Post by Allen Guiliano on Sept 27, 2010 15:53:25 GMT -5
It is midday in Las Vegas and the afternoon sun is high in the sky, beaming down on the surrounding area. The temperature is warm, but the lack of humidity does wonders to minimize the effect of the heat. Outside the estate of gaming tycoon Allen Guiliano, all is calm and the front door has been left open as if he is expecting company. The view slowly moves through the open cherry wood front door and into the main room of Guiliano's home. Once inside, it is clear that a door to the back of the house has been left open as light pours through an opening sliding door leading out to the back yard. Before following the obvious path to the back, the view transitions to a well lit trophy room that has also been left open. Posters, championship belts, wrestling attire, and several other pieces of memorabilia line the walls and shelves of the room. Starting to the left of the door as a person would enter marks the start of Guiliano's career. The first wrestling gear that he wore; a white tank top, bagging jeans, and a red bandana, have been framed along with a picture of his hand raised in victory, the first of his illustrious career. A collection of posters from his days in that first federation, the GEWF, outline his first title belt, a simple gold and leather strap complete with a nameplate engraved with “Slickie T” signifying that he was the Hardcore Champion.
As the view continues to move over the walls, pictures and posters from the GEWF gradually transition into memorabilia from the XHWF when his tank top began to bear the name of his native country on the back, along with the red, white, and green emblem. More pictures of his struggles with Bricks Bavusa start the collage, as many show Guiliano with a face full of blood and sometimes in defeat. However, the photographs then show happier times and the poster from his first pay-per-view main event is framed with his first World Championship belt. Also photos of Guilianio and Eric Tione, his former tag team partner, along with their loyal fans complete the section on the XHWF. Both Guiliano and Tione's signatures are scribbled across several pictures and posters.
The third main section shows the transition that Guiliano made from simply street thug to bonafied business man as his attire changed to the now famous pinstripe suit and wingtip shoes of today. Once again photos and posters are plastered all over the wall and the XGWO Hardcore Title belt is framed with a photo showing evidence of the referee raising his arm high in the air and presenting him with this prize, while his opponent lay sprawled out across the canvas. One of his favorite photos, a black and white shot of himself and the other members of The Untouchables in 1920's gangster attire is the centerpiece of the collection. James Black is to his right, while Josh K. Risma and Cobra pose over his left shoulder. Each man has signed the photo in gold pen and “The Untouchables” is scripted underneath it in the same script that is used for The Guiliano Hotel and Casino. Other parts of his collection show highlights of matches with some familiar faces in the WCF such as X-Rated and Dake Ken. Although the three never faced each other in one-on-one competition, they were very close in the locker room and vowed to never compete against each other unless it was absolutely necessary. That time would come when Guiliano was forced to go against Dake Ken in the bout to decide the final entrant in WAR VIII, several years after the closing of the XGWO.
The fourth and final wall is littered with several important items from his time in the WCF and it is fitting that the Wrestling Championship Federation would be his last since the room only contains four walls. Shots of his debut match in the WCF start the collection as he earned a victory in a three way match over Chris Avery and Johnny Anthrax on May 31, 2009. Next to that opening win picture is the poster from the 2009's Blast, when Guiliano captured his first title in the WCF by defeating Mikami for the United States Championship. The Italian would successfully defend that title several times against Mikami and many others before finally having it taken from him without getting pinned in a triple threat match. Next a poster from last year's Revenge hangs separated as if it supposed to have it's own special place on the wall. Caricatures of Torture, Mikami, and Johnny Reb decorate the front of the poster, but a background shot shows the outlines of Slickie T and Dake Ken. The poster is signed by Dake and Allen as it was the first and only time that they would truly have to compete against each other in one-on-one competition and also marked the last career match for Dake Ken. Moving on, perhaps the most prized possession of Guiliano's collection appears, time lapse photos of Guiliano dodging Logan's Impact Style and turning it into a T-Bone for his victory at WAR VIII. The smaller photos outline the poster of the event and within the same frame are pieces of the red, white, and green confetti that fell from the rafters of Madison Square Garden after his monumental win. Even further down that wall and just a few feet from the door is an enormous frame containing each and every bit of printed material and photos taken of the Torture/Slickie T feud, including the World Title belt that he eventually won. Magazine covers, clipped articles, pictures of the initial defeat and the poster from One reside on one half of the frame, while the other half contains the same collection of material, but from the events leading up to the victory at Ten. The portion of the wall that remains includes pieces of history from his tie and loss to Chad Evans as well as the Revenge post from last month and the two current World Championship and Hardcore Title belts that bear a nameplate with his moniker. Next to the only door leading to the room and the final piece of the wall is a frame with the WAR IX poster inside it, but a large portion of the bottom half of the frame is left empty for whatever photos or memorabilia will be collected this Monday night in Sacramento. In the center of the room, on a table that has been handcrafted and passed down through his family, sits the pair of luparas that were presented to him not long ago, signifying the reunion of the crime families in Italy. In the center of the cases rest two large flags; one is that of his country of Italy and the other is the banner of Sicily. A somber mood can be felt as the camera makes a final trip out of this room and the light is politely turned off, a near analogy to what will happen to the man who claims all these possessions after Monday night.
As the camera exits, it now follows the obviously path of light leading outside to the back part of the luxurious home. After a short trip down through the lit path, Allen Guiliano can now be spotted lying in a hammock with a glass of wine in his hand as it rests upon his chest. He is in nothing put a pair of shorts and an open panel shirt with a pair of black sunglasses hiding his eyes. Next to him, on a small glass table rests an ashtray with a smoldering cigar. The cigar is nothing but a fraction of its original form and the scent of tobacco fills the air. The Italian seems unaware of his surroundings and it is soon obviously that he is in a deep slumber. The warm sun continues to warm his olive skin as his dream becomes revealed...
A young Guiliano can be seen walking through what seems to be an infinite olive grove. He appears to be about 10 years of age and skips happily through the trees, stopping every now and then to pluck one of the fruit from the branches. It is a rare look at the man in a much more innocent time, before he was aware of the sheer danger and life that surrounded him. As he continues to skip through the rows of olive trees, he slowly starts to grow older in a matter of mere seconds and the setting moves into the streets of Palermo. Guiliano now appears to be in his mid teens, perhaps 16 or 17. He is flanked by a few of his friends as his jet black hair is now slicked back in its now usual style as he eyes wondering over a few of the young Italian women that he spots. He is confident yet still humble, pulling his jacket back to reveal the end of a handgun to any individual that gives him an odd look, as his days of organized crime are at its peak.
Only the sound of bullet cases on concrete can be heard as the scene reminds silent and Guiliano and his friends dive behind a corner and return fire at an assailant that remains out of view. His eyes are focused on his target and the look is very similar to the one he wears now when heading to the ring. After a few moments a look of pure anger appears on his face as he glances over his shoulder and realizes the friend that was once flanking his left shoulder is now in a heap on the ground, lifeless. He quickly throws his body over the top of his friend and covers him, shielding him from any further gunfire. As he rises to his feet and his face can be seen once again, he slowly transitions into his early 20's and the streets of Palermo are replaced with the Chicago skyline. He now wears a grungy tank top and a pair of worn out sweats, pushing opening a door under a sign that reads “Gibby's Gym”.
The young Guiliano takes a few shots at a heavy bag, keeping his hands high and dodging it as it swings back and forth from the short chain that attaches it to the ceiling. He continues to pound the bag, digging his fists deeper into the leather with each strike. A man inside the gym's sparring ring motions for him to enter it. Guiliano gives the man an odd look and shrugs before climbing between the ropes and entering the ring. He is given some instruction and once again the silence of the scene is broken by the sound of a bell. This point marks the first “match” of what will be a long career and after a few moments, Guiliano takes control of his opponent, hops up onto the turnbuckle and takes to the air. As he sails through the air and performs a shooting star press, his face once again ages as his body rotates. His clothes slowly form into his pinstriped suit and instead of landing stomach-first on an opponent, he lands on his feet in front of the world famous “Welcome to Las Vegas” sign.
Guiliano, now appearing to be in his current state, walks down the strip in downtown Vegas and stops in front of his own creation, walking towards the entrance, before suddenly stopping at the front door of the Guiliano Hotel and Casino. He slowly turns his back to the camera and holds his arms out to the side in the shape of a “T”. The front door of the casino transforms into a black curtain and “Gravesend (Lake of Fire)” starts to play. As Guiliano quickly turns, his suit jacket falls off his shoulders and reveals his in-ring attire underneath. The Italian makes his way down the gated off entrance ramp of ARCO Arena, extending both of his hands and giving high fives to the finds who have theirs out over the railing. He slides into the ring as his music fades and the sound of a bell can be heard once again. As he locks up with an unknown opponent the camera zooms in close on the two competitors. After a few moments of struggle, Guiliano quickly controls the arms of his opponent, makes the turn and plants him face first into the mat with his finisher, the T-Bone. After a cover and the sound of the crowd counting the familiar “one.....Two.....THREE!” his music once again begins to play and the sound of cheering is all that can be heard. Guiliano takes it all in, realizing he has just pulled the impossible, winning WAR IV. In pure joy he hops up onto the turnbuckle and looks out over the crowd, raising his arms high into the air and enjoying the moment.
The moment lasts but for a few short moments before he once again starts to transform. Only this time, he grows younger and younger, until he is put a boy once again. His clothes are now very simple as he wears a collared shirt and a pair of khaki shorts. His arms remain in the air but he is once again back in the olive groves and nearly hidden in the branches as he plucks another fruit from the tree. The view pans out and slowly reveals that he is being hoisted into the air by someone else. That someone else is soon revealed to be his father, Antoni Guiliano. The young Allen proudly shows the freshly picked olive to Don Guiliano and the two share a smile before the elder Guiliano takes his son by the hand and carefully leads him back through the rows and toward a handsome Italian villa on the outskirts of Palermo, Sicily. The vision slowly starts to fade to pure white.....[/color]
Back in the present day, Guiliano quickly awakens, giving a jolt and spilling what is left of his wine down the front of his open shirt. His reflexes kick in and he catches the glass before it falls to the ground, now realizing that he is not alone outside his home. Standing next to him with a hand on his shoulder is long time friend, Sergio Viola. Sergio laughs heartily from his seat seeing the red liquid stain the front of Guiliano's shirt as he is now fully awake. Guiliano sets the now empty glass on the table next to the smoldering cigar, removing his sunglasses and rubs his eyes, before exposing them to the bright Vegas sun and giving Sergio an odd look.
Guiliano: “Sergio? Is that you? What the hell are you doing here you son of a bitch? You could have at least rang the doorbell or something to tell me that you were here!”
Viola: “Well, I figured the door was open so I let myself in. Besides, I didn't want to wake you front your beauty sleep. Seemed like you were having a pretty good dream with that smirk on your face.”
“So, what are you doing here? You on business and in the area or what? What is going on? You usually call when you are flying out this way.”
“This has nothing to do with business and everything about being there for my friend in his time of need.”
“Time of need? What are you talking about? Please tell me that you aren't bringing bad news here from Italy. I am going through too much right now to have to worry about something like that.”
“No, of course not, it's nothing like that at all. I just wanted to be here for you tomorrow night when you were officially retired. It is a cause for celebration whether or not you win or not. I know this means a lot of you and I figured that someone should be there to celebrate with you. I know that it is not a 'retirement' party or anything like that, but I figure that it should at least be acknowledged.”
“Sergio, you don't have to do anything like that. This is just another match, my friend. I know that it is going to be my last one and it will be the end of my career as a professional wrestler, but you shouldn't concern yourself with anything like that. I know that you follow it when you can, but this is a good thing. This is something that needs to be done and really shouldn't be a big deal.”
“Of course it is a big deal! Sicily is all up in arms over your match on Monday night and they are planning on having a big viewing party and everything. You know how much they want you to succeed and you and I both know that no matter what happens, they will be chanting your name. All I wanted to do was bring some of that support across the pond and here to the United States. I hope you don't mind me intruding, I know that you probably have a lot going on between now and then.”
“Sergio, you know that you are always welcome in my own. You are like a brother to me and feel free to stay here as long as you like. I cannot thank you enough for this gesture and I hope you didn't spoil any plans with your family or friends back home to be here for these couple of days.”
“Ruin plans with my family and friends? Allen, you are my family and friends. Tomorrow night is a big deal whether you want it to be or not and I wouldn't miss it for the world. I don't know what you had planned for tonight, but please, don't let me ruin anything. I am perfectly fine with staying here and watching your house for you while you go out and do what you need to do. Besides, what was your door doing open anyway?”
“I have zero plans for tonight, I was just going to relax and take it easy before making the trip to Sacramento tomorrow afternoon. I figured I would leave the door open in case one of the WCF camera crews decided to come by, which I see that they have. I assumed they would be here on the eve of such an event so rather than hassle them and leave my door locked, I simply welcomed them inside. Worked out much better for me that way and I thought they might want to get one last good look of this place before they stop rolling the tape. I'm sure it will make for some good B-roll or something.”
“Alright, well I will let you get on with what business you need to take care of out here and I will see you inside. I assume that the bedroom upstairs where I stayed last time is a good spot for me for this evening?”
“Of course it is. Feel free to make yourself at home and if you need any help with your things, feel free to interrupt me out here and I will be right there. These guys can wait if need be. They have done it before and I'm sure they will do it again, but then again, I guess they won't have to worry about waiting on me anymore.”
Sergio turns and disappears back into the house as Guiliano sits up in his hammock and glances down over his wine-stained shirt, giving a sigh of disappointment. He then looks over at the burning cigar and plucks it from the ashtray taking a hearty drag as the end of the tobacco glows bright orange. As he returns the cigar back to the ashtray he purses his lips and emits a steady stream of smoke, relaxing back into the hammock and resting his hands under his head. After a few moment of silents he chuckles and looks up at the camera crew from behind his dark tinted sunglasses.
“Well, I suppose this is it. The last time Allen Guiliano will be in front of a WCF camera. Sure, I will do the mandatory interview with Hank tomorrow before the match, but this is the last time that you get to corner me and delve deep into the mind of Slickie T. Kind of a bittersweet moment don't you think? However, since I have already spilled wine down the front of my shirt, let's get a few things off my chest. This time, what I think will really come out. Why pull any punches? People always claim that I never say what I truly mean and that I just put on a show from the cameras. Well, it is time to start being real and leaving all the vanilla responses and phrases out of it. You want to know what I really think? Listen up!
First, Logan, buddy, what are you doing? Do you listen to yourself? Do you realize what you are really saying or do you just shoot from the hip? You need to slow down for a moment and think about what you are going to say rather than simply reacting. Of course I got on your nerves, Logan. That is what I set out to do. I wanted to light a fire under you, give you that little spark that you needed to WANT to stop me from winning at WAR. You and I are one in the same in this event. We have been there before, we know what it is like to win, and we are the ones that control our own destiny. You are a fool if you don't think everyone out there is looking to one of us to win this damn thing. And now you start to call me out and say that you have lost respect for me and that you think I don't speak the truth? When have I ever pulled punches when it came to a big match, Logan? You claim to know what I really think and say that I think I am better than anyone or anything else. Well, you know what, I do think I am better than anything or anyone else and there no one has been able to prove me otherwise! Have you been willing to step up to the plate and go head to head with me for my World Championship? Has anyone been able to stop me since I suffered that defeat at the hands of Chad Evans and vowed that I would reach the top of this federation again? NO! Let me ask you another question and perhaps this one will put it all in perspective. Who on this federation's current roster has been able to defeat me with me avenging each and every loss? Who in this federation has been able to beat me at all when I have been at the top of my game? That's right, Logan, NOBODY!
This isn't about me throwing last year's victory in your face. I have made it very clear that I was not satisfied with how I won last year and I admit that I had a huge advantage over you and everyone else in that match. However, I still won that match, over you nonetheless, and I can still call myself a former WAR winner and after Monday night, my name will be right up there with yours when I become the second two-time winner of this event. That's right, Logan. My name will be on the same pedestal as yours and guess what, it will have only taken me two years to win this thing twice. How many chances have you had at this? Ten? I respect your longevity, but don't try to discredit my win simply because you don't like what I have to say. I don't know how many matches that you have had in your ten years here, I'm sure that it is more than I could possibly imagine, but I do know how many of those matches have resulted in victories over Slickie T. All the time you have been in this federation. All the great names that you can hang your hat on and yet there is one that is absent. There is one that has been a thorn in your side and has been better than you each and every time. I beat you when I arrived here, I beat you at WAR last year, and I beat you to win my first WCF World Championship. Why shouldn't I think that I am better than anyone and why should I think this time will be different?
You have had your time off and I don't blame you for taking a break, I don't blame you at all, but for reasons beyond my control, my break will be permanent. Believe me, there is nothing more that I would like to do than continue to show you that I am the superior one between us, but sadly, the last time I will be able to do that is Monday night at ARCO Arena. I'm glad you can admit that 2010 hasn't been the year of Logan, but I don't think 2009 was too kind to you either. Keep telling yourself that I am not a threat and that this is your signature match. Build yourself and do your best to claim it as your own, but what will people say when I retire without having been defeated in WAR matches and retire after enter first and leaving last? Then what? Will Logan even be remembered for his WAR accomplishments? Perhaps you will get a footnote or an asterisk, but the WAR event, after Monday night, will forever be synonymous with Slickie T. Go ahead and tell me that I don't have a passion for this sport. Continue to fuel my fire and to make me want it that much more and I will show you what passion I truly have. I took down the Team of Torture ALONE! I ended his title reign! Where was Logan when Torture was running rampant through this federation? It wasn't the almighty Logan that stared Torture in the eye, that took over his company, that hoisted his World Title in the air at Ten. No, no, that wasn't Logan, that was Slickie! Logan, you NEED me to retire so you can be the man once again and that is fine. Go ahead and prove that you are indeed “the man” when my time here as come to an end, but just remember, no matter what you accomplish AFTER I leave, it will all be because you were simply second best when I was here. The legend of Logan will always be tainted by the name Slickie T. It will list all your accomplishments throughout your Hall of Fame career and tell the tale of how great of a man you really were for this federation and that it could not have existed without you, but it will also contain a chapter about the man that you just couldn't beat. Sure, feel free to leave my nameless in that chapter, but everyone will know. It wasn't the great Torture, it wasn't Creeping Death, it wasn't Brad Kane, it was Slickie T. The man who took this federation my storm, raised the bar, led it back to glory after a takeover and then achieved the ultimate prize on his way out the door. Yes, your chapter in the WCF history books is much longer and more prestigious than mine, I will admit that, but has anyone achieved so much in so little time? I'm not sure, but I'm willing to bet that not many, if any others, have. And let me get this straight. Logan, the one who has been on again and then off again ever since I have been in this federation, is accusing me of dragging my feet? Since when have you ever looked toward the future? I suppose you decided to do that this week because it is convenient and makes the guy hanging it up for good look like the villian? Now who is pathetic?
Logan, it seems that you are a little insecure with yourself and with your chances to actually pull of a win at WAR. One minute you are telling me that I'm not a threat and that you have lost all respect for me, but then again you turn around and all but admit that you are the only one that can stop me from completing perhaps the greatest feat this federation has ever seen. And your positive thought about how I am in a gym somewhere, sweating this one out because WAR is the only thing on my mind? Logan, c'mon, you are better than that. You think I am going to be exerting anymore energy than I have before I walk down to the ring as the first one in the WAR event? Unless you consider my gym a hammock in my back yard and my nutrition supplements a glass of wine and a cigar. I suppose if that is what you consider my workout facility, then yes, I am hitting the gym and preparing for WAR. As for the part where you supposedly have more heart, more desire, and more fight. I don't think I even have to respond to that. A Sicilian is taking part in his FINAL match as a professional wrestler. Where do you get off saying that you have more heart, fight, and desire? What have you done to prove there is an ounce of truth to that statement? The only reason you are even concerned about this match and concerned about try to beat me is because you would hate for anyone to be able to say they are on even ground with Logan. This isn't about you trying to return to glory or you trying to invent yourself here in the WCF. You are simply out to stop ONE person from showing you and the only what that you can do that is to get geared up for this one match. Let's face it, after this match, you are going to do the same thing that I am going to do, except that you won't call your hiatus a retirement, you will simply call it another break. Good thing you have Jay Price around or your existence would be pretty irrelevant to this federation without me in it. Go right ahead and take your long break after this match and continue to dabble in the WCF whenever it is convenient for you and then tell everyone how you have been around for oh so long. Its that kind of extended longevity that I am trying to avoid. Sure, I could make Logan-esque appearances every other month and only save myself up for the big matches, but what kind of satisfaction does that bring? If I can be in that ring week in and week out, grinding it out along with everyone else, then I don't want to be there at all. After I win WAR on Monday night and match you with two WAR victories, I expect nothing less of you than to simply take an 11-month hiatus and come back next September just so you can try and make it three. And for what? To show that you have more heart, fight, and desire? No, to reclaim your place in the history books. I do not doubt that you want it just as badly as I do this week and I am glad that you can realize that the two of us stand out amongst the crowd, I really do, that is honestly humbling to me, but Monday night is my last hurrah, my final time in the spotlight, and I'm not going to let anyone stand in my way. Thank you for finding a passion for this event at least one more time, Logan, because without you, with another true superstar in the ring with me on Monday night, this win would feel a little tainted. You and I are going to make this match one for the ages, just as we did a year ago, when I am gone and this most wonderful time of the year rolls around again in 12 months, you are going to wish that I was still here to give you that challenge that truly separates this event from all others.
As for Jay Price, you can have him. I have no beef with the young man and perhaps he will be the one that will continue to motivate you in the future. You can continue to be the dog that nips at his heels and pulls him back down to earth each and every time he thinks he is going somewhere. I always saw Price as someone that would join us among the elite, but I guess I won't stick around long enough to see if that is going to happen. Your barrage of lead pipes and steel chairs seemed to keep him at bay every time he tried to make a run to the top. If that is the kind of thing that it takes you to find your place here again in the WCF, then by all means, continue. Just don't let your feelings for good ol' Jay Price distract you on Monday night, Logan. I would hate for you to have your focus anywhere else than on your main competitor when you are eliminated. I want there to be no excuses for you to fall back on. You are too good of a competitor to let that happen, I know, but sometimes that mind of yours starts to go into odd places and your focus gets a little blurry. Make sure one of those lapses doesn't occur at WAR. Something tells me that the only ones that will be able to eliminate Slickie T and Logan on Monday night are Slickie T and Logan. It will either take a mistake on our part to get ourselves eliminated or one of us is going to have to eliminate the other. It is that simple. Two juggernauts are hellbent on winning a prize that only one can claim, and when that happens, the outlook for all others doesn't look favorable. Logan, you and I, we will leave a path of destruction in that ring on Monday night and when the dust settles, the best man will be left standing. Last year, that was me. It was I who averted that Impact Style and it was I that planted your face into the center of that ring with a T-Bone. We both know what each other has to offer and we have both survived each others finishers in the past. This Monday night will be no different, it will only be a matter of who simply doesn't have the will to get that shoulder up before the three count. We can pull out every trick in the book, every maneuver in our arsenal, but it won't end up one of us if physically unable to pry our shoulder off the mat. At WAR, try to forget about Price for a moment and realize who you really need to be focused on.
As for others, I hope you are all bonding back there in the locker room and making personal phone calls, because it will take a well organized assault by more than one of you to keep me from a second WAR victory tomorrow night. As much as all of you want to be the one that does the deed and eliminates Slickie T for the last time, it simply isn't going to happen that way. Oblivion, keep telling yourself that you can't be stopped and that you are the supreme being. I believe you used that strategy at Revenge and look where it got you. It cost you not one, but two titles. I have seen your kind before and you do nothing to intimidate me or strike fear into any bone in my body. The fact is, like I told Logan, I have been the one that has had the upper hand in nearly all of our previous meetings. You are a worthy competitor and there is no denying that you were a former World Champion, but you better find some friends in hurry, because it is going to take more than just you to keep me from obtaining my goal. Greenfever, you and I have a storied past and because of you I almost didn't get a chance to do what I am going to do at WAR. Because of you, I had to rethink my entire outlook on life, and because of you, I have become even stronger than I was before. You embarrassed me in front of my own fans and in front of my own employees. You used my body to destroy a piece of my property and for that, I will forever hold a grudge. There isn't one person I want to see suffer more than you. Keep claiming that you are a God and that everyone should bow down to you. It will make it that much sweeter when I kick your legs out from under you and bring you to your knees in front of me for all the world to see. And when I do finally chop you down to size, I will make sure and give you the proper Omerta to finally shut you up for good. You still think that you are my God, Greefever? You still think that you control my destiny? Ever since that fateful day in Las Vegas I have had your number and been the ceiling to your success. Every time you try to rise up and be something in this federation, I am there to greet you with a dose of reality. Perhaps, you, like Logan are also welcoming the day that I finally leave this federation so you too can finally reach the spot that you dream of. So you can finally be the guy that is at the top of this organization. So you can finally have a chance to win the World Championship without Slickie T being in the picture. Well, after Monday night, all those dreams and all those wishes will come try, but don't think I have a little something for you planned. You ALMOST ended my career and on Monday night, you will be hoping that I only ALMOST end yours.
In closing, and I hate to end my final piece in this federation talking about this individual, but there has been something that has bee eating at me for the past several months. There is a person in this federation that just irks me to an infinite end and a person that thinks so highly of themselves, yet has done absolutely nothing to deserve any kind of recognition. He is an individual that is given so many chances, despite not earning any of them, and a person that talks a big gain, promises big things, and then always fails to back it up. He is a person that constantly bitches and moans, belittles the achievements of others, and ALWAYS points to the past when asked what he has contributed to this business. Sure, that works for awhile, but it seems this person has done that ever since I arrived and I never understood the draw of this said individual. In case you are wondering, who I am talking about, and I'm sure most will have figured it out by now. For the first time in my career, I am calling someone out and that person is Creeping Death. CD, you have been an absolute cancer to this federation ever since I have arrived. You strut around like you are holier than thou, yet never do anything to justify it.
This has nothing to do with your Hector Rodriguez act or the takeover over the WCF that orchestrated. That is part of your appeal, part of your character, and summarizes your gimmick. What gets to me is the arrogance that you bestow upon yourself despite never being able to back up your talk. You want to tell me that you are this experienced veteran and tell the stories of how you used to dominate this federation years ago, yet now, in the present day, you bring nothing of any worth to the table. You have been given multiple unwarranted opportunities to prove to me, JUST ONE TIME, that you are anything like the legend you claim to be and yet you always come up short. And not just come up short, you simply give no effort whatsoever. You are like a little dog that is always nipping at someone's heels and then when they finally open the door to let you out to run with the big dogs, you put your tail between your legs and hide. And what makes it worse is that you always have some excuse, some arrogant comment as to why you didn't show. Your lack of effort is despicable and your attitude is even worse.
A perfect example of everything I am talking about came out this week and was frankly the final straw that led to this tirade. The man, the myth, the legend, Creeping Death once again gets a chance to prove himself in a WAR match, gets a chance to show the world that he isn't just talk and what does he do, he writes a completely unnecessary letter and plasters it on the front of the main headquarters at the WCF. Once again you prove that you are simply a worthless human being. You state that this match means nothing to you and that you don't need or want to win. You know why you think that way? Because you know that you CAN'T WIN! It isn't because you don't want to. Hell, EVERYONE wants to win WAR. The simple fact is you know that you simply don't possess the talent, the drive, or the heart to win this event. Even on your best day, you don't hold a candle to some of the names in this event. And instead of admitting it like a man, you play it off like you don't care. Of course you care, CD, or you wouldn't have taken the time out of your day to claim that you don't. Just say it for Christ's sake! Just say that you are inferior when it comes to winning WAR. You know and everyone else knows that you simply can't beat guys like Logan, Oblivion, Greenfever, or myself. What makes it even worse is that you conclude your letter by addressing D-Day, a personal friend of mine, and claim that you are no man to fuck with. You know what, I'll fuck with you whenever I want and there isn't a damn think you can do about it and I know exactly what you would do if I confronted you and called you out. You would run away with your tail between your legs, barking back about how it didn't mean anything to you and spout off about your past accomplishments. You are all bark and no bite, CD. I hope D-Day not only beats you in that title match, I hopes he completely destroys you and walks all over you like the piece of shit you really are. C'mon, CD, go ahead and fire back because I know you will and you will make a claim about how I am only saying this because I am retiring and not giving you the chance to respond. Well, go ahead and respond because it will fall upon deaf ears. I have been here the whole time and frankly, you just aren't in my league. You will always only be second best until the level of talent in this federation stoops down to your level. People who utter the phrase “money isn't everything” simply haven't had enough and people that spout “WAR means absolutely nothing to me” knows they can't win.
Now that I have everything off my chest, I suppose there is only one way that this final promo could possibly end. Before I go, I want to thank each and every one of my fans and each and everyone of of the men I have had the pleasure of wrestling against, except CD of course, for making my career complete. I will be forever grateful and I know this federation will continue to prosper and grow after my absence. To all of those that supported me in Chicago, in New York, in Las Vegas, and most importantly in Italy, I thank you as well. It has been one hell of a ride and all good things must come to an end. As for tomorrow night at WAR, well, I think it is obvious. Forza Italia...Mi Amore.”
Guiliano exits his hammock and makes his way back into his home, climbing a set of stairs up to a master bedroom. The camera follows and as the door to the bedroom opens, catches a one in a million sight. Resting on the Italian's bed, on top of black satin sheets, his wrestling attire has been laid out perfectly for him with the WCF World Title belt resting next to the right leg of his tights and the Hardcore Title to the left. His black and white boots are perfectly shined and his tights bear the usual red, white, and green, except for this time, the black script “Slickie T” down each leg is outlined in gold and his black elbow pads have also been decorated with gold trim. Above the tights rests a black t-shirt with his picture on it, standing in the middle of a wrestling ring with his arms extended to form the familiar “T”. As Guiliano picks up the short and slowly turns it over, the phrase “Forza Italia” has been printed on the back in his hand penmanship. The scene fades to black as the Sicilian carefully places his gear into his bag and zips it closed for the final time.
As the view continues to move over the walls, pictures and posters from the GEWF gradually transition into memorabilia from the XHWF when his tank top began to bear the name of his native country on the back, along with the red, white, and green emblem. More pictures of his struggles with Bricks Bavusa start the collage, as many show Guiliano with a face full of blood and sometimes in defeat. However, the photographs then show happier times and the poster from his first pay-per-view main event is framed with his first World Championship belt. Also photos of Guilianio and Eric Tione, his former tag team partner, along with their loyal fans complete the section on the XHWF. Both Guiliano and Tione's signatures are scribbled across several pictures and posters.
The third main section shows the transition that Guiliano made from simply street thug to bonafied business man as his attire changed to the now famous pinstripe suit and wingtip shoes of today. Once again photos and posters are plastered all over the wall and the XGWO Hardcore Title belt is framed with a photo showing evidence of the referee raising his arm high in the air and presenting him with this prize, while his opponent lay sprawled out across the canvas. One of his favorite photos, a black and white shot of himself and the other members of The Untouchables in 1920's gangster attire is the centerpiece of the collection. James Black is to his right, while Josh K. Risma and Cobra pose over his left shoulder. Each man has signed the photo in gold pen and “The Untouchables” is scripted underneath it in the same script that is used for The Guiliano Hotel and Casino. Other parts of his collection show highlights of matches with some familiar faces in the WCF such as X-Rated and Dake Ken. Although the three never faced each other in one-on-one competition, they were very close in the locker room and vowed to never compete against each other unless it was absolutely necessary. That time would come when Guiliano was forced to go against Dake Ken in the bout to decide the final entrant in WAR VIII, several years after the closing of the XGWO.
The fourth and final wall is littered with several important items from his time in the WCF and it is fitting that the Wrestling Championship Federation would be his last since the room only contains four walls. Shots of his debut match in the WCF start the collection as he earned a victory in a three way match over Chris Avery and Johnny Anthrax on May 31, 2009. Next to that opening win picture is the poster from the 2009's Blast, when Guiliano captured his first title in the WCF by defeating Mikami for the United States Championship. The Italian would successfully defend that title several times against Mikami and many others before finally having it taken from him without getting pinned in a triple threat match. Next a poster from last year's Revenge hangs separated as if it supposed to have it's own special place on the wall. Caricatures of Torture, Mikami, and Johnny Reb decorate the front of the poster, but a background shot shows the outlines of Slickie T and Dake Ken. The poster is signed by Dake and Allen as it was the first and only time that they would truly have to compete against each other in one-on-one competition and also marked the last career match for Dake Ken. Moving on, perhaps the most prized possession of Guiliano's collection appears, time lapse photos of Guiliano dodging Logan's Impact Style and turning it into a T-Bone for his victory at WAR VIII. The smaller photos outline the poster of the event and within the same frame are pieces of the red, white, and green confetti that fell from the rafters of Madison Square Garden after his monumental win. Even further down that wall and just a few feet from the door is an enormous frame containing each and every bit of printed material and photos taken of the Torture/Slickie T feud, including the World Title belt that he eventually won. Magazine covers, clipped articles, pictures of the initial defeat and the poster from One reside on one half of the frame, while the other half contains the same collection of material, but from the events leading up to the victory at Ten. The portion of the wall that remains includes pieces of history from his tie and loss to Chad Evans as well as the Revenge post from last month and the two current World Championship and Hardcore Title belts that bear a nameplate with his moniker. Next to the only door leading to the room and the final piece of the wall is a frame with the WAR IX poster inside it, but a large portion of the bottom half of the frame is left empty for whatever photos or memorabilia will be collected this Monday night in Sacramento. In the center of the room, on a table that has been handcrafted and passed down through his family, sits the pair of luparas that were presented to him not long ago, signifying the reunion of the crime families in Italy. In the center of the cases rest two large flags; one is that of his country of Italy and the other is the banner of Sicily. A somber mood can be felt as the camera makes a final trip out of this room and the light is politely turned off, a near analogy to what will happen to the man who claims all these possessions after Monday night.
As the camera exits, it now follows the obviously path of light leading outside to the back part of the luxurious home. After a short trip down through the lit path, Allen Guiliano can now be spotted lying in a hammock with a glass of wine in his hand as it rests upon his chest. He is in nothing put a pair of shorts and an open panel shirt with a pair of black sunglasses hiding his eyes. Next to him, on a small glass table rests an ashtray with a smoldering cigar. The cigar is nothing but a fraction of its original form and the scent of tobacco fills the air. The Italian seems unaware of his surroundings and it is soon obviously that he is in a deep slumber. The warm sun continues to warm his olive skin as his dream becomes revealed...
A young Guiliano can be seen walking through what seems to be an infinite olive grove. He appears to be about 10 years of age and skips happily through the trees, stopping every now and then to pluck one of the fruit from the branches. It is a rare look at the man in a much more innocent time, before he was aware of the sheer danger and life that surrounded him. As he continues to skip through the rows of olive trees, he slowly starts to grow older in a matter of mere seconds and the setting moves into the streets of Palermo. Guiliano now appears to be in his mid teens, perhaps 16 or 17. He is flanked by a few of his friends as his jet black hair is now slicked back in its now usual style as he eyes wondering over a few of the young Italian women that he spots. He is confident yet still humble, pulling his jacket back to reveal the end of a handgun to any individual that gives him an odd look, as his days of organized crime are at its peak.
Only the sound of bullet cases on concrete can be heard as the scene reminds silent and Guiliano and his friends dive behind a corner and return fire at an assailant that remains out of view. His eyes are focused on his target and the look is very similar to the one he wears now when heading to the ring. After a few moments a look of pure anger appears on his face as he glances over his shoulder and realizes the friend that was once flanking his left shoulder is now in a heap on the ground, lifeless. He quickly throws his body over the top of his friend and covers him, shielding him from any further gunfire. As he rises to his feet and his face can be seen once again, he slowly transitions into his early 20's and the streets of Palermo are replaced with the Chicago skyline. He now wears a grungy tank top and a pair of worn out sweats, pushing opening a door under a sign that reads “Gibby's Gym”.
The young Guiliano takes a few shots at a heavy bag, keeping his hands high and dodging it as it swings back and forth from the short chain that attaches it to the ceiling. He continues to pound the bag, digging his fists deeper into the leather with each strike. A man inside the gym's sparring ring motions for him to enter it. Guiliano gives the man an odd look and shrugs before climbing between the ropes and entering the ring. He is given some instruction and once again the silence of the scene is broken by the sound of a bell. This point marks the first “match” of what will be a long career and after a few moments, Guiliano takes control of his opponent, hops up onto the turnbuckle and takes to the air. As he sails through the air and performs a shooting star press, his face once again ages as his body rotates. His clothes slowly form into his pinstriped suit and instead of landing stomach-first on an opponent, he lands on his feet in front of the world famous “Welcome to Las Vegas” sign.
Guiliano, now appearing to be in his current state, walks down the strip in downtown Vegas and stops in front of his own creation, walking towards the entrance, before suddenly stopping at the front door of the Guiliano Hotel and Casino. He slowly turns his back to the camera and holds his arms out to the side in the shape of a “T”. The front door of the casino transforms into a black curtain and “Gravesend (Lake of Fire)” starts to play. As Guiliano quickly turns, his suit jacket falls off his shoulders and reveals his in-ring attire underneath. The Italian makes his way down the gated off entrance ramp of ARCO Arena, extending both of his hands and giving high fives to the finds who have theirs out over the railing. He slides into the ring as his music fades and the sound of a bell can be heard once again. As he locks up with an unknown opponent the camera zooms in close on the two competitors. After a few moments of struggle, Guiliano quickly controls the arms of his opponent, makes the turn and plants him face first into the mat with his finisher, the T-Bone. After a cover and the sound of the crowd counting the familiar “one.....Two.....THREE!” his music once again begins to play and the sound of cheering is all that can be heard. Guiliano takes it all in, realizing he has just pulled the impossible, winning WAR IV. In pure joy he hops up onto the turnbuckle and looks out over the crowd, raising his arms high into the air and enjoying the moment.
The moment lasts but for a few short moments before he once again starts to transform. Only this time, he grows younger and younger, until he is put a boy once again. His clothes are now very simple as he wears a collared shirt and a pair of khaki shorts. His arms remain in the air but he is once again back in the olive groves and nearly hidden in the branches as he plucks another fruit from the tree. The view pans out and slowly reveals that he is being hoisted into the air by someone else. That someone else is soon revealed to be his father, Antoni Guiliano. The young Allen proudly shows the freshly picked olive to Don Guiliano and the two share a smile before the elder Guiliano takes his son by the hand and carefully leads him back through the rows and toward a handsome Italian villa on the outskirts of Palermo, Sicily. The vision slowly starts to fade to pure white.....[/color]
Back in the present day, Guiliano quickly awakens, giving a jolt and spilling what is left of his wine down the front of his open shirt. His reflexes kick in and he catches the glass before it falls to the ground, now realizing that he is not alone outside his home. Standing next to him with a hand on his shoulder is long time friend, Sergio Viola. Sergio laughs heartily from his seat seeing the red liquid stain the front of Guiliano's shirt as he is now fully awake. Guiliano sets the now empty glass on the table next to the smoldering cigar, removing his sunglasses and rubs his eyes, before exposing them to the bright Vegas sun and giving Sergio an odd look.
Guiliano: “Sergio? Is that you? What the hell are you doing here you son of a bitch? You could have at least rang the doorbell or something to tell me that you were here!”
Viola: “Well, I figured the door was open so I let myself in. Besides, I didn't want to wake you front your beauty sleep. Seemed like you were having a pretty good dream with that smirk on your face.”
“So, what are you doing here? You on business and in the area or what? What is going on? You usually call when you are flying out this way.”
“This has nothing to do with business and everything about being there for my friend in his time of need.”
“Time of need? What are you talking about? Please tell me that you aren't bringing bad news here from Italy. I am going through too much right now to have to worry about something like that.”
“No, of course not, it's nothing like that at all. I just wanted to be here for you tomorrow night when you were officially retired. It is a cause for celebration whether or not you win or not. I know this means a lot of you and I figured that someone should be there to celebrate with you. I know that it is not a 'retirement' party or anything like that, but I figure that it should at least be acknowledged.”
“Sergio, you don't have to do anything like that. This is just another match, my friend. I know that it is going to be my last one and it will be the end of my career as a professional wrestler, but you shouldn't concern yourself with anything like that. I know that you follow it when you can, but this is a good thing. This is something that needs to be done and really shouldn't be a big deal.”
“Of course it is a big deal! Sicily is all up in arms over your match on Monday night and they are planning on having a big viewing party and everything. You know how much they want you to succeed and you and I both know that no matter what happens, they will be chanting your name. All I wanted to do was bring some of that support across the pond and here to the United States. I hope you don't mind me intruding, I know that you probably have a lot going on between now and then.”
“Sergio, you know that you are always welcome in my own. You are like a brother to me and feel free to stay here as long as you like. I cannot thank you enough for this gesture and I hope you didn't spoil any plans with your family or friends back home to be here for these couple of days.”
“Ruin plans with my family and friends? Allen, you are my family and friends. Tomorrow night is a big deal whether you want it to be or not and I wouldn't miss it for the world. I don't know what you had planned for tonight, but please, don't let me ruin anything. I am perfectly fine with staying here and watching your house for you while you go out and do what you need to do. Besides, what was your door doing open anyway?”
“I have zero plans for tonight, I was just going to relax and take it easy before making the trip to Sacramento tomorrow afternoon. I figured I would leave the door open in case one of the WCF camera crews decided to come by, which I see that they have. I assumed they would be here on the eve of such an event so rather than hassle them and leave my door locked, I simply welcomed them inside. Worked out much better for me that way and I thought they might want to get one last good look of this place before they stop rolling the tape. I'm sure it will make for some good B-roll or something.”
“Alright, well I will let you get on with what business you need to take care of out here and I will see you inside. I assume that the bedroom upstairs where I stayed last time is a good spot for me for this evening?”
“Of course it is. Feel free to make yourself at home and if you need any help with your things, feel free to interrupt me out here and I will be right there. These guys can wait if need be. They have done it before and I'm sure they will do it again, but then again, I guess they won't have to worry about waiting on me anymore.”
Sergio turns and disappears back into the house as Guiliano sits up in his hammock and glances down over his wine-stained shirt, giving a sigh of disappointment. He then looks over at the burning cigar and plucks it from the ashtray taking a hearty drag as the end of the tobacco glows bright orange. As he returns the cigar back to the ashtray he purses his lips and emits a steady stream of smoke, relaxing back into the hammock and resting his hands under his head. After a few moment of silents he chuckles and looks up at the camera crew from behind his dark tinted sunglasses.
“Well, I suppose this is it. The last time Allen Guiliano will be in front of a WCF camera. Sure, I will do the mandatory interview with Hank tomorrow before the match, but this is the last time that you get to corner me and delve deep into the mind of Slickie T. Kind of a bittersweet moment don't you think? However, since I have already spilled wine down the front of my shirt, let's get a few things off my chest. This time, what I think will really come out. Why pull any punches? People always claim that I never say what I truly mean and that I just put on a show from the cameras. Well, it is time to start being real and leaving all the vanilla responses and phrases out of it. You want to know what I really think? Listen up!
First, Logan, buddy, what are you doing? Do you listen to yourself? Do you realize what you are really saying or do you just shoot from the hip? You need to slow down for a moment and think about what you are going to say rather than simply reacting. Of course I got on your nerves, Logan. That is what I set out to do. I wanted to light a fire under you, give you that little spark that you needed to WANT to stop me from winning at WAR. You and I are one in the same in this event. We have been there before, we know what it is like to win, and we are the ones that control our own destiny. You are a fool if you don't think everyone out there is looking to one of us to win this damn thing. And now you start to call me out and say that you have lost respect for me and that you think I don't speak the truth? When have I ever pulled punches when it came to a big match, Logan? You claim to know what I really think and say that I think I am better than anyone or anything else. Well, you know what, I do think I am better than anything or anyone else and there no one has been able to prove me otherwise! Have you been willing to step up to the plate and go head to head with me for my World Championship? Has anyone been able to stop me since I suffered that defeat at the hands of Chad Evans and vowed that I would reach the top of this federation again? NO! Let me ask you another question and perhaps this one will put it all in perspective. Who on this federation's current roster has been able to defeat me with me avenging each and every loss? Who in this federation has been able to beat me at all when I have been at the top of my game? That's right, Logan, NOBODY!
This isn't about me throwing last year's victory in your face. I have made it very clear that I was not satisfied with how I won last year and I admit that I had a huge advantage over you and everyone else in that match. However, I still won that match, over you nonetheless, and I can still call myself a former WAR winner and after Monday night, my name will be right up there with yours when I become the second two-time winner of this event. That's right, Logan. My name will be on the same pedestal as yours and guess what, it will have only taken me two years to win this thing twice. How many chances have you had at this? Ten? I respect your longevity, but don't try to discredit my win simply because you don't like what I have to say. I don't know how many matches that you have had in your ten years here, I'm sure that it is more than I could possibly imagine, but I do know how many of those matches have resulted in victories over Slickie T. All the time you have been in this federation. All the great names that you can hang your hat on and yet there is one that is absent. There is one that has been a thorn in your side and has been better than you each and every time. I beat you when I arrived here, I beat you at WAR last year, and I beat you to win my first WCF World Championship. Why shouldn't I think that I am better than anyone and why should I think this time will be different?
You have had your time off and I don't blame you for taking a break, I don't blame you at all, but for reasons beyond my control, my break will be permanent. Believe me, there is nothing more that I would like to do than continue to show you that I am the superior one between us, but sadly, the last time I will be able to do that is Monday night at ARCO Arena. I'm glad you can admit that 2010 hasn't been the year of Logan, but I don't think 2009 was too kind to you either. Keep telling yourself that I am not a threat and that this is your signature match. Build yourself and do your best to claim it as your own, but what will people say when I retire without having been defeated in WAR matches and retire after enter first and leaving last? Then what? Will Logan even be remembered for his WAR accomplishments? Perhaps you will get a footnote or an asterisk, but the WAR event, after Monday night, will forever be synonymous with Slickie T. Go ahead and tell me that I don't have a passion for this sport. Continue to fuel my fire and to make me want it that much more and I will show you what passion I truly have. I took down the Team of Torture ALONE! I ended his title reign! Where was Logan when Torture was running rampant through this federation? It wasn't the almighty Logan that stared Torture in the eye, that took over his company, that hoisted his World Title in the air at Ten. No, no, that wasn't Logan, that was Slickie! Logan, you NEED me to retire so you can be the man once again and that is fine. Go ahead and prove that you are indeed “the man” when my time here as come to an end, but just remember, no matter what you accomplish AFTER I leave, it will all be because you were simply second best when I was here. The legend of Logan will always be tainted by the name Slickie T. It will list all your accomplishments throughout your Hall of Fame career and tell the tale of how great of a man you really were for this federation and that it could not have existed without you, but it will also contain a chapter about the man that you just couldn't beat. Sure, feel free to leave my nameless in that chapter, but everyone will know. It wasn't the great Torture, it wasn't Creeping Death, it wasn't Brad Kane, it was Slickie T. The man who took this federation my storm, raised the bar, led it back to glory after a takeover and then achieved the ultimate prize on his way out the door. Yes, your chapter in the WCF history books is much longer and more prestigious than mine, I will admit that, but has anyone achieved so much in so little time? I'm not sure, but I'm willing to bet that not many, if any others, have. And let me get this straight. Logan, the one who has been on again and then off again ever since I have been in this federation, is accusing me of dragging my feet? Since when have you ever looked toward the future? I suppose you decided to do that this week because it is convenient and makes the guy hanging it up for good look like the villian? Now who is pathetic?
Logan, it seems that you are a little insecure with yourself and with your chances to actually pull of a win at WAR. One minute you are telling me that I'm not a threat and that you have lost all respect for me, but then again you turn around and all but admit that you are the only one that can stop me from completing perhaps the greatest feat this federation has ever seen. And your positive thought about how I am in a gym somewhere, sweating this one out because WAR is the only thing on my mind? Logan, c'mon, you are better than that. You think I am going to be exerting anymore energy than I have before I walk down to the ring as the first one in the WAR event? Unless you consider my gym a hammock in my back yard and my nutrition supplements a glass of wine and a cigar. I suppose if that is what you consider my workout facility, then yes, I am hitting the gym and preparing for WAR. As for the part where you supposedly have more heart, more desire, and more fight. I don't think I even have to respond to that. A Sicilian is taking part in his FINAL match as a professional wrestler. Where do you get off saying that you have more heart, fight, and desire? What have you done to prove there is an ounce of truth to that statement? The only reason you are even concerned about this match and concerned about try to beat me is because you would hate for anyone to be able to say they are on even ground with Logan. This isn't about you trying to return to glory or you trying to invent yourself here in the WCF. You are simply out to stop ONE person from showing you and the only what that you can do that is to get geared up for this one match. Let's face it, after this match, you are going to do the same thing that I am going to do, except that you won't call your hiatus a retirement, you will simply call it another break. Good thing you have Jay Price around or your existence would be pretty irrelevant to this federation without me in it. Go right ahead and take your long break after this match and continue to dabble in the WCF whenever it is convenient for you and then tell everyone how you have been around for oh so long. Its that kind of extended longevity that I am trying to avoid. Sure, I could make Logan-esque appearances every other month and only save myself up for the big matches, but what kind of satisfaction does that bring? If I can be in that ring week in and week out, grinding it out along with everyone else, then I don't want to be there at all. After I win WAR on Monday night and match you with two WAR victories, I expect nothing less of you than to simply take an 11-month hiatus and come back next September just so you can try and make it three. And for what? To show that you have more heart, fight, and desire? No, to reclaim your place in the history books. I do not doubt that you want it just as badly as I do this week and I am glad that you can realize that the two of us stand out amongst the crowd, I really do, that is honestly humbling to me, but Monday night is my last hurrah, my final time in the spotlight, and I'm not going to let anyone stand in my way. Thank you for finding a passion for this event at least one more time, Logan, because without you, with another true superstar in the ring with me on Monday night, this win would feel a little tainted. You and I are going to make this match one for the ages, just as we did a year ago, when I am gone and this most wonderful time of the year rolls around again in 12 months, you are going to wish that I was still here to give you that challenge that truly separates this event from all others.
As for Jay Price, you can have him. I have no beef with the young man and perhaps he will be the one that will continue to motivate you in the future. You can continue to be the dog that nips at his heels and pulls him back down to earth each and every time he thinks he is going somewhere. I always saw Price as someone that would join us among the elite, but I guess I won't stick around long enough to see if that is going to happen. Your barrage of lead pipes and steel chairs seemed to keep him at bay every time he tried to make a run to the top. If that is the kind of thing that it takes you to find your place here again in the WCF, then by all means, continue. Just don't let your feelings for good ol' Jay Price distract you on Monday night, Logan. I would hate for you to have your focus anywhere else than on your main competitor when you are eliminated. I want there to be no excuses for you to fall back on. You are too good of a competitor to let that happen, I know, but sometimes that mind of yours starts to go into odd places and your focus gets a little blurry. Make sure one of those lapses doesn't occur at WAR. Something tells me that the only ones that will be able to eliminate Slickie T and Logan on Monday night are Slickie T and Logan. It will either take a mistake on our part to get ourselves eliminated or one of us is going to have to eliminate the other. It is that simple. Two juggernauts are hellbent on winning a prize that only one can claim, and when that happens, the outlook for all others doesn't look favorable. Logan, you and I, we will leave a path of destruction in that ring on Monday night and when the dust settles, the best man will be left standing. Last year, that was me. It was I who averted that Impact Style and it was I that planted your face into the center of that ring with a T-Bone. We both know what each other has to offer and we have both survived each others finishers in the past. This Monday night will be no different, it will only be a matter of who simply doesn't have the will to get that shoulder up before the three count. We can pull out every trick in the book, every maneuver in our arsenal, but it won't end up one of us if physically unable to pry our shoulder off the mat. At WAR, try to forget about Price for a moment and realize who you really need to be focused on.
As for others, I hope you are all bonding back there in the locker room and making personal phone calls, because it will take a well organized assault by more than one of you to keep me from a second WAR victory tomorrow night. As much as all of you want to be the one that does the deed and eliminates Slickie T for the last time, it simply isn't going to happen that way. Oblivion, keep telling yourself that you can't be stopped and that you are the supreme being. I believe you used that strategy at Revenge and look where it got you. It cost you not one, but two titles. I have seen your kind before and you do nothing to intimidate me or strike fear into any bone in my body. The fact is, like I told Logan, I have been the one that has had the upper hand in nearly all of our previous meetings. You are a worthy competitor and there is no denying that you were a former World Champion, but you better find some friends in hurry, because it is going to take more than just you to keep me from obtaining my goal. Greenfever, you and I have a storied past and because of you I almost didn't get a chance to do what I am going to do at WAR. Because of you, I had to rethink my entire outlook on life, and because of you, I have become even stronger than I was before. You embarrassed me in front of my own fans and in front of my own employees. You used my body to destroy a piece of my property and for that, I will forever hold a grudge. There isn't one person I want to see suffer more than you. Keep claiming that you are a God and that everyone should bow down to you. It will make it that much sweeter when I kick your legs out from under you and bring you to your knees in front of me for all the world to see. And when I do finally chop you down to size, I will make sure and give you the proper Omerta to finally shut you up for good. You still think that you are my God, Greefever? You still think that you control my destiny? Ever since that fateful day in Las Vegas I have had your number and been the ceiling to your success. Every time you try to rise up and be something in this federation, I am there to greet you with a dose of reality. Perhaps, you, like Logan are also welcoming the day that I finally leave this federation so you too can finally reach the spot that you dream of. So you can finally be the guy that is at the top of this organization. So you can finally have a chance to win the World Championship without Slickie T being in the picture. Well, after Monday night, all those dreams and all those wishes will come try, but don't think I have a little something for you planned. You ALMOST ended my career and on Monday night, you will be hoping that I only ALMOST end yours.
In closing, and I hate to end my final piece in this federation talking about this individual, but there has been something that has bee eating at me for the past several months. There is a person in this federation that just irks me to an infinite end and a person that thinks so highly of themselves, yet has done absolutely nothing to deserve any kind of recognition. He is an individual that is given so many chances, despite not earning any of them, and a person that talks a big gain, promises big things, and then always fails to back it up. He is a person that constantly bitches and moans, belittles the achievements of others, and ALWAYS points to the past when asked what he has contributed to this business. Sure, that works for awhile, but it seems this person has done that ever since I arrived and I never understood the draw of this said individual. In case you are wondering, who I am talking about, and I'm sure most will have figured it out by now. For the first time in my career, I am calling someone out and that person is Creeping Death. CD, you have been an absolute cancer to this federation ever since I have arrived. You strut around like you are holier than thou, yet never do anything to justify it.
This has nothing to do with your Hector Rodriguez act or the takeover over the WCF that orchestrated. That is part of your appeal, part of your character, and summarizes your gimmick. What gets to me is the arrogance that you bestow upon yourself despite never being able to back up your talk. You want to tell me that you are this experienced veteran and tell the stories of how you used to dominate this federation years ago, yet now, in the present day, you bring nothing of any worth to the table. You have been given multiple unwarranted opportunities to prove to me, JUST ONE TIME, that you are anything like the legend you claim to be and yet you always come up short. And not just come up short, you simply give no effort whatsoever. You are like a little dog that is always nipping at someone's heels and then when they finally open the door to let you out to run with the big dogs, you put your tail between your legs and hide. And what makes it worse is that you always have some excuse, some arrogant comment as to why you didn't show. Your lack of effort is despicable and your attitude is even worse.
A perfect example of everything I am talking about came out this week and was frankly the final straw that led to this tirade. The man, the myth, the legend, Creeping Death once again gets a chance to prove himself in a WAR match, gets a chance to show the world that he isn't just talk and what does he do, he writes a completely unnecessary letter and plasters it on the front of the main headquarters at the WCF. Once again you prove that you are simply a worthless human being. You state that this match means nothing to you and that you don't need or want to win. You know why you think that way? Because you know that you CAN'T WIN! It isn't because you don't want to. Hell, EVERYONE wants to win WAR. The simple fact is you know that you simply don't possess the talent, the drive, or the heart to win this event. Even on your best day, you don't hold a candle to some of the names in this event. And instead of admitting it like a man, you play it off like you don't care. Of course you care, CD, or you wouldn't have taken the time out of your day to claim that you don't. Just say it for Christ's sake! Just say that you are inferior when it comes to winning WAR. You know and everyone else knows that you simply can't beat guys like Logan, Oblivion, Greenfever, or myself. What makes it even worse is that you conclude your letter by addressing D-Day, a personal friend of mine, and claim that you are no man to fuck with. You know what, I'll fuck with you whenever I want and there isn't a damn think you can do about it and I know exactly what you would do if I confronted you and called you out. You would run away with your tail between your legs, barking back about how it didn't mean anything to you and spout off about your past accomplishments. You are all bark and no bite, CD. I hope D-Day not only beats you in that title match, I hopes he completely destroys you and walks all over you like the piece of shit you really are. C'mon, CD, go ahead and fire back because I know you will and you will make a claim about how I am only saying this because I am retiring and not giving you the chance to respond. Well, go ahead and respond because it will fall upon deaf ears. I have been here the whole time and frankly, you just aren't in my league. You will always only be second best until the level of talent in this federation stoops down to your level. People who utter the phrase “money isn't everything” simply haven't had enough and people that spout “WAR means absolutely nothing to me” knows they can't win.
Now that I have everything off my chest, I suppose there is only one way that this final promo could possibly end. Before I go, I want to thank each and every one of my fans and each and everyone of of the men I have had the pleasure of wrestling against, except CD of course, for making my career complete. I will be forever grateful and I know this federation will continue to prosper and grow after my absence. To all of those that supported me in Chicago, in New York, in Las Vegas, and most importantly in Italy, I thank you as well. It has been one hell of a ride and all good things must come to an end. As for tomorrow night at WAR, well, I think it is obvious. Forza Italia...Mi Amore.”
Guiliano exits his hammock and makes his way back into his home, climbing a set of stairs up to a master bedroom. The camera follows and as the door to the bedroom opens, catches a one in a million sight. Resting on the Italian's bed, on top of black satin sheets, his wrestling attire has been laid out perfectly for him with the WCF World Title belt resting next to the right leg of his tights and the Hardcore Title to the left. His black and white boots are perfectly shined and his tights bear the usual red, white, and green, except for this time, the black script “Slickie T” down each leg is outlined in gold and his black elbow pads have also been decorated with gold trim. Above the tights rests a black t-shirt with his picture on it, standing in the middle of a wrestling ring with his arms extended to form the familiar “T”. As Guiliano picks up the short and slowly turns it over, the phrase “Forza Italia” has been printed on the back in his hand penmanship. The scene fades to black as the Sicilian carefully places his gear into his bag and zips it closed for the final time.
