Title IX Versus Title Number 9
Mar 13, 2015 4:10:19 GMT -5
Chelsea Armstrong and Joey Flash like this
Post by Jayson Price on Mar 13, 2015 4:10:19 GMT -5
March 13th, 2015
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
The scene fades in on the inside of the former ECW Arena in Philadelphia, specifically on a clock hanging on the wall. It's showing just past 4:00 and judging by the darkness outside the window it's safe to say that it's not the afternoon. Despite the late hour, the inside of the building is full of energy and movement as a crew is getting the last minute equipment ready for XIII later tonight. Well, it's not so much a crew as it is a bunch of former WCF wrestlers and jobbers looking for some income. Even former Television Champion Aaron Miles, still in his wheelchair and talking like Stephen Hawking, can be seen although why he bothered to show up is a mystery to everyone. The camera continues to move around until it comes to the ring, where the posts are being set up and the ropes installed. Sitting in the middle of the ring on a folding chair, his eyes following every bit of the movement around him, is the man hosting tonight's XIII, Jayson Price. Price watches as the ropes are put up and then gets up out of his chair. He pulls on each of them and then bounces off of them before heading back to his chair.
Jayson Price: "Too loose."
Worker: "But-"
Jayson Price: "I said too loose. Now fix it."
The worker hops back up onto the apron and sets to tightening the ropes as Price takes his seat again and pulls a bottle of water out from under the chair. Yeah, that's right, water. Not vodka disguised in a water bottle, but actual H20. That's how you know he means business today. Price continues to watch the workers when we see Cameraman Bob enter the scene, his eye still a little puffy from the whole time machine fiasco.
Cameraman Bob: "Fuck, I didn't think I'd see you here this early. Never would have imagined you even knew that there was a 4AM."
Jayson Price: "Ha."
Cameraman Bob: "Stu was right, you are a downer when you're sober. And you look like shit. Have you even slept?"
Jayson Price: "I'll sleep when I'm dead. Besides, I've got to make sure these asshats here set things up right."
Cameraman Bob: "Okay, but what use are you to anyone if you fall asleep mid-match?"
Jayson Price: "You just let me worry about my match, okay Mr. Cameraman?"
Cameraman Bob: "Yeah, sure. Well how's the show coming along?"
Jayson Price: "Decent, I guess. Most everyone got in last night, only a few people I've yet to hear from. But hey, anyone that decides to now show is going to end up paying for it."
Cameraman Bob: "Burning hammers?"
Jayson Price: "What? No, the fuck are you talking about? They won't get paid. Where the hell did you get the burning hammers idea?"
Cameraman Bob: "Uh, the internet. But anyway, what are you going to do about the supposed FCC presence that's showing up. I hear they're pretty pissed off about what you've booked."
Jayson Price: "Oh fuck the FCC. I've been battling those dicks for years over the stuff I say during interviews on Slam and at PPV's. They keep trying to censor me and I just keep telling them different ways that they can shove it up their asses."
Cameraman Bob: "Yeah, but the protest."
Jayson Price: "Protest? Fuck a protest. Let them stand outside in the parking lot and do all of their little chants and hold up their little signs. I'll be too busy in here making sure the night goes smoothly."
Cameraman Bob: "And you're not worried about them influencing any of the fans?"
Jayson Price: "Influencing the fans? Bob, this is Philadelphia. If anything, the FCC guys out there are going to need to worry about the fans knocking them on their asses. Trust me, my people have my back."
Cameraman Bob: "Well you're people out there may have you back, but what about the people that are going to be in here? Your issues with Seth Lerch, this whole 'New Pantheon Drama', all of it must be distracting."
Jayson Price: "It's plenty annoying, sure. But my plan for Seth is to just let him get killed in the Nightmare Chamber so he can't interfere in my match. As for the Pantheon fiasco, that'll just sort itself out later."
Cameraman Bob: "Sort itself out? Really?"
Jayson Price: "Yep."
There's a loud crash of glass suddenly as Aaron Miles backs into a light stand and knocks it over.
Aaron Miles: "SO-RR-Y."
Jayson Price: "God damn it Miles. Will you quit backing up in that chair of yours? You're just making it worse. Bob, go clean that up."
Cameraman Bob: "Me? Why the hell do I have to clean up after the retard?"
Jayson Price: "Because there's a twenty in it for you."
Cameraman Bob: "Twenty bucks?"
Jayson Price: "No, I was kidding. But seriously, go clean that up."
Bob looks at Price for a long moment before sighing and going to clean up the glass. Price shakes his head and then grabs his water bottle before getting to his feet and checking the ropes again. Now to his liking, Price leaves the ring and heads for the exit to get some air. Outside it's pretty brisk, maybe in the high 30's. There's a streetlight nearby that's illuminating the parking lot where a crew is trying to set up the Nightmare Chamber. Price watches with some interest before turning and walking away, lighting a cigarette along the way. He starts to take a drag when he spots a barricade set up.
Jayson Price: "The fuck?"
Price checks the sign attatched. 'FCC Protest Area'.
Jayson Price: "Well now this is just too fucking close."
Price picks up the barricade and carries it a few hundred feet away before setting it down.
Jayson Price: "There, now they'll be far enough away from the doors. Don't need them heckling my fans and having the cops show up."
Price stops to take a drag.
Jayson Price: "The fuck am I saying, they'll probably be here anyway."
There's another loud crash from inside the building as Price shakes his head. It's obvious that he's getting unnerved by the stress of the show but he's not letting it out. Suddenly the door is thrust open and Aaron Miles comes rolling out, obviously pushed by someone. Price quickly ducks into the shadows and waits for Miles to disappear in the other direction before stepping back out into the light.
Jayson Price: "I do not got time for that shit."
Price takes the final drag from his smoke and then flicks it to the side before heading back toward the door. There's a loud commotion as Price nears the door and he shakes his head. He steps inside and wipes his feet as he watches two of the workers arguing over something trivial.
Jayson Price: "Both of you shut the fuck up or I'll bring Switchfever over."
The workers get back to work as Price heads toward the ring. A cameraman documenting all of this isn't watching and walks right into Price.
Cameraman: "Sorry!"
Jayson Price: "Watch where you're...where the fuck is my chair?"
Cameraman: "Chair? What chair?"
Jayson Price: "The chair that was sitting in the ring. I brought it so I'd have someplace to sit since the rest of them won't be here until morning."
Cameraman: "Uh...I don't know"
Price's face turns a light shade of red.
Cameraman: "Whoa! Hey, man, relax. It's just a chair."
Price finally lets loose, the stress having gotten to him. He grabs the camera from the cameraman and shoves him to the side.
Jayson Price: "You know what, you're right. I do need to relax. And I know just how to do it."
Price walks off with the camera, staring into the lens.
Jayson Price: "Yeah, I know just how to relax. I just need to do what it is that I do best."
Cameraman Bob appears back in the scene and offers to hold the camera for Price. Price however waves him off and continues to walk and shoot.
Jayson Price: "And what I do best, well I suppose I should say second best seeing as how I'm best at winning titles, but what I do better than anyone else is call out my opponents for their weaknesses. What can I say, something about verbally eviscerating some chump just makes me all calm and warm and just gooey inside. And this time, well fuck let me just say I'm feeling extra in need of that good, calm feeling and that's not going to translate to good things for my opponent, Chelsea Armstrong. Now then, Chelsea, you, and most likely the rest of the world, are probably wondering why I made our match as horrific as it is. I'm sure it came as no surprise to anyone that I put myself in a Cruiserweight Title Match against you, not after the way that our last match ended. Oh no, the minute Corey Black handed me the keys to XIII, the first thing I envisioned for myself was to get a shot at the Cruiserweight Title and right that wrong. Seth Lerch be damned, I will not be denied a title belt that I want. But to make it a Taipei Cage Of Death Match, I'm sure nobody saw that one coming. A Taipei Deathmatch, fuck that's brutal enough. Two wrestlers trying to survive as they swing glass covered fists at each other, knowing any little move or even a gentle tap could get them cut open, hell the only thing more brutal would be to have us both barefoot on a mat made of barbwire. But adding a cage, oh yes, that's where I cranked up the "Holy Fuck, This Is Crazy" meter to an 11. Why do it? Because I want to make sure nobody fucks this up for me. I don't want Seth Lerch coming down to the ring with a steel chair and pull a fucking cliche. I don't need Rage trying to get relevant once again and doing Seth's bidding. And I don't know what Gravedigger is capable of since he decided to park his ancient ass behind the announce table, but since seemingly everyone that was originally involved in the attacks on Shannan Lerch that killed my kid are showing their faces more and more while talking about how much they hate me, I'm not taking a single chance on my title match getting fucked up. So we're taking what was already guaranteed to be one of the most brutal, bloodiest fucking matches in the history of WCF, and we're putting inside of 4, 15 foot high steel cage walls and locking the fucking door because nobody is getting in or out until the bell sounds and my hand is raised as the winner. But let's backtrack a bit. I told you why I put our match inside of the cage, but you're probably still wondering why I decided to make it a Taipei Deathmatch.
It's because I think you're weak, Chelsea. I think you're a fragile, delicate little flower that needs to be handled with care. And no, I don't say that because you're a woman. I say it because you simply do not have that killer instinct. You don't have that hard, tough shell. You're soft. You're sympathetic. You're...well hell, you're a woman. But the fact that you have a pair of tits and a vagina has nothing to do with it. Your mind is that of a woman. It's caring and nurturing and motherly and all kinds of other sweet shit. And it may not be front and center, but it's there, buried under all the dreams of being one of the guys and the false hopes of being more than just a pretty face and being taken seriously in the wrestling world. And why does that matter?
Because Corey Black apparently thinks that you, Chelsea Armstrong, are good enough to be in Pantheon. And you know, I think I finally understand why it was that Corey Black called me up back at the end of February and said that I could be in charge of XIII. It was because he was in the process of rebuilding Pantheon and he already had you and the Pack in mind. You see, I, if you can believe it, wasn't in on that little nugget of information. Corey and I had talks about the new Pantheon, some names were brought up and tossed around. Scarecrow was the first one we agreed on and that's why at Slam you saw me applauding that choice. But we just couldn't seem to agree on anyone else, you see. So days go by, we take a break from trying to plan out the rest of the stable to recharge the ole batteries, and then I get that phone call. 'Hey, Price, XIII is coming up in March and I know you've talked a ton of shit about how the last one got censored by the Government because I fucked things up.' And that's true by the way, I do blame Black for that fiasco. But no, he calls me up and offers me the chance. Of course I took it, I've already got a tower with my god damn name on the side of it, why wouldn't I want a PPV that starts with 'Jayson Price Presents...'. But I didn't question why Black gave me the show to run. I really didn't care to tell you the truth, no, I was too busy planning things out.
And then came Slam. There I am, standing in the ring with Corey Black and Scarecrow, everybody happy and shaking hands as he's being welcomed into the family. And then your music hit. Out comes you, Alex and Jay Omega, and I'm thinking that Corey and our new amigo are going to have to throw down with the fucking Legion Of Superpets . You get it? Because Pantheon is Earth's Mightiest Stable like the Avengers, which would make The Pack...ah fuck it, you aren't clever enough to understand what I'm doing here. But down the ramp you come, looking all high and mighty like you just learned from Adam Young how to give your untalented selves a pep talk, and there I am thinking it's time to start dropping some fools with Downfalls and Pricebusters. And then...joy? Corey Black and Scarecrow high fiving and fist bumping you 3 like you're all the best of friends and I'm off to the side wondering just what the fuck happened. And then it dawned on me. I finally understood why, after 5 years, Corey Black was really cool with me being in charge of XIII. It wasn't about me ragging on him, I'd done that for years. No, Corey Black wanted me to be in charge of XIII because he knew I'd be too busy trying to put together a fucking amazing show to worry about rebuilding Pantheon. As far as I knew we had Scarecrow's name on the board followed by blank space that we were going to come back to later. But no, there was Corey Black, apparently on the phone with you three not even a day after he said I could run XIII, writing down all three of your names and presumably jerking off because he felt he'd done something grand.
So I bailed on the five of you at Slam. Left the ring and just walked off, trying to contemplate the situation when I hear Black telling you all that I'll come around to the idea. Come around? Come around to what exactly? Come around to the idea that I got played by Corey Black so that he could bring in the best scraps left at the bottom of the barrel labeled "Failed Stables"? There was a reason why the Pack failed and no, it wasn't because Pantheon ran it into the ground. Yes, Pantheon exists for many reasons, one being to keep super stables from popping up and causing shit. But The Pack was never a threat to us, we knew it would never last. At your best, The Pack was a slightly better Rebellion. And to say slightly better is honestly not that big of a compliment, much like if I were to say that Adam Young is less annoying than Lilith. There's a reason why Pantheon has existed since 2012 and will continue on for years and years, and you, along with everyone else in WCF, whether past, present or the people in the future that will go back and watch this, need to understand why. It's not because we've had multiple incarnations to keep it going. It's because we, unlike all the other doomed stables, have had the one thing no other stable has ever had. Standards. We never let just anyone in, we sat down and we discussed it in detail. We looked over everything the person had done and weighed it against their potential to do more in the future. Jonny Fly, Polar Phantasm, Jeff Purse, Steve Orbit, Johnny Reb, Brad Kane, Corey Black and myself. That's 6 World Champion, two Hall Of Famers in Black and Kane, two honest to god future Hall Of Famers in Fly and myself, two guys that will get there eventually in Orbit and Purse and Polar Phantasm, the only person to ever get into Pantheon without a World Title on his resume but you find me one person who says he couldn't have gotten one if he wasn't so damn into trying to film movies and shit. Hell, who's the wink link out of those 8 names? Reb? Yeah, he's fallen off a bit, but Johnny Reb won a World Title and that's only something a handful of the hundreds of people to ever lace up a pair of boots for WCF can say. Polar? Sure, he went off the deep end and disappeared before he could really take off, but I remember his time here and I remember the fear people had when they saw him coming for them. I'll admit it, I was glad he was on my side. I don't fear men, but I respect the fuck out of competitors like Phantasm and he could go with the best of them any day of the week.
And that just brings me back to you, Chelsea. You and the Pack. Corey, he sees something in you three apparently. I don't see it, that's pretty obvious. Pantheon has always had standards when it came to the members. Not standards about behavior or anything of that sort, hell we've been known to do some things not exactly acceptable on network TV, but standards in terms of who that person is and what they bring to the table. Who are you Chelsea? Who are you really? Are you really the tough as nails, doesn't take shit from anyone, wants to constantly fight with the big boys badass chick? Or are you really just ICE Beckman's arm candy, dreaming about your special day with him as you wear a pretty white dress and stand surrounded by flowers? And you know, it really speaks volumes that you'd be hanging off the arm of ICE and at the same time accepting an invite into Pantheon. Hell, the former World Champion coming off one of the greatest reigns in recent history and the most dominant stable to ever exist, boy Chelsea, surrounding yourself with all that talent will really mask the fact that the little bit that you've done amounts to jack shit.
And I know that you and so many others will say, 'But Jayson, Chelsea beat you'. And you did Chelsea, bravo. You bested me in a three way match along with Corey Black to win the WCF Cruiserweight Title that we're going to be battling for at XIII. But Chelsea, as grand a victory for you as that was, to win that title and knock off both Black and I, that match is something I like to call a throwaway. You see, not winning the title that night did sting, but the actual loss in the match didn't hurt. You know, hey, chalk up a mark in the loss column. I've got quite a few, but you know what, I've got a hell of a lot more in the other column. And losing a Cruiserweight Title Match, which may seem like a big deal to people like you, Chelsea, or to those digging their feet in the dirt at the bottom of the company and only dreaming of getting into a title match, any title match, just isn't that big of a blow to me. I have held 8 different title belts, 4 of which I own the record for the longest reign. There are only 2 men in this company that have more reigns as champion that I have, and that's Corey Black and Logan who have been here 10 years longer than I have. Just take a moment to let that process. I'm two title reigns behind Corey Black and Logan, and I've been in WCF for a 3rd of the time that they have. In 5 years I have carved a legacy for myself, I earned the moniker "Mr. Every Title" because I literally won every title WCF had to offer until Seth Lerch decided to resurrect a since forgotten Cruiserweight Title just to take it away from me. There are guys like Torture, a Hall Of Famer, that pride themselves on having held a title for months and months and months. Like I said, I've done it 4 times: Television Title, People's Title, Internet Title and Elite Title. My name is all over the record books in every section that has to deal with title belts and PPV main events and anything else of any importance. And again, I've done it all in 5 years, a fraction of the time it took the few, and God do I mean few, men that I've yet to unseat. My name has already been carved into the marble that will be my bust in the Hall Of Fame, it's just waiting for me to retire to that it can become official. So yes, Chelsea, believe me when I tell you that the huge win that I'm sure you'll spend so much time referencing and trying to rub in my face as we approach the final minutes before our match is nothing that bothers me. No, Seth Lerch and Rage's actions post match, that bothered me. At most, that loss was an annoyance because it meant that I had to wait to reclaim my "Mr. Every Title" moniker as I hoisted title number 9 into the air.
But please, Chelsea, don't feel as though I'm telling you not to enjoy that win. Hell, I hope you're still dancing in celebration over that win. I hope you still go to bed at night staring into the gold face plate, running your fingers over your engraved name. Everyone deserves to feel the slightest bit of happiness, no matter how meaningless it is in reality, in this world we live in. And please, don't downplay how happy it makes you feel to be carrying around that gold. I mean, come on, for you it must be super special holding a belt that isn't the People's Title or Television Title. I mean, you're great when you're competing for those belts and defending them, but damn it must be really special knowing that after all your failed attempts to go beyond those two you could actually branch out. I mean, sure, you're still toiling away, just under the mid-card belts, but you're the Queen of the undercard! And I'm happy for you, I really am. I mean, somebody really needs to keep guys like Doc Henry and Adam Young and the faceless wave of washouts that show up every few weeks under control. I mean, not every new person can be a Joey Flash that actually succeeds and moves ahead of you, so we definitely need someone like you cracking the whip down there.
But back to where I was at before I started rambling about your already washed up even though it's still in progress career, who are you Chelsea? You know, I bring up ICE and the fact that you're hanging around him and then you accept Black's invitation to join Pantheon, and I mean I dig the whole 'I'm doing this behind my lover's back' thing. Nothing turns me on more than lying and deceit from a female honey. But does it really make sense for you to act like a strong, independent woman when you're constantly relying on men to keep you upright? You didn't even really break away from ICE, not from where I'm standing. So in reality, you're relying on 6 guys to hold you up so you don't get reduced to being on your own, alone and weak and with no way of surviving. And ICE is in cahoots with Seth to try and bring us down, so where is that going to leave you? Holy hell, if you're so needy that you need all of us, is having to choose going to bring you to tears every week? Is it going to turn into a daytime soap opera? 'Today on, As Pantheon Turns, will Chelsea finally choose?' I mean fuck, it's bad enough when a woman is trying to decide which shoes to wear, but this mess has the potential to turn into a fucking headache that I want no part of.
And maybe at this point it seems like all of my arguments against you in Pantheon, or at least a rather large chunk of them, are based off the fact that you're a woman. And I'm sure somewhere, maybe even in Chicago where a flat chested, shrill voiced blonde woman is bickering with her awesome neighbor while he makes chicken noises at her, there's an angry group of women that already have their pens out and are writing letters as we speak. But Chelsea, my issue doesn't lie with the fact that you are a woman. Does it play a part? I can't say no, I'm sure my brain is subconsciously making it so, so let's say maybe 2% of it's because you're a woman. But the other 98%, the real bulk of the problem, rests on the simple fact that I say you are not worthy of being known as a Pantheon member. We're not a boys only club, we've just never had a woman in WCF good enough to be part of our group. And to be honest, in my opinion, there still isn't one. When the day comes that a female wrestler shows up in WCF and is worthy, I'll welcome her. Hell, I'll bow to her and take her hand as I welcome her into her first Pantheon Team Meeting. But you are not her, Chelsea. You are not worthy of being in Pantheon, nor will you ever be. You simply haven't done enough and you don't have the potential or the talent to ever do enough. Why Black has gone against our standards and deviated away from everything we've stood for, I don't know. Maybe with Fly gone the power's gone to his head. But you can be damn sure that if Fly was here, you wouldn't be. Fly knew talent, he could smell it from a mile away. The second your name would have come up for possible recruitment, he'd have said 'Pass' and I'd have nodded in agreement. But Black...well, like always Black is being Black. He did all of this behind my back as I played around with my XIII notes and ideas because he knew I'd have never stopped disagreeing with bringing you and the Pack in. Hell, we'd still be bickering about it today.
But you know, maybe I'm being just a bit too hard on you. I do have something good to say about you for a change. And that's that you, like Fly, have a good eye for talent. Props to you for bringing in Jay Omega to the Pack. I mean, why you'd want to stock the stable you're leading with a guy that most certainly was bound to leave you in his dust within a matter of weeks is a mystery to me, maybe you just liked the idea of being outshined. But no, Omega is the real deal. Him I won't argue with for being in Pantheon, much like Scarecrow. And Alex Richards, well I suppose he's part of the package deal and I'll just have to figure out a way to deal with that. But you? Package deal or not, I cannot get behind the idea of bringing you in. Sorry, just can't do it. And all the phone calls from Corey Black where he tries to tell me that I need to see his vision for a Pantheon of the Future, where the next generation of top talent is gathered together to fight the shitty stables of the world, aren't going to change my opinion. Oh, and do let Black know that I blocked his number until after XIII. I was really getting tired of his calls about changing the match because it's too much.
Which, hey, brings me back to the match itself. Funny how that worked out, huh? But this match is really going to serve two purposes. The first, of course, is the most obvious: Giving me my ninth title and retaking my "Mr. Every Title" moniker. Because honestly, there's nothing sweeter to me than giving Seth the finger as he once again fails at his plans. But the other purpose is to send a message. A message to you and a message to Corey Black. Now I know it's going to sound mean, and probably a little barbaric, but I really wanted to do this match as horrific as possible because things need to be exposed. Yeah, I know I said the cage was to keep certain people out, but it's also to keep you in. You see, Corey Black is going to be in the back and maybe he's going to try coming down at some point, but you are going nowhere. You'll be stuck in the cage, alone, with me and surrounded by 15 foot high cage walls with a door locked nice and tight. And it's going to be inside of that cage, where there's no strong man or stable holding you up, that you get exposed as being a needy, unable to be self sufficient, weak human being. Yeah, you'll have glass all over your tiny little hands as well, but pray tell how you plan on using them when you're too busy trying to breath as I dig my hands into the tender, soft flesh of your neck and try to play pin the tail on your jugular. ICE, Corey, The Pack, none of them are going to be coming in to save you sweetheart, I'm making sure of that. You've said from day one that you wanted nothing more than to wrestle with the big boys and be treated as an equal and Corey Black apparently thinks you're good enough for Pantheon, so I'm going to kill two myths with one stone and show you that you aren't my equal and that Black is as bad at judging talent as Seth Lerch is at reading the fine print of contracts. And yeah, I know, 'cute jokes, Price' is probably coming out of your lips as you listen to me, Chelsea, but we both know that inside of your head your brain is finally kicking into gear. You're realizing that, oh fuck, this really isn't going to be your night. All that confidence that you had should be quickly disappearing and all of your little hopes and dreams of walking away with the title still in your hands need to just be erased. Hell, your dreams of walking out period need to be erased. You're going to be locked inside of a cage with a man that's pissed off at being played by his friend and partner, pissed off at being screwed over repeatedly by the owner of the company, pissed off that he had to wait until a god damn XIII PPV that he was hosting to get a shot at the Cruiserweight Title despite being owed one and pissed off that...well just at everything.
And let me again just really stress the fact that I am fully aware that there is going to be a lot of people portraying me as a monster for what is going to happen at XIII. It's started already with the FCC nonsense, with me getting phone calls about pretty much every match. But they really seem to be loving the fact that a woman is going to be placed in such a violent environment. Now let me stress just how little of fucks I give about the FCC and everyone else that is in an uproar that I'd do such a terrible thing. Chelsea Armstrong wanted this. She wanted this the moment that she came into the WCF and said 'I'm hear to wrestle the men'. She wanted this the second that she answered my call for people to speak up and say that they wanted to wrestle at XIII. I didn't force Chelsea to say she'd wrestle at XIII, that was all on her. I just took it as a gift from God that she'd do it, apparently oblivious to the fact that she was holding the one belt I wanted and I had the absolute power to book her however I damn well saw fit. But no, Chelsea, standing tall and proud and wanting to honor the old hags that came up with the whole Title IX thing, said she wanted to wrestle with the men over and over and she's getting the same treatment as every other person, regardless of gender. I'm not a monster for putting her in this match, hell just think of me as an equal opportunity asshole that's following in the footsteps of Corey Black and keeping the XIII tradition of putting myself in a title match. No, if you want to call me a monster, wait until after the match is over. Wait for the camera to zoom in and give you a nice, long look at whatever is left of Chelsea, and then proceed to call me a monster. Because then I will have truly earned it. But don't expect me to give a fuck, call me whatever you want, I'll be too busy calling myself a champion as I wipe Chelsea's blood off the faceplate.
And let me stress something else. I know that Corey Black is not at all happy about this match. He obviously wanted Chelsea in Pantheon for a reason, why else give me control of XIII just to secretly recruit her. I mean fuck, XIII is his baby. So me putting her in this match with the very, very real possibility of her getting seriously fucked up, I know that's got him upset. But, truthfully, I don't give a fuck. Corey Black wants to try and play misdirection with me, distracting me with a shiny XIII so he can do his little backroom deals with Chelsea and The Pack, then I'll play a game of 'Fuck you, you gave me power and now I'm doing things my way'. It's a working title, relax. And that brings me to the third reason for this match. What, you thought I only had 2 reasons because I said I had 2? Well fuck you, just listen. The third reason for this match is probably the most petty, but for me it's going to be the most fun. Okay, maybe second most fun. I really, really want that belt, what can I say. But showing up Corey Black, exposing Chelsea as the weak, not ready for Pantheon, talentless hack she is, that's going to be magnificent. The icing on the cake though is going to be if he's at ringside and I get to hold her unconscious, bleeding profusely head up off the mat so that he can get a first hand look at the carnage. He, not me, is going to be the one responsible for what happens in that cage. Had he not done his secret, backroom dealing, maybe I wouldn't be so pissed off. And if he hadn't been doing it, I would never have gotten control of this XIII, thus meaning I never would have been able to book this match. So you see, Corey Black gave me all this power and then turned around and did something he knew I wouldn't be happy about. So ICE, don't blame me for destroying the pretty face of Chelsea Armstrong, blame Corey Black. Mr. FCC man, don't try to fine me for what happens on air during my match, fine Corey Black. And Corey Black, don't blame me for taking out one of your prized recruits inside of that cage, blame yourself for being a sneaky bastard who thought giving me power while angry was a good plan. Come on now, we've known each other for 5 years, you should really know better by now.
But I'm really getting off topic here, delving into the internal issues between Corey and I, when I'm not yet done with the real issue at hand. Chelsea, I don't hate you. It's not even that I don't like you. The problem here, besides the stuff with Black, is that I simply just don't respect you. Again, nothing to do with the fact that you're a woman, let's just once again hit that fact so some housewife that's drifted out of the kitchen and can hear this doesn't get all sandy vagina'd. I don't respect you because you haven't earned my respect and because you don't have what it takes to earn it. You're far from being the worst part of WCF, I mean you're somewhere in between and I can handle you being in the company far better than I can some people, but you don't belong on the same level as me. And being in Pantheon, that puts you on my level. Which is the issue that all of this is revolving around. You and I, we are not equals. We are equals in the same way that the sun and this dust ball on the floor in front of me are equals. And the fact that Corey Black or yourself have the audacity to think that you are in fact on my level, that just doesn't fly. It's like I'm the only one between Corey and I that is trying to save the lineage and the reputation of Pantheon, because he's opening up the door and letting in strays. And why you? Like I said, Omega and Scarecrow I agree on. Richards, I can learn to deal but I'm not sold entirely on him. But you, I feel as though I'll never be sold on you because you'll never amount to anything that I should bother to care about. What you were doing before Black brought you on, hanging on ICE's arm and playing the role of the sweetheart girlfriend, that's where you would have done your best work. A ring rat, clutching on to the real talent and sharing in the spotlight. And I wouldn't have had an issue with you staying with ICE and getting your fifteen minutes that way, but I will not stand for you trying to pull that shit with Pantheon.
So that leaves me to answer just one simple question, what now? What now Chelsea? What are you going to do knowing that in just over 12 hours you're going to be exposed as the latchkey, ring rat that's only in the spotlight because she finds ways to get in with the best talent and then left a bloody mess in the center of the ring? And what about you Corey Black? What now? You're not involved in the match itself but you played a part in it, oh yes you did. So what are you going to do, knowing that one of your blue chip prospects is not going to be able to walk out of XIII under her own power because of you? I don't know what's going on in those minds of yours, but I do know that this match is going to happen. Anyone wants to try getting involved, maybe try breaking in through the door, you're only get the one warning to stay out. After that, I don't care if you're Corey Black or Seth Lerch or the whole fucking FCC, I will put you down right beside Chelsea. I put together the best XIII in history and it is truly for everyone. But make no mistakes about it, Friday March 13th, 2015 will be my night and there is not a damn soul alive that is going to stop me."
Price lets the camera linger on his face to get the point across before giving a chuck through the air to the cameraman.
Jayson Price: "There, I feel much better now. Thanks kid."
Cameraman: "You're we-"
Price with a Downfall out of nowhere to the cameraman. He gets back up to his feet, dusting himself off as he shakes his head.
Jayson Price: "Don't ever fucking tell me to calm down."
The scene fades out to black as Price walks off, leaving the cameraman to lay on the ground as the workers continue to set up for XIII around him. The last thing we see is a shot of a banner reading "Jayson Price Presents...XIII!" being raised to the ceiling before the scene ends.
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
The scene fades in on the inside of the former ECW Arena in Philadelphia, specifically on a clock hanging on the wall. It's showing just past 4:00 and judging by the darkness outside the window it's safe to say that it's not the afternoon. Despite the late hour, the inside of the building is full of energy and movement as a crew is getting the last minute equipment ready for XIII later tonight. Well, it's not so much a crew as it is a bunch of former WCF wrestlers and jobbers looking for some income. Even former Television Champion Aaron Miles, still in his wheelchair and talking like Stephen Hawking, can be seen although why he bothered to show up is a mystery to everyone. The camera continues to move around until it comes to the ring, where the posts are being set up and the ropes installed. Sitting in the middle of the ring on a folding chair, his eyes following every bit of the movement around him, is the man hosting tonight's XIII, Jayson Price. Price watches as the ropes are put up and then gets up out of his chair. He pulls on each of them and then bounces off of them before heading back to his chair.
Jayson Price: "Too loose."
Worker: "But-"
Jayson Price: "I said too loose. Now fix it."
The worker hops back up onto the apron and sets to tightening the ropes as Price takes his seat again and pulls a bottle of water out from under the chair. Yeah, that's right, water. Not vodka disguised in a water bottle, but actual H20. That's how you know he means business today. Price continues to watch the workers when we see Cameraman Bob enter the scene, his eye still a little puffy from the whole time machine fiasco.
Cameraman Bob: "Fuck, I didn't think I'd see you here this early. Never would have imagined you even knew that there was a 4AM."
Jayson Price: "Ha."
Cameraman Bob: "Stu was right, you are a downer when you're sober. And you look like shit. Have you even slept?"
Jayson Price: "I'll sleep when I'm dead. Besides, I've got to make sure these asshats here set things up right."
Cameraman Bob: "Okay, but what use are you to anyone if you fall asleep mid-match?"
Jayson Price: "You just let me worry about my match, okay Mr. Cameraman?"
Cameraman Bob: "Yeah, sure. Well how's the show coming along?"
Jayson Price: "Decent, I guess. Most everyone got in last night, only a few people I've yet to hear from. But hey, anyone that decides to now show is going to end up paying for it."
Cameraman Bob: "Burning hammers?"
Jayson Price: "What? No, the fuck are you talking about? They won't get paid. Where the hell did you get the burning hammers idea?"
Cameraman Bob: "Uh, the internet. But anyway, what are you going to do about the supposed FCC presence that's showing up. I hear they're pretty pissed off about what you've booked."
Jayson Price: "Oh fuck the FCC. I've been battling those dicks for years over the stuff I say during interviews on Slam and at PPV's. They keep trying to censor me and I just keep telling them different ways that they can shove it up their asses."
Cameraman Bob: "Yeah, but the protest."
Jayson Price: "Protest? Fuck a protest. Let them stand outside in the parking lot and do all of their little chants and hold up their little signs. I'll be too busy in here making sure the night goes smoothly."
Cameraman Bob: "And you're not worried about them influencing any of the fans?"
Jayson Price: "Influencing the fans? Bob, this is Philadelphia. If anything, the FCC guys out there are going to need to worry about the fans knocking them on their asses. Trust me, my people have my back."
Cameraman Bob: "Well you're people out there may have you back, but what about the people that are going to be in here? Your issues with Seth Lerch, this whole 'New Pantheon Drama', all of it must be distracting."
Jayson Price: "It's plenty annoying, sure. But my plan for Seth is to just let him get killed in the Nightmare Chamber so he can't interfere in my match. As for the Pantheon fiasco, that'll just sort itself out later."
Cameraman Bob: "Sort itself out? Really?"
Jayson Price: "Yep."
There's a loud crash of glass suddenly as Aaron Miles backs into a light stand and knocks it over.
Aaron Miles: "SO-RR-Y."
Jayson Price: "God damn it Miles. Will you quit backing up in that chair of yours? You're just making it worse. Bob, go clean that up."
Cameraman Bob: "Me? Why the hell do I have to clean up after the retard?"
Jayson Price: "Because there's a twenty in it for you."
Cameraman Bob: "Twenty bucks?"
Jayson Price: "No, I was kidding. But seriously, go clean that up."
Bob looks at Price for a long moment before sighing and going to clean up the glass. Price shakes his head and then grabs his water bottle before getting to his feet and checking the ropes again. Now to his liking, Price leaves the ring and heads for the exit to get some air. Outside it's pretty brisk, maybe in the high 30's. There's a streetlight nearby that's illuminating the parking lot where a crew is trying to set up the Nightmare Chamber. Price watches with some interest before turning and walking away, lighting a cigarette along the way. He starts to take a drag when he spots a barricade set up.
Jayson Price: "The fuck?"
Price checks the sign attatched. 'FCC Protest Area'.
Jayson Price: "Well now this is just too fucking close."
Price picks up the barricade and carries it a few hundred feet away before setting it down.
Jayson Price: "There, now they'll be far enough away from the doors. Don't need them heckling my fans and having the cops show up."
Price stops to take a drag.
Jayson Price: "The fuck am I saying, they'll probably be here anyway."
There's another loud crash from inside the building as Price shakes his head. It's obvious that he's getting unnerved by the stress of the show but he's not letting it out. Suddenly the door is thrust open and Aaron Miles comes rolling out, obviously pushed by someone. Price quickly ducks into the shadows and waits for Miles to disappear in the other direction before stepping back out into the light.
Jayson Price: "I do not got time for that shit."
Price takes the final drag from his smoke and then flicks it to the side before heading back toward the door. There's a loud commotion as Price nears the door and he shakes his head. He steps inside and wipes his feet as he watches two of the workers arguing over something trivial.
Jayson Price: "Both of you shut the fuck up or I'll bring Switchfever over."
The workers get back to work as Price heads toward the ring. A cameraman documenting all of this isn't watching and walks right into Price.
Cameraman: "Sorry!"
Jayson Price: "Watch where you're...where the fuck is my chair?"
Cameraman: "Chair? What chair?"
Jayson Price: "The chair that was sitting in the ring. I brought it so I'd have someplace to sit since the rest of them won't be here until morning."
Cameraman: "Uh...I don't know"
Price's face turns a light shade of red.
Cameraman: "Whoa! Hey, man, relax. It's just a chair."
Price finally lets loose, the stress having gotten to him. He grabs the camera from the cameraman and shoves him to the side.
Jayson Price: "You know what, you're right. I do need to relax. And I know just how to do it."
Price walks off with the camera, staring into the lens.
Jayson Price: "Yeah, I know just how to relax. I just need to do what it is that I do best."
Cameraman Bob appears back in the scene and offers to hold the camera for Price. Price however waves him off and continues to walk and shoot.
Jayson Price: "And what I do best, well I suppose I should say second best seeing as how I'm best at winning titles, but what I do better than anyone else is call out my opponents for their weaknesses. What can I say, something about verbally eviscerating some chump just makes me all calm and warm and just gooey inside. And this time, well fuck let me just say I'm feeling extra in need of that good, calm feeling and that's not going to translate to good things for my opponent, Chelsea Armstrong. Now then, Chelsea, you, and most likely the rest of the world, are probably wondering why I made our match as horrific as it is. I'm sure it came as no surprise to anyone that I put myself in a Cruiserweight Title Match against you, not after the way that our last match ended. Oh no, the minute Corey Black handed me the keys to XIII, the first thing I envisioned for myself was to get a shot at the Cruiserweight Title and right that wrong. Seth Lerch be damned, I will not be denied a title belt that I want. But to make it a Taipei Cage Of Death Match, I'm sure nobody saw that one coming. A Taipei Deathmatch, fuck that's brutal enough. Two wrestlers trying to survive as they swing glass covered fists at each other, knowing any little move or even a gentle tap could get them cut open, hell the only thing more brutal would be to have us both barefoot on a mat made of barbwire. But adding a cage, oh yes, that's where I cranked up the "Holy Fuck, This Is Crazy" meter to an 11. Why do it? Because I want to make sure nobody fucks this up for me. I don't want Seth Lerch coming down to the ring with a steel chair and pull a fucking cliche. I don't need Rage trying to get relevant once again and doing Seth's bidding. And I don't know what Gravedigger is capable of since he decided to park his ancient ass behind the announce table, but since seemingly everyone that was originally involved in the attacks on Shannan Lerch that killed my kid are showing their faces more and more while talking about how much they hate me, I'm not taking a single chance on my title match getting fucked up. So we're taking what was already guaranteed to be one of the most brutal, bloodiest fucking matches in the history of WCF, and we're putting inside of 4, 15 foot high steel cage walls and locking the fucking door because nobody is getting in or out until the bell sounds and my hand is raised as the winner. But let's backtrack a bit. I told you why I put our match inside of the cage, but you're probably still wondering why I decided to make it a Taipei Deathmatch.
It's because I think you're weak, Chelsea. I think you're a fragile, delicate little flower that needs to be handled with care. And no, I don't say that because you're a woman. I say it because you simply do not have that killer instinct. You don't have that hard, tough shell. You're soft. You're sympathetic. You're...well hell, you're a woman. But the fact that you have a pair of tits and a vagina has nothing to do with it. Your mind is that of a woman. It's caring and nurturing and motherly and all kinds of other sweet shit. And it may not be front and center, but it's there, buried under all the dreams of being one of the guys and the false hopes of being more than just a pretty face and being taken seriously in the wrestling world. And why does that matter?
Because Corey Black apparently thinks that you, Chelsea Armstrong, are good enough to be in Pantheon. And you know, I think I finally understand why it was that Corey Black called me up back at the end of February and said that I could be in charge of XIII. It was because he was in the process of rebuilding Pantheon and he already had you and the Pack in mind. You see, I, if you can believe it, wasn't in on that little nugget of information. Corey and I had talks about the new Pantheon, some names were brought up and tossed around. Scarecrow was the first one we agreed on and that's why at Slam you saw me applauding that choice. But we just couldn't seem to agree on anyone else, you see. So days go by, we take a break from trying to plan out the rest of the stable to recharge the ole batteries, and then I get that phone call. 'Hey, Price, XIII is coming up in March and I know you've talked a ton of shit about how the last one got censored by the Government because I fucked things up.' And that's true by the way, I do blame Black for that fiasco. But no, he calls me up and offers me the chance. Of course I took it, I've already got a tower with my god damn name on the side of it, why wouldn't I want a PPV that starts with 'Jayson Price Presents...'. But I didn't question why Black gave me the show to run. I really didn't care to tell you the truth, no, I was too busy planning things out.
And then came Slam. There I am, standing in the ring with Corey Black and Scarecrow, everybody happy and shaking hands as he's being welcomed into the family. And then your music hit. Out comes you, Alex and Jay Omega, and I'm thinking that Corey and our new amigo are going to have to throw down with the fucking Legion Of Superpets . You get it? Because Pantheon is Earth's Mightiest Stable like the Avengers, which would make The Pack...ah fuck it, you aren't clever enough to understand what I'm doing here. But down the ramp you come, looking all high and mighty like you just learned from Adam Young how to give your untalented selves a pep talk, and there I am thinking it's time to start dropping some fools with Downfalls and Pricebusters. And then...joy? Corey Black and Scarecrow high fiving and fist bumping you 3 like you're all the best of friends and I'm off to the side wondering just what the fuck happened. And then it dawned on me. I finally understood why, after 5 years, Corey Black was really cool with me being in charge of XIII. It wasn't about me ragging on him, I'd done that for years. No, Corey Black wanted me to be in charge of XIII because he knew I'd be too busy trying to put together a fucking amazing show to worry about rebuilding Pantheon. As far as I knew we had Scarecrow's name on the board followed by blank space that we were going to come back to later. But no, there was Corey Black, apparently on the phone with you three not even a day after he said I could run XIII, writing down all three of your names and presumably jerking off because he felt he'd done something grand.
So I bailed on the five of you at Slam. Left the ring and just walked off, trying to contemplate the situation when I hear Black telling you all that I'll come around to the idea. Come around? Come around to what exactly? Come around to the idea that I got played by Corey Black so that he could bring in the best scraps left at the bottom of the barrel labeled "Failed Stables"? There was a reason why the Pack failed and no, it wasn't because Pantheon ran it into the ground. Yes, Pantheon exists for many reasons, one being to keep super stables from popping up and causing shit. But The Pack was never a threat to us, we knew it would never last. At your best, The Pack was a slightly better Rebellion. And to say slightly better is honestly not that big of a compliment, much like if I were to say that Adam Young is less annoying than Lilith. There's a reason why Pantheon has existed since 2012 and will continue on for years and years, and you, along with everyone else in WCF, whether past, present or the people in the future that will go back and watch this, need to understand why. It's not because we've had multiple incarnations to keep it going. It's because we, unlike all the other doomed stables, have had the one thing no other stable has ever had. Standards. We never let just anyone in, we sat down and we discussed it in detail. We looked over everything the person had done and weighed it against their potential to do more in the future. Jonny Fly, Polar Phantasm, Jeff Purse, Steve Orbit, Johnny Reb, Brad Kane, Corey Black and myself. That's 6 World Champion, two Hall Of Famers in Black and Kane, two honest to god future Hall Of Famers in Fly and myself, two guys that will get there eventually in Orbit and Purse and Polar Phantasm, the only person to ever get into Pantheon without a World Title on his resume but you find me one person who says he couldn't have gotten one if he wasn't so damn into trying to film movies and shit. Hell, who's the wink link out of those 8 names? Reb? Yeah, he's fallen off a bit, but Johnny Reb won a World Title and that's only something a handful of the hundreds of people to ever lace up a pair of boots for WCF can say. Polar? Sure, he went off the deep end and disappeared before he could really take off, but I remember his time here and I remember the fear people had when they saw him coming for them. I'll admit it, I was glad he was on my side. I don't fear men, but I respect the fuck out of competitors like Phantasm and he could go with the best of them any day of the week.
And that just brings me back to you, Chelsea. You and the Pack. Corey, he sees something in you three apparently. I don't see it, that's pretty obvious. Pantheon has always had standards when it came to the members. Not standards about behavior or anything of that sort, hell we've been known to do some things not exactly acceptable on network TV, but standards in terms of who that person is and what they bring to the table. Who are you Chelsea? Who are you really? Are you really the tough as nails, doesn't take shit from anyone, wants to constantly fight with the big boys badass chick? Or are you really just ICE Beckman's arm candy, dreaming about your special day with him as you wear a pretty white dress and stand surrounded by flowers? And you know, it really speaks volumes that you'd be hanging off the arm of ICE and at the same time accepting an invite into Pantheon. Hell, the former World Champion coming off one of the greatest reigns in recent history and the most dominant stable to ever exist, boy Chelsea, surrounding yourself with all that talent will really mask the fact that the little bit that you've done amounts to jack shit.
And I know that you and so many others will say, 'But Jayson, Chelsea beat you'. And you did Chelsea, bravo. You bested me in a three way match along with Corey Black to win the WCF Cruiserweight Title that we're going to be battling for at XIII. But Chelsea, as grand a victory for you as that was, to win that title and knock off both Black and I, that match is something I like to call a throwaway. You see, not winning the title that night did sting, but the actual loss in the match didn't hurt. You know, hey, chalk up a mark in the loss column. I've got quite a few, but you know what, I've got a hell of a lot more in the other column. And losing a Cruiserweight Title Match, which may seem like a big deal to people like you, Chelsea, or to those digging their feet in the dirt at the bottom of the company and only dreaming of getting into a title match, any title match, just isn't that big of a blow to me. I have held 8 different title belts, 4 of which I own the record for the longest reign. There are only 2 men in this company that have more reigns as champion that I have, and that's Corey Black and Logan who have been here 10 years longer than I have. Just take a moment to let that process. I'm two title reigns behind Corey Black and Logan, and I've been in WCF for a 3rd of the time that they have. In 5 years I have carved a legacy for myself, I earned the moniker "Mr. Every Title" because I literally won every title WCF had to offer until Seth Lerch decided to resurrect a since forgotten Cruiserweight Title just to take it away from me. There are guys like Torture, a Hall Of Famer, that pride themselves on having held a title for months and months and months. Like I said, I've done it 4 times: Television Title, People's Title, Internet Title and Elite Title. My name is all over the record books in every section that has to deal with title belts and PPV main events and anything else of any importance. And again, I've done it all in 5 years, a fraction of the time it took the few, and God do I mean few, men that I've yet to unseat. My name has already been carved into the marble that will be my bust in the Hall Of Fame, it's just waiting for me to retire to that it can become official. So yes, Chelsea, believe me when I tell you that the huge win that I'm sure you'll spend so much time referencing and trying to rub in my face as we approach the final minutes before our match is nothing that bothers me. No, Seth Lerch and Rage's actions post match, that bothered me. At most, that loss was an annoyance because it meant that I had to wait to reclaim my "Mr. Every Title" moniker as I hoisted title number 9 into the air.
But please, Chelsea, don't feel as though I'm telling you not to enjoy that win. Hell, I hope you're still dancing in celebration over that win. I hope you still go to bed at night staring into the gold face plate, running your fingers over your engraved name. Everyone deserves to feel the slightest bit of happiness, no matter how meaningless it is in reality, in this world we live in. And please, don't downplay how happy it makes you feel to be carrying around that gold. I mean, come on, for you it must be super special holding a belt that isn't the People's Title or Television Title. I mean, you're great when you're competing for those belts and defending them, but damn it must be really special knowing that after all your failed attempts to go beyond those two you could actually branch out. I mean, sure, you're still toiling away, just under the mid-card belts, but you're the Queen of the undercard! And I'm happy for you, I really am. I mean, somebody really needs to keep guys like Doc Henry and Adam Young and the faceless wave of washouts that show up every few weeks under control. I mean, not every new person can be a Joey Flash that actually succeeds and moves ahead of you, so we definitely need someone like you cracking the whip down there.
But back to where I was at before I started rambling about your already washed up even though it's still in progress career, who are you Chelsea? You know, I bring up ICE and the fact that you're hanging around him and then you accept Black's invitation to join Pantheon, and I mean I dig the whole 'I'm doing this behind my lover's back' thing. Nothing turns me on more than lying and deceit from a female honey. But does it really make sense for you to act like a strong, independent woman when you're constantly relying on men to keep you upright? You didn't even really break away from ICE, not from where I'm standing. So in reality, you're relying on 6 guys to hold you up so you don't get reduced to being on your own, alone and weak and with no way of surviving. And ICE is in cahoots with Seth to try and bring us down, so where is that going to leave you? Holy hell, if you're so needy that you need all of us, is having to choose going to bring you to tears every week? Is it going to turn into a daytime soap opera? 'Today on, As Pantheon Turns, will Chelsea finally choose?' I mean fuck, it's bad enough when a woman is trying to decide which shoes to wear, but this mess has the potential to turn into a fucking headache that I want no part of.
And maybe at this point it seems like all of my arguments against you in Pantheon, or at least a rather large chunk of them, are based off the fact that you're a woman. And I'm sure somewhere, maybe even in Chicago where a flat chested, shrill voiced blonde woman is bickering with her awesome neighbor while he makes chicken noises at her, there's an angry group of women that already have their pens out and are writing letters as we speak. But Chelsea, my issue doesn't lie with the fact that you are a woman. Does it play a part? I can't say no, I'm sure my brain is subconsciously making it so, so let's say maybe 2% of it's because you're a woman. But the other 98%, the real bulk of the problem, rests on the simple fact that I say you are not worthy of being known as a Pantheon member. We're not a boys only club, we've just never had a woman in WCF good enough to be part of our group. And to be honest, in my opinion, there still isn't one. When the day comes that a female wrestler shows up in WCF and is worthy, I'll welcome her. Hell, I'll bow to her and take her hand as I welcome her into her first Pantheon Team Meeting. But you are not her, Chelsea. You are not worthy of being in Pantheon, nor will you ever be. You simply haven't done enough and you don't have the potential or the talent to ever do enough. Why Black has gone against our standards and deviated away from everything we've stood for, I don't know. Maybe with Fly gone the power's gone to his head. But you can be damn sure that if Fly was here, you wouldn't be. Fly knew talent, he could smell it from a mile away. The second your name would have come up for possible recruitment, he'd have said 'Pass' and I'd have nodded in agreement. But Black...well, like always Black is being Black. He did all of this behind my back as I played around with my XIII notes and ideas because he knew I'd have never stopped disagreeing with bringing you and the Pack in. Hell, we'd still be bickering about it today.
But you know, maybe I'm being just a bit too hard on you. I do have something good to say about you for a change. And that's that you, like Fly, have a good eye for talent. Props to you for bringing in Jay Omega to the Pack. I mean, why you'd want to stock the stable you're leading with a guy that most certainly was bound to leave you in his dust within a matter of weeks is a mystery to me, maybe you just liked the idea of being outshined. But no, Omega is the real deal. Him I won't argue with for being in Pantheon, much like Scarecrow. And Alex Richards, well I suppose he's part of the package deal and I'll just have to figure out a way to deal with that. But you? Package deal or not, I cannot get behind the idea of bringing you in. Sorry, just can't do it. And all the phone calls from Corey Black where he tries to tell me that I need to see his vision for a Pantheon of the Future, where the next generation of top talent is gathered together to fight the shitty stables of the world, aren't going to change my opinion. Oh, and do let Black know that I blocked his number until after XIII. I was really getting tired of his calls about changing the match because it's too much.
Which, hey, brings me back to the match itself. Funny how that worked out, huh? But this match is really going to serve two purposes. The first, of course, is the most obvious: Giving me my ninth title and retaking my "Mr. Every Title" moniker. Because honestly, there's nothing sweeter to me than giving Seth the finger as he once again fails at his plans. But the other purpose is to send a message. A message to you and a message to Corey Black. Now I know it's going to sound mean, and probably a little barbaric, but I really wanted to do this match as horrific as possible because things need to be exposed. Yeah, I know I said the cage was to keep certain people out, but it's also to keep you in. You see, Corey Black is going to be in the back and maybe he's going to try coming down at some point, but you are going nowhere. You'll be stuck in the cage, alone, with me and surrounded by 15 foot high cage walls with a door locked nice and tight. And it's going to be inside of that cage, where there's no strong man or stable holding you up, that you get exposed as being a needy, unable to be self sufficient, weak human being. Yeah, you'll have glass all over your tiny little hands as well, but pray tell how you plan on using them when you're too busy trying to breath as I dig my hands into the tender, soft flesh of your neck and try to play pin the tail on your jugular. ICE, Corey, The Pack, none of them are going to be coming in to save you sweetheart, I'm making sure of that. You've said from day one that you wanted nothing more than to wrestle with the big boys and be treated as an equal and Corey Black apparently thinks you're good enough for Pantheon, so I'm going to kill two myths with one stone and show you that you aren't my equal and that Black is as bad at judging talent as Seth Lerch is at reading the fine print of contracts. And yeah, I know, 'cute jokes, Price' is probably coming out of your lips as you listen to me, Chelsea, but we both know that inside of your head your brain is finally kicking into gear. You're realizing that, oh fuck, this really isn't going to be your night. All that confidence that you had should be quickly disappearing and all of your little hopes and dreams of walking away with the title still in your hands need to just be erased. Hell, your dreams of walking out period need to be erased. You're going to be locked inside of a cage with a man that's pissed off at being played by his friend and partner, pissed off at being screwed over repeatedly by the owner of the company, pissed off that he had to wait until a god damn XIII PPV that he was hosting to get a shot at the Cruiserweight Title despite being owed one and pissed off that...well just at everything.
And let me again just really stress the fact that I am fully aware that there is going to be a lot of people portraying me as a monster for what is going to happen at XIII. It's started already with the FCC nonsense, with me getting phone calls about pretty much every match. But they really seem to be loving the fact that a woman is going to be placed in such a violent environment. Now let me stress just how little of fucks I give about the FCC and everyone else that is in an uproar that I'd do such a terrible thing. Chelsea Armstrong wanted this. She wanted this the moment that she came into the WCF and said 'I'm hear to wrestle the men'. She wanted this the second that she answered my call for people to speak up and say that they wanted to wrestle at XIII. I didn't force Chelsea to say she'd wrestle at XIII, that was all on her. I just took it as a gift from God that she'd do it, apparently oblivious to the fact that she was holding the one belt I wanted and I had the absolute power to book her however I damn well saw fit. But no, Chelsea, standing tall and proud and wanting to honor the old hags that came up with the whole Title IX thing, said she wanted to wrestle with the men over and over and she's getting the same treatment as every other person, regardless of gender. I'm not a monster for putting her in this match, hell just think of me as an equal opportunity asshole that's following in the footsteps of Corey Black and keeping the XIII tradition of putting myself in a title match. No, if you want to call me a monster, wait until after the match is over. Wait for the camera to zoom in and give you a nice, long look at whatever is left of Chelsea, and then proceed to call me a monster. Because then I will have truly earned it. But don't expect me to give a fuck, call me whatever you want, I'll be too busy calling myself a champion as I wipe Chelsea's blood off the faceplate.
And let me stress something else. I know that Corey Black is not at all happy about this match. He obviously wanted Chelsea in Pantheon for a reason, why else give me control of XIII just to secretly recruit her. I mean fuck, XIII is his baby. So me putting her in this match with the very, very real possibility of her getting seriously fucked up, I know that's got him upset. But, truthfully, I don't give a fuck. Corey Black wants to try and play misdirection with me, distracting me with a shiny XIII so he can do his little backroom deals with Chelsea and The Pack, then I'll play a game of 'Fuck you, you gave me power and now I'm doing things my way'. It's a working title, relax. And that brings me to the third reason for this match. What, you thought I only had 2 reasons because I said I had 2? Well fuck you, just listen. The third reason for this match is probably the most petty, but for me it's going to be the most fun. Okay, maybe second most fun. I really, really want that belt, what can I say. But showing up Corey Black, exposing Chelsea as the weak, not ready for Pantheon, talentless hack she is, that's going to be magnificent. The icing on the cake though is going to be if he's at ringside and I get to hold her unconscious, bleeding profusely head up off the mat so that he can get a first hand look at the carnage. He, not me, is going to be the one responsible for what happens in that cage. Had he not done his secret, backroom dealing, maybe I wouldn't be so pissed off. And if he hadn't been doing it, I would never have gotten control of this XIII, thus meaning I never would have been able to book this match. So you see, Corey Black gave me all this power and then turned around and did something he knew I wouldn't be happy about. So ICE, don't blame me for destroying the pretty face of Chelsea Armstrong, blame Corey Black. Mr. FCC man, don't try to fine me for what happens on air during my match, fine Corey Black. And Corey Black, don't blame me for taking out one of your prized recruits inside of that cage, blame yourself for being a sneaky bastard who thought giving me power while angry was a good plan. Come on now, we've known each other for 5 years, you should really know better by now.
But I'm really getting off topic here, delving into the internal issues between Corey and I, when I'm not yet done with the real issue at hand. Chelsea, I don't hate you. It's not even that I don't like you. The problem here, besides the stuff with Black, is that I simply just don't respect you. Again, nothing to do with the fact that you're a woman, let's just once again hit that fact so some housewife that's drifted out of the kitchen and can hear this doesn't get all sandy vagina'd. I don't respect you because you haven't earned my respect and because you don't have what it takes to earn it. You're far from being the worst part of WCF, I mean you're somewhere in between and I can handle you being in the company far better than I can some people, but you don't belong on the same level as me. And being in Pantheon, that puts you on my level. Which is the issue that all of this is revolving around. You and I, we are not equals. We are equals in the same way that the sun and this dust ball on the floor in front of me are equals. And the fact that Corey Black or yourself have the audacity to think that you are in fact on my level, that just doesn't fly. It's like I'm the only one between Corey and I that is trying to save the lineage and the reputation of Pantheon, because he's opening up the door and letting in strays. And why you? Like I said, Omega and Scarecrow I agree on. Richards, I can learn to deal but I'm not sold entirely on him. But you, I feel as though I'll never be sold on you because you'll never amount to anything that I should bother to care about. What you were doing before Black brought you on, hanging on ICE's arm and playing the role of the sweetheart girlfriend, that's where you would have done your best work. A ring rat, clutching on to the real talent and sharing in the spotlight. And I wouldn't have had an issue with you staying with ICE and getting your fifteen minutes that way, but I will not stand for you trying to pull that shit with Pantheon.
So that leaves me to answer just one simple question, what now? What now Chelsea? What are you going to do knowing that in just over 12 hours you're going to be exposed as the latchkey, ring rat that's only in the spotlight because she finds ways to get in with the best talent and then left a bloody mess in the center of the ring? And what about you Corey Black? What now? You're not involved in the match itself but you played a part in it, oh yes you did. So what are you going to do, knowing that one of your blue chip prospects is not going to be able to walk out of XIII under her own power because of you? I don't know what's going on in those minds of yours, but I do know that this match is going to happen. Anyone wants to try getting involved, maybe try breaking in through the door, you're only get the one warning to stay out. After that, I don't care if you're Corey Black or Seth Lerch or the whole fucking FCC, I will put you down right beside Chelsea. I put together the best XIII in history and it is truly for everyone. But make no mistakes about it, Friday March 13th, 2015 will be my night and there is not a damn soul alive that is going to stop me."
Price lets the camera linger on his face to get the point across before giving a chuck through the air to the cameraman.
Jayson Price: "There, I feel much better now. Thanks kid."
Cameraman: "You're we-"
Price with a Downfall out of nowhere to the cameraman. He gets back up to his feet, dusting himself off as he shakes his head.
Jayson Price: "Don't ever fucking tell me to calm down."
The scene fades out to black as Price walks off, leaving the cameraman to lay on the ground as the workers continue to set up for XIII around him. The last thing we see is a shot of a banner reading "Jayson Price Presents...XIII!" being raised to the ceiling before the scene ends.
