Post by "Iron Heart" Ethan King on Jan 22, 2017 1:59:31 GMT -5
Dying Embers
“Adam, before we get started, I’d like to say something. Just a quick thing before I eviscerate you once more, before I dive deep into your mindset and your inner being and rip out what little amount of spirit and heart you have remaining after I left you broken beneath my feet last week.
“Everything you said, every shot you took at me, every little thing you attempted to pick on me for, every time you said ‘I don’t work hard enough’, or that ‘I don’t have the heart’… all of it was just invalidated by the performance I put on at Slam, where in one fell swoop I eliminated any chance of you ever progressing from this fucking shit-show that is the Alpha Title Division.
“I cruised for nearly the entire match, and I still put on a better show than you and ninety percent of this federation. Yet even I can admit, you almost had me at one point. I let my guard fall down, and you almost squeaked by with that pinfall victory. You were about to pick up the one meaningful win that has eluded you thus far in my WCF career.
“And when you nearly accomplished that, when I nearly got upset by a fucking bottom-feeder like yourself?
“I went serious.
“And then? I proceeded to do exactly what I told you I’d do. I knew you were going to go for that unoriginal fucking chop block, and I told you what would happen when you went for it. I would rip your fucking head clean off your shoulders – and I did. Unlike Jason O’Neal, I was able to back up everything that I said. Oh, and don’t worry O’Neal. You’ll get your chance to get murdered by the King’s Hand, but just leave it for a while. Okay? Let it simmer. Let me kill your arch-rival here, let me show him once again the difference between my level and his, and then I’ll proceed to annihilate you too.
“But back to the point. I did exactly what you wanted me to do, Burnett. You talked about the fact that you’d heard all the rumours about me, that were I to show up more consistently and put in the efforts, upping my game to even more unimaginable heights – that I would be considered a top-tier talent around here.
“And I did just that. For not even a minute, I went into another place, I hit that peak you kept saying I could reach, I didn’t perform like this was the unimportant match that it truly was. I gave you what you were looking for.
“And remind me, what happened when I did that?
“One rolling elbow and a Flatline later, and you were fucking dead at my feet. The number one contender to the Alpha Contender, the formerly undefeated Adam Burnett, left limp at the feet of a returning Champion, a returning Champion that has been so overlooked by management and some of the fans that he is still being put into matches like these. With three fucking irrelevants who are still skulking around in a division that I was better than the moment I stepped into the federation.
“I accomplished what you feared the most, Burnett.
“You’re right, lately? I haven’t been working the hardest, I haven’t been putting in my best effort, I haven’t been showing out like I used to do prior to my contract being shredded in Mexico, and you want to know why?
“Because this is a completely different ball game now. I don’t NEED to put my best foot forward to win a match, I don’t NEED to come into the ring with something to prove, because by now? It’s evident that I don’t belong here anymore. I don’t belong in matches with people in the Alpha Division, I don’t belong in matches that don’t utilize the full extent of my abilities, and I certainly don’t belong in random fucking tag matches being used to elevate a story like Burnett v O’Neal, which fizzled out the moment it began because both guys are fucking bland, vapid cunts with no real use other than to polish up a belt which lost all importance that moment it was changed from being the United States Championship.
“There is a difference in powers here that you simply cannot comprehend, Burnett. Even after I embarrassed you last Sunday, even though I didn’t even allow you a glimmer of hope, to lock in your basic submission finisher and push me to the very limit. You barely even scratched the surface of my ability, while I?
“I’ve already seen how far you’re willing to go, I’ve seen the fight you can put up, and the fire that lives and breathes within your eyes. I see that fire, and it reminds me of someone.
“It reminds me of how I used to be.
“I see that fire raging, I see it living and breathing within those two eyes, roaring and coming alive during the heat of battle, the fire that never wavers as it stands up to an insurmountable challenge. You came up against that challenge last week, Adam. And I’ll give you props – you never backed down.
“But along with that, comes the end to all of that. That fire lived, it thrived and it survived. For weeks, those two little flames within your eyes danced and conquered. Four matches, four victories, you were untouchable. The only challenge that presented itself in front of you was Jason O’Neal, and you were primed and ready. Ready to take on the challenge, ready to prove to The World that there was nothing that could stand in the way of reaching your ultimate goal – proving yourself to those people, those critics, that shot you down before you made it to the big leagues.
“But on Sunday? I watched those flames with keen interest, as I knocked you around the ring and watched your eyes roll up to the back of your head, I watched those flames flicker.
“They flickered, they fought on, and then, like all flames?
“They died out.
“And when its all said and done, when I have gone onwards, to hold a World Championship, to become an All-Time Great, that is the story I will tell my foes, of Adam Burnett, who was the first man since Steve Orbit to look me in the eye with that passion and fire blazing behind his eyes.
“I will tell them all that he fought valiantly, right until the very end.
“But even that was not enough.
“It’s never enough.
“The flame is snuffed, your spirit is broke, and now?
“I’m coming in for the kill.”
Mind's Window
This apartment is a shamble, a far-cry from the luxury suites and mansions I had been introduced to by one Jared Holmes. Calling this place a home, even a temporary one, would be an insult to anyone working to earn even a medium sized salary, but that was not the problem. That problem had a remedy, easily fixed. This was but a mistake, a mistake I could visibly see, and a mistake I could smell clear through my nostrils.
Dried up blood stained the musty mattress I now sat upon, which was covered in various yellow stains which I would take either signified urine, or alcohol. Judging by the smell, I would suggest the latter, a fact that later made sense once the blurriness within my vision departed, allowing me to spot the few bottles of alcohol that laid empty upon the tattered carpets, the material frayed and in parts, entirely ripped off, leaving a bare bones version of a full carpet beneath my feet.
Cracked walls, a hardly working light, a cold, damp bathroom with a partially cracked mirror and glass cabinets secured by the walls which had not fared much better themselves.
This was the life, wasn’t it?
This was what it meant to be on the road, to be expected to travel back and forth between places, even when I had no need to, I would always come back here at least mid-way through the week, to come back to my roots, the place where it all started.
Los Angeles, California. Home of The Pride. Oh, how the mighty have fallen.
One would suggest this is partly a statement of regret, some emotion that has festered up gradually over time, building itself up in annoyance as I come to the realization that I had come into possession of something – friendship and camaraderie – that has now been lost.
But I feel no regret.
Maybe now, I just come here out of habit. Out of routine. Once upon a time, I would return here every week to see the people I cared for. Kylie, Cara, even the people I had met through College and the like. But now? They were irrelevant.
They did not hold the solution.
No-one did.
If that is the case though, then I am well and truly broken beyond any type of repair. The damage has been done, The Shark has wiped away any trace of true humanity left in me, now there is nothing left. Only the constant routine, the routine of waking up every morning, tearing down the very being and mind-set of another human being, handling my work in the ring, and then coming back here.
I no longer had any personal connections, any relationships that I could point to and say that, ‘yes, this is my support system. These are the people I look to for help’. Jared is but a means to an end, I think by now we have both realized that. He may have control over me, I may bend to his will on occasion, but one day, someday, that will be over. And then there will be blood.
Then, there will be no more purpose to any of this.
Maybe I’ll leave again, maybe I’ll go back to being an irrelevant like Adam Burnett was at one point in his life, fighting to make a living in small time promotions. I could travel The World, I could shoot for the stars, I could be anything I wanted to be, all I had to do was make the choice, and it could happen.
That, however, is what frightens me the most.
That in this tale, no matter what I do, no matter what path I decide to take – everything will be the same. There will be no difference, only that constant routine that I have subsided to, that I have accepted as a part of my daily life. Wake up, get high, partake in a meaningless activity that serves no purpose but to strengthen my own conviction that I have crossed into every single territory that I had been meaning to avoid my entire life.
But, perhaps it was too much to say that I’m too far gone to be considered human. There are still prime pieces of evidence that suggest maybe, just maybe, there is still hope. Feelings, emotions, I am not devoid of them as I once thought I was.
But they are fleeting, they disappear as soon as they are gone.
Maybe it’s because I’ve realized, that no matter if I thrive on victory, or suffer defeat, or whether or not I find someone to truly care for, someone that will help me reintegrate back into the society I have so willingly disconnected myself from…
That it still won’t mean anything, that these thoughts will never leave me, only be hidden underneath a façade that portrays the emotions I know and have been told to feel.
Everything is perpetual now, it is no longer REALity.
Is this how Jason O’Neal feels waking up every morning, knowing that he could be a monster, too? Where are his emotions, why does he not grieve in the face of death? Why does he put on the figurative mask that I have now donned?
The question has been asked of him, yet he holds no answer. He does not have the solution either.
Perhaps when I look into his eyes, and see the blankness in the stare I am given back, I will begin to understand. But I believe I have already found the answer, the thought has already been implanted into my mind.
I stand before the cracked mirror, searching for anything, the slightest sign of life, of the shining brilliance that once presented itself proudly within the now dull hazel hue of my eyes – but I cannot find it. All I can see is the mirror, and me, and the mirror.
The broken glass, the shattered fragment, it lays on the sink.
This broken, shattered fragment, represents the window of my mind. It is gone, and while sure enough it can be repaired…
It may never be the same again.
Fourteen Minutes, Fifty-Nine Seconds
“This one will be going out to our esteemed Alpha Champion. Yes, Jason O’Neal. Rejoice. You are being noticed and shot upon (no, not literally shot, although I wish that henchmen did decide he wanted to put that bullet straight through your fucking mug) by your superior. You know, I almost feel sorry for you. For quite a while now, you’ve ruled upon this lower-end division with an iron fist, beating up on all the nobodies and the sorry scrubs who’ve been thrown your way. It must get lonely down here, without anyone of your ability nor skill (besides Adam Burnett, I guess? LOL) being able to give you the challenge you deserve.
“But then again, we all know what happens every time you get thrown into a match that doesn’t involve these low-tier losers being forced to fight you, don’t we? But don’t worry, we’re not going to get into that now, there’s other matters we need to attend to. Like the fact that you have used MY name in one of your promotions, prior to us ever being booked to face against each other.
“First of all, don’t you dare ever do that again you fucking peasant. I know you need to do whatever you can to generate some interest within your promotions, because you lack any type of charisma that would get yourself that recognition naturally, but don’t you dare fucking put my name anywhere in your work UNLESS you happen to be facing me, like in this situation.
“In that specific promotion, there was a complaint about me copying Singh, or some shit like that. By ripping a basic bitch like Adam Burnett on his merely average move-set, calling it predictable and the like. You don’t like that, do you? You don’t like me calling people predictable, is that what it is? Well isn’t that exactly what you’re doing by calling guys like Singh and I ‘unoriginal and predictable.’
“Excellent work here, I haven’t even seen if you’ve cut a promo on me yet and the first thing that I ever see from you that references me is already one huge fucking contradiction. Kill yourself, fuccboi.
“Actually, better yet, let’s wait until we get into the ring together, and then I’ll do you that solid. Okay? Good. Let’s continue.
“Even after your loss against Singh, you continued to rip the guy even though it was clear you were exposed by a simply superior talent to yourself. Is this what happens every time you lose? You complain and call it a fluke, or some shit like that? It’s sickening to me that you keep bringing up this fucking World Title match you think you’re basically guaranteed to get at this point, you think you can stand up to the challenge of Joey Flash both inside and outside of the ring, yet you’re steady getting embarrassed by his contender’s and other main-eventers a like. And, oh look. What do you know? You called Singh unoriginal, and now the same has been said of me. Looks like someone is about to go through the same nightmare, two times in the same month,.
“It’s a travesty to me that you’re so focused on this match with Flash, which at this point you aren’t even guaranteed to get, considering you have another title defense to get through at Rise Up. You, Jason, have yet to prove you can even mix it up with upper-card talent yet, this has been proven every time you have stepped into the ring with the numerous challengers and contenders for that little belt of yours.
“And no, just because you bring up the fact that you lose a lot in big matches doesn’t make the fact null and void, if anything, it just further proves how out of your depth, how out of your league you truly are here. You’re yet to grasp the fact that the moment you step too far out of your little comfort zone in the Alpha Division, you are going to get literally murdered by the bigger, faster, more intelligent competition that awaits you in the higher divisions of this federation.
“I’m going to be just another guy who gives you a taste of that in our match. If my partner doesn’t happen to fuck everything up and drop the ball, kinda like how you do every time you’re in a match that doesn’t involve a CJ Phoenix-caliber opponent. But yeah, if Jaice Wilds decides he wants to be competent for this match, I am going to embarrass you. You are not in my stratosphere in terms of talent, and I’ve already proven to Burnett that for all his hard work, nothing he does will really impact this match in a meaningful way.
“In the end, this match is just me proving a point. Seth had the audacity to put me into this fucking shit-show, and now I’m going to step up as The Cleaner, I’m going to murder the ‘best of the best’ in this useless fucking division, and then I’m going to go on and conquer something else.
“This isn’t a match, this is a fucking execution of the highest proportions. I am one of the few premier talents left remaining in this federation, one that has been riddled with the likes of you, Adam Burnett, Zero Tolerance and The Brotherhood.
“You’re not a factor in this match, O’Neal. Neither is Burnett. If this was a two on one handicap match, I would wipe the floor with you and then proceed to steal your title just for the fun of it. Petition to get that shit changed back to my United States Championship, or some shit like that. I don’t know.
“But instead, I have to share the spotlight with Jaice Wilds. Let’s hope he doesn’t make an unfortunate error and get himself pinned or something like that, or else we’d all have to deal with you fucking prancing around, throwing my name around all over the place, claiming how you finally got that much needed win over someone who is actually worth a damn around here.
“Either way, I’m putting on a one-man show. Burnett doesn’t hold a candle to me, I proved that last week, and your trainer himself has already said that Burnett is better than you. Whether that’s true or not? I don’t know, but it’s clear you’re hanging around his level.
“And that spells defeat for you.
“It’s time for you to take a backseat, O’Neal. As you forever will against better talent, just sit back and watch the show. Watch me knock Burnett’s lights out again, and then when you finally gather up the courage to step in the ring with me?
“Watch, and learn. The clock has hit fourteen minutes, fifty nine seconds, your time as a credible threat within this Alpha Division is almost over.
“It’s time for me to bring it all crashing down.”
The Office
The Psychologist: I’ve figured out a solution to your problem, Mister King.
Ethan King sat upon the leather sofa with a disinterested look over his features, his eyes slid around endlessly, gathering new bits of information about the underwhelming office that he currently sat in. Several of the books that littered the shelves were not in pristine condition, and many of them were not alphabetically ordered. He frowned upon noticing this, but made no mention of it to the joyful man who sat behind him, his smile causing the sides of his eyes to wrinkle up. At the sight of this, Ethan almost recoiled, for it was unsightly to be in possession of such an unattractive feature.
Lately, he had been wondering how he could stop that aging process himself. He knew powerful men, such as the enigmatic White-Suit who had reached out to him in a time that felt so long ago by now. Even his old mentor, Sudoku, seemed to have been holding a secret from him – one that he knew he would one day figure out, if he were to ever come within reaching distance of the man again.
But no, back to the problem at hand. Ethan King was a beautiful man, he was well aware of this. He had been told so by many that had come across him – or had he dreamed all of that? – and that had only confirmed to him that he indeed was a Gift. He remembered speaking to an old woman who once told him he would age gracefully, but that would not be right for such an esteemed member of society, such as himself.
No, immortality was the answer. But how was that achieved?
He would need to find out.
The Psychologist: Did you catch any of that?
Instinctively, Ethan smiles; although it holds no trace of emotion behind it.
Ethan King: Not a bit. Mind repeating it?
The Psychologist lets loose a small sigh, but remains tactful. He glances back over towards the sheet of paper in front of him, one that has been scrawled on by multiple colours of pen, each denoting a different aspect of Ethan King’s mentality which is in need of repairing.
The Psychologist: To break free from the constraint you’ve been given by The Shark, Jared Holmes. You must face the fear head-on. You will not need to defeat him, you will merely need to face him, talk to him… and survive.
A bitter laugh escapes from the lips of Ethan King, who pushes himself up to his feet and stands tall, leaning over the desk of The Psychologist. He points an accusing finger towards him, although the blank stare and empty smile never departs from him.
Ethan King: Survive? You’re not fooling me anymore. Neither of you are. This isn’t real, you’re an illusion, I figured that out the last time I was in here.
He turns his back to the man, beginning to pace toward the door, each step he takes sounds as though a gun were being fired, a bullet exploding from a chamber, straight towards the back of his skull. But he knew, he knew this was all a part of the experience.
None of this was REALity.
6ix God: Don’t you dare fucking walk away from me.
Broken Heart
“There’s more I need to get off my chest about you, Adam. I didn’t think it would end up this way, but you triggered something in me that I didn’t think anyone else would. I can deal with the petty quips and salty remarks from our current Alpha Champion, I can dismiss the insolent insults from Zero Tolerance on the internet, who don’t seem to understand that I could wipe them all out in one fucking swoop if I wanted to. Hell, I can even deal with Seth Lerch throwing me into ridiculous matches such as these, where I have to bury two of the ‘most promising’ talents in the federation since Ethan King. Yeah, I can look passed all that.
“But I can’t look passed what you said to me last week, I can’t even look away and ignore the way you act on a daily basis – it deserves to be reprimanded. It deserves to be torn apart, and that is exactly what I’m going to do.
“You don’t talk to your superiors with that tone of voice, nor do you parade around as if you mean something around here. Because you don’t.
“Now, don’t get it twisted. Before that little light bulb in that head of yours goes off, before you start thinking that you’ve got me on the ropes, that you’ve gotten into my head by the remarks you’ve said, that what you said to me last week will somehow lower the usual greatness of my performance levels on this week’s Slam…
“You’re wrong.
“I’m disgusted at the fact you don’t think I’ve earned my way into this company. That I apparently haven’t earned my spot and cemented myself as one of the top talents around here, I’m disgusted that you can look into a camera and cut your contractually obliged, pathetic promos and say with conviction that I’m the one unfairly taking other people’s spots.
“This is the exact reason I left you grovelling at my feet last week, you petty fuck. It’s people like you who whine and complain about all the missed opportunities, all the failures and set-backs they’ve had, saying that you should’ve had more chances to prove yourself, that you were never given a fair go of things, and then you blame it on people like me.
“You blame it on uber-talented, future World Champion’s like myself, because it slowly dawns on you that you will never reach these levels.
“While you’ve been training for a good portion of your life to make it here, I didn’t start training until I reached College. While I was sitting around in a dormitory, taking the piss with a bunch of friends who never would’ve expected me to reach the heights I have around here, you were in a poor excuse for a gym, that smelled like absolute trash and had numerous scrubs putting in that work, endlessly grinding towards an goal that cannot be achieved– something they would realize far too late.
“But you, you were a different story, weren’t you? Along with you and your buddy, Stephen Anderson, you continued the grind. You worked your way up towards being a top indy competitor, you put on shows for those fans every week, didn’t you? You were doing what you loved, and when you were finally given the chance to take that big step up to the top, the one thing you had been dreaming about for almost all of your life, you took that chance.
“And now you’re here, still the same old Adam Burnett. Perspective still hasn’t hit you, you haven’t realized that you’re one of the smallest fish, in the biggest ocean. You still have the audacity to step up to people like me and question me, and MY position in the federation? You say I’ve been taking the places of others? You don’t’ think I have earned what I have been given?
“You’re pathetic.
“And you’re right – I was always going to attack your lack of talent. I was always going to go there, because for all your work, dedication and passion for the business? You don’t stack up. You never stacked up. You know that, you knew I was going to bring that up, and so you even referenced it yourself, and do you want to know why that is?
“Do you want to know why every single time your talent and position in this company is questioned, you come up with the same answers? That you work hard, that you give everything you’ve got, that this is what you love?
“Because deep down inside, you know you’re nothing more than fodder for those that were destined for this industry, those that didn’t NEED to work as hard as you, those that put in enough work to cement themselves as worthy of their positions in the business. You look at someone like me, and all you feel is hatred. You hide it, and you hide it well. You hide it behind a cordial smile, and your kindly words, you say that we’ll put on a great match for the fans, that we’re both one of the same, that we’re both young talents – but that you’re the one with more heart.
“And I commend you for that, I honestly do. It must be hard, knowing that for all of your hard work, you will never reach the level of someone like me.
“The insecurities are piling up inside of you, Adam. Everything you ever feared before coming into the WCF has now become a reality. Before you had to step up to the challenges you’re being faced up with here, you were able to achieve with just hard work alone, with your heart and the raging fire that carried you so, so high.
“And now you’ve hit your peak. Just like I told you last week. You’ve barely scratched the surface of the WCF, and yet you’ve already used up all of your reserves. I showed everyone your limit last week, and it is painfully low in comparison to those that are meant for greatness.
“This is not subjective. This is not me giving my opinion. This is not me shitting on you for the fun of it (even though that’s always fun).
“This is me giving you the truth, the one that you’ve avoided but always knew was going to creep up on you when you least wanted it to. This is me burning up every last remnant of the dreams of success that you once hard, the dream of becoming something worthwhile here in this federation.
“You stepped up into this federation with a heart, one that was beating ferociously. Adrenaline, nervousness, anticipation. You’ve experienced it all now, you know what it’s like. Last week, I gave you the feelings of defeat, one’s that you’ll have to cope with for a long time into the future.
“Our paths are not intertwined, this is not an up and coming rivalry between two young talents, this is not something that will be looked on in future years and be regarded as something of greatness. These results, these matches between us, this butchering of your persona, your lack of talent, your overall product, it will all be forgotten.
“Because in a few months from now, you won’t even be able to catch a scent of me. My ascent has only just begun, the prophecies and the mumblings of the masses are being confirmed as we speak. With every week I show up, with every week I demolish enough competitor with my words, before proceeding to embarrass them thoroughly in the ring, I am rising.
“You on the other hand? You will always remain here. You are not in the upper-echelon, you do not touch me in the ring, and that will be showcased once again when we meet.
“Your heart, your big beating heart. Oh, Adam. I already snuffed out the fire from your eyes, I saw it die right before me as I left you laid out, dead center in the ring.
“And now?
“I’m going to rip your heart out.
“You have got nothing left.”
The Throne Room
6ix God: Don’t you dare fucking walk away from me.
Ethan pauses, hesitating as he hears the voice emanate, echoing not only through the room, but his mind. He turns around, to witness the expanse of the 6ix God’s court, his illustrious throne room, encompass him entirely.
With a shudder, he recalls his moments with The Kingmaker, the man whom had executed him before a throne that looked all too familiar to the one The King in Yellow now sat upon, his black eyes boring directly through him.
That too had been all but a dream, but it was simply a part of the process. The process that had turned him into what he had become, the thing that he feared most.
But the fear no longer remained, now? It was an uncertain numbness to the whole situation, an acceptance of this idea that he was no longer in control of his own mind or being, that even though he felt as though he were making his own movements, and his own decisions, that it all came back to this God that sat before him, an aura of death and the smell of blood lingering over him.
6ix God: Good. Now come here.
The tone in his voice had softened, the sharpness that had ripped the will away from Ethan King now subsiding to a more cordial tone. Ethan complied, but with reluctance, as though he were trying to fight the temptation. As always, he failed in the attempt, his feet carrying him forward.
The Psychologist and his Office were gone entirely, no trace of either to be seen. A royal carpet that laid beneath the throne and stretched out all the way to the front exit of the throne-room sprawled itself before Ethan. He walked along it, while taking note of the various heads that were mounted along the walls, one of those being Eddie Felt himself.
For that brief moment, he thought he felt a pang of guilt, as he realized the fate he had brought down not only upon himself, but those that he had once called his friends. After all, it had been his idea to jump so willingly into the role of being the supporters of Joey Flash, as they attacked the #BeachKrew upon their debut, when the former were not too far removed from the height of their dominance.
He had caused this, he had caused all of it.
And now, he had a price to pay. The Iron Price.
He now stood before The 6ix God, who looked at him with the merest hint of disdain, as his lip curled in contempt.
6ix God: Now kneel.
If he allowed this, it would all be over. Every chance for recovery, every chance for a better life, one that did not leave him numb and as a separate entity from the rest of The World, would be gone.
He would be nothing but a puppet, a pawn in a Kingdom that he would never feel satisfied as being a part of. The dreaded routine would continue, each day would the same, each day would leave him cold and empty.
With the briefest flare of defiance illuminating the darkness that had crawled its way into his heart, he stood tall, glaring back at the 6ix God.
Ethan King: You are no Ruler of mine.
The 6ix God, like The Kingmaker whom had loomed over Ethan long ago, gave him a sad smile, one that summed up the pity he felt for ‘The Future King’, one who wouldn’t ever be able to live up to the moniker he had been given.
6ix God: And that is where you’re wrong.
Ethan King: Explain.
6ix God: This? This is all my fabrication, this is the sum of everything that I have filtered into that mind of yours. Sure, you’re intelligent enough to realize that this is all a dream, but the concept is still there. Every idea, everything you have been told, everything you have experienced here, it will be present, it will impact you, it will wear down on you.
Ethan King opens his mouth to comment, but cannot find the words.
6ix God: This is a game you cannot win.
He steps off of his throne, his eyes remaining desolate, no emotion within them. Ethan’s too now held that same look, he was nothing but a Creation.
A Creation of The 6ix God.
6ix God: And let’s say in some hypothetical situation, that you did manage to break free from my hold. That this was all just a hoax, and that I couldn’t just leave you dead and buried whenever I wanted, what would you do after you had taken The Throne?
He gestures up toward The Throne that he had formerly been seated upon, while tilting his head in a curious manner toward the silent Ethan King.
6ix God: Nothing. You would succumb to the pressure, and you would die.
With a scowl, he kicks the left knee of Ethan, who grunts as he is forced down to one knee, kneeling before The 6ix God.
6ix God: I want you to understand something, Ethan. You are a pawn. You are my instrument, my weapon, a weapon that I will forcibly aim at each enemy that arises. This is what you are now, this is what you were made for. But, don’t lose hope.
He grins, his teeth looking all too similar to a set that would belong to a Shark.
6ix God: You are my finest weapon, the finest blade in all The Kingdom, and while you were never amount to anything more than that… you will still be revered by all.
He reaches down with his hand, ruffling Ethan’s hair. If it were anyone else, Ethan would of retaliated in savage fashion.
But this was different.
Here? He was powerless.
With one finger, The 6ix God delicately pushes Ethan’s head upward by the chin, forcing him to look directly into his hollow eyes.
6ix God: I am not your Enemy.
He pauses, allowing the words to seep deep into Ethan’s memory.
6ix God: Don’t change that.
Contradiction
“Let’s continue to delve into the depths of your own unoriginality, Jason. This seems to be a running gag with you, almost like a joke that you can’t stop making, even though you fail to realize that you yourself are becoming the one thing you hate the most.
“Last week, you told Teddy Blaze with astounding confidence, that he should not bother mentioning his previous accomplishments, or bringing up the ‘resume’ that he has accumulated through his time in the federation. But, while you tell him not to do that, you without fail always manage to bring up the fact that you have never been able to defeat a big-name here in the WCF, that you have never managed to come through with a victory in a marquee match-up.
“This is a contradiction.
“This is the basis of everything that Jason O’Neal does, he will happily sit there and criticize anyone who dare brings up their past victories or accomplishments, but when he goes through his own results? It’s fine. It’s great. It’s original, it’s a different take.
“I’m going to let you in on something, you fucking scrub.
“The self-shoot is something that has been done by many others within this federation. It is not new, it is not interesting, but when done correctly, it can be effective. But you? You have literally made this one fucking idea the premise of your entire gimmick now. This is the exact reason you’re always sour about the shoots and ‘gimmicks’ of the other wrestlers in the federation.
“You talk all about formulas, and how others are copying those invented by the best for their own success, you want to know why you do that?
“Because you’re too fucking incompetent to come up with your own, or modify someone else’s and add your own twist upon it to make it seem new and interesting. Your own formula is pure trash, and you’ve been unable to find another one which will make you seem as if you’re a viable, credible threat here in the WCF.
“You, you are a disgrace. You scream about how you’re being marginalized to the masses, but Jason, you are the one that has marginalized yourself, by being unable to break the mold and show that you’re not just a one-dimensional crybaby. You fancy yourself as some type of intellectual, but you are yet to do anything that has actually proved this.
“The only thing even relatively complex about you and your thought processes are the heaping amount of insecurities and nonsensical bullshit that runs through that mind of yours. These are the same thoughts that cause you to choke up and flail around aimlessly whenever you are put into a big match that doesn’t have an irrelevant, subpar talent such as Adam Burnett present within it.
“You’re not smart, and you’re not even mildly entertaining. You probably get a kick out of when you see your own promotions air and you have that bitch asking you questions, and then you put on that little smirk and come up with the perfect answer, or when you put on the tough guy act and seem more mysterious and enigmatic then you actually are.
“Jason O’Neal is a show, a bland and vanilla show, to be certain, but a show nonetheless. And all shows must come to an end. This is where I step in.
“For a guy like you, Jason. This match is career defining, this match is everything that you fear. You are teamed with your arch-rival, you are facing a contender for you belt, and a proven, established talent in myself. This is the exact type of match that you either sink or swim in, and every time you’ve been put in that scenario? You’ve sank.
“I drowned Adam Burnett last week, I showed him the depths of my abilities and now he is well aware of how far out of his league he is. Now, all that’s left is to do the exact same thing to you.
“It won’t take long, this isn’t a battle for the ages. For you? This match is big-time, this is a match that will help solidify and prove to everyone that you aren’t just another new guy with no real substance to him. But for me? This match is routine, a routine killing that I will continue to do throughout my time here in the WCF.
“There’s no pressure on me, there is no chance of me getting pinned or submitted in this match, there is not even the slightest chance that you have me on the ropes on time throughout the entirety of this match.
“This is practice, this is a warm-up, this is where I thrive.
“This is sink or swim, Jason.
“Break, or survive.
“We both know which one you’re going to be doing.”
Unhinged
I awake to a much nicer sight than the one I had been greeted to the previous morning. The apartment itself was cleanly, although the floorboards that I stepped across created an awful amount of noise. I bypassed the small, yet adequate kitchen and lounge areas, to escape into the bathroom once more. Was it odd that in terms of the real world, this was the only place of solitary I could ever seem to find? The only time I could ever feel ‘alone’, as I stared back into a mirror that showed me the aftermath of the previous night’s adventures and happenings.
Dark bags were formed underneath my eyes, and my hair, which had been gelled and slicked toward the left as I preferred most, was sticking up and curled outward in awkward fashion in certain places. This threw me into a small state of panic, as I ruffled around for any type of comb within the numerous cabinets and drawers inside the bathroom.
I couldn’t find one, and that is when the waterworks started. The tears sprung to my eyes and were rolling down my cheeks within an instant, and I couldn’t control it. I clutched at my hair and ripped at it endlessly, falling down to the floor of the bathroom once more, at the time it never crossed my mind how dirty these floors may have been, it didn’t matter then.
Nothing was right anymore, nothing was right.
But this time, I had the cure, I held the temporary solution to the conundrum of my hair, and my unsatisfactory, tired appearance, and my clothes which had now been tainted by the germs and smell of this bathroom I had confined myself to.
I reached into the pocket of the single breasted coat I had worn to sleep, too tired and lucid from the event’s that had taken place the previous night to have even bothered to take it off. My fingers latched desperately onto the plastic bag, visibly shaking as I pulled it out from beneath my coat, the white substance in the bag bringing a wave of content over me.
The tears had halted, a smile formed over my lips.
Later, after I had performed the deed, a vibration rumbled against my side, from the same pocket which I had grabbed the plastic bag from. Although it proved a difficult task, I managed to pull out my phone and open the message which had been sent to me from one Jared Holmes. My eyes scanned over the message multiple times, just to ensure I had read it correctly.
My fingers shook, my mind wandered from the task, but after a few minutes I had replied.
“I’ll be there.”
The Execution
“I’ll admit something Jason. This has been fun. It’s been fun just scratching the surface of all the bullshit you’ve been feeding the people since you became the holder of that Alpha Championship, its been fun degrading not only you, but all the people that are beneath you, all the people that have failed to beat you. This is what I do, this is my specialty, killing losers like you on the daily is nothing but a formality at this point, just as our match is.
“But now, I want to get into the real shit. Yes, you’re fucking terrible. Yes, I am going to thoroughly embarrass you and Burnett during our match, that is all truth. But, there is more to it than that. We can go deeper.
“Scanning back just a little, I found that you dropped, not too long ago, quite the truthful quote. Let me see if I can remember it…
“Never get too close to anyone. They will eventually either die or disappoint you.”
“I find that interesting, you see. Because I immediately recognized that, in that situation right there, you were subconsciously implying to Stephanie that yes, you, Jason O’Neal, would fail here at some point in the near or distant future. That you would disappoint her in some form or fashion. There is already evidence of this throughout your entire career, you have one bright spot present within the abyss of darkness that IS your WCF Career, and that is your Alpha Championship victory.
“But other than that? You’ve been a disappointment. That’s the word which defines your career.
“Every moment, disappointment, after disappointment, followed by more disappointment. This all makes sense, you see. You, Jason, are very obsessed with this idea of formulas, and the way other people have copied them to reach success. It makes sense because your disappointment can be linked to this one fact…
“Your formula thus far seems to be you fucking up every single time you are given an opportunity to shine, shriveling up and dying whenever you are put into a big-match situation. Your formula is you achieving literally nothing besides clutching onto that championship of yours desperately, the same title that gives you the small amount of recognition that you get, the same title that you degrade each and every week. THIS is your formula.
“Win against a low-card opponent, perhaps beat a low-end midcarder, get beat by someone in the upper-echelon, cut a promo about how everyone else is bland, talk about your potential World Title match, degrade your championship and bring up marginalization. Repeat.
“This is all you do, this is all you are.
“Your very own formula. Repeatedly state your apathy and disgust for the title you hold, while making it clear exactly why you’re holding that belt. Because you cannot consistently perform on stages that are bigger than low to middle card throwaway matches.
“At this point, it seems you’re going to have to resort to copying someone else’s formula, because at this point? You’re hardly treading water, you’re already dead on your feet but you don’t seem to understand that yes, this is all you were meant for, Jason. To hold a title made for people like you, people who would never win a title otherwise unless they were being carried to a tag or trios title victory.
“Maybe now I can finally understand why you degrade the title so much. Because at this point, you’ve come to understand yourself. Fuck what I said earlier, you weren’t subconsciously implying that you will eventually prove to be a disappointment to Stephanie, and whatever small fan-base you may have…
“You know that you’ll prove to be a fucking disappointment, right from the very beginning. That’s why you dropped that little quote, didn’t you? So that when you inevitably fail, when it’s all said and done and you’re left kneeling before the might of the powers that be in this federation, you’d have an excuse. You’d be able to tell everyone that it isn’t a surprise, that it isn’t some sort of big shock or revelation. You’d be able to say that you had foreseen your future before anyone else ever did.
“Well, Jason. Here I am. Seeing through your bullshit, which week by week has become progressively easier to do, as you continue to try and pander to people, telling them that it’s not your fault you’re the one being ‘marginalized.’
“You were never being marginalized, you never even had the chance to be marginalized, you’ve never reached a height where you’d be able to be degraded from, or regarded as inferior even though that simply wasn’t the truth, because like Adam Burnett, you’re already right where you belong. You are one of many that formulates the bottom of the barrel, cannon-fodder trash that the main-eventers of the WCF stomp on for fun.
“So, with this in mind. I want you to take some things into consideration.
“Stop looking so far into the future, stop looking forward toward your World Title match. You will be lucky to get through the challenge of Burnett, you will be lucky to get passed Wilds as well. This is not opinion, this is fact. These two men are both on your level, whether you want to admit it or not.
“And, this isn’t saying much, considering neither of them have ever proven themselves in big matches either. Burnett had his first last week against me, and he was easily dispatched. If anything, Jaice Wilds has featured in a higher profile match than both of you put together, he managed to qualify for the New Year’s Bash match, while the two of you were still featuring in low card matches that went unnoticed by the majority.
“This, at the very least, puts Wilds on the same level as you, and puts him slightly above Adam Burnett, who if we’re being honest is just a fucking punching bag for anyone that isn’t in the Alpha Division, such as myself.
“You are yet to understand many things about this place, Jason, and I will have to expose you to them come our match. You are not a main draw, you were not deserving of the Rookie of the Year award, and you are not a factor when it comes to the World Title scene. You are in need of learning your place, your focus is spread all over the place, you fire shots and quips in the direction of men like Flash, Singh and I, while you repeatedly fail to understand that your biggest threats are those that are vying for your championship.
“This will be your undoing, you are not focused enough, you don’t have the concentration to beat me even when I’m performing at a mediocre level in comparison to me on my A-Game. You are a C-Minus player in a league that is filled with people that are head and shoulders above you, both in terms of production and in terms of wrestling alone.
“You are not a lost cause, you have a minimal amount of talent, which is more than can be said for Burnett, but you need to harness that and prove that you can at least perform at the perennial mid-card level. You are yet to do so, you have not yet proven yourself worthy of my attention. You should be grateful that I have spent this much time on you, but don’t take this as a compliment.
“This is but my duty, this is me cleansing the federation of all the untalented, salty fuccbois that have made their way onto WCF shores.
“You can stand and fight, you may even get a victory over one of your challenger in Jaice Wilds, but just know that you do not, and will not, compare to me in anyway. I will showcase that when we step into the ring together, when I put a blemish on the entire Alpha Division and show that it truly is just a joke.
“Bring back my championship, I conquered the division once, I’m about to do it again. Once I execute you and Burnett? It’s game over.
“This is when I kill the game, this is when I come into my own and expose you once again, for the last time. After this? Whatever semblance of credibility you may have had left will be gone for good, all the misconceptions will be sorted. And then, you can finally rest, knowing that your thoughts were right from the very start.
“You weren’t destined for greatness.
“You were nothing but a failure parading as a champion.”
“Adam, before we get started, I’d like to say something. Just a quick thing before I eviscerate you once more, before I dive deep into your mindset and your inner being and rip out what little amount of spirit and heart you have remaining after I left you broken beneath my feet last week.
“Everything you said, every shot you took at me, every little thing you attempted to pick on me for, every time you said ‘I don’t work hard enough’, or that ‘I don’t have the heart’… all of it was just invalidated by the performance I put on at Slam, where in one fell swoop I eliminated any chance of you ever progressing from this fucking shit-show that is the Alpha Title Division.
“I cruised for nearly the entire match, and I still put on a better show than you and ninety percent of this federation. Yet even I can admit, you almost had me at one point. I let my guard fall down, and you almost squeaked by with that pinfall victory. You were about to pick up the one meaningful win that has eluded you thus far in my WCF career.
“And when you nearly accomplished that, when I nearly got upset by a fucking bottom-feeder like yourself?
“I went serious.
“And then? I proceeded to do exactly what I told you I’d do. I knew you were going to go for that unoriginal fucking chop block, and I told you what would happen when you went for it. I would rip your fucking head clean off your shoulders – and I did. Unlike Jason O’Neal, I was able to back up everything that I said. Oh, and don’t worry O’Neal. You’ll get your chance to get murdered by the King’s Hand, but just leave it for a while. Okay? Let it simmer. Let me kill your arch-rival here, let me show him once again the difference between my level and his, and then I’ll proceed to annihilate you too.
“But back to the point. I did exactly what you wanted me to do, Burnett. You talked about the fact that you’d heard all the rumours about me, that were I to show up more consistently and put in the efforts, upping my game to even more unimaginable heights – that I would be considered a top-tier talent around here.
“And I did just that. For not even a minute, I went into another place, I hit that peak you kept saying I could reach, I didn’t perform like this was the unimportant match that it truly was. I gave you what you were looking for.
“And remind me, what happened when I did that?
“One rolling elbow and a Flatline later, and you were fucking dead at my feet. The number one contender to the Alpha Contender, the formerly undefeated Adam Burnett, left limp at the feet of a returning Champion, a returning Champion that has been so overlooked by management and some of the fans that he is still being put into matches like these. With three fucking irrelevants who are still skulking around in a division that I was better than the moment I stepped into the federation.
“I accomplished what you feared the most, Burnett.
“You’re right, lately? I haven’t been working the hardest, I haven’t been putting in my best effort, I haven’t been showing out like I used to do prior to my contract being shredded in Mexico, and you want to know why?
“Because this is a completely different ball game now. I don’t NEED to put my best foot forward to win a match, I don’t NEED to come into the ring with something to prove, because by now? It’s evident that I don’t belong here anymore. I don’t belong in matches with people in the Alpha Division, I don’t belong in matches that don’t utilize the full extent of my abilities, and I certainly don’t belong in random fucking tag matches being used to elevate a story like Burnett v O’Neal, which fizzled out the moment it began because both guys are fucking bland, vapid cunts with no real use other than to polish up a belt which lost all importance that moment it was changed from being the United States Championship.
“There is a difference in powers here that you simply cannot comprehend, Burnett. Even after I embarrassed you last Sunday, even though I didn’t even allow you a glimmer of hope, to lock in your basic submission finisher and push me to the very limit. You barely even scratched the surface of my ability, while I?
“I’ve already seen how far you’re willing to go, I’ve seen the fight you can put up, and the fire that lives and breathes within your eyes. I see that fire, and it reminds me of someone.
“It reminds me of how I used to be.
“I see that fire raging, I see it living and breathing within those two eyes, roaring and coming alive during the heat of battle, the fire that never wavers as it stands up to an insurmountable challenge. You came up against that challenge last week, Adam. And I’ll give you props – you never backed down.
“But along with that, comes the end to all of that. That fire lived, it thrived and it survived. For weeks, those two little flames within your eyes danced and conquered. Four matches, four victories, you were untouchable. The only challenge that presented itself in front of you was Jason O’Neal, and you were primed and ready. Ready to take on the challenge, ready to prove to The World that there was nothing that could stand in the way of reaching your ultimate goal – proving yourself to those people, those critics, that shot you down before you made it to the big leagues.
“But on Sunday? I watched those flames with keen interest, as I knocked you around the ring and watched your eyes roll up to the back of your head, I watched those flames flicker.
“They flickered, they fought on, and then, like all flames?
“They died out.
“And when its all said and done, when I have gone onwards, to hold a World Championship, to become an All-Time Great, that is the story I will tell my foes, of Adam Burnett, who was the first man since Steve Orbit to look me in the eye with that passion and fire blazing behind his eyes.
“I will tell them all that he fought valiantly, right until the very end.
“But even that was not enough.
“It’s never enough.
“The flame is snuffed, your spirit is broke, and now?
“I’m coming in for the kill.”
Mind's Window
This apartment is a shamble, a far-cry from the luxury suites and mansions I had been introduced to by one Jared Holmes. Calling this place a home, even a temporary one, would be an insult to anyone working to earn even a medium sized salary, but that was not the problem. That problem had a remedy, easily fixed. This was but a mistake, a mistake I could visibly see, and a mistake I could smell clear through my nostrils.
Dried up blood stained the musty mattress I now sat upon, which was covered in various yellow stains which I would take either signified urine, or alcohol. Judging by the smell, I would suggest the latter, a fact that later made sense once the blurriness within my vision departed, allowing me to spot the few bottles of alcohol that laid empty upon the tattered carpets, the material frayed and in parts, entirely ripped off, leaving a bare bones version of a full carpet beneath my feet.
Cracked walls, a hardly working light, a cold, damp bathroom with a partially cracked mirror and glass cabinets secured by the walls which had not fared much better themselves.
This was the life, wasn’t it?
This was what it meant to be on the road, to be expected to travel back and forth between places, even when I had no need to, I would always come back here at least mid-way through the week, to come back to my roots, the place where it all started.
Los Angeles, California. Home of The Pride. Oh, how the mighty have fallen.
One would suggest this is partly a statement of regret, some emotion that has festered up gradually over time, building itself up in annoyance as I come to the realization that I had come into possession of something – friendship and camaraderie – that has now been lost.
But I feel no regret.
Maybe now, I just come here out of habit. Out of routine. Once upon a time, I would return here every week to see the people I cared for. Kylie, Cara, even the people I had met through College and the like. But now? They were irrelevant.
They did not hold the solution.
No-one did.
If that is the case though, then I am well and truly broken beyond any type of repair. The damage has been done, The Shark has wiped away any trace of true humanity left in me, now there is nothing left. Only the constant routine, the routine of waking up every morning, tearing down the very being and mind-set of another human being, handling my work in the ring, and then coming back here.
I no longer had any personal connections, any relationships that I could point to and say that, ‘yes, this is my support system. These are the people I look to for help’. Jared is but a means to an end, I think by now we have both realized that. He may have control over me, I may bend to his will on occasion, but one day, someday, that will be over. And then there will be blood.
Then, there will be no more purpose to any of this.
Maybe I’ll leave again, maybe I’ll go back to being an irrelevant like Adam Burnett was at one point in his life, fighting to make a living in small time promotions. I could travel The World, I could shoot for the stars, I could be anything I wanted to be, all I had to do was make the choice, and it could happen.
That, however, is what frightens me the most.
That in this tale, no matter what I do, no matter what path I decide to take – everything will be the same. There will be no difference, only that constant routine that I have subsided to, that I have accepted as a part of my daily life. Wake up, get high, partake in a meaningless activity that serves no purpose but to strengthen my own conviction that I have crossed into every single territory that I had been meaning to avoid my entire life.
But, perhaps it was too much to say that I’m too far gone to be considered human. There are still prime pieces of evidence that suggest maybe, just maybe, there is still hope. Feelings, emotions, I am not devoid of them as I once thought I was.
But they are fleeting, they disappear as soon as they are gone.
Maybe it’s because I’ve realized, that no matter if I thrive on victory, or suffer defeat, or whether or not I find someone to truly care for, someone that will help me reintegrate back into the society I have so willingly disconnected myself from…
That it still won’t mean anything, that these thoughts will never leave me, only be hidden underneath a façade that portrays the emotions I know and have been told to feel.
Everything is perpetual now, it is no longer REALity.
Is this how Jason O’Neal feels waking up every morning, knowing that he could be a monster, too? Where are his emotions, why does he not grieve in the face of death? Why does he put on the figurative mask that I have now donned?
The question has been asked of him, yet he holds no answer. He does not have the solution either.
Perhaps when I look into his eyes, and see the blankness in the stare I am given back, I will begin to understand. But I believe I have already found the answer, the thought has already been implanted into my mind.
I stand before the cracked mirror, searching for anything, the slightest sign of life, of the shining brilliance that once presented itself proudly within the now dull hazel hue of my eyes – but I cannot find it. All I can see is the mirror, and me, and the mirror.
The broken glass, the shattered fragment, it lays on the sink.
This broken, shattered fragment, represents the window of my mind. It is gone, and while sure enough it can be repaired…
It may never be the same again.
Fourteen Minutes, Fifty-Nine Seconds
“This one will be going out to our esteemed Alpha Champion. Yes, Jason O’Neal. Rejoice. You are being noticed and shot upon (no, not literally shot, although I wish that henchmen did decide he wanted to put that bullet straight through your fucking mug) by your superior. You know, I almost feel sorry for you. For quite a while now, you’ve ruled upon this lower-end division with an iron fist, beating up on all the nobodies and the sorry scrubs who’ve been thrown your way. It must get lonely down here, without anyone of your ability nor skill (besides Adam Burnett, I guess? LOL) being able to give you the challenge you deserve.
“But then again, we all know what happens every time you get thrown into a match that doesn’t involve these low-tier losers being forced to fight you, don’t we? But don’t worry, we’re not going to get into that now, there’s other matters we need to attend to. Like the fact that you have used MY name in one of your promotions, prior to us ever being booked to face against each other.
“First of all, don’t you dare ever do that again you fucking peasant. I know you need to do whatever you can to generate some interest within your promotions, because you lack any type of charisma that would get yourself that recognition naturally, but don’t you dare fucking put my name anywhere in your work UNLESS you happen to be facing me, like in this situation.
“In that specific promotion, there was a complaint about me copying Singh, or some shit like that. By ripping a basic bitch like Adam Burnett on his merely average move-set, calling it predictable and the like. You don’t like that, do you? You don’t like me calling people predictable, is that what it is? Well isn’t that exactly what you’re doing by calling guys like Singh and I ‘unoriginal and predictable.’
“Excellent work here, I haven’t even seen if you’ve cut a promo on me yet and the first thing that I ever see from you that references me is already one huge fucking contradiction. Kill yourself, fuccboi.
“Actually, better yet, let’s wait until we get into the ring together, and then I’ll do you that solid. Okay? Good. Let’s continue.
“Even after your loss against Singh, you continued to rip the guy even though it was clear you were exposed by a simply superior talent to yourself. Is this what happens every time you lose? You complain and call it a fluke, or some shit like that? It’s sickening to me that you keep bringing up this fucking World Title match you think you’re basically guaranteed to get at this point, you think you can stand up to the challenge of Joey Flash both inside and outside of the ring, yet you’re steady getting embarrassed by his contender’s and other main-eventers a like. And, oh look. What do you know? You called Singh unoriginal, and now the same has been said of me. Looks like someone is about to go through the same nightmare, two times in the same month,.
“It’s a travesty to me that you’re so focused on this match with Flash, which at this point you aren’t even guaranteed to get, considering you have another title defense to get through at Rise Up. You, Jason, have yet to prove you can even mix it up with upper-card talent yet, this has been proven every time you have stepped into the ring with the numerous challengers and contenders for that little belt of yours.
“And no, just because you bring up the fact that you lose a lot in big matches doesn’t make the fact null and void, if anything, it just further proves how out of your depth, how out of your league you truly are here. You’re yet to grasp the fact that the moment you step too far out of your little comfort zone in the Alpha Division, you are going to get literally murdered by the bigger, faster, more intelligent competition that awaits you in the higher divisions of this federation.
“I’m going to be just another guy who gives you a taste of that in our match. If my partner doesn’t happen to fuck everything up and drop the ball, kinda like how you do every time you’re in a match that doesn’t involve a CJ Phoenix-caliber opponent. But yeah, if Jaice Wilds decides he wants to be competent for this match, I am going to embarrass you. You are not in my stratosphere in terms of talent, and I’ve already proven to Burnett that for all his hard work, nothing he does will really impact this match in a meaningful way.
“In the end, this match is just me proving a point. Seth had the audacity to put me into this fucking shit-show, and now I’m going to step up as The Cleaner, I’m going to murder the ‘best of the best’ in this useless fucking division, and then I’m going to go on and conquer something else.
“This isn’t a match, this is a fucking execution of the highest proportions. I am one of the few premier talents left remaining in this federation, one that has been riddled with the likes of you, Adam Burnett, Zero Tolerance and The Brotherhood.
“You’re not a factor in this match, O’Neal. Neither is Burnett. If this was a two on one handicap match, I would wipe the floor with you and then proceed to steal your title just for the fun of it. Petition to get that shit changed back to my United States Championship, or some shit like that. I don’t know.
“But instead, I have to share the spotlight with Jaice Wilds. Let’s hope he doesn’t make an unfortunate error and get himself pinned or something like that, or else we’d all have to deal with you fucking prancing around, throwing my name around all over the place, claiming how you finally got that much needed win over someone who is actually worth a damn around here.
“Either way, I’m putting on a one-man show. Burnett doesn’t hold a candle to me, I proved that last week, and your trainer himself has already said that Burnett is better than you. Whether that’s true or not? I don’t know, but it’s clear you’re hanging around his level.
“And that spells defeat for you.
“It’s time for you to take a backseat, O’Neal. As you forever will against better talent, just sit back and watch the show. Watch me knock Burnett’s lights out again, and then when you finally gather up the courage to step in the ring with me?
“Watch, and learn. The clock has hit fourteen minutes, fifty nine seconds, your time as a credible threat within this Alpha Division is almost over.
“It’s time for me to bring it all crashing down.”
The Office
The Psychologist: I’ve figured out a solution to your problem, Mister King.
Ethan King sat upon the leather sofa with a disinterested look over his features, his eyes slid around endlessly, gathering new bits of information about the underwhelming office that he currently sat in. Several of the books that littered the shelves were not in pristine condition, and many of them were not alphabetically ordered. He frowned upon noticing this, but made no mention of it to the joyful man who sat behind him, his smile causing the sides of his eyes to wrinkle up. At the sight of this, Ethan almost recoiled, for it was unsightly to be in possession of such an unattractive feature.
Lately, he had been wondering how he could stop that aging process himself. He knew powerful men, such as the enigmatic White-Suit who had reached out to him in a time that felt so long ago by now. Even his old mentor, Sudoku, seemed to have been holding a secret from him – one that he knew he would one day figure out, if he were to ever come within reaching distance of the man again.
But no, back to the problem at hand. Ethan King was a beautiful man, he was well aware of this. He had been told so by many that had come across him – or had he dreamed all of that? – and that had only confirmed to him that he indeed was a Gift. He remembered speaking to an old woman who once told him he would age gracefully, but that would not be right for such an esteemed member of society, such as himself.
No, immortality was the answer. But how was that achieved?
He would need to find out.
The Psychologist: Did you catch any of that?
Instinctively, Ethan smiles; although it holds no trace of emotion behind it.
Ethan King: Not a bit. Mind repeating it?
The Psychologist lets loose a small sigh, but remains tactful. He glances back over towards the sheet of paper in front of him, one that has been scrawled on by multiple colours of pen, each denoting a different aspect of Ethan King’s mentality which is in need of repairing.
The Psychologist: To break free from the constraint you’ve been given by The Shark, Jared Holmes. You must face the fear head-on. You will not need to defeat him, you will merely need to face him, talk to him… and survive.
A bitter laugh escapes from the lips of Ethan King, who pushes himself up to his feet and stands tall, leaning over the desk of The Psychologist. He points an accusing finger towards him, although the blank stare and empty smile never departs from him.
Ethan King: Survive? You’re not fooling me anymore. Neither of you are. This isn’t real, you’re an illusion, I figured that out the last time I was in here.
He turns his back to the man, beginning to pace toward the door, each step he takes sounds as though a gun were being fired, a bullet exploding from a chamber, straight towards the back of his skull. But he knew, he knew this was all a part of the experience.
None of this was REALity.
6ix God: Don’t you dare fucking walk away from me.
Broken Heart
“There’s more I need to get off my chest about you, Adam. I didn’t think it would end up this way, but you triggered something in me that I didn’t think anyone else would. I can deal with the petty quips and salty remarks from our current Alpha Champion, I can dismiss the insolent insults from Zero Tolerance on the internet, who don’t seem to understand that I could wipe them all out in one fucking swoop if I wanted to. Hell, I can even deal with Seth Lerch throwing me into ridiculous matches such as these, where I have to bury two of the ‘most promising’ talents in the federation since Ethan King. Yeah, I can look passed all that.
“But I can’t look passed what you said to me last week, I can’t even look away and ignore the way you act on a daily basis – it deserves to be reprimanded. It deserves to be torn apart, and that is exactly what I’m going to do.
“You don’t talk to your superiors with that tone of voice, nor do you parade around as if you mean something around here. Because you don’t.
“Now, don’t get it twisted. Before that little light bulb in that head of yours goes off, before you start thinking that you’ve got me on the ropes, that you’ve gotten into my head by the remarks you’ve said, that what you said to me last week will somehow lower the usual greatness of my performance levels on this week’s Slam…
“You’re wrong.
“I’m disgusted at the fact you don’t think I’ve earned my way into this company. That I apparently haven’t earned my spot and cemented myself as one of the top talents around here, I’m disgusted that you can look into a camera and cut your contractually obliged, pathetic promos and say with conviction that I’m the one unfairly taking other people’s spots.
“This is the exact reason I left you grovelling at my feet last week, you petty fuck. It’s people like you who whine and complain about all the missed opportunities, all the failures and set-backs they’ve had, saying that you should’ve had more chances to prove yourself, that you were never given a fair go of things, and then you blame it on people like me.
“You blame it on uber-talented, future World Champion’s like myself, because it slowly dawns on you that you will never reach these levels.
“While you’ve been training for a good portion of your life to make it here, I didn’t start training until I reached College. While I was sitting around in a dormitory, taking the piss with a bunch of friends who never would’ve expected me to reach the heights I have around here, you were in a poor excuse for a gym, that smelled like absolute trash and had numerous scrubs putting in that work, endlessly grinding towards an goal that cannot be achieved– something they would realize far too late.
“But you, you were a different story, weren’t you? Along with you and your buddy, Stephen Anderson, you continued the grind. You worked your way up towards being a top indy competitor, you put on shows for those fans every week, didn’t you? You were doing what you loved, and when you were finally given the chance to take that big step up to the top, the one thing you had been dreaming about for almost all of your life, you took that chance.
“And now you’re here, still the same old Adam Burnett. Perspective still hasn’t hit you, you haven’t realized that you’re one of the smallest fish, in the biggest ocean. You still have the audacity to step up to people like me and question me, and MY position in the federation? You say I’ve been taking the places of others? You don’t’ think I have earned what I have been given?
“You’re pathetic.
“And you’re right – I was always going to attack your lack of talent. I was always going to go there, because for all your work, dedication and passion for the business? You don’t stack up. You never stacked up. You know that, you knew I was going to bring that up, and so you even referenced it yourself, and do you want to know why that is?
“Do you want to know why every single time your talent and position in this company is questioned, you come up with the same answers? That you work hard, that you give everything you’ve got, that this is what you love?
“Because deep down inside, you know you’re nothing more than fodder for those that were destined for this industry, those that didn’t NEED to work as hard as you, those that put in enough work to cement themselves as worthy of their positions in the business. You look at someone like me, and all you feel is hatred. You hide it, and you hide it well. You hide it behind a cordial smile, and your kindly words, you say that we’ll put on a great match for the fans, that we’re both one of the same, that we’re both young talents – but that you’re the one with more heart.
“And I commend you for that, I honestly do. It must be hard, knowing that for all of your hard work, you will never reach the level of someone like me.
“The insecurities are piling up inside of you, Adam. Everything you ever feared before coming into the WCF has now become a reality. Before you had to step up to the challenges you’re being faced up with here, you were able to achieve with just hard work alone, with your heart and the raging fire that carried you so, so high.
“And now you’ve hit your peak. Just like I told you last week. You’ve barely scratched the surface of the WCF, and yet you’ve already used up all of your reserves. I showed everyone your limit last week, and it is painfully low in comparison to those that are meant for greatness.
“This is not subjective. This is not me giving my opinion. This is not me shitting on you for the fun of it (even though that’s always fun).
“This is me giving you the truth, the one that you’ve avoided but always knew was going to creep up on you when you least wanted it to. This is me burning up every last remnant of the dreams of success that you once hard, the dream of becoming something worthwhile here in this federation.
“You stepped up into this federation with a heart, one that was beating ferociously. Adrenaline, nervousness, anticipation. You’ve experienced it all now, you know what it’s like. Last week, I gave you the feelings of defeat, one’s that you’ll have to cope with for a long time into the future.
“Our paths are not intertwined, this is not an up and coming rivalry between two young talents, this is not something that will be looked on in future years and be regarded as something of greatness. These results, these matches between us, this butchering of your persona, your lack of talent, your overall product, it will all be forgotten.
“Because in a few months from now, you won’t even be able to catch a scent of me. My ascent has only just begun, the prophecies and the mumblings of the masses are being confirmed as we speak. With every week I show up, with every week I demolish enough competitor with my words, before proceeding to embarrass them thoroughly in the ring, I am rising.
“You on the other hand? You will always remain here. You are not in the upper-echelon, you do not touch me in the ring, and that will be showcased once again when we meet.
“Your heart, your big beating heart. Oh, Adam. I already snuffed out the fire from your eyes, I saw it die right before me as I left you laid out, dead center in the ring.
“And now?
“I’m going to rip your heart out.
“You have got nothing left.”
The Throne Room
6ix God: Don’t you dare fucking walk away from me.
Ethan pauses, hesitating as he hears the voice emanate, echoing not only through the room, but his mind. He turns around, to witness the expanse of the 6ix God’s court, his illustrious throne room, encompass him entirely.
With a shudder, he recalls his moments with The Kingmaker, the man whom had executed him before a throne that looked all too familiar to the one The King in Yellow now sat upon, his black eyes boring directly through him.
That too had been all but a dream, but it was simply a part of the process. The process that had turned him into what he had become, the thing that he feared most.
But the fear no longer remained, now? It was an uncertain numbness to the whole situation, an acceptance of this idea that he was no longer in control of his own mind or being, that even though he felt as though he were making his own movements, and his own decisions, that it all came back to this God that sat before him, an aura of death and the smell of blood lingering over him.
6ix God: Good. Now come here.
The tone in his voice had softened, the sharpness that had ripped the will away from Ethan King now subsiding to a more cordial tone. Ethan complied, but with reluctance, as though he were trying to fight the temptation. As always, he failed in the attempt, his feet carrying him forward.
The Psychologist and his Office were gone entirely, no trace of either to be seen. A royal carpet that laid beneath the throne and stretched out all the way to the front exit of the throne-room sprawled itself before Ethan. He walked along it, while taking note of the various heads that were mounted along the walls, one of those being Eddie Felt himself.
For that brief moment, he thought he felt a pang of guilt, as he realized the fate he had brought down not only upon himself, but those that he had once called his friends. After all, it had been his idea to jump so willingly into the role of being the supporters of Joey Flash, as they attacked the #BeachKrew upon their debut, when the former were not too far removed from the height of their dominance.
He had caused this, he had caused all of it.
And now, he had a price to pay. The Iron Price.
He now stood before The 6ix God, who looked at him with the merest hint of disdain, as his lip curled in contempt.
6ix God: Now kneel.
If he allowed this, it would all be over. Every chance for recovery, every chance for a better life, one that did not leave him numb and as a separate entity from the rest of The World, would be gone.
He would be nothing but a puppet, a pawn in a Kingdom that he would never feel satisfied as being a part of. The dreaded routine would continue, each day would the same, each day would leave him cold and empty.
With the briefest flare of defiance illuminating the darkness that had crawled its way into his heart, he stood tall, glaring back at the 6ix God.
Ethan King: You are no Ruler of mine.
The 6ix God, like The Kingmaker whom had loomed over Ethan long ago, gave him a sad smile, one that summed up the pity he felt for ‘The Future King’, one who wouldn’t ever be able to live up to the moniker he had been given.
6ix God: And that is where you’re wrong.
Ethan King: Explain.
6ix God: This? This is all my fabrication, this is the sum of everything that I have filtered into that mind of yours. Sure, you’re intelligent enough to realize that this is all a dream, but the concept is still there. Every idea, everything you have been told, everything you have experienced here, it will be present, it will impact you, it will wear down on you.
Ethan King opens his mouth to comment, but cannot find the words.
6ix God: This is a game you cannot win.
He steps off of his throne, his eyes remaining desolate, no emotion within them. Ethan’s too now held that same look, he was nothing but a Creation.
A Creation of The 6ix God.
6ix God: And let’s say in some hypothetical situation, that you did manage to break free from my hold. That this was all just a hoax, and that I couldn’t just leave you dead and buried whenever I wanted, what would you do after you had taken The Throne?
He gestures up toward The Throne that he had formerly been seated upon, while tilting his head in a curious manner toward the silent Ethan King.
6ix God: Nothing. You would succumb to the pressure, and you would die.
With a scowl, he kicks the left knee of Ethan, who grunts as he is forced down to one knee, kneeling before The 6ix God.
6ix God: I want you to understand something, Ethan. You are a pawn. You are my instrument, my weapon, a weapon that I will forcibly aim at each enemy that arises. This is what you are now, this is what you were made for. But, don’t lose hope.
He grins, his teeth looking all too similar to a set that would belong to a Shark.
6ix God: You are my finest weapon, the finest blade in all The Kingdom, and while you were never amount to anything more than that… you will still be revered by all.
He reaches down with his hand, ruffling Ethan’s hair. If it were anyone else, Ethan would of retaliated in savage fashion.
But this was different.
Here? He was powerless.
With one finger, The 6ix God delicately pushes Ethan’s head upward by the chin, forcing him to look directly into his hollow eyes.
6ix God: I am not your Enemy.
He pauses, allowing the words to seep deep into Ethan’s memory.
6ix God: Don’t change that.
Contradiction
“Let’s continue to delve into the depths of your own unoriginality, Jason. This seems to be a running gag with you, almost like a joke that you can’t stop making, even though you fail to realize that you yourself are becoming the one thing you hate the most.
“Last week, you told Teddy Blaze with astounding confidence, that he should not bother mentioning his previous accomplishments, or bringing up the ‘resume’ that he has accumulated through his time in the federation. But, while you tell him not to do that, you without fail always manage to bring up the fact that you have never been able to defeat a big-name here in the WCF, that you have never managed to come through with a victory in a marquee match-up.
“This is a contradiction.
“This is the basis of everything that Jason O’Neal does, he will happily sit there and criticize anyone who dare brings up their past victories or accomplishments, but when he goes through his own results? It’s fine. It’s great. It’s original, it’s a different take.
“I’m going to let you in on something, you fucking scrub.
“The self-shoot is something that has been done by many others within this federation. It is not new, it is not interesting, but when done correctly, it can be effective. But you? You have literally made this one fucking idea the premise of your entire gimmick now. This is the exact reason you’re always sour about the shoots and ‘gimmicks’ of the other wrestlers in the federation.
“You talk all about formulas, and how others are copying those invented by the best for their own success, you want to know why you do that?
“Because you’re too fucking incompetent to come up with your own, or modify someone else’s and add your own twist upon it to make it seem new and interesting. Your own formula is pure trash, and you’ve been unable to find another one which will make you seem as if you’re a viable, credible threat here in the WCF.
“You, you are a disgrace. You scream about how you’re being marginalized to the masses, but Jason, you are the one that has marginalized yourself, by being unable to break the mold and show that you’re not just a one-dimensional crybaby. You fancy yourself as some type of intellectual, but you are yet to do anything that has actually proved this.
“The only thing even relatively complex about you and your thought processes are the heaping amount of insecurities and nonsensical bullshit that runs through that mind of yours. These are the same thoughts that cause you to choke up and flail around aimlessly whenever you are put into a big match that doesn’t have an irrelevant, subpar talent such as Adam Burnett present within it.
“You’re not smart, and you’re not even mildly entertaining. You probably get a kick out of when you see your own promotions air and you have that bitch asking you questions, and then you put on that little smirk and come up with the perfect answer, or when you put on the tough guy act and seem more mysterious and enigmatic then you actually are.
“Jason O’Neal is a show, a bland and vanilla show, to be certain, but a show nonetheless. And all shows must come to an end. This is where I step in.
“For a guy like you, Jason. This match is career defining, this match is everything that you fear. You are teamed with your arch-rival, you are facing a contender for you belt, and a proven, established talent in myself. This is the exact type of match that you either sink or swim in, and every time you’ve been put in that scenario? You’ve sank.
“I drowned Adam Burnett last week, I showed him the depths of my abilities and now he is well aware of how far out of his league he is. Now, all that’s left is to do the exact same thing to you.
“It won’t take long, this isn’t a battle for the ages. For you? This match is big-time, this is a match that will help solidify and prove to everyone that you aren’t just another new guy with no real substance to him. But for me? This match is routine, a routine killing that I will continue to do throughout my time here in the WCF.
“There’s no pressure on me, there is no chance of me getting pinned or submitted in this match, there is not even the slightest chance that you have me on the ropes on time throughout the entirety of this match.
“This is practice, this is a warm-up, this is where I thrive.
“This is sink or swim, Jason.
“Break, or survive.
“We both know which one you’re going to be doing.”
Unhinged
I awake to a much nicer sight than the one I had been greeted to the previous morning. The apartment itself was cleanly, although the floorboards that I stepped across created an awful amount of noise. I bypassed the small, yet adequate kitchen and lounge areas, to escape into the bathroom once more. Was it odd that in terms of the real world, this was the only place of solitary I could ever seem to find? The only time I could ever feel ‘alone’, as I stared back into a mirror that showed me the aftermath of the previous night’s adventures and happenings.
Dark bags were formed underneath my eyes, and my hair, which had been gelled and slicked toward the left as I preferred most, was sticking up and curled outward in awkward fashion in certain places. This threw me into a small state of panic, as I ruffled around for any type of comb within the numerous cabinets and drawers inside the bathroom.
I couldn’t find one, and that is when the waterworks started. The tears sprung to my eyes and were rolling down my cheeks within an instant, and I couldn’t control it. I clutched at my hair and ripped at it endlessly, falling down to the floor of the bathroom once more, at the time it never crossed my mind how dirty these floors may have been, it didn’t matter then.
Nothing was right anymore, nothing was right.
But this time, I had the cure, I held the temporary solution to the conundrum of my hair, and my unsatisfactory, tired appearance, and my clothes which had now been tainted by the germs and smell of this bathroom I had confined myself to.
I reached into the pocket of the single breasted coat I had worn to sleep, too tired and lucid from the event’s that had taken place the previous night to have even bothered to take it off. My fingers latched desperately onto the plastic bag, visibly shaking as I pulled it out from beneath my coat, the white substance in the bag bringing a wave of content over me.
The tears had halted, a smile formed over my lips.
Later, after I had performed the deed, a vibration rumbled against my side, from the same pocket which I had grabbed the plastic bag from. Although it proved a difficult task, I managed to pull out my phone and open the message which had been sent to me from one Jared Holmes. My eyes scanned over the message multiple times, just to ensure I had read it correctly.
My fingers shook, my mind wandered from the task, but after a few minutes I had replied.
“I’ll be there.”
The Execution
“I’ll admit something Jason. This has been fun. It’s been fun just scratching the surface of all the bullshit you’ve been feeding the people since you became the holder of that Alpha Championship, its been fun degrading not only you, but all the people that are beneath you, all the people that have failed to beat you. This is what I do, this is my specialty, killing losers like you on the daily is nothing but a formality at this point, just as our match is.
“But now, I want to get into the real shit. Yes, you’re fucking terrible. Yes, I am going to thoroughly embarrass you and Burnett during our match, that is all truth. But, there is more to it than that. We can go deeper.
“Scanning back just a little, I found that you dropped, not too long ago, quite the truthful quote. Let me see if I can remember it…
“Never get too close to anyone. They will eventually either die or disappoint you.”
“I find that interesting, you see. Because I immediately recognized that, in that situation right there, you were subconsciously implying to Stephanie that yes, you, Jason O’Neal, would fail here at some point in the near or distant future. That you would disappoint her in some form or fashion. There is already evidence of this throughout your entire career, you have one bright spot present within the abyss of darkness that IS your WCF Career, and that is your Alpha Championship victory.
“But other than that? You’ve been a disappointment. That’s the word which defines your career.
“Every moment, disappointment, after disappointment, followed by more disappointment. This all makes sense, you see. You, Jason, are very obsessed with this idea of formulas, and the way other people have copied them to reach success. It makes sense because your disappointment can be linked to this one fact…
“Your formula thus far seems to be you fucking up every single time you are given an opportunity to shine, shriveling up and dying whenever you are put into a big-match situation. Your formula is you achieving literally nothing besides clutching onto that championship of yours desperately, the same title that gives you the small amount of recognition that you get, the same title that you degrade each and every week. THIS is your formula.
“Win against a low-card opponent, perhaps beat a low-end midcarder, get beat by someone in the upper-echelon, cut a promo about how everyone else is bland, talk about your potential World Title match, degrade your championship and bring up marginalization. Repeat.
“This is all you do, this is all you are.
“Your very own formula. Repeatedly state your apathy and disgust for the title you hold, while making it clear exactly why you’re holding that belt. Because you cannot consistently perform on stages that are bigger than low to middle card throwaway matches.
“At this point, it seems you’re going to have to resort to copying someone else’s formula, because at this point? You’re hardly treading water, you’re already dead on your feet but you don’t seem to understand that yes, this is all you were meant for, Jason. To hold a title made for people like you, people who would never win a title otherwise unless they were being carried to a tag or trios title victory.
“Maybe now I can finally understand why you degrade the title so much. Because at this point, you’ve come to understand yourself. Fuck what I said earlier, you weren’t subconsciously implying that you will eventually prove to be a disappointment to Stephanie, and whatever small fan-base you may have…
“You know that you’ll prove to be a fucking disappointment, right from the very beginning. That’s why you dropped that little quote, didn’t you? So that when you inevitably fail, when it’s all said and done and you’re left kneeling before the might of the powers that be in this federation, you’d have an excuse. You’d be able to tell everyone that it isn’t a surprise, that it isn’t some sort of big shock or revelation. You’d be able to say that you had foreseen your future before anyone else ever did.
“Well, Jason. Here I am. Seeing through your bullshit, which week by week has become progressively easier to do, as you continue to try and pander to people, telling them that it’s not your fault you’re the one being ‘marginalized.’
“You were never being marginalized, you never even had the chance to be marginalized, you’ve never reached a height where you’d be able to be degraded from, or regarded as inferior even though that simply wasn’t the truth, because like Adam Burnett, you’re already right where you belong. You are one of many that formulates the bottom of the barrel, cannon-fodder trash that the main-eventers of the WCF stomp on for fun.
“So, with this in mind. I want you to take some things into consideration.
“Stop looking so far into the future, stop looking forward toward your World Title match. You will be lucky to get through the challenge of Burnett, you will be lucky to get passed Wilds as well. This is not opinion, this is fact. These two men are both on your level, whether you want to admit it or not.
“And, this isn’t saying much, considering neither of them have ever proven themselves in big matches either. Burnett had his first last week against me, and he was easily dispatched. If anything, Jaice Wilds has featured in a higher profile match than both of you put together, he managed to qualify for the New Year’s Bash match, while the two of you were still featuring in low card matches that went unnoticed by the majority.
“This, at the very least, puts Wilds on the same level as you, and puts him slightly above Adam Burnett, who if we’re being honest is just a fucking punching bag for anyone that isn’t in the Alpha Division, such as myself.
“You are yet to understand many things about this place, Jason, and I will have to expose you to them come our match. You are not a main draw, you were not deserving of the Rookie of the Year award, and you are not a factor when it comes to the World Title scene. You are in need of learning your place, your focus is spread all over the place, you fire shots and quips in the direction of men like Flash, Singh and I, while you repeatedly fail to understand that your biggest threats are those that are vying for your championship.
“This will be your undoing, you are not focused enough, you don’t have the concentration to beat me even when I’m performing at a mediocre level in comparison to me on my A-Game. You are a C-Minus player in a league that is filled with people that are head and shoulders above you, both in terms of production and in terms of wrestling alone.
“You are not a lost cause, you have a minimal amount of talent, which is more than can be said for Burnett, but you need to harness that and prove that you can at least perform at the perennial mid-card level. You are yet to do so, you have not yet proven yourself worthy of my attention. You should be grateful that I have spent this much time on you, but don’t take this as a compliment.
“This is but my duty, this is me cleansing the federation of all the untalented, salty fuccbois that have made their way onto WCF shores.
“You can stand and fight, you may even get a victory over one of your challenger in Jaice Wilds, but just know that you do not, and will not, compare to me in anyway. I will showcase that when we step into the ring together, when I put a blemish on the entire Alpha Division and show that it truly is just a joke.
“Bring back my championship, I conquered the division once, I’m about to do it again. Once I execute you and Burnett? It’s game over.
“This is when I kill the game, this is when I come into my own and expose you once again, for the last time. After this? Whatever semblance of credibility you may have had left will be gone for good, all the misconceptions will be sorted. And then, you can finally rest, knowing that your thoughts were right from the very start.
“You weren’t destined for greatness.
“You were nothing but a failure parading as a champion.”