Post by Level-Two on Dec 15, 2008 21:40:15 GMT -4
''One's'' Lights
Smoke bellowed out the window; creeping towards the construction sight across the street. A man with big dark shades, his hair slicked back casually settling into a mid sized pony tail. He dressed in a black suite with a pair of dressing shoes that went unseen due to it’s position in the vehicle. A cigar hanging loosely from his mouth, as his eyes stay settled on construction site. An earpiece hung from his face, allowing him to deliver any messages through a powerful signal. Technology grew bigger and badder, even more dangerous with each passing day.
‘’I can’t believe this. Jace Brown and that side kick of his have rebuilt OUR fight club, and is planning to take full possession over it’’
…
‘’Hell no. We will NOT allow this to happen. Dr. Chan has put too much work into this to let two cocky white boys take over our business. I offered them everything and the world, and all they could give me in return was the rights to Jacob Goodnight. I wanted a piece of the fucking pie, but these snobs are just too greedy’’
…
‘’You don’t know me, do you? Dr. Chan has left me in charge of this place, and I won’t let him down in vain. Level-One fucked with our business before, and destroyed it. And now, I’m not going to let Jace Brown or Brian Mc Phee take over my business and shit on everything this fight club once was. Dr. Chan is rolling in his fucking grave right now, yeah!?’’
…
‘’Kill them? No. That’s just too easy. What I do is let them build up our fight club, let them establish it, and then we take it from them. This building process is tedious, they’ll have government workers coming in and checking in on them every fucking month! But me? I got the entire police force on my payroll’’
…
‘’What I need you to do is get a few men down by the local jail where a prize fighter is held. Grab a few explosives and mask them in jail food containers. I want the truck and containers driven outside the jail, in the position reported to you in the next few hours. You leave the truck. You walk away. You turn around, and then?’’
The man slowly moved his hand up to his ears, ripping off his earpeice before tossing it to his side. Taking a hit of his cigarette staring outside to the Fight Club being build.
‘’…We take back what’s ours’’
Channel after channel. Surfing in my own ignorance the bright colors flashed off the screen, back into my eyes. My finger clicked the remote button, as I engaged in an endless circle of television. It wasn’t the first time, I did this and it certainly wouldn’t have been the last. It was pretty much a damn ritual now. Each channel that came to pass, the image remains in my mind, even if it only remained on the screen for a split second. An overload to Christmas specials blasted the tubes; for the past few days, I’ve seen frosty the snow man, melted into a puddle of sloppy shit.
I leaned my head back into my chair, the glow of the television consuming my face without the least bit show of remorse. It was that time of the year, and I hated it. I battled with myself to walk out onto the balcony, and to take a look outside. I knew what was out there. Lights, trees, everything in preparation for the holidays. For the past week, I have been purposely trying to be booked on shows, but they all have plans this Christmas. Me? I’m alone.
But hell, I don’t need anyone. I don’t want anyone. I can use that day to sit back and rest, and prepare to step in the ring right afterwards. While families are out shopping for silly gifts, and presents thrown under a tree as if we didn’t expect what was in them; I’ll be out there executing my craft. Hell, I knew this is all I have left. And this holiday was only a harsh reminder. No friends. No family. My girlfriend, well she isn’t anymore. All I have is my career.
‘’How can a light so bright make a man so cold?’’’
No matter how successful it currently is, will be, and finally end up. I don’t think I can ever become complete. Imagine seeing the sky as your limit. You get up to the sky, only wanting to go higher. Well, that’s me. They say my goals are unrealistic...
I turn my head, the True Experts Championship tucked neatly behind a class in a cabinet before nodding my head.
Yet; they seem so real.
BREAKING NEWS!
Anderson Cooper from CNN appears on a screen with a sheet of paper in his hands.
Anderson Cooper: Today, we at CNN has just received breaking news. Police say this man now on the corner of your screens, by the name of Jacob Goodnight has gone missing from a state penitentiary. It has now be revealed that the prisoner escaped, when a car bomb placed out side of the jail blew up, blowing up an entire wall leading into various holding cells in the jail. 2 security guards, and four other prisoners where killed in the blast. Tonight we ask the question, how did this happen?
I watched the television with amazement. A part of me was happy for Jacob; he was now a free man, as I discovered a few days ago. But this? This took human lives. I leant over with my head in my hands. Confusion pounding me from every direction. Through all the confusion and insanity, one question stuck out in my mind, and arose.
Who allowed Jacob to escape?
Ring, ring. Ring, ring. Ring, ring.
Finally, a sectary at a desk reaches over and answers the phone. Her lip stick covered her lips making them look bigger than they actually were, her eyes heavily painted with eye liner, her hair a mess. Chewing on a thick piece of gum she non-chauanltely begins his her sentence…
‘’Brian Mc Phees office. Please, if you here to express your hate for Mr. Mc Phee, making statements that he’s a ‘’stupid fucking douche basket that should die a horrible death in a bush, before having his fleshed consumed by merciless maggots for parting ways with Level-One…’’ please save your breath. We’ve heard it for weeks now. Now…How may I help you?’’
The desk lady chews on her desk impatiently waiting for a reply on the other end. A few seconds pass before the silence becomes too much for the lady to bare.
‘’Hello, are you there?’’
The phone is blared with white noise. Before a voice cracks through the racket on the other end. The desk lady’s eyebrows shoot up in the air as she leans over the table picking up a pen quickly.
‘’…Let me warn you. This isn’t a joke. I want you to tell Brian Mc Phee that I’ve got a business offer of a fucking life time. Let him know, that if he wants to deal with a problem, I’m his man. Let him also know this. That if he doesn’t share the same philosophies with this said problem, than he becomes MY problem and he will be handled accordingly…’’
‘’Sir, please slow…’’
‘’…You just shut the fuck up. Brian Mc Phees friend has ruined my life. All those who were responsible will pay for it in blood. Tell, Brian Mc Phee this. Him and his little friend may have take my fucking face—but I will take their life’s. You go to the police with his information lady, and this isn’t a threat, it’s a promise. I will make you look like just like me. And trust me. Not even I like my face…’’
The lady pulls the phone away from her mouth. Before swinging her hands helplessly. Brian Mc Phee seated in another office peers his head over and notices the commotion. Brian Mc Phee quickly gets to his feet, slips through his door, and runs towards the desk lady.
‘’Trisha, what the hell is the problem?’’ Brian asked perplexed. Trisha’s eyes expanded as she handed over the phone.
‘’Who is this?’’ Brian asked. The man on the other end simply laughed.
‘’What’s more important was the man I once was. And your friend, he’s taken that away from me’’
‘’Who are you, what are you talking about?’’
‘’Look in the mirror, Brian. Try to imagine that pretty face of yours; burnt. Mangled. Ugly beyond belief. Those girls your dick craves on a weekly bases, they're only out for that face of yours. Do you want to keep it?’’
‘’Listen here…’’
‘’…You’ve got one week, to accept my proposal. Don’t think about it too hard, Brian. I will come to you, and I expect and answer. Or we can do it the hard way’’
‘’Yeah, and what the hell is the hard way?’’
‘’…Staring through the glow of flames as they consume your face like a pack of rabid dogs. Reaching out, only to burn your hand on your own melting flesh like candle wax….I’m done with you, you have a week, Mr. Mc Phee’’
…BEEP, BEEP, BEEP, BEEP.
Brian Mc Phee lowers the phone looking down towards Trisha who reaches out and grabs the phone from him. Brian Mc Phee places his hand on his face, dragging it along before shaking his head.
‘’I want you to trace that guys number, now!’’
I couldn’t fight it, the anticipation grew and I had to step out here. I allowed my mind to break free. Break free of everything.
My eyes traveling along the city below. Bright lights filled the city, families set up their Christmas trees in preparation for the week ahead; symbolizing everything I was missing by placing a simple star on the top. Christmas; I didn’t even know it existed growing up.
There wasn’t a Christmas in my life; where I wasn’t left alone. My mom partied twice as hard, and my dad was non existent. All the other kids had new clothes, toys, and vacations to talk about. Where I? I simply talked about what I saw on television, speaking of the wrestling legends of my childhood; I would one day grow to be bigger than.
I’m not trying to dwell on old times, really. But now, even with everything I have it isn’t the same. I mean, I can have any girl. I could invite a bunch of hookers on Christmas, and engage in a man’s greatest sexual fantasies, but that isn’t what it’s about. I’m alone, with not one person I care about by my side. I look to my side.
…Will she ever be here standing beside me?
I shook my head, staring back out into the city. I doubt it. Through a small window, in an old house down in below the city, a little boy ran up to a shadow in a chair. The hand reached over, giving the little boy something in which the boy tucked in his hands. The boy ran around, throwing the object in the air, catching it time and time again.
…It was the blue ball.
And then suddenly; the lights went out. A darkened face, embedded in the shadows of the window. For a second, I thought the person might’ve saw me. Especially, as they stood there not moving anymore than I had. And then, the curtain slid shut.
…Back the bright lights my eyes traveled. I thought back to the time when…
Twisters wrath?
You cannot be fucking serious?
I’ve been here month, upon month. Yet I still don’t get the recognition I deserve. It doesn’t matter who the hell I beat, it doesn’t matter how I beat them, it doesn’t matter how much I prove they aren’t worth shit. I’m still forgotten. I’m pushed to the side. Expected to play second string, while the coach oblivious to any star power around him, wastes his energy, time, and strength screaming and counting on a line of ‘’stars’’ that simply cannot get the job done. What the fuck is Hurricane Jeff waiting for? What must I do to prove I deserve a REAL title shot? So my constant call outs of our world heavyweight champion, is getting on the management nerves. So fucking be it.
I’m not going to sit around and wait for my chance. I’m not going to sit down, keep my mouth shut, while Sabur bores an entire nation with his words. For a management team that loves to hold me back, by encouraging Link to carry on with his useless tactics to annoy me further, throwing world champions in-front of me, thus allowing me to physically dissect them in-front of the world, isn’t really helping their cause. How many more of these ‘’World’’ champions must I go through, before I prove a damn point?
In fact, this overdrive I’ve been giving yet another opportunity to prove to the world that Trevor Blackwell, nor Dr. Matt deserve title shots. But fuck. It’s a Christmas pay-per-view! I suppose you can give the undeserving presents of charity. Although, that doesn’t even begin to explain how Sabur won that world title to begin with. It must’ve been his fucking birthday, was that it?
But now, let’s talk about overdrive. Once again, I get a chance to test my strength, skill, and wits against a former APW world champion, Twister! As great as that sounds, I’ve proved time and time again, that every single APW world champion to date, hasn’t got a thing on me. John Green? Yeah, he was an APW world champion and look where he is now? I heard Justin Job was hiring; and fired John Green because he couldn’t even get the job done properly. Tripping, bumping your head off the turnbuckle, and then being pinned for the three count, doesn’t put you over to well. And considering those three things will not be occurring to me come overdrive, Twister can scratch beating me off his Christmas wish list.
With that said; after hearing you speak about our match in your shit filled production, it was easy to see you are offering up some kind of present? You know, while you got on your knees and kissed my ass, while mentioning all the amazing things I’ve accomplished during my career in between breath. I almost forgot that at one time you actually were relevant around here. It’s good seeing a former world champion, roll over to the new guy knowing full well he’s 10 times better.
However; I can admit a smart move when I see one. Putting me over like you did, adds insurance and keeps a bit more credibility with you, when you DO end up losing. I mean, have you seen Link? For someone who has ‘’Zero’’ talent like myself, it’s odd how I’ve beaten him twice in a row. Rendering his tactless statements completely and utter irrelevant to anything that remotely matters. Hell, if he wasn’t such a little prick, Santa may have banked on one of his wishes, and he might’ve finally beaten me in a goddamn match. But let’s face it Twister; Santa doesn’t exist, and neither does your ‘’chance’’ of beating me come overdrive.
But enough of your sucking up. Because through out all that, you’ve made references that included the EWC. You plan on hurting me, kid? You plan on taking me out of commission? Don’t be so stupid, fool. I could beat you with my fucking eyes closed. You want to talk about FOCUS? When I’m landing my fist directly upon your face, with enough power to break a bone, and with enough precision to knock the living shit out of you, you’ll see focused. The biggest threat to me in this match is walking down the ramp and rolling my own fucking ankle! You’re a joke, Twister. Save me from your stupidity.
You don’t even understand the statements you preach, fool. There isn’t enough ass kissing you can do in the world to make up for what you insinuated. My match at Strangle Mania is between me and Crazy Man. A history you know nothing about, because if you did, the last thing you’d want to do is stick your nose into the fire. From day one; I’ve been ripping that man up. My hate for Crazy Man makes my hate for Link look like child’s play. The next time you, or anyone wants to threaten, or even step between this thing I got going on with Crazy Man, I will reach up and I will pull you into the fire with us, and you’ll be burnt to the bone. I won’t even put out your burning flesh, with my own piss. Blow the fuck out of here, kid.
Twister; your storm is done. At Overdrive, you may be lucky enough to step in the main-event with me. But I’m going to prove, that only one of us belongs there. I’m not sorry to break it to you. But this isn’t a match everyone is going to remember. This won’t rank up as a battle of my life. No, you aren’t good enough for that. Call yourself a former APW world champion, the streak killer, a dominate force in this business. Those are statements, anyone can claim. This though? This remains fact.
There is only ONE Level-One. Make all the name puns you want. Have all the cameos in your promos all you like. Get the entire roster to rally behind you, because there isn’t a damn thing that can safe you from being pinned down for the three count. I’m going to prove to you; that the upper tier of the APW? Means nothing, when being crushed upon the soul of my boot.
So, please twister. Hit me with your storm. Let the rain pour upon me. Let it soak up to my knees. Let me catch a cold. Hit me with your thunder. Blind me with your lighting. Freeze me with your snow. Burn me with your brightest light. Call upon Mother Nature, and tell her…
It’s going to take more than a Twister’s wrath, to destroy me.
Smoke bellowed out the window; creeping towards the construction sight across the street. A man with big dark shades, his hair slicked back casually settling into a mid sized pony tail. He dressed in a black suite with a pair of dressing shoes that went unseen due to it’s position in the vehicle. A cigar hanging loosely from his mouth, as his eyes stay settled on construction site. An earpiece hung from his face, allowing him to deliver any messages through a powerful signal. Technology grew bigger and badder, even more dangerous with each passing day.
‘’I can’t believe this. Jace Brown and that side kick of his have rebuilt OUR fight club, and is planning to take full possession over it’’
…
‘’Hell no. We will NOT allow this to happen. Dr. Chan has put too much work into this to let two cocky white boys take over our business. I offered them everything and the world, and all they could give me in return was the rights to Jacob Goodnight. I wanted a piece of the fucking pie, but these snobs are just too greedy’’
…
‘’You don’t know me, do you? Dr. Chan has left me in charge of this place, and I won’t let him down in vain. Level-One fucked with our business before, and destroyed it. And now, I’m not going to let Jace Brown or Brian Mc Phee take over my business and shit on everything this fight club once was. Dr. Chan is rolling in his fucking grave right now, yeah!?’’
…
‘’Kill them? No. That’s just too easy. What I do is let them build up our fight club, let them establish it, and then we take it from them. This building process is tedious, they’ll have government workers coming in and checking in on them every fucking month! But me? I got the entire police force on my payroll’’
…
‘’What I need you to do is get a few men down by the local jail where a prize fighter is held. Grab a few explosives and mask them in jail food containers. I want the truck and containers driven outside the jail, in the position reported to you in the next few hours. You leave the truck. You walk away. You turn around, and then?’’
The man slowly moved his hand up to his ears, ripping off his earpeice before tossing it to his side. Taking a hit of his cigarette staring outside to the Fight Club being build.
‘’…We take back what’s ours’’
Channel after channel. Surfing in my own ignorance the bright colors flashed off the screen, back into my eyes. My finger clicked the remote button, as I engaged in an endless circle of television. It wasn’t the first time, I did this and it certainly wouldn’t have been the last. It was pretty much a damn ritual now. Each channel that came to pass, the image remains in my mind, even if it only remained on the screen for a split second. An overload to Christmas specials blasted the tubes; for the past few days, I’ve seen frosty the snow man, melted into a puddle of sloppy shit.
I leaned my head back into my chair, the glow of the television consuming my face without the least bit show of remorse. It was that time of the year, and I hated it. I battled with myself to walk out onto the balcony, and to take a look outside. I knew what was out there. Lights, trees, everything in preparation for the holidays. For the past week, I have been purposely trying to be booked on shows, but they all have plans this Christmas. Me? I’m alone.
But hell, I don’t need anyone. I don’t want anyone. I can use that day to sit back and rest, and prepare to step in the ring right afterwards. While families are out shopping for silly gifts, and presents thrown under a tree as if we didn’t expect what was in them; I’ll be out there executing my craft. Hell, I knew this is all I have left. And this holiday was only a harsh reminder. No friends. No family. My girlfriend, well she isn’t anymore. All I have is my career.
‘’How can a light so bright make a man so cold?’’’
No matter how successful it currently is, will be, and finally end up. I don’t think I can ever become complete. Imagine seeing the sky as your limit. You get up to the sky, only wanting to go higher. Well, that’s me. They say my goals are unrealistic...
I turn my head, the True Experts Championship tucked neatly behind a class in a cabinet before nodding my head.
Yet; they seem so real.
BREAKING NEWS!
Anderson Cooper from CNN appears on a screen with a sheet of paper in his hands.
Anderson Cooper: Today, we at CNN has just received breaking news. Police say this man now on the corner of your screens, by the name of Jacob Goodnight has gone missing from a state penitentiary. It has now be revealed that the prisoner escaped, when a car bomb placed out side of the jail blew up, blowing up an entire wall leading into various holding cells in the jail. 2 security guards, and four other prisoners where killed in the blast. Tonight we ask the question, how did this happen?
I watched the television with amazement. A part of me was happy for Jacob; he was now a free man, as I discovered a few days ago. But this? This took human lives. I leant over with my head in my hands. Confusion pounding me from every direction. Through all the confusion and insanity, one question stuck out in my mind, and arose.
Who allowed Jacob to escape?
Ring, ring. Ring, ring. Ring, ring.
Finally, a sectary at a desk reaches over and answers the phone. Her lip stick covered her lips making them look bigger than they actually were, her eyes heavily painted with eye liner, her hair a mess. Chewing on a thick piece of gum she non-chauanltely begins his her sentence…
‘’Brian Mc Phees office. Please, if you here to express your hate for Mr. Mc Phee, making statements that he’s a ‘’stupid fucking douche basket that should die a horrible death in a bush, before having his fleshed consumed by merciless maggots for parting ways with Level-One…’’ please save your breath. We’ve heard it for weeks now. Now…How may I help you?’’
The desk lady chews on her desk impatiently waiting for a reply on the other end. A few seconds pass before the silence becomes too much for the lady to bare.
‘’Hello, are you there?’’
The phone is blared with white noise. Before a voice cracks through the racket on the other end. The desk lady’s eyebrows shoot up in the air as she leans over the table picking up a pen quickly.
‘’…Let me warn you. This isn’t a joke. I want you to tell Brian Mc Phee that I’ve got a business offer of a fucking life time. Let him know, that if he wants to deal with a problem, I’m his man. Let him also know this. That if he doesn’t share the same philosophies with this said problem, than he becomes MY problem and he will be handled accordingly…’’
‘’Sir, please slow…’’
‘’…You just shut the fuck up. Brian Mc Phees friend has ruined my life. All those who were responsible will pay for it in blood. Tell, Brian Mc Phee this. Him and his little friend may have take my fucking face—but I will take their life’s. You go to the police with his information lady, and this isn’t a threat, it’s a promise. I will make you look like just like me. And trust me. Not even I like my face…’’
The lady pulls the phone away from her mouth. Before swinging her hands helplessly. Brian Mc Phee seated in another office peers his head over and notices the commotion. Brian Mc Phee quickly gets to his feet, slips through his door, and runs towards the desk lady.
‘’Trisha, what the hell is the problem?’’ Brian asked perplexed. Trisha’s eyes expanded as she handed over the phone.
‘’Who is this?’’ Brian asked. The man on the other end simply laughed.
‘’What’s more important was the man I once was. And your friend, he’s taken that away from me’’
‘’Who are you, what are you talking about?’’
‘’Look in the mirror, Brian. Try to imagine that pretty face of yours; burnt. Mangled. Ugly beyond belief. Those girls your dick craves on a weekly bases, they're only out for that face of yours. Do you want to keep it?’’
‘’Listen here…’’
‘’…You’ve got one week, to accept my proposal. Don’t think about it too hard, Brian. I will come to you, and I expect and answer. Or we can do it the hard way’’
‘’Yeah, and what the hell is the hard way?’’
‘’…Staring through the glow of flames as they consume your face like a pack of rabid dogs. Reaching out, only to burn your hand on your own melting flesh like candle wax….I’m done with you, you have a week, Mr. Mc Phee’’
…BEEP, BEEP, BEEP, BEEP.
Brian Mc Phee lowers the phone looking down towards Trisha who reaches out and grabs the phone from him. Brian Mc Phee places his hand on his face, dragging it along before shaking his head.
‘’I want you to trace that guys number, now!’’
I couldn’t fight it, the anticipation grew and I had to step out here. I allowed my mind to break free. Break free of everything.
My eyes traveling along the city below. Bright lights filled the city, families set up their Christmas trees in preparation for the week ahead; symbolizing everything I was missing by placing a simple star on the top. Christmas; I didn’t even know it existed growing up.
There wasn’t a Christmas in my life; where I wasn’t left alone. My mom partied twice as hard, and my dad was non existent. All the other kids had new clothes, toys, and vacations to talk about. Where I? I simply talked about what I saw on television, speaking of the wrestling legends of my childhood; I would one day grow to be bigger than.
I’m not trying to dwell on old times, really. But now, even with everything I have it isn’t the same. I mean, I can have any girl. I could invite a bunch of hookers on Christmas, and engage in a man’s greatest sexual fantasies, but that isn’t what it’s about. I’m alone, with not one person I care about by my side. I look to my side.
…Will she ever be here standing beside me?
I shook my head, staring back out into the city. I doubt it. Through a small window, in an old house down in below the city, a little boy ran up to a shadow in a chair. The hand reached over, giving the little boy something in which the boy tucked in his hands. The boy ran around, throwing the object in the air, catching it time and time again.
…It was the blue ball.
And then suddenly; the lights went out. A darkened face, embedded in the shadows of the window. For a second, I thought the person might’ve saw me. Especially, as they stood there not moving anymore than I had. And then, the curtain slid shut.
…Back the bright lights my eyes traveled. I thought back to the time when…
Twisters wrath?
You cannot be fucking serious?
I’ve been here month, upon month. Yet I still don’t get the recognition I deserve. It doesn’t matter who the hell I beat, it doesn’t matter how I beat them, it doesn’t matter how much I prove they aren’t worth shit. I’m still forgotten. I’m pushed to the side. Expected to play second string, while the coach oblivious to any star power around him, wastes his energy, time, and strength screaming and counting on a line of ‘’stars’’ that simply cannot get the job done. What the fuck is Hurricane Jeff waiting for? What must I do to prove I deserve a REAL title shot? So my constant call outs of our world heavyweight champion, is getting on the management nerves. So fucking be it.
I’m not going to sit around and wait for my chance. I’m not going to sit down, keep my mouth shut, while Sabur bores an entire nation with his words. For a management team that loves to hold me back, by encouraging Link to carry on with his useless tactics to annoy me further, throwing world champions in-front of me, thus allowing me to physically dissect them in-front of the world, isn’t really helping their cause. How many more of these ‘’World’’ champions must I go through, before I prove a damn point?
In fact, this overdrive I’ve been giving yet another opportunity to prove to the world that Trevor Blackwell, nor Dr. Matt deserve title shots. But fuck. It’s a Christmas pay-per-view! I suppose you can give the undeserving presents of charity. Although, that doesn’t even begin to explain how Sabur won that world title to begin with. It must’ve been his fucking birthday, was that it?
But now, let’s talk about overdrive. Once again, I get a chance to test my strength, skill, and wits against a former APW world champion, Twister! As great as that sounds, I’ve proved time and time again, that every single APW world champion to date, hasn’t got a thing on me. John Green? Yeah, he was an APW world champion and look where he is now? I heard Justin Job was hiring; and fired John Green because he couldn’t even get the job done properly. Tripping, bumping your head off the turnbuckle, and then being pinned for the three count, doesn’t put you over to well. And considering those three things will not be occurring to me come overdrive, Twister can scratch beating me off his Christmas wish list.
With that said; after hearing you speak about our match in your shit filled production, it was easy to see you are offering up some kind of present? You know, while you got on your knees and kissed my ass, while mentioning all the amazing things I’ve accomplished during my career in between breath. I almost forgot that at one time you actually were relevant around here. It’s good seeing a former world champion, roll over to the new guy knowing full well he’s 10 times better.
However; I can admit a smart move when I see one. Putting me over like you did, adds insurance and keeps a bit more credibility with you, when you DO end up losing. I mean, have you seen Link? For someone who has ‘’Zero’’ talent like myself, it’s odd how I’ve beaten him twice in a row. Rendering his tactless statements completely and utter irrelevant to anything that remotely matters. Hell, if he wasn’t such a little prick, Santa may have banked on one of his wishes, and he might’ve finally beaten me in a goddamn match. But let’s face it Twister; Santa doesn’t exist, and neither does your ‘’chance’’ of beating me come overdrive.
But enough of your sucking up. Because through out all that, you’ve made references that included the EWC. You plan on hurting me, kid? You plan on taking me out of commission? Don’t be so stupid, fool. I could beat you with my fucking eyes closed. You want to talk about FOCUS? When I’m landing my fist directly upon your face, with enough power to break a bone, and with enough precision to knock the living shit out of you, you’ll see focused. The biggest threat to me in this match is walking down the ramp and rolling my own fucking ankle! You’re a joke, Twister. Save me from your stupidity.
You don’t even understand the statements you preach, fool. There isn’t enough ass kissing you can do in the world to make up for what you insinuated. My match at Strangle Mania is between me and Crazy Man. A history you know nothing about, because if you did, the last thing you’d want to do is stick your nose into the fire. From day one; I’ve been ripping that man up. My hate for Crazy Man makes my hate for Link look like child’s play. The next time you, or anyone wants to threaten, or even step between this thing I got going on with Crazy Man, I will reach up and I will pull you into the fire with us, and you’ll be burnt to the bone. I won’t even put out your burning flesh, with my own piss. Blow the fuck out of here, kid.
Twister; your storm is done. At Overdrive, you may be lucky enough to step in the main-event with me. But I’m going to prove, that only one of us belongs there. I’m not sorry to break it to you. But this isn’t a match everyone is going to remember. This won’t rank up as a battle of my life. No, you aren’t good enough for that. Call yourself a former APW world champion, the streak killer, a dominate force in this business. Those are statements, anyone can claim. This though? This remains fact.
There is only ONE Level-One. Make all the name puns you want. Have all the cameos in your promos all you like. Get the entire roster to rally behind you, because there isn’t a damn thing that can safe you from being pinned down for the three count. I’m going to prove to you; that the upper tier of the APW? Means nothing, when being crushed upon the soul of my boot.
So, please twister. Hit me with your storm. Let the rain pour upon me. Let it soak up to my knees. Let me catch a cold. Hit me with your thunder. Blind me with your lighting. Freeze me with your snow. Burn me with your brightest light. Call upon Mother Nature, and tell her…
It’s going to take more than a Twister’s wrath, to destroy me.
