Post by Level-Two on Dec 17, 2010 5:20:05 GMT -4
''One's'' Love Triangle -(13)- The Semi Finale
''You aren't a afraid of the dark. You're afraid of me...'' - Level-One.
He was left to wander in darkness in more ways then one. In the physical he was blinded the the cover of darkness which was just another fancy word for a blanket of ignorance. So, what he couldn't see he could feel. A sharp knife twisting in his gut carving out his intestines all the while leaving a parting message while doing so. A message which read more like a cheap calling card. Sally Talfourd was here; 12/9/10.
In a panic he called out her name but a response didn't come, just a soft whimper that'll last with him for rest of his life. Like the grim reaper, Sally Talfourd wasn't hindered by the blinding darkness and took to it as a shield having likely escaped the confines of a wrestling ring. On his hands and knees as desperate as they've come he crawled to his girlfriend; the pain circulating through his body at this point could only be described as not only one in hell, but five. Five long, cold nights—being pinned by Sally Talfourd as long as their was a referee to slap his hand to the mat and make official. He had never felt so helpless until this faithless night.
Inside the ring surrounded by a crowded arena filled with bloody thirsty wolves, they growled, they roared, they expressed their territorial chants with little to no regard to what was occurring under the cover of darkness. He grabbed her which was the easy part; she pushed him away, which was the hardest part. However with no other place to go she gave up her resistance and he rocked her back and forth trying to pacify her hysterical state and ever flowing of tears to which he nearly drowned in.
And although, they'd both make it through the night in the end, the damage had already been done. The power came in the form of a back generator and the fans went home with one hell of a story to tell to their grandchildren but for Level-One and his fiance Patricia Lewis the story was just beginning and due for an ending that is far out of reach when it comes to child's play.
''Please, Patricia. You don't understand give me a chance to explain myself...''
The once prideful man pleaded as if he was on the wrong end of a sharpened sword or barrel of the gun begging for his life. In a way, it wasn't much different. He couldn't lose her, not like this. He followed her as she walked into the parking lot in a pair of high heels. Her heels clicked against the concrete as she wiped the tears that were still flowing from her eyes. Truth be told, she hasn't cried as much as she did tonight then the day she was seventeen and raped.
''Leave me alone, Lester... please just leave me alone!''
Patricia Lewis pulled out her car keys, opening up the car digitally with a simple click. She opened up the car door but Level-One had caught up with her shoving himself in front of it preventing her from her escape. She looked up at him as he looked down at her grabbing her by her shoulders.
''Listen to me. Everything and I mean everything I said out there tonight, I meant. Kayla Rose, she took advantage of me! She raped me! She is not your friend she's a knieving backstabbing bitch who's been black mailing me... us, for months!''
''And how do I know you're telling the truth!? Your story is ridiculous! I want my space, Lester! You can't...''
That's when he put his index finger on her lips.
''You want space, Patricia? Fine. I'll give you space. I owe it to you. Maybe, you'll used the time to really piece everything together. The constant runs ins with Kayla Rose whenever we had a night out together or the fact that coincidentally, she moved into the same building I live in...''
Patricia rolled her eyes and tried to pull herself away, but Level-One held onto her as tight as he could—she felt what felt like the weight of the world on her shoulders when in reality, it was a bold Level-One seemingly becoming more protective over her.
''Regardless the fact is; Sally Talfourd knocked you on your back inside that ring and while you may never want to see me again you need to see a doctor. If not for me, for those kids...''
''Who might just grow up without a father!?''
Patricia Lewis shot back as she escaped the grips from Level-One and thrusted her car door open as she takes a seat in front of the wheel glancing up at her battered reflection in the mirror, her face was streamlined by mascara which looked more like a third graders art project with black ink. She started up the engine as Level-One leaned in through the window.
''They don't need to grow up without a mother either, Patricia or maybe not at all! You need to go to the hospital...''
''And you need to go away. I'm fine...''
Patricia Lewis said as she held the button to her car window which slowly sent the piece of thick glass upwards. He stuck his hand in trying reverse the switch but like a closing fortress door he had no choice but to move or be squashed. After all, that was his Sally Talfourd ass whooping hand! He banged on the window hysterically, screamed and hollered as Patricia Lewis turned up her car radio and began to peel off. She gave him one last look before driving off in the distance, leaving him in a trail of smoke, alone in parking lot.
He cursed under his breath as fell to his knees. He beat the concrete with his fist as hard as he could, and it was no surprise he didn't break his hand—the ground though? It's amazing, he didn't put a crack in the earths surface. His anger only intensified as he saw the ring, laying on the parking lot floor like a piece of discarded trash. Trash worth far more then 50, 000. You can't put a price tag on love.
He picked up the ring and shoved it in his pocket. Right then and there, he'd make a vow. What the vow was, we'd soon all find out.
''Sally, I sent you a bottle of champagne. I like to think about the future. In the future, while their won't be anything to celebrate you will need something to cry yourself to sleep too. Pour a glass in my honour and I'll try to shed a tear in yours...''- Level-One.
It was the official grand opening for the fight club. And while competitors wouldn't see competition for several more weeks into the New Year, Jason Blackburn figured it would be good for morale to have a Christmas celebration party to introduce their fighters to the world of illicit illegal human cock fighting. It would give the fighters an opportunity to mingle with their potential competitors on a personal level before they'd kick each-other in their faces, engaging in a war that sometimes results in death for an unlucky fighter. It was also a chance for fighters to scope out their competition and in one case, take a fighter out before he had a chance to make name for himself...
''What the hell happened to this guy?''
Level-One asks upon arrival to the party. The first thing he saw was a man on a makeshift stretcher being carried out foaming by the mouth like a rapid animal, as small crowd gathered around the 350 pound, 6'8 super heavyweight. Vannah White looked over Level-One shoulder as she pointed at the man, seemingly disinterested.
''He must've ate some bad shrimp. Apparently, he was poisoned. I guess what happens when you get lowlife criminals, high school drop outs and outright murders thousands of feet underground with lots and lots of alcohol, mate...''
''Well, whoever was behind it; I really value and respect their determination. A fight club legend lurks around these parts. I can feel it in the air...''
A slightly drunk, Vannah White wrapped her arm around Level-One's broad shoulder, slinging onto his chest like the straps of a prized title belt.
''You mean you aren't going to detest their despicable actions!? Thank god, mate. I thought you were becoming one of those proper goodie too-shoes, arseholes. Just when I thought I lost you, Mr. One....''
Vannah White giggled like a cheerleader to a high school football captain as she walked off disappearing into the crowd. Level-One looked around the fight club. He saw several people shooting up heroin in the furthest corner of the room removed from everything else going on. The cage was morphed into a dance floor for the night where several fighters with more ''character'' jived. Others stood awkwardly around sizing up their competition. It wasn't your typical party Hollywood bash. Even the Christmas decorations were coded in a thin layer of barbed wire. If we could use one word to describe it, it would be; edgy.
As Level-One continued to look on he missed what was right in-front of his face, a tipsy Jason Blackburn steamrolling his way through without a care in the world. The odds of them clashing shoulders were similar to the odds of winning the power ball two weeks in a row... congratulations, you just won the power ball two weeks in a row!
A slighted Level-One looks at Jason Blackburn. The gears in Jason's head, albeit rusty—had started turning but his judgement had been impaired by what Level-One dubbed as the ''devils poison''; I prefer devils piss personally, but this isn't my schtick here. I'm just a blogger! Yikes.
''Jason...''
''Lester...''
The two spoke. It was if everything had slowed down and went in slow motion. The music blared in the background and hollow environment served as a glorified reverb or echo chamber. They stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity, give or take a few lifetimes.
''So I thought you said you'd have my back last week?''
Level-One said breaking the ice with a sledge hammer. Jason Blackburn merely leaned in and shouted into his ear.
''You don't talk to me and I don't talk to you. Then? We'll talk later. Let's not ruin this entire night for these guys, alright?''
''Fuck you, Jason...''
''See you for the pep talk, kid...''
Jason Blackburn said as he sarcastically patted his client on the side of his shoulder and brushed on past him too taking solace in under ground fight club turned party hub. Level-One shook his head side to side swayed by disgust as he stood around waiting for the death of the party but even he couldn't help but nod his head as a famous hip hop tune by Snoop Dogg hit the stereo.
It's like this and like that and like this and uh
It's like that and like this and like that and uh
It's like this, than who gives a fuck about those?
So just chill, til the next episode...
''You created a monster. You created a monster that you don't understand. You created a monster with formula you cannot reverse. I am the monster you created. I am your demise. I am, Level-One...''- Level-One
Several hours later, all eyes are directed to Level-One who stands inside the ring, which had been turned into a makeshift dance floor. The once loud party atmosphere was gone. Silence now filled the air as a thick layer of intensity lingered in the air. Fighters stood on the outs looking in; some were drunk and could barely stand on their own; the more focused fighters watched on sober wearing their faces bold like stone.
Just as Level-One is about to address his fighters, Jason Blackburn marches in breaking through the small crowd standing outside the ring to the forefront. He runs his hands through his hair and yawns without a care in the world. Level-One cursed under his breath as he finally took to the megaphone to address his roster of fighters.
''Hello, this is Level-One; your commander in charge. The reason why each and everyone one of you are here today is because of me. Without me, you wouldn't have a job. You wouldn't have a way to make a living. You'd be in jail or worse off, dead. I am the man who is giving each and one of you an opportunity to make something of yourself s. You've all at one point have been treated like shit. You've been disposed of like yesterdays trash. You were deemed useless to society. Well to me, you're valued property. It doesn't matter if you were a janitor laid off because the school district had no more money to pay a half competent teacher never mind you or a business man working in a cubicle sent packing because your company had moved on off-seas. Each one of you in the end are here for the same reason...''
Level-One winds up and kicks a red plastic cup right off the stage into the crowd as he clinched his teeth as tightly as he could without cracking them under the pressure.
''You're here to be fighters. Champions. Legends. You may have not have the luxury of the bright lights, the sexy women or even mainstream fame but you will have my respect and when you really think about it? That's all that really matters...''
A few fighters looking to score some brownie points cheer out of turn responding with ''hell yeah'' and chattering back and forth amongst themselves, as Level-One simply watches on. This is enough to catch the fighters attention as silence immediately commences. Only then did the commander in charge continue...
''You men and women all have a chance to become great, perhaps even greater then me. Though, I doubt. It will not be an easy task. We all have weaknesses and if you want to be successful, you best make them your strengths. It's how I have gotten where I am today. It's how I am going to beat Sally Talfourd and rip the soul straight out of her chest to offer it up onto the alter of the devil who will surely award me with a special prize for my efforts. You all are going need to find your very own Sally Talfourds. There's someone in this room that is going to feed off your weakness and be your Sally Talfourd. You win by making that weakness a strength. It's what I have done. It's changed me...''
Jason Blackburn looked behind him at several fighters as he grinned ear to ear. His plan had worked. The old Level-One was back in similar form. The anger and determination his client was synonymous with had returned. He didn't know how long it would last but surely, Sally Talfourd wouldn't out live it.
''You think you're tough boy?''
A voice spoke out. It was a man in his early thirties. He was about as tall as Level-One but his beer belly made him look like the larger of the two. He was hillbilly, who felt his talents were being undermined by the local hacks smack talking and throwing it down in the bars and so he sought tougher competition. There wasn't a bout he never lost. He thumbed his nose at Level-One and he stumbled up onto the stage approaching, Level-One. The fighters cheered on the heart of the competitor...
''You don't want to do this...''
He was wrong. The hillbilly winged a punch but missed. It was the worst mistake of his life. The next thing, we can legally document is the blood flew out into the crowd which fuelled the fighters, who had the diets like sharks. The mere smell of the blood sent their testosterone through the roof, as they shouted at the top of their lungs for more, more and more...
And Level-One failed not to disappoint.
He smirked covered in blood as he crouched above the head of his fallen pray, with a free hand he grabbed the megaphone lifting it above his head.
''Let's for a second imagine this poor thing is Sally Talfourd. What do you boys say, I do?''
The fighters cheers as unanimously they flip their thumbs downwards, symbolic for their demise. He couldn't help but giggle as he tossed the megaphone carelessly to the side whispering into the bloodied hillbillies ear...
''Sally, it looks like you're out of luck, hun...''
''If lightening strikes twice, it's just Sally Talfourd holding her tongue to the telephone poll, again...''- Level-One
The masked man was a peculiar individual but not nearly as peculiar as the fact that Level-One was the only one who could see him. I am not willing to put my integrity on the line here by saying, our former world champion has lost his mind but he has taken a fair share of steel chairs shot to the skull; irregardless the fact remains The Masked Man existed in the eyes of Level-One and often showed up at the utmost opportune of times.
With a big match coming up and the fact that his girlfriend was no longer taking his call not to mention the stress of a budding empire on his back he just desperately wanted to escape. He wanted to leave all the stress behind him on planet earth and escape the stars lurking amongst the universe. As cheesy as it sounds, it was surely quite a vacation. A vacation that Level-One undoubtedly deserved. And so, he was able to get away and escape reality—maybe not in the way he hoped for but it was the best The Masked Man could do.
He didn't give Level-One any extra strength or motivation like ''she'' the devil did; but The Man in the white masked was an enlightened individual and the experiences he had given Level-One, bent reality like a pretzel before it snaps. I love pretzels, btw. Anyways, these reality bending experiences were similar to a LSD trip, that allows for the expansion of the mind. We can't imagine how it'll benefit Level-One against Sally Talfourd but we suppose it develops him as a character, as real person—and for that I say, why the hell not? Sally Talfourd is about as interesting as cancer of the testicles—which by the way, isn't really exciting until you have a ball removed.
''Where are we?''
Level-One asked motivated by instincts. With his eyes, he could see exactly where he was. He was at a casual party. Every intendee was dressed in a professional manner. The men wore suits and the women wore dresses and expensive jewelry and engaged in small conversation with each other. The man in the white mask stood out to Level-One like a swore thumb. He was dressed like a seventies detective. A large brown coat with a brown fedora cap with his face as blank as sheet of Canadian snow. Still, the answer to this question was a quite disturbing one;
''We're in the future''
The man in the white masked casually responded.
''The future? You say that like it's normal! What the fuck do you mean we're in the future?''
The man in the white mask merely tips his cap before pointing over to a far corner where Level-One saw himself standing with a beautiful Patricia Lewis lingering closely under his wing. He wears the championship over his shoulder as he talks to another man who too is accompanied with his wife.
''This is your alternate future. To further explain what this means is, this would be you the night after you beat Sally Talfourd at Christmas Chaos...''
''And what's that supposed to be mean, asshole? Are you saying I am not going to beat Sally Talfourd... or wear that pansy looking suite. Fucking ridiculous....''
''What I am saying is Mr. Only, is that if your secret hadn't gotten out—you would have approached this match in an entirely different way...''
Level-One rolls his eyes in disgust. He looks at his alternate future-self, who looks back at him. Level-One puts his left and right thumbs to his temple and sticks out his tongue trying to slight his future self, who merely smiles and re-engages his conversation at hand. Level-One scoffs as he wraps his arm around The Man in the white mask.
''Well, that guy seems like a real ass hole. I'm glad I didn't become him. So, how does it happen?''
''You and Sally Talfourd meet at Christmas Chaos. The fans are on their feet, as they cheer you both on; it's a battle of epic portions never seen in the history of mankind—as both competitors think about taking the easy way out several times during the match but neither refuse to end the other that way. Bloody, bruised and broken; you two shake hands as you engage in the final stretch of the battle. Left hand. Right hand. Right hand left hand. Sally goes for the make over... no, Level-One reverses it; Level-One advance but Sally Talfourd flips out bounces off the rope and looks for a cross body but is caught, darkness shine! You hook a leg. One. Two. Three. The match goes down in history. You two shake hands, solve your differences and big things come to both of you...''
''I don't know about you but that all sounds cheesy as hell. I mean, sure in theory—the entire historical making match seems to be pretty bad ass but to have a match with Sally Talfourd that comes remotely close? What a joke! If you only you knew how bad I beat her at Shockwave. It wasn't even close. I'm sorry, but this future Level-One guy is super lame...''
Level-One shakes his head in disgust as he looks down at himself. He realizes he's wearing a plain sweater and a pair of black baggy jeans. He strokes his chin as he tilts his head towards the shoulder of the man in the white mask.
''I do look as good looking as hell though, I must admit...''
''Furthermore, Lester Only—the reason why you are invited to this party tonight is because you caught the eye of the elite. Wrestling heads; budding with the APW trying to push their ratings over the top, and you're really the guy to do that for them...''
''Well, let's go listen in on the little traitor—huh!?''
Level-One grits his teeth as marches towards his future self, bumping and shoving anyone who dares step in his way. He approaches the future Level-One and waves his hands in front of his face. He continues to talk though as he realizes his future self cannot really see him standing there. The man in the white mask appears behind him, as they both listen in onto the conversation.
''I guarantee you. The TFWF is the place for you. Now I know it didn't work out originally, but things have changed since then. You can respect talent. You can be what we want you to be. And if you want to talk money? Mr. Trumps has an unlimited supply. You name the price, he'll make it happen...''
The man standing across from him asks. The future Level-One looks at the future Patricia Lewis who flashes a look of uncertainty, before whispering something in his ear. At this point, it's as if a light bulb had just went off in his head.
''The offer is certainly something to look at, I assure you. However, Sally Talfourd is exercising her rematch against me for the APW world heavyweight championship. I think it would be a great dishonour to skip out on town and not grant her shot...''
''Mr. Only, don't be foolish. Sally Talfourd? We've have already named her price. You cannot tell anyone this but between me and you? If she beats you; she brings the title home to us and leaves you high and dry. Think Montreal. Think screw job. However, if I could get your word on paper... the entire deal would be official and you two can bring your feud to us...''
The future Level-One thinks about it while the present in time Level-One has flipped his shit. He causes a commotion unbeknownst to everyone with the exception of the man in the white mask.
''Sally Talfourd!? I knew that bitch was a no for nothing skank! She has no loyalty, no fucking loyalty I tell you!''
Level-One storms off the scene grabbing The Man in the white mask by his collar.
''You're going to get me out of this freak zone, right now. I think I am going to be absolutely sick...''
''Very well then...''
The next thing Level-One recalls is standing in the living room of his girlfriend, Patrica's house with an old photo album sprawled out in-front of him. The pictures detailed their time together. Dates, picnics and quality time spent at home. And although these events were rare the distance that separated them for weeks at the time made them all the more, special.
He didn't think about much when he stepped into the future. Mainly, because the future is something he deep down fears. In the past, he had Patricia Lewis all to himself but now that was all in jeopardy and Sally Talfourd was the one to blame. He reached the end of the photo album where the last picture inside of it was her getting ready to appear on Thursday Night Overdrive, with several blank slots for pictures open. A plateau for the future.
A future that may now, never come.
''Hello?''
He said picking up his cellphone which had been ringing.
''Patricia!? I'll be right on my way!''
''Darkness Shine, hospital. Level Advance, cementary. Choices, choices, choices... and in a equal world Sally Talfourd would get the vote''- Level-One.
He arrived at the local hospital in a panic shoving the old lady ready for a hip replacement out of his way, as he approached the counter out of breath. Although, he barely ran a respectful distance his heart was already in overdrive and his brain worked just as hard as he went over the several thousand possible scenarios of what could have possibly went wrong. It wasn't long before he found himself standing over Patricia Lewis hospital bed.
They looked at each other for several seconds before saying a single word. Patricia Lewis smiled gently, happy that he had made it. At this point, Level-One had no clue as to the condition of his girlfriend. She didn't look good the way she was strapped up to several machines as if she couldn't sustain her life on her own. He cursed under his breath as he fell to his knee.
''What's wrong?''
Was the first question he asked. Patricia Lewis gingerly reached over grabbing the hand of her boyfriend holding it tightly. He could feel that her touch was almost as cold as ice, it even sent a tingling sensation in his spine that shook him to his core in a way, he'd never forget.
''Our little ones are alright for now...''
She could feel Level-One tense up and squeeze on her hand, tighter. Though, it didn't hurt as much as it should have. The medication she was on made parts minimized the feeling of pain even numbing specific parts of her body.
''I'm talking about you, Patricia. Are you okay?''
Patricia didn't respond. She just stared at Level-One. Perhaps, deep down she knew something nobody else did because she never truly answered the question.
''I probably should have listened to you and stopped by the hospital. I'm sorry...''
Level-One took a deep breath of air, exhaling slowly before shaking his head back and forth in deep regret.
''You don't need to apologise. This is not your fault. None of this was ever your fault, do you understand me?''
Patricia Lewis smiled as he brushed her hair back and planted a kiss on her forehead as she told him everything was going to be alright. She didn't necessarily believe it; but perhaps that's just because she's somewhat of a cynic at heart. He hugged Patricia Lewis leaning over her bedside. She could feel the vibration of his cellphone against her leg, he ignored but she didn't.
''You probably should answer that...''
Level-One nodded his head up and down as he let go of the emotional embrace and proceeded to answer his phone. It was the APW camera crew. They were calling him to notify they were here for his camera shoot.
''Who was it?'' She asked.
''No one important...''
Patricia Lewis exerted all her strength using it to posture up to a seated position which was a sight that lifted Level-One's spirits. She looked at Level-One as if she wasn't going to let him win this one, either.
''You're going to shoot that promo. This your big match, hun. Don't ruin it by approaching it half-assed; I want you to bring home that APW world championship, alright?''
''No, I'm not leaving you here...''
He responded sharply as he ripped the battery out of the cellphone and placed it into the hand of Patricia Lewis. He shoved the phone back into his pocket and stood firm in his stance. Patricia Lewis held the battery as tightly as she could grasp it as she slowly laid her head back down against the pillows.
''Lester, I know you didn't cheat on me. I know Kayla Rose is behind it all...''
''Really? How?''
''...because you didn't leave me here even when I gave you the chance too...''
Once again, Patricia Lewis smiled. The same old smile that melted his heart as cold as it may have been time and time again so much so he too cracked a grin in his porcelain scowl. She threw the battery at Level-One hitting him the cut. With his cat like reflexes he was able to catch the battery as he held it above his head.
''What's this for?''
''Although, I think you're romantic as hell, you will shoot that promo. And then you're going to wrestle that match. You'll beat Sally Talfourd and put this chapter to a rest because I am your girlfriend... scratch that... fiance and I said, so...''
He smiled as he once again dropped to a single knee. He laid his head sideways on the bed beside hers as the two stared each-other in their eyes. She grabbed his hand and he grabbed hers as they intertwined by the lips. Then he whispered to her softly...
''Okay, but I have still have five more minutes...''
THE PROMO
WHERE EACH WORD SPOKEN IN THIS PROMO IS BOUND TO SERVE AS FUEL FOR THE LESS FORTUNATE. SINCE 2010. EXPECTED TO CARRY IN TO 2011! SHOUT OUTS, SALLY!
We find ourselves in the middle of nowhere. The camera lens is blind to the darkness much like the human eye is. Although, the presence of a man can be felt. Like an open circuit he was almost electrifying. Those in his presence could see him not with their eyes but with their heart for they feared him. He was often unpredictable. The element of surprise was a trick he often wore up his sleeve, shirtless for it lingered deep within him. The darkness was symbolic given the unfortunate events that has plagued him not in the span of weeks but years. He can't help but think to himself that she could have avoided all this but she chose not to, she chose not to see the light.
Can you see me, Sally? Like cat can you pull the veil of darkness off your eyes and see me standing here a supposed broken man? Well, to answer that question for you—I doubt you can do anything, I can't do. The question that everyone has been asking is simple and in turn calls for a simplistic response. Can Sally Talfourd beat Level-One? And the answer is simply, no. For not even Level-One can beat Level-One...
I tried not to become this. I tried so hard and I failed. I have let the anger that resides in my heart spread like a cancer through my veins. Like adrenaline, it's something you cannot control. For first time in my life, I wanted to do things right. I wanted to experience something pure. I wanted this just as much as I ever wanted a championship belt. And no matter how bad I wanted it; I couldn't have it...
I lost that battle to myself. I lost because I am weak. I lost because I am human. I guess you could even say, I loss because I wanted to win. Last week when I was left in the dark it brought back all the memories I had tried to put behind me and escape. It brought back the cold hearted son of a bitch I thought died with the devil. It wasn't until then I learnt that evil really never dies. It lingers on to be fed and grow back into size like a tumour that eats away at you until you remove it or die with it and even if you're lucky to escape it, it forms an army against you—and you never truly escape it.
Sally Talfourd is one of many soldiers in that army of evil. As the only person I love on this planet cried for safety of our unborn children; I realized there was no way to protect them because I had made a choice. In the name of respect, honour and dignity I had made a choice to abandon everything that has gotten me where I am today, and to ultimately reserve the instincts of combat. In a battle between life and death—you do whatever you can to survive. No honour. No respect. No dignity. You rip out that motherfuckers eyes with your bare hands if means seeing through to another day with your own...
... but when those big spotlights shut off and darkness subsided; I realized that none of this is truly my fault and that only way to fight a fire is not with water but with a bigger fire itself. I think back to when my mother beat me, day after day, night after night—leaving me to rot behind the confines of a door like criminal and thinking that maybe it was because I did something wrong. That maybe, I did something to deserve it but that wasn't the case. I didn't deserve it. And by god, I was the victim! And much like then this is no different. Sally Talfourd was one that wanted to play in this environment. Sally Talfourd was the one who wanted to cause pain, misery—and death. And that bitch is going to get everything she's asked for...
As of on que; a single illuminated spot light shines down on the number one contender, Level-One. He recoils from the bright light as his eyes struggle to adjust to the sudden contrast. He lifts his head as he squints up at the light. The story between Level-One and Sally Talfourd may have taken a dark twist but as fate would have it, light would prevail. This light wasn't Sally Talfourd or even Level-One. This light was signal for what was to come in the mere matter of days for both would get an opportunity to shine. An opportunity to exact what they each saw as revenge on each other. Lastly, a proving ground for truth. This battle like no other was going to be dictated by alliances, numbers or even teamwork—but determination, heart, skill, strength and the will to survive. A battle which wouldn't be won by what was on the line to gain but instead what was on the line to lose; and for Level-One the answer was simple, everything.
I recall you saying something about wanting Level-One at his best. You said that you wanted me to approach this match at the top of my A+ game; citing that I wouldn't have anymore excuses after you'd be me. And while that's at the very least admirable what you really asked for is your death wish. What you really are hoping for is that I take that APW championship off your shoulders and correct a mistake, you can't come to correct yourself—without losing the respect and credibility you have gathered along the way...
And while I can't say I am at my best; I can say, I am better then I have ever been. I don't have just a championship to fight for anymore; but for my family, for myself and quite frankly the entire world. I know this spotlight is something you've wanted since day one. I know that APW championship is something you've desired just as long; but deep down now that you've accomplished it you no longer believe it's worth the fight. You don't have what it takes to put in the work to maintain yourself as a world champion. I get it. There's a reason why since the inception of the APW there's only been a mere 8 different world champions. Excluding me and you, six. Nonetheless there's a reason why the majority fail to make it passed their first title defence! I on the other hand? I'm know not for winning the championship in the tenure of my career but rather being a career champion. The man you think when you hear the words ''APW world championship''; rather then Sally ''The flash in the pan'' Talfourd.
All along, Sally Talfourd—you've been looking for the fame. The glory. For the rest of your life, no matter what becomes of you; no matter how many times you fail to repeat your miracle into the New Year; you'll always have a title to brag about. You always have that notch of being the first APW women champion under your snatch where no man will ever be bound to go. So, putting myself in your mind frame for a second... whether you win or lose is irrelevant to your agenda of being a star! Congratulations, Sally! Unfortunately, the rest of us aren't doing it for the fame or bling bling status. I don't win championships to strut around with the championship like a glorified piece of materialistic jewelry, shown off every time you strut down the ring ramp to wrestle a goddamn match!
And let's not pretend like this light above my heard here isn't what you're all about. All the smiling, the flirting, the playing up your role as the hot candy Cane sucking slut just in time for Christmas Chaos; isn't just a show for the cameras. The entire oh, erm, gee—golly, I forgot she also wrestles too!; thing going on here makes my stomach churn. And so I admit, you do have some talent—more so then I have given you credit for in the past but is there really a need for all the theatrics? I mean, it's gotten to the point where you are almost cartoonish. People drink to you in bars. How many times is she going to flip her hair? Gyrate her hips? Lick her lips? Blink. Wink. Pretend to think? For fuck sakes, Sally... you've gotten the spot light and boy do you deserve it.
You can have the spotlight. You can be the poser girl for this company. You can be the marketing scheme, the bitch on teen magazine... commercials, infomercials—every shit filled mainstream program in between. It's all fucking irrelevant to me. I want the title. And don't worry, I am not asking you for it. I am taking it and there isn't a damn thing you can do to change it. And if you want to really be diplomatic... you can beat me; but you wont.
The spotlight disappears and we're left back in darkness. After a few seconds of awkward silence comes to pass the lights begin to flicker on and off erratically and when the finally do stop, we find ourselves in an entirely different setting. This time we can see Level-One with no type of lighting effect or the hindrance of no lighting at all. He simply stares down at a picture he holds in his hand standing in the living room of his girlfriends home, Patricia Lewis. He doesn't look up at the camera he just stares at the picture talking to it.
You maybe the first APW world champion, Sally—but you show me the warrior in you and I'll show you a bigger warrior in her. If there was anything you had over me it was the fact I had a trouble understanding you, a women. Your brain works differently then us men. And while you'd surely claim mental supremacy over me because of it, I simply sit back and listen—quite frankly, perhaps potentially, making me the smartest of them all. Through Patricia I have been able to gain some insight on you and surely, it'll become my advantage.
The reason you did what you did when you aligned yourself with that lying slut, Kayla Rose—is that you weren't trying to get through to me, you were trying to get through to her. Now one would ask, why would Sally Talfourd stoop so low as to do such a thing? Her match isn't against Patricia Lewis, it's against Level-One surely, I have it wrong, correct? Well, the truth is—Patricia Lewis was her enemy. Patricia Lewis was her key in trying to break me into a thousand pieces leaving me prime to be swept under the proverbial rug, by a glorified cleaning lady. For behind every successful man, is a successful, strong, beautiful, independent women. And behind every failure of a man, there's two. Sally Talfourd was trying to reign in on the age old philosophy in hopes that I'd fail and one could even argue, I did.
Sally Talfourds target a long was my backbone to being a successful man and Sally, a women herself despite her hideous man hands; honed in on this prematch strategy. See, while Sally Talfourd deep down would love to be removed from the APW world championship as it's a hindrance to her life as a glorified celebrity fame whore—she also loves the idea of remaining a champion, if doesn't take much work to do so.
Though, you're plan may just backfire. I haven't lost, Patricia yet. She's a smart girl. She'll come along. She'll realize that it was nothing more then an elaborate scheme to break me down like a whore breaks a pimp. The only different in this case being, you're the whore trying to break the pimp—which is turn is just going get you back handed across the fucking face. I digress. The point is, she'll see the fraud for what it is; and your plan would have done you less favours then it was all worth. The fact is, those were lies you helped facilitate to the entire world. And no matter how many times you fill your stupid promos with pink and purple fonts and smile for the camera—your true colours will shine through, if you refuse to apologies to your ''fans''; for outright being dishonest to them.
He puts down the photo of Patricia Lewis and slowly moves his hand over to a second photo. It was the photo that had been broadcast in front of the entire world documenting the lie. He picked up the photo and held it in his hand, only this time he looked up and addressed the camera.
If you're a lesbian Sally, Kayla Rose is the perfect girl for you. A lying, hypocritical, selfish bitch who will hurt anyone to get what she wants and do so with a smile. You both use your looks, your bodies and the fact that you have a vagina to get further then you otherwise would have. Face it, Sally. If wasn't for the fact you were a female, you'd hardly be anywhere were you are today. The skills and abilities you do have—when stripped away of sex, fails in comparison to mine without a doubt. Slap a pair of boobs on it though and suddenly, you're the next big thing—in with the new out with the old.
Truth be told, Sally—I thought you were above all this? Okay, okay... maybe I am lying when I say that but I was hoping you'd at least keep the fraud up long enough to fool your fans! Weren't you supposed to be the girl who didn't need to resort to these outside tactics in the name of winning a match? Weren't you the girl who handles her business in the ring—rather then outside of it? Lastly, aren't you the girl who was morally superior to me and didn't have to stoop to my level? You can talk about me swinging steel chairs all you want but THIS is the lowest anyone has ever gone in the APW, ever!
If the fans had any goddamn common sense at all, you'd be booed out the building come Christmas Chaos. Though, you know as well as I do—that is unlikely. You've catered to their stupidity and you've primed them for your countless frauds. All you have to do ''Magician'' is wave your stupid wand, shake your hips twice and skip down to the ring and thousands upon thousands of brain dead zombies would have drank it up, like urine from the water hose of god. Well that's fine. The truth is not weighed by public opinion. The truth doesn't disappear because you and your brain dead cronies choose to ignore it. The is the truth and the truth will prevail at, Christmas Chaos.
He holds up the picture of him and Kayla Rose before ripping it in half, then quarters, then eighths, then sixteenths before allowing the picture to fall to the floor like confetti. Right then and there he shoves the camera away from him. The camera spins around 360's degrees several times quickly, as the lens is mirrored in disorientation. The picture begins to clear up and we find ourselves at yet another location; and this time, it's the flight club. It's empty, it's quiet and it's still a mess—littered with garbage and scattered Christmas decorations. He stands by a small table which had served as the party grounds source of music. He places a disk inside the machine and turns on the music. He plays his theme song as he takes a seat beside the audio system and merely, chills out. Mentally, he was preparing for his match.
Sally, I have went through the scenario a thousand times over and each time it ends the same; with my arms raised high above my head. There is no doubt within me this time around. It's clockwork at this point. I know have you beat. All I have to do, is take a look at your composure. You're desperate attempts to break me. The fact is, you aren't prepared to go one on one with me—you're strategy heading to this match was leave me shambles, to beat me down so bad—that I wouldn't even bother show up, at Christmas Chaos. Well, I'm sorry to break it to you; I'll be there at any cost.
To be honest, Sally—I believe you're ego has gotten the best of you. It's consumed you. You're no longer able to think logically anymore. You've already broke the cap of the champagne, called ten of your best friends and celebrating your victory, well before you had a fair shot to lose. The fact is before you were champion you had plenty of doubt on whether or not you could and would beat me—it wasn't until you won a few irrelevant tag team matches and finally one the big slab of gold that you're delusions fully set in. It's quite obvious to me, you don't understand what this entire thing is about. What you've won is battles. The war still wages on. You haven't beaten me yet...
To beat me; is to escape me. As long as you and me are main-eventing pay-per-view with the title on the line? The war wages on. I have had and won every single war I have ever been in. Take Pence Weatherlight and Bryan Payne for example. They may have beaten me but in the end I won the war and it is evident by the fact that I am here today in the main event and they aren't. And evidence shows that I am never to be counted out; whether I happen to be the champion, or not. In fact, while I have lost the championship on three different occasions... I have NEVER failed to the redeem myself when named the number one contender. So I ask you; how does holding the belt put you in a better position then you were when you were fighting for it? Another fact being, you've never defended the world title before. Advantage? Me.
Sally, I may not be the life of your little party but I am the life of the APW. The fact is the difference between me and you is that my expectations always have and will superseded yours. There's reason why, even while you are the world champion the question is not whether or not Level-One can beat Sally Talfourd but instead whether or not Sally Talfourd can break the curse and make it past her first title defence? This expectation that superceeds yours is also shown in the way matches are booked; I mean just last week alone the deck was stacked against me as I was slotted with three people with more losses on their records, then wins. And still, you and your pom-pom brigade couldn't seal the deal...
The truth is Sally, you've had two occasions in these lame tag team matches to prove your point; and despite the handicaps, I was able to defend you and your vultures off. You can claim the teams were fair in your opinion but the fact is you were given Pence Weatherlight a former world champion and arch rival of mine to team up with while I was given The Number, a mere week removed from a loss by your partner. And today? Pence Weatherlight has since uncrowned the Number and is walking around OverDrive champion. It's fitting that you and him get along so well—because after I win back the world championship and deny you in your rematches over and over again—you'll be fighting him to justify your mediocrity. And if you choose to take it as a vote of confidence between me and you? He doesn't have anything on you. You go girl...
He grins as he gets up and walks over to a portable bar set up which was in the process of being dissembled. He grabs a glass and places it on the bar top, before grabbing a bottle of whine stashed away under a cupboard. He begins to poor the whine in the glass half way, before he stirs it up with his finger. Tauntingly, he looks back at the camera as if he didn't see it there before.
Sally, it's a shame I am going to have to be the one to crash your party and cut your title rein short and derail the hype train before it even reaches it's first stop. You've had a great year; the best when it comes to newcomers within the APW but here's where you stop just shy, of ending it on the high note—by making the year 2010 the year of Sally Talfourd. I mean, you've won tournaments. You've made a name beyond the APW and you've even done what very few ever do and that's beating me but unfortunately; I have had quite a dominate year myself. I held the APW championship twice in the span of one year; I amassed a win streak peeking into double digits and I exacted revenge by beating everyone who's ever beaten me in the APW. At this point the majority of fans believe we are on par when it comes to who has done what in the year 2010; and year's holder will be decided with this one match...
I believe this match is far more important than you truly take it for. This match is not only a title match, not only is it a grudge match but it also sets the cornerstone of the year 2011 and beyond. With a new year comes great opportunities. A chance to take the APW to yet another level. And the fact is, year after year—I have been the one to do just that and I'd absolutely love to carry on the great tradition. The goal I have set for next year and beyond is really simple, be the best champion I can be. And hopefully, next Christmas Chaos—I'll be walking in the champion after an historic one year title rein, I felt short of achieving when Pence Weatherlight beat me at Rasslemania IV. And while know you're goal is simply surviving come Christmas Chaos which is what it should consist of; I've always been quite the visionary, wouldn't you say?
I do however want to take the time to tell you how much I appreciate the challenge. If it wasn't for you forging alliances against me at one night in hell, I probably wouldn't be as hungry as I am today. You were the cold water splashed upon my face to wake up—not to say, I was ever sleeping; but now the mere though of sleep or slowing down at all, is gone. It's all about progress now. All about improving even while I am considered to be the best there is. Meanwhile, you're looking to maintain. To maintain your popularity. To maintain your status. To maintain the APW world championship. Sally, I believe this mere philosophical difference between us will prove to play a big part on deciding who wins and who loses come, Christmas Chaos. And all I can to that is this...
Have a good NEW years...
He holds up his glass of wine and grins.
... cheers!
Suddenly the whine flies from the cup, directed by Level-One's aggressive hand motion. The liquid flies towards the camera lens in slow motion eventually obstructing the view of the camera. A sleeve comes across the screen wiping it back and forth each time the view in the camera lens becomes a bit more clearer and when it finally does, we find ourselves in an entirely different atmosphere. This time we're in the hospital with Level-One sitting on the foot of his girlfriends bed. She lies asleep in the bed with a heart monitor tracking her with every heart beat. Level-One is dressed oddly, wearing all black. His head is titled towards the ground and is obviously in a somber mood; compared to his upbeat antics a segment earlier shot in the fight club. He looks up at the camera as a single tear poor from his face and falls to the floor.
And then came my Christmas wish list. Truth be told, lies be damned—there's big part of me that wants to feel more then just winning. There's apart of me that puts nearly everything I have said in the past hour to the side and ignore it. There's apart of me that wants revenge, an eye for a fucking eye. You did this to me, Sally Talfourd. And while you may have signed away your APW world championship by doing so; I highly doubt the sweet taste of victory whine can quench my thirst like your fucking blood can!
The fact is; I never thought I knew true evil until I might you. Sure, I've had my run ins with the devil. I have opened my heart to her deals and have used her power for own my gains... but when I exercised that demon she died and was reborn in you! You filthy fucking bitch. You knew that you couldn't destroy my family with your pathetic, slanderous lies. That was just the distraction. Your end game was this. Like a vulture, you attacked my girlfriend under the guise of darkness and put her in the bed she lies in today. She's expected to make a full recovery, Sally—but you efforts will not sway to the wayside. You will pay for what you have done with your blood...
I hear about the IWC this... the IWC that... and how hardcore these people are supposed to be, winging steel chairs, laying in barbed wire and playing with fire. That to me? That's childsplay. There is no better weapon the the mind of man wielding two fists! I pray for your safety. I pray that somehow I find in my heart you spare your life for if the opportunity to outright kill you in that ring is there... I am going to take it with both hands, clenched around your trachea, until I hear you gag like the whore you are. Until I hear something snap. Until the vessels in your eyes pop and my face is mirrored in your blood. Only then can I truly show the world just how much I despise you. Just then can I show the world how much I have come to hate everything you stand for and will ever be. Only I can take these words and put them into context beyond plain spoken English and will words be engrained in the minds of men and forgotten in minds of the weak.
He slowly stands up and makes his way to his girlfriends beside. He watches her and she lays peacefully asleep.
You Sally Talfourd embody everything on this earth, I hate. Ignorance. Hypocrisy. Non Authenticity. Selfishness. Materialism. Cowardice. Promiscuity. Dishonesty. Shallowness. Need I say more? And while you stand for everything I hate about life... Patricia Lewis stands for the only thing, I have left to live for and no matter what, you can't change that.
Sally, there is no doubt in mind that I will beat you at Christmas Chaos because while you're fighting for APW world championship, I am fighting in the name of my family. I am fighting in the name of my word. I am fighting in the name of what I have to lose should you pin my shoulders to the mat for three seconds...
Everything.
I will beat you because I have no other choice. And with your defeat? So happens to come the APW world championship. Call it a technical difficulty. Call it a sacrifice. Call it whatever the fuck you want to call it...
I call it justice. I call it redemption. I call it whatever the fuck I want to call it; because this has and never will be about you. You just remember when it's all said and done you did this to yourself.
You're the cause, I'm the effect.
Level-One looks up at the heart monitor and then back at the camera.
So if you think this is still a game, Sally? You've already lost.[/center]
