heart? Great! I have one too! It pumps blood just like yours. The only difference is that mine is a heart as hard as a diamond rock, and it's UNBREAKABLE. My will? That's UNSHAKEABLE. On top of that, Piff? I just have way too much momentum for you to beat me! That's a fact! And you know what they say about the The Law of Momentum....the object in motion will stay in motion until it meets a resisting force. You are not a source of resistance for my momentum Piff, but I will be for yours. So take to the air if you dare Piff. You may or may not get a chance at that 420 Splash, but I'd highly advise against it, because it might turn into a 420 CRASH! When I win the CITV qualifier tomorrow and advance to my first Pain For Pride? It will be at that FPV that the world will finally get to see what Rex McAllister is all about, what he has been saying for the last few months...the next superstar in the making. You are right about one thing Piff? Something new is about to start, it's just not gonna be for you. You are one of the unfortunate that will have to wait. Wait longer than expected to achieve your goals. By then though, it may be too late. See you tomorrow on Showdown.

Piff for Pride or Pain for Piff?
 
Piff could have it all, or none of it – That’s a hard truth to inhale
 
Ay dios mio, this is a big week for EAW’s Finest Strain. Not only does Piff have his title defence against JJ Silva, but a qualifying match against Rex McAllister to be able to compete in this year’s Cash in the Vault. There’s no priority for Piff, these are both grande important for Mr THC, esé. And this is the biggest test that Piff has had to take in his entire lucha libre career, because since blazing up EAW in August last year, every moment, every match and every opportunity has lead Piff to this very moment. Every time Piff steps into the ring, the motive is always proving that EAW’s Finest Strain is no joke, homie. And the biggest stage to show  the world that Piff Fumador is a legit player? Pain for Pride. The biggest showcase of the most elite of the elitists, the world will be watching and it’s when careers are truly made. This year it’s gonna be Piff Fumador who’s career is going to be made, when he wins the Cash in the Vault ladder match, defying the odds, the critics and the naysayers. Nobody flies higher than the highest luchador in history, and adding ladders to the mix will mean that Piff will be reaching for the stars, hombre. All of this will be done with the New Breed title around the waist of Piff. Look at the career of Jamie O’Hara, he was the reigning New Breed Champion, 240 days of greatness. When he lost his belt to Stark, a month later he won the Cash in the Vault ladder match and went on to become EAW Champion. That will be paralleled to the how it’s gonna go down for Piff Fumador, almost to every little bit of detail – Except for one thing, when Piff wins the Cash in the Vault ladder match, he will STILL be the New Breed Champion. And JJ Silva also looks to be in a Cash in the Vault qualifier at this week’s Dynasty, maybe he’ll get lucky and win. Maybe we’ll both qualify and meet at the grandest stage of them all, and he’ll look dead in the eyes of the man who was his superior and crushed his dreams of winning the EAW New Breed Championship. The title that shows the world that you are the future of EAW, and in time will be viewed as el grande leyanda, esé. He’ll look at those eyes and the truth will hit him, that PIFF, not JJ, is the future. And then after winning the match at Pain for Pride, Piff will stare into his eyes when he lifts the Cash in the Vault briefcase ‘high’ up into the air - to grind the point in even further - Piff was, is and always will be the better hombre. There are people going around and discrediting this belt as insignificant, and using Piff as a scapegoat. All Piff has been hearing lately is “The New Breed title is a joke, it used to be held by legends and now has been reduced to people like Piff Fumador”. Piff is a chilled dude, always smoking, always joking. But this is some bullshit carne asada that NEEDS to be fixed by EAW’s Finest Strain, and has got Piff mad as infierno. The New Breed title is a LEGIT championship in the most LEGIT pro wrestling organisation in the world, and Piff Fumador is a LEGIT luchador who wears the belt with pride and will defend it ANY TIME, ANYWHERE. No one is taking this away from Piff, and at the end of Piff’s long and successful reign as New Breed champion, I hope everyone’s got the munchies, because they’re all gonna have to eat their fucking words. Piff is going to Pain for Pride, in the Cash in the Vault ladder match – AND as the EAW New Breed Champion.
 
You’re tripping as well, JJ. I was never in DCW and never got my ass handed to me by Luzmala?! Have you been raiding my stash of sticky icky, homie? Get your facts straight before you run your mouth, and the reason the crowd get behind Piff is not just because he’s a funny motherfucker that all the ladies wanna be with and the dudes wanna chill with. It’s because he is the greatest luchador ever seen in EAW, and that’s a fact, Jack. You say that you’ve had to earn everything that you’ve got going for you today, but what is that? Monkey teeth and a face not even your mama could love? Because last time I checked, you haven’t earned shit, you haven’t got the New Breed championship have you? No, and you’re not going to either. I feel bad for you, son. You got 99 problems and Piff ain’t just one. This championship isn’t going anywhere; it’s staying right around the waist of EAW’s Finest Strain because he has something to prove. This Monday at Battleground Piff Fumador is gonna make a statement, that he DOES deserve this championship, it WILL be around his waist for a long time, and he IS the future of EAW. There ain’t no way that’s being taken away from Piff by a gringo like you. Did you ever think there’s reason you’ve been here for so long and haven’t had any real glory? Maybe it’s because you just aren’t that good? You belittle Piff as comedic relief who doesn’t deserve what he’s achieved – But what does that say about you when that same Piff lays you out in the middle of the ring and retains his title? Think about it, amigo. But enough of JJ Silva, I’ll come back to you after Showdown on Saturday, because now it’s all about the Cash in the Vault qualifier. This is the match that is SCREAMING for Piff to be in, the biggest night of EAW, just imagine “OH MY GOD! PIFF FUMADOR WITH A 420 SPLASH OFF OF THE LADDER” followed a little bit later by “OH MY GOD! PIFF FUMADOR HAS DONE IT! HE WON THE BRIEFCASE” – Certainly sounds like a Cinderella moment, hey home boy? The Cash in the Vault briefcase changes lives, and not only will it change Piff’s life, but it’ll change the opinions of ALL the gringos who discredit the ‘highest’ flyer in the land of the Elite. The proving ground is Pain for Pride, and Piff will be swimming in ecstasy (in more ways than one) when he sees the look of shock and horror on all the putos in the locker room, and all the looks of elation throughout the rest of the arena. Piff for Pride, homie. Piff for Pride. It’ll be a game changer when people see EAW’s Finest Strain for who he really is – A chill dude who likes to kick back, smoke a blunt, eat doritos and watch South Park; but when he gets in the ring and turns it up to 420 kicks the ass of any motherfucker who gets in his way. The motherfucker in Piff’s way this week? Rex McAllister. Yeah it’s cool, I agree with you, the rabbit was let out of the hat and Piff found out the date for his title defence will be this week’s Battleground. But all that’s done is given Mr THC time to prepare for the enduring week ahead of him. Because not only is Piff gonna take out JJ Silva and retain the New Breed title, but he is gonna take out your skinny ass and crush your Pain for Pride dreams. You say that you refuse to lose? Sorry, amigo, it’s just something you’re gonna have to deal with. There’s no way Piff is letting a gringo like you get in the way of his Pain for Pride dream; there’s too much on the line for it to slip out of Piff’s fingers. Rex, while you were hanging with Xavier Williams, Piff was chilling with El Landerson. It’s understandable that you probably have better experience of preparing for big matches, after all with El Landerson all we did was eat burritos and play NBA Street. However, despite you being taken under the wing of an EAW legend, you can teach what Piff has; heart. Heart to win, heart to succeed and heart to prove wrong ANYONE who says that they haven’t got what it takes. This will be a big week for Piff, and a key opportunity to start turning the heads of all the naysayers of EAW’s Finest Strain. This is the start, of something new. It feels so right, to be here with you. Obviously that was a High School Musical reference (the first one was a fun little movie), but other than the ‘to be here with you’ it says a lot for the future of Piff Fumador. This IS the start of something, and it’ll feel fucking incredible to prove wrong anyone who says that Mr THC isn’t legit. Not only will Piff Fumador retain his New Breed Championship this week, he’ll also win the Cash in the Vault qualifier and be on his way down the road…
 
   
The road… to Pain for Pride

Ladies and gentlemen, my name is Grace Izumi.
 
I am the Can-Asian Sensation, the Wonder of Waterloo, the Half-Blind Heroine…Well, not really. But if I’m going to start becoming truly big time in this industry, I think it is high time for me to reintroduce myself to the masses.
 
Now, by all means, I have done well for myself since my debut. I beat that Valentine psycho, put the boots to the waning career of So’Shy and beat down that living, breathing stereotype Sheridan Muller. I have yet to be pinned or submitted in this company, and my only technical loss was a result of being teamed up with someone who let their ego dominate them. Still, I feel as though with all that in mind, the name Grace Izumi doesn’t resonate around this company quite yet. But you know what will change all of that? A match with one of the leaders of this Vixen’s division, and one of the most well respected wrestlers in this company today.
 
Now, I’ll be honest with you Tarah…I was spending all week waiting around for you to throw the first verbal barb, because if nothing else, I was interested to see what you thought of me. Now, I don’t like throwing my brother’s name around too much, but when I first told him I managed to get signed to EAW, he gave me one solid piece of advice going on, about dealing with the rest of the Vixen’s division.
 
“Bitches be Crazy”
 
At the time, I just took it as a misogynistic remark, but when he actually explained himself, I have to say he was right about a lot of things. So many people here, particularly the women, seem to be in some status of arrested development. None of you seemed to have graduated beyond your High School days, if you even graduated from High School period, so when you started talking about how much of a disgrace I am to my family name, and how you are going to beat respect into me while showing me no respect because that apparently makes sense…Well, I have to give in to my brother’s wisdom here. Bitches do be crazy. So this is where I come in to raise the standard, as it were.
 
Now first off…Second Generation? Really Tarah? You think I am in a different generation from my brother? Actually…You know what? Forget it. If I focus on all the ridiculous things you said against me, I’d be here all day. I’ll just focus on the most ridiculous points.
 
Now first off, you can mention my brother all you want, but I’m not building his reputation off of mine. If anything, I am mending his. GI did a lot of great things in his career, but in EAW, he was a complete ‘What If’ story. What if he spent his time here rather than in LEGION, or CWF, or IEW? What could he have accomplished? For all intents and purposes, EAW is a monolith. That’s probably why it remains while GI’s stomping grounds all ended up falling, but here it doesn’t matter how many World Titles you have won elsewhere. All that matters are what and how much you have done here over anything else. This is why I felt comfortable enough being open with the fact that I am not the first person in my family to have done this, because quite frankly while GI left his mark in this company, it was a poor reflection of the Izumi spirit and legacy of success. That is why I am here. To correct his shortcomings, and to run shop in his now permanent absence.
 
So when this all comes out and I have one of the most successful Vixens, perhaps in EAW history, trying to talk down to me and tell me that she is going to end my story before it begins…Well, all I can say back is “Bring it bitch”.
 
You see, we’re still in the First Act of my story. This might be a very important match in determining how my story goes, but this is a secret that both of us know well, Tarah. I can afford to lose. You can’t. The former Vixen’s Champion, now forced to hold onto the Specialist’s belt. Sure it is an accomplishment, and you fought hard to win it, but there has to be a voice telling you “But I deserve more than this”. You are supposed to be the Ace of this division, but now Aria is gallivanting around with the title, and here you are facing off against a green girl when you feel you should be celebrating being champion again. But it isn’t the same, is it Tarah? You aren’t the top dog anymore, and now you have to think to yourself…Shit. What if I lose to that new girl who can’t even see out of her right eye? I can see why you were being so catty to me earlier, Tarah, and quite frankly I suspected as much. Just my potential alone scares you. I haven’t lost a match yet, and I am still as green as grass. I obviously have some talent, so what if the stars align and I beat you? It has to be something which has crossed your mind, and it must terrify you. Coming off a big title win usually brings out the best in people, yet you see me, and all you can do is get jaded and bitter by my mere presence alone. Another woman standing up to take away more and more of a legacy you see falling away from you, as all you can do is desperately grasp at brass rings and remember when it was like to be on top. Not only that, the fact that I come from a family who have managed to perform at a high level, well that shows you that I have this in my blood. Based on your complexion, you might not have anything in your blood, but that is beside that point. You will never admit it, but a part of you is afraid of me and what I might do against you. You’ll laugh it off and try to bring up my brother as if that has anything to do with what you are facing right here and now. You’ll say I haven’t accomplished anything, while ignoring the fact that I haven’t had the time to, and you will tell me that I’m just not good enough to stand in the same ring, let alone defeat the great Tarah Nova…But what if I am?
 
Tarah, all I can say is that I know your type, because people like you come around in every sport every few years. Some of them can’t take the pressure and fade into obscurity. Some choose to fight against the adversity, and rise back to what they are capable of. Well, Tarah. You beat Haruna and Cailin and The Wrestler Formerly Known as Cloud. That’s a good start. Now face me, and see if you can continue that, or risk falling off the map as I use you as a stepping stone to undo what my dingus of an older brother failed to achieve, as I rise to the next stage of my story.
 

With all that said, Tarah, no matter what you think about me, it will be an honour to test and hone my skills against yours. I know you are a fantastic competitor and I look forward to testing myself and see where I truly stand in this company. See you on Saturday!

(The camera shows Christian’s dining room table, with his spot at the head of the table being empty. On the table is a glass of some kind of liquor. A few seconds go by and you can hear footsteps. It turns out to be Christian, who is wearing his normal black dress shirt and black dress pants. He sits down and stares at the camera for a few seconds before speaking.)

I sit here as a—

(Christian stops and begins to tap the table with his right hand. He clears his throat and stops the tapping.)

I sit here as a defeated man, but a broken one? No, not a fucking chance. You see, I go by the nickname, The Truth. I never started calling myself that out of the blue. It never came to me in the middle of the night and then asked myself, maybe I should roll with it? That nickname was given to me by wrestling veterans, who helped train me in the beginning stages of my career. I obviously earned that name because I do in fact speak the truth, whether it is innocent and fun, or cold and brutal, it does not matter and my tone does not change. And at Triple Threat, for the first time ever in my young professional wrestling career, I was proven wrong and I'm sure some of you are just so happy about my current situation! Here is my middle finger to you all. Anyway, when I said that Starr Stan has lost a step or two, I… I WAS WRONG, OKAY? Even though I've only been in EAW for a few months, I've quickly noticed that when an elitist or vixen lose a heartbreaking match, they act as if it never happened. They sweep it under the rug like nobody saw them do it, when in reality they were caught red handed. Personally I feel like if that's how you choose to go about things, you never learn anything. You never properly analyzed your mistakes or the match itself. I want to get better. I want to become the most dominant elitist in all of EAW. I want to stand on top of the EAW world and make it crumble with just the slightest amount of pressure from my boot. So with that said, when it comes to me, I own up to my losses, so Starr, from the bottom of my heart, congrats on the win. I underestimated you. That's a fact and it's obviously something I regret dearly and it will eat away at my very core for the foreseeable future. Buuuuuut, with that said, let’s be honest, I had you on the ropes. I had you right where I wanted you. I was the composer. I was the conductor. I was the better man — until the last three minutes or so, when I took my foot off the gas. In my honest opinion, the ref seemed a little fast with that three count as well, but hey what do I know? Everybody got what they wanted right?! They saw their favorite, their legend, their hall of famer, their defender of the red, white, and blue, win on his retirement tour. People want to see him win. They want to see him go out on top and have this picture perfect send off into the sunset as fans in the stands begin to cry their little beady eyes out and have their little, “Thank You Stan” chant. Don’t get me wrong, this is not me being bitter. I showed him just a hint of respect right before I left the ring and tapped his back. What were you guys expecting? For us to hug it out and then have me raise his arm in the air and then he does the same, giving me my much deserved props? I still hate that man — give me a microphone and Starr in the ring and I'll tell him to fuck off and throw sand in his eyes and take a steel chair and smack him over the head with it until I see his brain piercing through his skull. So yes, there is still strong hatred there and I don't necessarily hate him because of this win in particular, but because things will go unfinished. The painting will be left incomplete!! Because you see I've never been much of a math wiz, but if my calculations check out, we are now 1-1. We are tied. There is no true winner when it comes to the grand scheme of things and I know that he'll continue his little retirement tour against his past enemies and allies alike, but what an anticlimactic ending this is for this mini chapter, a chapter that could have blossomed into a best seller’s book, if there was more time, but oh well. What are you gonna do?! 

(The camera zooms in a bit)

For this week, I’ll tell you what I'm gonna do. I'm going to regroup and learn from my silly errors and I will create a new impressive win streak. A streak that may never end. Actually I misspoke, sadly it will end — when I decide to hang up my boots fifteen years from now. In case you haven't noticed, I’m a man that doesn't experience many feelings or emotions. Or, at least I don't let them get the best of me. But this week, there is an exception because to be completely honest with you, I feel sorry for the man that Ashten picked to face me this week as I begin this revenge voyage of mine. So yes I feel sorry for him, mainly because he does not know what awaits him. He is blind as a bat, in that sense. You see I'm like a lion, licking my chops, waiting for my opponent to be thrown to the middle of the Colosseum. Now when it actually came to those fights in Ancient Rome, the prisoners that were faced with the damn near impossible task, usually offed themselves with whatever they could get their hands on. For instance I remember one man stuffing a sponge down his throat because to him, that was a more peaceful death than getting mauled by one of the most violent and feared creatures placed on god’s green earth. I do not condone such acts, I really don't, but perhaps that's the way to go, when you know you have to face me, a man that is out for blood and I don't care who is standing across the ring from me. It could be Starr Stan again, it could be a child, a hobo, a serial killer, my own mother — I will cause them great damage. So much damage, repair won't be an option for them. A threat? Nah, I don't waste my time on making those. Consider it a promise. So this is where The Nas comes in. And don't get confused like I did at first, because I'm not actually facing the Nas that people actually care about. No, this is the wrestler that is employed by EAW. 

Now, The Nas did exactly what I expected him to do because he always stays true and loyal to his lame ass shtick. He did his little “finally’s” and he talked in the third person, like the douche he is. But oh that's right, he's the People’s Choice, how dare I send disrespect his way! But seriously who picked him?! Who made him our choice? Probably the same people that will vote for Trump come November. Yeah that would make a lot of sense. Let's point out the obvious for a second. You do not like the man that will be sitting at ringside when I make quick work of you this week on Voltage — Liam Catterson. Yeah, I don't like him either. I doubt his own mother even likes him because she doesn't want to be reminded of the fact that she raised such a huge flop in not just EAW, but in general. Now, I've been told by many people that he does not want to watch this match of ours because he views it as boring, mainly because he's not in it. Perhaps one day he will take off his rose tinted glasses, but I doubt it. The easy solution to this whole mess is for him to not be out there. Oh but that's right, management is forcing him!!! This is coming from the same guy that said he would have no showed our match a few weeks ago if it wasn't for it being in his home country. But now he chooses to obey the suits? What a badass, ladies and gentlemen. But Nas, yeah I'm going to drop the word “the” from your name because it's ridiculous, but as I was going to say, this does not concern Liam. This is about you and me and the inevitable. This is about you losing to me in very convincing fashion, this Sunday in the dump they call Detroit! Don't get me wrong, that's not me trying to get “cheap heat” as some people call it. No, Detroit is literally just one big landfill, which is why I don't believe you when you try to act genuinely happy to be back in one of the worst cities in America. Again, it's not just my personal opinion, it's a proven fact.

(Christian briefly smirks before resuming)

Soooo, since Triple Threat ended, I haven't been as eager as I usually am to speak, hence why I waited a few days before spilling my guts and putting everything out in the open. It's not because I'm taking this loss hard and it's certainly not because I am afraid of my upcoming opponent.  It's more because I need a reason to speak. I'm sick of forcing myself to do so when nothing interesting is happening, with Starr being an exception. I felt this way when I faced Judas and Ryan Young in my debut, I felt this way against Lucas, Liam, Piff, and now Nas. I believe I am capable of doing more. I believe I am superior to a guy like Phoenix, who for whatever reason keeps getting inserted into the main event. This might come off as me feeling entitled, while I wholeheartedly disagree. It's not about what I think I deserve, it's about what I've earned. The fact is I've only been here for around two months or so and I am just now coming off my first legitimate loss. Another fact is I've been on both free-per-views since signing my name on the dotted line. While I believe Nas wasn't on either of the Grand Rampage or Triple Threat cards, if I'm not mistaken. Correct me if I'm wrong, which I rarely am. Yet, you still believe that you should be next in line for the Answers World Championship. Why is that? You even pointed it out yourself when you said people are talking about the likes of me and Phoenix and the returns of Tyler and Hades before a single thought is even wasted on your name or unnoticeable presence. So I ask you again, why do you think you deserve a world title opportunity? Hell at least I'm honest with myself when I say I have to prove myself a bit more before I go knocking on the door of Ares or Phoenix or Y2Impact or whoever is holding that title and challenge them for their prized possession. But you know what? After giving it some thought, I know why you desperately want that title match. What I'm about to say to you, has probably been said by your opponents from the past and to be honest, I don't really care because you never really made an effort when you were addressing me. The fact is I was excited to hear what you had to say at first, but about 80% of your half assed and directionless speech was directed towards Liam, which hey, I guess we all have our obsessions right? And about 15% of your incoherent thoughts were about Ares, with the remaining five, being about me. I feel the love man, thanks. But anyway, as I was saying, I'm going to return the favor and give minimal effort, by talking about your friends and family. You see I did some research on you. Just a quick google search and I stumbled across your Wiki page, which is a very accurate and credible source, I know. It talks about Aren. He's your best friend in this business right? Even won the tag team titles with him! And you are even Aria’s older cousin! That's just spectacular! You have surrounded yourself with greatness and Nas, be honest, it puts your stomach at unease. I'm sure a part of you is genuinely happy for your friend and cousin and I'm sure you were screaming at the top of your lungs when they won their titles. But it really puts things in perspective. In a way, it shows how mediocre you have been this entire time. That's me putting it nicely. Jealously has to be there, especially when it comes to your tag team partner because you two prove the theory right when people suggest every tag team has one superior talent, a man or woman that carries the other’s deadweight, which is you. Aren was the Michael Jordan. He was the Batman, while you were his silly sidekick. Hell, I'm surprised you didn't even bring up your tag team title win and I'm guessing you reason is because you don't want to be one of those guys who constantly lives in his glory days, like Liam for example. But I don't think that's the real reason because on wiki it says you two only beat one man to win them and then essentially, you lost the titles to one man basically, kind of ironic right? But hey, that's enough about that because you're so confident when you say you'll become world champ in the near future — ha! Oh, you were serious?! Yeah, if that happens, which it won't but let's be hypothetical for a second, so if you win a world title within the next two years, then I will eat my shirt like that OKC fan did when Golden State won the Western Conference Finals. Don't get me wrong, I think you have talent — just not nearly enough to hoist a world championship in the air. But hey, that's what the EAW video game is for is. Have your character win a main event world title match at Pain for Pride and live your little moment because that's the closest you will ever come to having such a career defining moment. But hey, who am I to crush your dreams? I'm probably just the guy who lost to Starr, to you. You even stated that if it was you who faced him at Triple Threat, you would have beaten him with ease. I say put your money where your mouth is. Obviously you won't get a match against him on his actual retirement tour on Voltage because let's be honest, he only has so many matches left in him and he'll never waste one on you. But challenge him to a match on Battleground, he's accepted one before and you can prove just how great you are! Prove to the world that you are truly “The Next Gawd.” Which is kind of sad, when you think about it, the nickname that is, because whatever happened to being an actual individual? Whatever happened to wrestlers wanting to carve their own path and create an impeccable legacy that is truly theirs? But if you want to become the next Mr. DDD, then go for it. Dreams are dreams for a reason. You know, I could talk for another ten minutes about you and this match, or as you would call it, me “running my mouth”, so I suppose I'll end it here. Sooooo, let's hear that rebuttal of yours. I for one cannot wait. 

(Christian raises the glass with his right hand and gives a nod. Camera fades to black.)