The Hollow Throne

[Teo Blaze]

“That’s all well and good, but what have you done for me lately?”

As the scene slowly comes into view, what greets the audience is a sight that is at once immediately familiar and yet somehow...wrong.

There is a silhouetted figure sitting on what appears to be a hastily assembled throne, cobbled together from an unseen material and jutting out at bizarre and unnatural angles, as much misshapen as it is jagged and strange.

And sitting, one leg crossed over the other, with both hands folded over a long sceptre, chin resting upon both, is the familiar red-lensed face of the King of All Media, Teo Blaze. The bright lights reflecting off of his glasses generates just enough luminance so that one can make out his features, but the throne he sits upon is still cast in shadow.

Teo Blaze: My oh my, what a practical all-you-can-eat buffet of failure has been laid at my feet this week.

The champion speaks through a grinning mouth, his facial expression practically dripping with amusement at his own words. But the tone of his voice is somehow....regretful, and even as he relishes the venom dripping from his silver tongue, there is a tinge of sadness to his voice.

Teo Blaze: I have been put up against a man who in any book, and by any margin should be a first ballot hall of famer, an icon of the industry, and a man synonymous with the Wrestling Championship Federation. A man whose very presence commands respect, whose name brings with it a cavalcade of historical moments and untouchable highs.

Teo closes his eyes, but the grin remains, and he shakes his head in mock sorrow, his expression betraying his true feelings.

Teo Blaze: It’s practically a greek tragedy. The great hero who lifted himself to such impossible heights now finds himself at the end of a long and damaging career, clinging desperately to any possible claim of relevance, holding out hope for any chance, any slim margin of recognition. A man who should be known by all now trying desperately just to be noticed.

He drops his head low and let’s out an audible “tsk” through his teeth, peering over the rims of his glasses with a knowing expression.

Teo Blaze: Oh sure, I could point to the long, depressing, disgusting, and frankly overwritten Moustache Family saga that my esteemed opponent recently embarked upon, redefining the meaning of the word trash television. I can talk about how in front of the world, on the grandest stage in all of Wrestling, he not only was humiliated by Seth Lerch, but by a literal family of inbred wretched fools who are barely clever enough to use innuendo properly…

Or I could talk about the fact that he went on a twitter campaign proudly bragging about being inside that catcher’s mitt that Mama Stache keeps between her legs.

Or I could talk about the fact that he has fallen so down into alcoholism that he has become the punchline for every single “drunken fatass” joke that comes out of the WCF galaxy.

But quite frankly, I don’t have to.

As Teo speaks, the camera slowly zooms outward, taking in the entire scene. Teo sits at the top of a large plinth, upon which the misshapen throne takes center stage. He grins and looks down at the infinity Championship, which as always sits wrapped around his waist, and with a motion that is now becoming very familiar, holds out his left hand and snaps his fingers.

Within a second, the scene is flooded in bright white light, and for an instant the throne is gleaming as bright as the sun, shining directly into the camera and creating a tremendous glare. A few moments pass with the swirling bright light, but the camera is able to refocus and the finer details of the throne finally come into view.

What Teo sits upon is not a throne made of blades, or of iron, but something completely different. The throne has been assembled from the plates, gems, and leather of several different replica championships, all bearing the WCF Logo, and every single name plate reading the same thing: “Jayson Price”.

Teo Blaze: Mr. Every Title, was it? I think that’s the nickname you liked to be called, wasn’t it, Jay?

The tone in Teo’s voice is mocking, showing he is perfectly aware of the history behind the nickname, but a cocked eyebrow betrays the sarcasm in his words.

Teo Blaze: Of course, that nickname hasn’t exactly held much water in the past few years, has it? After all, despite being an active competitor almost non-stop, there have been quite a few belts that have come and gone without the name “Jay Price” on them.

Blaze turns back and gestures to the throne with his sceptre, counting off the belts on his fingers as he does so.

Teo Blaze: No Trios, no Alpha, no Omega, and if we’re being really honest with ourselves Jay no International Title either.

As Teo speaks, he taps each plate on the throne, and as he does so, each replica championship falls off of the throne, clattering on the ground with a clank of metal.

Teo Blaze: And if we take off the championships that you were handed we can go ahead and knock off the Elite Championship and one of these People’s Titles…

More belts clatter to the ground as Teo speaks, and he continues shaking his head with exaggerated sadness.

Teo Blaze: I could go on, but I think you get the picture.

As if to emphasize his point, the throne begins to shudder, looking far less stable than it did mere minutes ago.

Teo Blaze: You see, there’s a funny thing about legacy...the details tend to get a little lost. People remember that Jay Price won the World Championship...but they also tend to forget that he lost it almost immediately without a single defense.

They remember that Jay Price has won countless championships in WCF...but they forget that he also has a tendency to have reigns so long, drawn out, and borderline nonexistent that he has on multiple occasions caused his championships to become completely inactive, to the extent that he was referred to as the comaweight champion at one point.

Teo shrugs his shoulders and rolls his eyes as he speaks, but his tone betrays a feeling of disgust as he speaks.

Teo Blaze: Now I’m not one to pick on a guy for being in a coma, but when you really stop and think about it, it’s kind of a fitting metaphor, isn’t it?

The simple fact is that Jay Price, for all of his credit, is not a man who cares about responsibility. He is not a man who cares for hard work.

He is a selfish, impulsive, and childish human being with both the slime and the spinelessness of a slug!

Sit back and listen, WCF galaxy, because I’m about to tell you the truth about Jay Price. You see, Jay Price is a man who is interested in one thing and one thing alone, and that is attention. Why do you think he has spent the better part of a year campaigning to be put in the hall of fame?

There’s one reason and one reason alone, and that is because Jay Price does not give a damn about anything other than getting his name in the record books.

Oh, he’s capable of pushing himself, I’d be a moron to say anything else, but if you really stop and examine his track record throughout the years, you start to notice a pattern. He pushes himself as hard as he can, plays the role of the underdog like a true veteran, and every once in a while he manages to defy the odds and walk out with a championship...or get it handed to him, I get the feeling he doesn’t have a preference.

And then, once he has managed to get over that hurdle, once he has that gold around his waist….

Teo holds out his hand and makes a noise like the air being let out of a balloon.

Teo Blaze: That motivation shrivels up and disappears, not unlike Jay himself at the Hall of Fame ceremony.

You see, the secret about Jay Price is that for all of his dogged determination, as much as he tries to elevate and push himself to this wonderful laundry list of accomplishments, what he just can’t bring himself to admit is that he doesn’t want the responsibility, the duty, the honor that comes with holding those same titles he covets so much.

Teo taps his forehead with his index finger and cocks an eyebrow, as if he is waiting for the viewer to hear the punchline to a long joke.

Teo Blaze: I guarantee you that this week you’ll see that same fire, that same Jay who stands up and says “this time it will be different, this time I’ll show the world what I can really do!”

Teo’s lips curl into a very familiar grin, his eyes flashing behind the glasses as he runs his tongue over chipped teeth, the devilish smile encompassing everything else.

Teo Blaze: Jay, do us all a favor and shut the fuck up.

Not only do we know what you can really do, but we are tired of hearing about it.

As soon as the words escape Teo’s mouth, he turns and slams his foot into the throne, which practically explodes in a rain of leather and gold, chipped metal flying in all directions in a cacophonic...yet somehow beautiful cascade of fallen glory.

Teo stands over the debris of the hollow throne, looking for all the world as though he is about to stomp down on the championship that lays at his feet...Jay Price’s world championship...but he pauses and looks back at the screen.

Teo Blaze: I see you, Jay Price. I look at you and I know in an instant the kind of man you are, a man who only sees victory as a means to personal glory, who only pushes himself in order to etch his name in the annals of history and cares not what those very accomplishments are meant to signify.

To win a title is to take on a sacred responsibility, an impossible challenge, to carry the expectations and the hope of the entire world on your shoulders.

But you...you thrive on personal gains, on pinning title wins to your resume like they were fucking merit badges.

You treat each and every title win as a burden, a curse, as a goddamned chore!

And yet you proudly declare your accomplishments to anyone who you can force to listen.

It. Is. Pathetic.

You sit up in your Ivory Price Tower and look down on the rest of the world, so convinced, so assured that you have secured your legacy, that you have built a reputation that is untouchable in the annals of the WCF.

But Jay...you want to know a secret?

“Mr. Every Title?”

You’ve won nine different championships in your career, that is your untouchable claim, the very thing you premise your nickname on.

I’ve won seven.

And while your career is winding down, while you desperately cling for relevance through publicity stunts and humiliating campaigns to get yourself into that hallowed hall?

I’ve been catching up to you. I’m right behind you. And I’ve done it in a fraction of the time.

Each and every championship I win, I not only redefine myself, but I redefine it.

Ask anyone who was the greatest People’s Champion, the greatest Internet Champion, ask them who is the greatest Television Champion, take your pick.

How many of them are going to say Jay Price?

Ask them about the greatest World Champion, greatest Hardcore, tag team, ask them about ANY belt, and I guarantee you that your name will never even be in the discussion.

So congratulations Jay.

You’ve held countless championships, you’ve won them time and time again, and each and every time without any exception someone has come along and done it better.

You may have held nine different championships...but as far as I am concerned you have never been a champion.

So congratulations on the legacy, Jay.

You’re a fucking human participation trophy.

Putting in only whatever effort you need to get your name on the record books and then collapsing like a house of cards into a whiskey bottle.

You’re a walking punchline who has managed to stick around long enough to fall backwards into reigns that nobody ever sees coming, and end just as quickly as they begin.

And now..? On top of everything you’ve become a drunken, degenerate, self-obsessed slob whose only redeeming quality is the simple fact that he has name recognition.

And that’s it, Jay.

You are a name on the resume for the up and coming generation of WCF superstars.

And you are about to be a name on my resume.

Because you see Jay, there is a fundamental difference between you and I.

Your reputation is built on winning titles.

Mine is built on defending them.

Week in, week out, no break, no exceptions, no rest, against the hungriest, most doggedly determined superstars to ever walk through those doors. I have turned away countless challengers and every single one has gone on to bigger and better things!

I have bathed myself in the flames of challenge, I have spilled my blood in the arena of gold and I have walked through hell to get where I am standing!

I have survived worse than you’ve ever had to, and I have done it without hesitation, without fear, and I have defied the odds just as many times as you have!

You have spent the past year or more seeking out a spot in the hall of fame, seeking out that recognition, because that is all you understand, Jay!

I could give a damn! If I never end up in that Hall of Fame, because I know in my heart of hearts that I can look back on my career without regret! Even if my name never ends up in those hallowed halls, I know that people will speak my name with reverence and respect!

Because Jay, unlike you, I have never had to rely on my reputation. My accomplishments are my own, but they do not define me.

I define me.

My actions, my victories, my failures, I carry each and every one of them with me and I grow from them without exception.

You cannot say the same thing.

It is because of that Jay that I will beat you this week. I cannot let you add this precious gold to your throne of lies.

Teo’s eyes flash with a golden glow, the Television championship reflecting in the red lenses.

Teo Blaze: I see you Jay...you have desperately cobbled together a throne with your championships.

But anyone with eyes can see just how hollow that throne is.

With that, Teo turns and walks from the scene, his eyes flashing one final time as the camera slowly pans down to the shards of metal that lie on the throne room floor.