'' The vanquishing which I delivered to our general manager, does not even represent a portion of the frustration and incineration that has smouldered and evaporated within my veins. Spreading throughout my system, leaving irritation dancing across my skin and a constant need for vengeance, only fuelled and encouraged by this resentment that I feel in each waking moment, each breathe that I take, as air presses against lungs that have been scorched and tortured without enlightenment for so long. I can only imagine how she must have felt, the moment my hands laced around her delicate waist, as I lifted her above my own form, sending her spiralling through the air, crashing over the announcing table, her body left twisted, manipulated and broken. It is a stroke of illustration that even brings a slight smile to my stained, cherry lips. Indistinguishable to how a lioness would stand, proudly over her fallen prey, marking her status as an alpha, at the peak of the hierarchy. Perhaps she is feeling humiliated, embarrassed, hurt. These are words that you wouldn't think apply to me, yet I have felt them stabbed into my abdominals and twisted with a sinister smile. I insist all listening take a second to consider my feelings, ruminate what thoughts danced against my cranium, as my name was sprawled at the peak of every wrestling website, attached to words such as disgusting, cancerous, utter poison. These are words the Elite Answers Wrestling board justified my firing with. The hate and resentment they must have felt for me to present these words, with complete belief and justification confidently making itself apparent during their speech, next to my name. Of course, you have all felt enlightenment on this situation, nobody within higher management shall state this, but they feel guilt for firing me. A situation arose in which I was their sacrifice, and the moment my name was wiped from the black and white pages of history, doubt and contemplation aroused within their thoughts, and in the space of two months, I was back, at the summit of Empire, representing athletic excellence with golden hair and a subtle smirk. But my journey here is not as fairy tale as most imagine, it was not simply a case of extracting me, and replacing me as you would engineer a car. It's unfortunate to state but more complications emerged the closer I came to my return. Regardless of all this, the point I am making is that nobody considers my feelings. Tarah Nova, and the brand of people she represents, have not even had the guts, the dignity, the respect, to offer an official apology to me. In their eyes, there is no apology needed, they see it as a second chance for me. It's an illustration of luck that I managed to engineer a path of rationalisation to return to the wrestling business, and they fail to even make eye contact with me. As a matter of fact, the last words the chairman of this promotion spoke to me, was that he was happy to see the back of me, that I shall never work again within competitive sport. Tarah Nova gossiped and sounded ever so delighted at my removal, oh how she planned every word and delivered her sentences with glee when announcing my firing. I hold the belief that, in higher management, two categories exist, there are those who dislike me, such as the spiteful Tarah Nova, and the immature, childish chairman who she works beneath, I mean that in more ways than one. Yet, others exist who acknowledge that I am a prime athlete, a woman who is a different breed, to all those hired beneath Elite Answers Wrestling contracts. I hold an aura that no other woman can offer, an ambience that, no matter how many matches they fight within, and how many championships they hold, the majority of women shall simply never have. Consider names such as Cameron Ella Ava and Tarah Nova. Yes, they're accomplished, they hold tenures within this business that make most envious, and although the statistics earn a round of applause, once you realise they're generic, and slept their way to the positions they hold in the Hall Of Fame, that approval for them dissipates and diminishes to a level beneath me. I don't need relationships, statistics, championships or to share a bed with somebody in a position of authority, to sell out arenas and gain applause. I am blunt, I say things that nobody else does, and the former of the two categories I previously mentioned despite this, but when you strip away at the irrelevancy, the conclusion you come to is that I am an athlete, a woman, a competitor, like no other. This is just a simple truth, I am dependant on wrestling prowess and technical superiority, I don't need to hop on a member of the board to become general manager or get a dream move to Voltage. I really cannot comprehend this attitude people associate with my name, most label me toxic and cold-blooded, but there's really no other definition I would place upon myself other than that I am the true victim. I am the woman who has been fired twice within the space of a year, I've been thrown to each individual brand with mixed rates of success. I've been discriminated against, humiliated, publicly fired and exposed. I've been branded and hurled abuse and insults at, people who I considered friends have turned their backs upon me, and yet, and this is the most amusing part, people sympathise with them. People do not appreciate the uniqueness I dash against every woman I face. The elevation I deliver and demonstrate, it is similar to a machine. Every statement that evaporates from my mouth is gospel. All those who have attempted to conquer me have been vanquished, Kendra Shamez, the Sanatorium, Madison Kaline, Cailin Dillon. I can offer no other authenticity other than I am always right, my opinion is by definition fact. I assert without hesitation what others fear, I perform what others can only dream of someday accomplishing, I set ambitions that are deemed impossible, yet I shatter every barrier I face, and emerge yet again without a scratch. I might be the most hated woman in the world, but I can only justify that as jealously, for I am the best female to ever grace a wrestling ring, and every statement I assert, is delivered and rationalised through efficient annihilation of my opposition. The Empire roster spat on the superior lifestyle that I delivered to them, I crafted it without rest, sweat staining my skin, and a workhorse stench attributing to my name. I brought a revolution in ten months that your fan favourites could not accomplish in the previous nine years. There is a reason that I am the valedictory Vixens, World, Champion. I, without a hand, eradicated the same word I now personify without help, and the perfectionist conditions I constructed through a systematic process, were stamped on the moment my name aligned within the sights a situation in which I was portrayed as the villainess. Nobody came to my aid. Not a single woman on this roster stopped in their tracks, and considered my feelings. Both our champions held a party, sending out sentences of celebration from their social media, the woman that I am facing this week had little remorse in professing she is the reason that I was fired. There is no other word I can say, other than to describe it as ungracious. Scornful, perhaps works. You all disregard the superior conditions I integrated within our brand, and yet in the two months you were without them, thrived transitioned into surviving, your Empress Of Elite gave up, your inaugural Women's World Champion was fired, and the longest reigning Specialists Champion died. Yet none of you will acknowledge my part in helping grow and inaugurate this brand, you all cry revolution, and when the time comes to name the woman who ignited the flame, you scratch your head and pout. You all complain that you fail to receive chances, but when the lifestyle in which you could thrive beneath is descended upon, assassinated and spiked, nobody mutters a word. A clear conspiracy was outlined in my removal from Empire, it is evident that our general manager, and the chairman who just, by random chance, used to sleep with her, have a strong dislike for the woman who brought them Empire in the first place. I am really finding it frustrating to consider words more delicate, but the truth is you're just all beneath me. You're all fucking idiots. You wonder why I am pissed off, why I am not social, why I scowl at the thought of interacting with you all, why I no longer wish to bring beneficial treatment to all those around me, and yet when the time comes for a sole voice to be outspoken, you are all voiceless. You let management hand their way with me, whilst labelling me this and that, and you wonder why I consider you all xenophobic and useless. It does not matter where you rank upon the hierarchy. From being the general manager, to holding a championship. If you have been here for two days, or two years, it matters not. I will massacre each and every bitch who either played a part, or failed to stop, my extradition and the death of the beautiful conditions that I constructed for you all. This incineration that blazes through my muscles, heightening my emotions and bringing out a darkness within me that previous matters could have easily obtained, it shall not cease until my foot is perched upon your neck, as I slowly squeeze the breath from your throat, ending your pathetic existence upon an earth that you offered nothing to, and yet hoarded oxygen and benefits that you did no deserve. I shall use Tarah Nova is a prime example, both as being nothing more than a mindless, ignoramus, senseless imbecile, and being a woman who I shall bring unrivalled vengeance to. She validates herself as the Vixens Killer, and yet, when I was fighting against the OG Vixens, literally fighting against a four on one situation, bringing an end to the Vixens World Championship and being, by definition, the killer of the Vixens division, I must contemplate what she was doing. Oh, that's correct. She was doing absolutely nothing, having lost her Specialists Championship two months prior, crying over the fact the chairman didn't fuck her anymore, and bringing her name high upon the list of absolute irrelevancy. You can beat Haruna Sakazaki as many times as you wish, history defines me as the Vixens Killer, and it shall soon recognise me as the Last Vixen. You're simply a woman not fit to share an environment with the superior athlete, and I justified that on Empire, and I'll happily repeat the process again and again, unless you're left exhausted, vanquished, immobile and perched beneath the sole of my boot, where you belong. ''

'' Anyhow, enough of considering complete incompetence, I just have to assert my excitement for my next match. I am facing the first woman in the history of Elite Answers Wrestling, who has been delivered a championship opportunity based on sympathy alone. Observing from a sharp perspective, she really is only competing at Bloodletter due to the fact Brody Sparks passed away. Although, it doesn't really surprise me, considering the fact my lifestyle was extradited, I cannot express shock that challengers are now being decided on who management likes the best, we live in a world where wrestling ability does not matter much, as long as you sell merchandise and fear the spotlight, you are destined for a lack of originality, and a title shot beneath a thankful, inconsistent moon. I can already illustrate for you what Stephanie is going to say, I'd prefer to phrase it word for word however it is much more simple to highlight a few key points she shall attempt to rationalise whilst kissing her fourteenth girlfriend of the year. She will state that she beat me at the Empress Of Elite tournament, she'll portray it as she absolutely broke me, and that her utter brilliance was the reason that I did not show my face upon television for the space of two months, she'll somehow justify that she deserves her championship shot, and she will also slither into the conversation the fact she beat Chelsea Crowe, something that I failed to do. Stephanie is a woman who adores nothing more than showing favouritism to her own history, using the bright colours to paint her smile and leaving the darker shades out of the shot. She won't mention that, despite beating me, she failed to capitalise on such momentum and fell out of the tournament having achieved absolutely nothing, a story similar to the last eighteen months of her career. She'll also leave out the fact that, once German Efficiency was extinguished, the majority of women touching the peak of the hierarchy within this promotion either passed away, were fired, got injured, or fell into such a depressed state that their love for wrestling disappeared. She won't focus on the fact that she only beat me due to political imperialism, and a definitive conspiracy that, for whatever reason, nobody else seems fussed about, and she shall conclude her speech with stating that she's going to topple me, and then dethrone Aria and win the Women's World Championship which, spoiler alert, cover your eyes all those who wish to see the story play out, neither are going to happen. She won't acknowledge my firing, she won't even consider the fact my ambitions have changed significantly, and I no longer care for certain words which I would happily throw out and sprinkle with all sorts of spices. She'll simply assume I am the same woman I was three months ago, she'll automatically justify her last beating me having an impact on our match this week, and the ultimate cherry hand-picked and placed upon the swirl of the story, is that she'll deliver all these points whilst calling me sweets, and acting as if we are friends. I no longer care for engineering a perfect world, I have no ambitions of being an unparalleled visionary, the thought of elevating those around me brings me sick to my stomach, it literally sketches a frown upon my pouted lips. It's almost upsetting to me, Stephanie, considering out of all the names on the current roster, I have fought you the most times, and yet you were one of the first to celebrate Elite Answers Wrestling firing me. You never once considered my side of the story, never brought yourself to even think about it. I shall not be seeking a wrestling match with you, I have an urge, a need, to make a statement before Bloodletter. I have a concrete record of justifying words which escape my lips, so I ask that you do not take my words lightly. I am going to decimate you. I care not that you've been hand picked to face Aria, that you'll be the main event of a female orientated event, as a matter of fact, I don't really care for whatever story you're going to assert as gospel, and spin to me that you've rationalised and deserved your position at the summit of the event. When I think about you being a threat to me, all these things you're going to jump at mentioning to me, they fall under irrelevancy. The one thing, the sole thing that has rendered me incapable of annihilating those who stand across from me within the ring, has dissipated. My previous lifestyle would look to teach you, nurture you, all in hopes of an ambitions, clean, efficient future. I no longer have a concern for your safety. As all these thoughts fall around me, one manages to penetrate against my skull and that is, you could have stopped her. You could have spoken out, defended all I have done, the world which I established as the foundations for a brighter Empire. The light diminished when I was extradited, and whilst you all focus on attempting to fix it, I shall thrive within the darkness. If you wish not to contribute to my perfect world, you do not deserve breath, you do not deserve recognition. Incineration brightens my carcass, enlightening my touch and bringing emotions to the jagged edges of my form, highlighting and filling in the cold, plentiful hole left within me as my conditions were executed. I have a hunger for retaliation, a need for liberation, to justify every word I state and scorch those who doubted me. Accomplishments do not impress me, validations do not stain my memory, all I am knowledgeable of is that you furnished my disintegration, you ravelled and rolled in the gratitude of being the final woman I faced before my firing. You claimed to have ended me Stephanie, I'd adore nothing more than to flatten your endeavour to consummate those words with affirmation. ''

Carlos Rosso’s Shock Value Press Conference

I really thought you could do it, Lars. I really, truly thought that you would be able to come out this week with something new. Something different. Something that I haven’t heard from you before. Despite the fact that I can see a different Lars Grier in the ring, the attitude and approach you have going into matches remains the same. How disappointing. But, it’s okay. You’re young, you’ve still got your feet in the water and you’ve got a hell of a long way to go before your desires come to fruition. Instead what I’ve been fed by you is just… nothing new. Nothing out of the ordinary. You’ve not said one single thing that’s really stopped me in my tracks and made me rethink my course of action. Everything remains the same with you and that is your major flaw, Lars. You might speak on how you are ready to be unleashed at Shock Value, but it’s a situation where I’ll have to wait and see what this new Lars Grier is all about. You speak about Jamie O’Hara controlling your mind and how you were not in control of yourself. You speak about how he somehow manipulated you to the point where you were unable to control your own speech and actions. Tell me, Lars… what in the ever-loving fuck does that even mean? I’m sitting here scratching my head at that. How was somebody able to control what you say? You spoke about how I’ve used excuses to cover up my defeats and I will get to that in a minute, but it sounds like you’re just making that up as an excuse yourself. What a shame. The only thing you’re able to do successfully is contradict yourself, Lars, and that is the unfortunate truth at hand.

You speak of how I told you that I was expecting to walk into that chamber match at Road to Redemption to face the same Lars Grier from Voltage and Territorial Invasion, but I did also ask you to prove me wrong and low and behold, you did. I did indeed see a different side of you inside that structure. You put me to a certain test physically and mentally, but in the end, what did it matter to you? Because that Lars Grier was still eliminated from the match. Not only that, you were the second man out as well. So what does that prove exactly? Well, it proves that even the very best Lars Grier - no matter how much you say you’ve changed for the better - still cannot match up to a Keelan Cetinich at 100%. So with all of that said, the assumption is that the Lars Grier I witnessed inside that chamber is the same Lars Grier I will be dealing with at Shock Value. Oh, you poor, simple man. You’re going to be so very disappointed when you fail once again. You know Lars, I thought you got a lot more creative over the past few months, but now all I can see is that you just copy the same shit all of your opponents say. Exhibit A is in living colour: what exactly can you gain by using the exact same metaphor I used against you the last time I opened my mouth? The whole standing on the mountain part, being the fact that there’s only room for one of us, the man that falls off will fall hard, etc. I said that shit, so why repeat it? I mean you didn’t even try and agree to what I said you just said it without even referring to the fact that I said it. The reason this bugs me is because you’re speaking it like it’s news to me when I was the one that brought it up in the first place. I mean are you that terrible and insecure that you are unable to muster up some sort of creativity within yourself? Must be tough.

But now we arrive to the biggest pet peeve I have with you, Lars, and perhaps the exact reason that you have given yourself this loss at Shock Value. You just continue to be wrong. I gave you a chance but you’ve given me nothing new. I have hard, full proof evidence just in EAW alone that where I have failed in the past, I have managed to overcome and adapt and grow stronger, become better and get more hungrier than ever. Look how I have managed to climb up the card on Voltage in the past year and a half. The failures I have faced helped me move on up, and it’s because of this I was able to grow a more talented competitor. Just take the other week for example what Kenny Drake said to the two of us. He said to me that belong in the main event even after a huge loss at Road to Redemption. So continue to laugh at the way I defend myself, because I’m just being me and whether you like it or not, it’s helped me out a hell of a lot. I don’t know if it’s jealousy or if there’s envy in your eyes or even if you’re just fully in denial altogether, but throwing judgement at that specifically is just a poor effort from yourself. I also don’t need to hear about your general thoughts about what I said to Jamie in the lead up to Road to Redemption; about me not performing at 100% on Voltage against him. I don’t give a fuck whether you believe it or not. Why would I bother to lie to the man like that? Why would I bother trying to play a pathetic mind game such as that when I know I am capable of playing one a lot better? More importantly, why would I bother to care about your petty ass opinion on it? You think it was a lie and I was trying to get into his head? Well, okay! That’s fine mate, I don’t give a shit. I’m not going to sit here and try and prove you wrong when something I mentioned weeks ago now is in the past; something that does not even concern you Lars. I lost, and I fully accepted the defeat because like I have said a million times, the defeats I face help mould me into a stronger individual. I use it as a tool to get better. So don’t even TRY and say that I am bitching or moaning or making excuses about my failure at Road to Redemption. Go fucking back and listen to the words I’ve been saying instead of letting it go through one ear and out the other. I have not once complained or bitched and moaned about that loss, or any other big loss I’ve had.  And I for one certainly don’t need to take career advice from a man that’s had just over a year’s worth of experience in the wrestling business in general. You’re talking to a near 15 year veteran mate so get a clue. This whole subject on what I said to Jamie seems to have pulled on your heartstrings a bit. Did I upset you with something that had no relevance to you whatsoever? Boo fucking hoo. Out of the three times I’ve had to share a ring with you Lars, there is one thing that always remains the same. You know you talked about the fact that when people twist words it irks you and makes your blood boil and makes get so mad, but you do it all the god damned time. Here I am Lars, now ready to repeat myself to you for the third and hopefully last time this week.

There, now try twisting my words again cunt and see how it helps you in our match at Shock Value.

Okay, you finally made a very interesting point Lars. You mentioned that everything that I have built for myself revolves around my past. Very nice work, you managed to talk about something new and something fresh! Colour me surprised, you proved me wrong on one aspect! Go, you!! Now time to hit you with a slap of reality. Lars, when you gain a few more years experience into this business, you will soon see that having to speak about the past as a veteran is necessary. Since you love to speak about Jamie so much, let’s talk about something he mentioned to both of us the week before Road to Redemption. He mentioned to the two of that we have nothing to offer him because our EAW resumes are both empty. The mention of past accolades and championships can help your cause in a verbal battle of wits between yourself and a champion, because it is evidence to show that you’ve been in the position of a champion before, so you know what it takes. So yes Lars, every time I walk into a championship match or even a contendership match, I always go in with the mindset that I am able to pick up that victory. Having that self-confidence is DIRE in wanting to reach that pinnacle. So again, when I fail, I do get upset, but I don’t bitch and moan about it like you exaggerated falsely that I do. I, again, learn to adapt and use the failure as a tool to get better. And, AGAIN, I have the proof to show that just in EAW alone. When you come out and say that I’m not once thinking about EAW while previously mentioning other companies I have wrestled for, I need you to understand Lars that EAW is where I want to be. This is where I NEED to be, because EAW is easily the pinnacle of wrestling. Again, this is where I got to question whether you paid attention to what I said before you opened your mouth because I yet again have to repeat myself to you. I understand I am in a new era of wrestling and I learned the hard way that this new style and way things are done in the business now is definitely not the same it was five years ago before I retired. EAW is nothing like the past companies I have wrestled for. EAW is on another level and it is far more superior than any other company I can think of that tries to compete with this place. What makes me think I’ll be able to become a champion here? I have belief that I can do it. The fact that I’ve done it before doesn’t mean too much to a man who’s still just got his feet in the water like yourself. Honestly Lars the fact that you’ve managed to earn yourself a match like this is very impressive. I have never denied your skills in the ring, but I have never not denied the fact you’re a fucking moron either. But, alas, you’re still learning a lot of things. With every loss you face it’s a learning curve, right? When I push you off that mountain down to the ground to the point where you’re left struggling to climb back to the top, it’ll be a learning curve. A tough one at that. Perhaps even the toughest of your career. But I have the belief that I can be a champion here because I absolutely know I can, and will, be one again. With the belief comes the actions I take towards making that belief become a reality. So in a few years Lars, when you actually have a wrestling past to talk about, you’ll come back to this moment and think on it, and learn that I was right… as per usual.

Oh Lars, and there it is. The rookie error. What’s the point of being a main eventer without having anything to show for it? Uh, well, the whole point of being in the main event scene is to attempt to have something to show for it. What you think shit’s just going to fall onto your lap? You think a championship is just going to be handed to you on a silver platter? Since you love to talk about Jamie more than me, do you think he - as much of a cunt as he is - had any of that happen? No, he worked his ass off to earn that EAW World Heavyweight Championship, and continued to work even harder to keep it around his waist for damn near 224 days. Oh, and what a way to contradict yourself again by the way. You were right Lars, rage will burn a man up inside to the point of failure. Now with that said you’re planning on being a rageful man? Alright mate. See how it helps you in the end. When you lose to me, you will just say that the rage is the reason you failed, and you will say that you won’t let it eat you up inside anymore, but truthfully it will be because you don’t know how to control your emotions properly and it affects your performance. Another way you contradicted yourself was saying you’d burn everything to the ground but you’re not willing to do anything out of the ordinary to get this win? Please, start making sense because you’re giving me a migraine. Nothing you have said has been with truth and validity, and you ARE chalking up bullshit. Even a blind person can see through your fucking moronic ways.

And your moronic ways will be why you wall fall to me.

Why you fall to the next EAW World Heavyweight Champion.

Speak again mother fucker, and I dare you to say the same bullshit you’ve said all week. If you’re going to do that, you might as well accept defeat right now.

"It has been amusing, to say the least. Jon McAdams, it has been amusing seeing how far you will stretch the truth of the situation in order to come up with a witty put-down. Unfortunately, you have said nothing that has even been remotely scathing or even logically sound. From the very get-go, you have done anything but deliver an airtight claim that wasn’t covered in the patented Jon McAdams sprinkling of exaggerations that I have come to learn all too well this week alone. You have delivered nothing with any form of concrete reasoning, only fabrications of the mind. Perhaps it would be wise to put away your bottles of wine as you are beginning to resemble a drunken rambler. And yet you believe to be obliterating me on the microphone, believing I am not keeping up with you in a war of words. And what reasoning dare I ask is behind this conclusion? Because you have said quite a lot, and as I said it has been amusing, but the mindless spewing of idiotic crap hardly measures up to valid points of argument. Saying a lot of words but having nothing to say. This is where you have been falling far, far behind. So far behind that I have lost sight of you in the rearview mirror. It came to a point I had to repeat myself due to my words falling on your ignorant ears, refusing to take a second to understand the difference between what he had read on paper and what the actual order of events were. It must be nice living in the world of Jon McAdams. A world where you can live in ignorant bliss and self-entitlement, a safe space where you can not be proven wrong as you don’t hear the reality of the situation through the padded walls. It must be as nice as it is sad. Sorry to break it to you, but we don’t live in that kind of world. Where reality exists only on the outside of your front door, in the safety of an estate where you have to go to great lengths to feel at your most powerful. Unfortunately, we are not fighting at your estate where that plays a factor. We are fighting in a venue where your claims are to be backed up by how far you can take them. For you, that doesn’t look to be very far. Although your persistence should be commended, it doesn’t compensate for utter bullshit. By no means have I been taking a verbal beating at your hand. It has been more of a playful tickling if nothing else. If you had actually done the studying on me as you had claimed to, perhaps I would have taken a jab or two or even a blow that would pierce my heart. But nothing you have said thus far has even remotely scratched the surface. Trust me, if you are disappointed by my verbal performance, I am far from thinking this is just another week on the job. Claiming that I am getting my verbal shit in kicked is cute, it really is. By all means, keep telling yourself that, as it doesn’t make a lick of difference. Keep telling yourself that I am playing on the defensive, fighting from behind. Because I am not. You seem to have mistaken my corrections of the false information you have obtained from me as being defensive of those claims. But I am not threatened by fabrications. No, my corrections of your mistakes were to give you a fighting chance. To give you the chance to backpedal and consider how foolish they make you sound. Instead, you slapped it aside in order to continue to persist on faulty information, all the while doubling, tripling and then quadrupling down on them in hopes they will hold some weight. But they don’t no matter how hard you push. Your pride wouldn’t allow you to accept it, and for it the more crow you will eat. You remind me so much of my torturous rivalry with Moongoose McQueen and his mindless tripe, with the exact same resolves and ridiculous methods to twist the narrative to portray the case much stronger than it is. It’s a shame really. It seems you are cut from a similar cloth as many, whose arrogance far outweighs their resolves and prevents them from following them through. Like many who have proclaimed victory before they even have a rightful claim. You could be switched out with the aforementioned, and I wouldn’t be able to tell the difference, except for perhaps a very cringe-worthy verbal humping of the leg. Be that as it may, you’re not bringing anything new to the table I haven’t already encountered.

And you seem to think the same way about me. You seem to be extremely obsessed with character, seemingly transfixed to admit that although yes, I am quite a promising wrestler, I lack an interesting and diverse character that would, as you put it, “bring life to me.” Well, I guess I should apologize for bringing my wrestling boots to a wrestling match for my wrestling oriented occupation instead of a pair of clown shoes. Believe it or not, I am not a character. My stage name is the exact same as my real name, everything that happens in that ring is one hundred percent me. I don’t need to fall back on some colorful gimmick to try and grab people's attention, I do what I know how to do best and take it for every inch I can get it to go. And so far, I haven’t shown signs of slowing down. You seem to think the only way to make it to the top is to put on an act and pretend to be some kind of circus act. Well, dance monkey, and dance proudly. Because your whole Sovereign shtick doesn’t seem to have people clapping along to the beat of your drum. Probably doesn’t help that anyone can act like a complete twat to the exact same effect. I may be a one-note instrument, but at least people seem to dance along with it and have a good time. Don’t believe me? Tell me why We Are The Bollocks were held so favorably they wanted to see us continue our course towards Tag Team gold. No, instead explain to me why people would rather see a Finnegan Wakefield being the New Breed Champion than a Jon McAdams. I might not be an act, Jon, but at least I am not an act these people have grown tired of. You go as over as a fart in church. So yes, I have made it here on pure wrestling ability alone. So what is wrong with that? You’ll come to find it makes me anything but weak. My determination plays a vital role in what I do, as with it I adapt to whatever task is set out before me. But you question how much I adapt, how much I grow and how much I reinvent myself. Well let’s assess that then, shall we? I started off as a singles wrestler fighting other fledglings. We’ll call that stage one. Then I formed the Knights of the Dawning team with Kelly Hackenschmidt and competed for the Tag Team Championships at Reckless Wiring in a Glass Tables match. Stage two. Went back to singles competition after the Knights of the Dawning dissolved and I began chasing the New Breed Championship. Stage three. Lost the New Breed Championship Ultimate X match at Pain for Pride and went to NEO to hone my craft. Stage four. Climbed back up the ladder until I won the New Breed Championship. Stage five. And finally, formed We Are The Bollocks and went through the Tag Team Grand Prix, all the while defending this title on two occasions during that period of time. Stage six. So, in less than a year I have been through six drastically career altering changes and each one slowly began growing the Finnegan Wakefield that stands across from you at Shock Value. Safe to say I have adapted consistently enough. Give or take how much you have to adapt to new opponents you face during those times, then the number would significantly increase. How much have I reinvented myself? Well, seeing as I came in as a confidence lacking upstart, then became a noble knight-esque personality, followed by a New Breed Championship seeking working-class athlete, to now an Englishman that knocks back beers with a luchador who isn’t Mexican but also British. Safe to say reinvention hasn’t been off the table either. Finally, there is growth. I won’t bore you with a step by step process about that one, as even I shouldn’t have to paint that one out for you. The fact that you’re facing me for this championship and not the other way around is proof enough of that.


I am kind of impressed. Not at all do I find it even remotely entertaining, or even remotely factual, but none the less I am impressed. Impressed at how tightly you will clutch at straws that are long past dead, brown and that dissolves in the breeze of the wind. I said it originally as a bit of a knee-slapping joke, but now it’s becoming more and more true, a self-fulfilling prophecy if you will. You are really starting to sound a lot like Moongoose McQueen, if not exactly the same. If I didn’t know better, I would assume that you and he are one in the same. Your obsession with Cameron Ella Ava being a big contributing factor to that, as you just keep persisting to throw that at the wall until it sticks. By this point, you have just resorted to twisting the points until they are in your benefit. For example, claiming that I have made it a point that it doesn’t matter how much effort you put into a match, that it doesn’t matter how much you hold your own against an opponent, it only matters whose hand is raised by the referee when the bell rings. What kind of slide of hand are you trying to pull? That isn’t the claim that I have been making at all. That’s the argument you have been making over the past few days and now you change your story. McQueen syndrome as I have come to call it; flip-flopping your morals when the situation calls for it. Do you just want to win at something, Jon? Do you just want to have someone admit that one of your claims are right? Well, if nothing else you have at least earned my pity. I, Finnegan Stewart Wakefield, lost two matches against Cameron Ella Ava. Feel better? Can you sleep at night now knowing that I am not trying to hide the fact that I have lost two matches to Cameron? Because I never was Jon. You’ve been keeping yourself up all those sleepless nights for naught. Because I have not at all tried to hide the fact that those two losses on my record, I would be foolish to say one of those losses never happened. But you entirely miss the point of what I was saying. Because I never claimed I didn't lose to her twice, I merely corrected you in saying that she had only defeated me once. At one point in time and that one point in time alone did Cameron Ella Ava gain a victory at my expense by her own hand. That one point in time is the Tag Team Grand Prix finals. You see that little asterisk you suggest I care oh so much about means absolutely nothing to me. If anyone in this entire world cares about that disqualification loss, it isn’t I. That sole obsession belongs only to you. And why? Because you needed that one little point in your favor, that one little thing where you can raise your fists into the air and proclaim that you got the one-up on me in this little war of words. That little asterisk never dictated any of my claims, never has and never will, but it was a key point in yours. But it was such a stretch that in the end does it even matter? No. Because what does it change in the grand scheme of things? Nothing. You pinned Cameron Ella Ava at some point. Bravo sir, unfortunately, I have no participation medals to hand out. Once again, you have only shown interest in the on-paper value of every event that I have gone through, with little understanding of how everything actually went about. It took two days to beat the knowledge of the disqualification occurring into your head before it even began to register through that thick skull of yours. And what you do with this newfound knowledge is pretend you knew it all along, like you pretended to know how the Blackout match worked on day one until, once again, I corrected you so you could have a fighting chance. And just like you did with that knowledge, you blew it by poorly trying to cover up your inaugural misunderstandings.

Furthermore, if you are going to be so adamant about points as trivial as asterisk defeats and how regardless of the series of events played out, perhaps keep in mind the double standard that comes with it. For example, how you ‘handily’ defeated Amadeus as you like to claim. Yet you brushed the asterisk under the rug as you brag about it. You lost to Amadeus. With your reasoning, with your own logic coming back around to bite you on the ass, you lost to Amadeus because you got yourself intentionally disqualified. You refused to break at the referee’s count of five and you were disqualified because of it. The only reason you have that win over Amadeus, however, is because it was handed to you on a silver platter when Kenny Drake decided that despite his condition and despite how little it is justified the match should still be restarted so you could pick up the pieces. All so you can proclaim yourself as king of the world. Like a lion taking immense pride in taking down a gazelle without legs, bragging about it like he did it single-handedly. My, what a well earned victory that must have been in your mind, with the hand outs and defeat just seconds prior completely swept under the rug and out of sight. The Cameron Ella Ava argument has just been digging yourself into a deeper hole to the point where you are now just kicking away at the center of the earth. The fact I have to point this one out to you only shows how little you take the double standard into consideration before opening your mouth. One of the only useful claims you have made over the past few days has been that there is a vast difference between facing someone in a straight up one on one match and facing said person in a tag team match. That is one of your only claims that I can actually agree to, and never have I once said it was a wrong one. But you can’t use this logic to say that our tag team encounters don’t expose a clear one-sided difference between us and then use it for a bragging right as you have involving Cameron. You did beat her, again congratulations are in order, but you have disqualified yourself from using that as a measure of a difference between you and I. You can’t use this logic and use the results of the Tag Team Grand Prix to try and swing that perspective into your favor. And you can’t swing the perspective into your favor when it came to our separate singles encounters with her either. My match with her, as is plain to see, ended in disqualification after both Heart Break Gal and Ironico got involved. So a match where the result occurred outside of the control of either of the participants doesn’t even remotely draw a comparison to a match that saw an actual finish. So this whole Cameron ordeal that you are so obsessed with; that has been laid to rest. You can move on now knowing it is nothing to gauge superiority in for you anymore. You are making all the smallest of points, and getting them horribly wrong.

From the very beginning, you have been getting even the most obscure details wrong. And in a cruel twist of irony, you were the one who brought those points up to begin with, only for them to eventually blow up in your face. If you didn’t, perhaps you wouldn’t be looking like such a jackass. You can bring up my history in tag teams, label them as failures, but when valid points are applied to opposing side of the claim you go in guns blazing on the defensive. And for someone who once again used the tag team comparison to singles match double standard to try and draw a point of superiority from it, only to find an empty well. This persistence on the existence of weak links in tag teams really says a lot. Because you seem to fail in grasping the concept of what a team is at its very core; a collaborative effort. A tag team isn’t only as strong as it’s weakest member, it’s as strong as the collective effort both parties put into the fight. When Ironico and I were facing Cameron and Heart Break Gal, that wasn’t a display of Ironico being a weak link, that was a display that We Are The Bollocks on that night were the weaker team. I never even tried to hide that fact. Ironico and I gave it our all and we both lost. That is the end of it, no weak link in existence. Hell, you know I faced Ironico before, I spoon fed you that factoid myself, and both times we faced I was able to get the victory over him. One of them was as recent as two weeks before said Tag Team Grand Prix finals, and he gave me his all and I gave him mine. He gave me a run for my money regardless of what the result was, only cementing that We Are The Bollocks are a team that have members of equal strength when the going gets tough. When it came to the Knights of the Dawning yes, I found it frustrating that people had me written off as a weak link in the team, but you mistake the reason as to why it was so frustrating in the first place. You see, most people who suggest there are weak links in teams are either people who are ignorant to the fact because they were never a part of a team to compare the experience, or they were people who saw themselves as the weak link of their own tag team endeavors and project it onto other teams thinking it must apply to all of them. If that is the case, tell me who the weak link in The High Rollerz is? A team that is only as good as their collective effort, not the individual. So if the existence of a weak link exists, it’s defined as someone who can’t pull their own weight. Seeing as you admit to hardly trying in these team adventures, that can only explain one thing and one thing only. The weak link wasn’t the person who was trying to carry the weight of both teams, it was the person that was hardly trying to win the matches in the first place, the person essentially laying on their back and waving their white flag. Meaning the weak link in the People with Class, the team of yourself and Solomon Caine and hell, let's go as far as to say the whole of Sanatorium are not the people you tried to throw under the bus. The Weak link was always Jon McAdams. I can happily sit, observing your every action and every word you speak and point out where your superiority complex rears its ugly head as it peaks at it’s most prominent when you try to project your beliefs onto others, specifically onto me. What drove me to find success was not to prove to anyone that I was better than Kelly Hackenschmidt, it was to prove that this idea of a weak link in a team that got along and worked together was nonexistent. There were never any coattails to ride. Trying to prove that you weren’t a weak link in your past alliances only prove that what drives you is the idea that you have to better than them. The textbook definition of a superiority complex.

I am going to play Content Cop with you for a moment, McAdams, because the next part is the point where you basically admitted you knew very little about the subject you tried to shoot me down with. I speak of course about my time on NEO. You know when someone is backed up so far against the wall that they start firing off nonsensical insults in order to try and defend themselves? That is essentially what is going on here. Because instead of presenting a valid counter argument, he is simply telling me I am repeating myself and not finding a creative way to counter his previous points; all of which were bullshit to begin with and yes in fact debunked them. Believe it or not, Jon, that is how a story works. There isn’t constant twists and turns every time the story is told. Dragons and wizards don’t just miraculously get thrown into the equation the second time around. I gave you a start, a middle and an end to the story of my NEO tenure and you simply failed to grasp the concept. I have to be repetitive if the person who is meant to be listening is zoning out in his ignorant bliss, only to continue to fire the same bullshit counter arguments back in response. And that’s when you start playing defensive and swinging for the fences. Instead of bringing any actual counter arguments you instead go into a full hissy fit and fire off weak insults in hopes that it’ll get me to back off after telling you that you’re wrong. “Oh fuck off.” “It’s fucking embarrassing.” “You’re literally saying the same shit.” The sweet universal sounds of an argument being lost. When “shut the fuck up and stop responding” escapes your lips in a battle of words, you’re waving the white flag. Couldn’t disguise it behind those palm cards, I’m afraid. You went from having a level head, keeping your cool and actually trying to have a point to your argument, to completely throwing it out the window in hopes that the insults would get the desired effect. A nerve was struck, and it didn’t take much to do so. What you’ve essentially done is challenge me to a game of Russian Roulette, Jon. Every time the gun has been pointed to my head and the trigger was pulled, nothing came out, I still stand completely intact. But the realization has kicked in, that all the empty chambers have now been exercised. There’s only one chamber left, and it is your turn to pull the trigger against your temple. And now you are giving excuses that you have to still pull the trigger despite the inevitable result. There is no shame in curtsying, tucking your tail between your legs and just admitting that you fucked up by challenging me to a game that didn’t work out in your favor. Metaphorical perhaps, but hopefully it is simple enough for you to understand. You have challenged me to a game you couldn’t win, predictably lost, and instead of going out with a sense of dignity decided to throw the gun down and call foul. Moral of the story; don’t make points out of facts you don’t know.

“You have never faced anyone like me and you may never fight anyone like me again.” Funny, McQueen said the exact same thing about 8 matches in out of the 11 we had. Seeing as I have already drawn the similarities the two of you share already, safe to say that point is now mute. You then go on to say that I compare myself to Ryan Marx and Amadeus, finding it laughable. Congratulations, you won the argument I never made. Never compared myself to either of the aforementioned, and you are foolish in thinking that I did. Those two are just examples of where your pattern to win important matches theory got discredited. When championships have been on the line, Jon McAdams has landed flat on his face every time over the course of this year. Once again you resort to putting words in my mouth, proclaiming that I think the championship makes the man behind it. For someone who has been as consistently wrong as you have been, for the first time I am actually insulted by how stupid you think me to be. First point in your favor. No, i very much believe in the opposite, that the man makes the championship that he is wearing. The journey it took to get there, the morals he stands by while defending it, the lengths he is willing to take it to outside of the threshold it is believed to be stationed. Despite all the evidence that proves otherwise, you still chalk me up as a failing champion. I have compared my current run as the New Breed Champion to your run as the Hardcore Champion quite some time ago, and your sole point of credit that you believe you deserve is the fact that the one defense you made as champion was against Drastik. Now, that is quite the feat on paper, Hall of Famer and multiple time World Champion, by all means you should feel proud of yourself, a feather in your cap. But there is an asterisk. An asterisk that you’ve swept under the rug, but unlike you, I follow through with my research for the facts, not superstition. How did you defend your title against Drastik, Jon? How were you able to pull a fast one over Drastik? By your own might? By your own in ring ability? Oh, wait. It was none of those things. You defended the title against Drastik in the one way you’d never admit; with the help of someone else. A man you deemed a weak link too, Mike Showman as he slid you a pair of brass knuckles. And I remember you saying you were always the better of the People With Class. Tisk tisk, Jon McAdams. If it weren’t for Showman that little feather in your cap wouldn’t even exist. See, you can mock my defenses all you like. Even when you won the title from him in the first place you needed the help of others. Oh, I struck gold learning this tidbit. You defeated Drastik for the Hardcore Championship after paying of Carson Ramsay to attack him and do your job for you. It seems everything you have ever done you have needed the help of others, and my god is it rich to hear you bragging about all this despite all your proclamations now. Jon McAdams, he who has always needed help to succeed in an Elite Answers Wrestling ring. Tell me how weak my opponents were, tell me how it was inevitable that I would walk out the victor against them. The one thing I can say that you most certainly can not, is that I didn’t need help to defend my championship. What is worse, is that you’re pulling out whatever you can to try and label them as fact. “You brought it down by competing and not defending and that is fact.” This one can be proven as fiction with even the most simple of insights, a google search away, yet that seems to be too hard of a task for you to do. The title has been defended twice in the nearing seventy days that I have held it. One on September 20th, a mere four days after winning it, and the other on October 8th, the week after the tag team match where I pinned you. Small asterisk there for you. “The New Breed Championship did not get it’s own spot on the card at the second biggest show of the year. Fact.” Now this one has already been discussed, and already I had told you that it didn’t need to be defended on the show to hold some kind of importance. Being in the Tag Team Grand Prix finals with the belt around my waist was enough to continue with a philosophy that I believe when it comes to this championship. And it is a philosophy that is also shared by the inarguably greatest New Breed Champion to date in Jamie O’Hara. I’ll even give you a refresher, straight from the horse's mouth.

Jamie O'Hara (from Voltage 19/11/2017) wrote:

It was never about the days I held the New Breed Championship, Finn. It was never how many people I defeated. It was never the quality of matches I carried my opponents to. My legacy as New Breed Champion is what I done to the value of it; I took it from something that nobody ever truly cared about and I made it mean something. I defended it five times. In 240 days, only five men faced me and no, I didn’t sit on my hands doing nothing, instead I competed for the EAW Championship inside the Elimination Chamber. Instead I was desperately fighting to represent Voltage at King of Elite. I showed the world that being New Breed Champion was no barrier to competing against the best, it was no restriction at all.

Simply defending the title doesn’t increase its value alone, I could kick around tomato cans and make a hundred defenses of the championship while doing it, it doesn’t make it anymore valuable. What makes it valuable is broadening its horizon past it’s simple name value, carrying it into battles with some of the top stars in the industry. At Road to Redemption, I did that. And I didn’t even need to win. Ask Jamie, didn’t win the King of Elite or the EAW Championship Chamber previously mentioned, still regarded as the man who brought the title to it’s most prominent. You have such a short ranged vision. “You chose instead to compete in the Tag Team Grand Prix. Fact.” Let us put a pin in this one, as proving this one right now would take away from the fun of a point a little later down the line that just outs you as a liar. “In choosing to compete in the tag team grand prix you have effectively made that a priority over defending your New Breed title. Fact.” Two things wrong with this. First being the assumption that it was a choice of mine not to defend the New Breed Championship at Road to Redemption. Hell, if Kenny Drake said “Hey, you’re defending the New Breed Championship at Road to Redemption”, you’d be hearing no arguement from me. If HBG could be double booked for the event, safe to say I could to. And the second, putting the first point into consideration, and I am pulling out the pin I mentioned earlier, I then get to here this knee-slapper right here.

“Because after talking with Kenny Drake, I know for a fact that if you hadn’t chosen to compete and lose the Tag Team Grand Prix you would have fought me, and I’d be holding your belt and this week I’d be beating the shit out of you and dropping you into an electrical fire as a title defense.”

Where to begin? It’s a crock of shit first and foremost. Because no, you wouldn’t have been facing me for the New Breed Championship at Road to Redemption, and such a conversation couldn’t have and wouldn’t have taken place. The semi-finals for the Tag Team Grand Prix was held on September 15th. Ground Zero, the day I won the New Breed Championship, was literally the next day, September 16th. It is literally impossible for Kenny Drake to have made you such a promise, or even lie about it. He has no control over the affair, the Tag Team Grand Prix finals traditionally happen at Road to Redemption. That is why he made a championship match for two weeks prior against El Ironico. If he held you to such a high regard, and made a promise such as that, you should have gotten that shot instead of Ironico. But you didn’t. You were left off Road to Redemption for one reason only; you didn’t qualify for anything else, lost in the shuffle. See, I might not be a character decorated in bells and whistles, but at least I am a man with his facts straight and doesn’t have to lie to himself. Wish I could say the same for you. I really do.

This is where I would usually close out, or at least this is where I was originally planning to. But as I was sitting for Thanksgiving dinner with all the people in the EAW locker room that has brought me almost a year of joy and fond memories, I felt from the depths of my pocket my phone vibrate. And originally, it didn’t even cross my mind to put down my fork. It actually didn’t cross my mind again until after I had helped do my fair share in washing the dishes and headed to my hotel room. When I had already threw myself onto the bed, I took my phone out and instead of seeing some obnoxious post on the feed like I was expecting, I received a little video message from one Jon McAdams. I guess you were feeling a little antsy to try and exchange some more words, seeing as you more than likely had more time on your hands as you probably have your meals prepared for you, I really shouldn’t have been surprised. Still, despite my better judgement I thought at the very least you could continue to amuse me with weak claims and fabrications. Instead I was met with the disappointing talk of financial nonsense. And it drowned on and on until eventually my eyes got heavy, and if it weren’t for a phone call seconds later I probably would of dozed off. People dream of having a lot of money, and for the life of me I can’t see why. It makes you such a dull person to listen to. Nonetheless, I got through the whole thing despite how tedious it was to listen to your verbal flashing of cash and my response is probably just as boring as a result. I don’t care. At least as far as your money is concerned. I don’t care what hospitals you are donating your money to, or for what agenda fueled reason there is behind it, that hospital is still getting the money it needs. Good for you. I don’t think it makes you at all any less shit of a person, but good for you nonetheless. If you sell a shirt or two out of it, far be it from me to say otherwise. I also don’t care how much money you threw into your training. Money at the end of the day doesn’t buy talent, or magical wrestling boots that guarantee victory. Put us side to side, and the gap in wrestling ability isn’t that vast. In whose favor is up to debate. Perfectly fine with the trainers I had and the grueling regimens they put me through to only better my abilities. I find it such a boring subject to talk about, getting flashbacks to my very first match with Augustin Gates, a man of similar character and wealth. Guess you are not completely one of a kind. Nonetheless, I care not for your money. And I care even less for this foolish attempt at a job offer. I don’t hold your intelligence all that high after all the other garbage I had to listen to you drone on about over the past few days, but I think hearing this desperate attempt to try and make the result of this Blackout match seem iminate to be where your brain cells decided to just call it quits. I don’t know if it was a serious offer or not, but regardless I wouldn’t take any job offer you extend to me regardless of the income figure. You seem to think I hold professional wrestling as a mere occupation, something I do to put food on the table and nothing more. Believe it or not, I never really liked the idea of working behind a corporate desk, taking phone calls or even serving as security. Trust me, the temptation to just punch you in the face myself should automatically disqualify me as a potential bodyguard. No, I am a professional wrestler because it is my passion, the dream that I had been chasing since I was but a child. It was never an artificial thought that was put in my head simply because my family were very much interested, I joined for my own reasons and I continue to wrestle because of them. So I am going to have to give you a hard pass on that ludicrous job offer. You are an idiot if you believe I would even entertain the thought.

My asked me to look into the mirror, and tell you what I see about myself that is different than anyone else. What I see about myself that should govern why I should move up further in the ranks when I am just like everyone else that steps foot in this company. And the answer is very simple -- I am like no one else. There has only ever been one Finnegan Wakefield to step into this company, and he is slowly but surely raising through the ranks and taking it by storm. McAdams, what you fail to realize is that people like you will come and go. People who overcompensate for their garbage personalities by flashing money and lying behind their teeth. People whose arrogance cause them to lose sight of how difficult of an opponent truly stands in front of them. People who will proclaim victory until they are knocked on their ass in defeat. But people like me are a much rarer breed, people who work for everything they get, persevere through the harshest of critics and the hardest of battles, people who will never compromise regardless of the situation. I refuse to let this New Breed Championship fall into the greedy hands of someone as unworthy as yourself. I refuse to let you undo all the forward momentum this championship has been on by allowing you to take this championship from me. I don’t fear the hazards that come from this stipulation, or the risks that I will have to take to walk out on my own two feet and I especially don’t fear the man that stands in my way to continue my upward journey. This is a dog eat dog company and I am prey to no one. Jon McAdams, you’d be foolish in thinking that I am fighting an uphill battle. Because you think this to be easy, think it a sure thing that you can beat me because we are not in the confines of traditional pro-wrestling rules. Your arrogance will come back to be your downfall into the thousands of volts that spell your demise. Your hyperbole laid to rest once and for all as you are left as a charred shell of who you claimed to be. This championship is in the most trustworthy hands it has seen in quite a long period of time, and to take it from me you must have a stronger resolve, a stronger will and a stronger vision for the future of the New Breed namesake. And you don’t fit the bill, McAdams. All the money in the world can’t change that. The sparks that fly in the aftermath will be the backdrop as I raise this championship over my head and over your broken body. "