Post by Level-Two on Feb 3, 2009 17:51:37 GMT -4
''One's'' Rude awakening
My mind ran free. I sat in a large crowd; around me sat thousands of other wrestling fans. Waving their hands in the air; cheering for their favorite stars; others booing the one's they've learnt to hate. It's amazing how we've learnt to hate. After searching through the wave's of fans in the crowd; I focussed in on the ring. There I was on a top of a unsteady ladder; reaching for the prize every man, and every women in the wrestling business could've only dreamt of reaching...
No matter how hard I tried; I couldn't stop myself. I watched myself as grabbed the brief case. A case in which once unhooked from the place it hanged; turned my once warm body, into an ice cold frenzy, a shiver crept down my spine. With the blood soaking down my face; I held the brief case above my head in celebration. Although, I know that these people---these people that sit around me jeering me with all their might, they have nothing at all to celebrate.
The fans claps slowly died out; their presence slowly disappearing. I was delusional; seeing events that simply weren't real. I wasn't scared though, for I had come well prepared. I've been here before. Instead of running from it, I cherished it. This power; it felt so good and while I tried to prevent myself from feeling it, I had wondered if that was all a mistake. This is how I'm supposed to feel, I can't feel a single thing this way.
I sat in an empty crowd; with no one in the bleachers but myself. I got up off my chair; and stumbled down each row until I slipped over the barrier and approached the nearly dissembled ring. I slipped under the bottom rope; in no specific rush. I don't know why I was here; I guess the journey was what I was looking for.
I entered the ring; looking up at the rafters as I stumbled to the middle of it. And for a second, I stopped to think. Look how far I've come? It was quite amazing. The fans paid their hard owned money in a broken economy just to get a chance too boo me. I extract blood in this very ring, on a weekly bassis. Yet even with all this; I wanted to change. I wanted to do be the good guy, I wanted to do what's right. But another part of me; another part of me wanted to be the best I could be. In the form of a rasslemania main-event for the APW world championship; that was the best I could do. I begged for someone to stop me; I fall to my knees wishing I didn't have to thrust myself down on my own.
I lower my head; knowing this was the only way I could live up to my full potential. Lifting my head up; a flash back replays. The fans; blurred hands in the air; twisted faces of hate worn boldly on their shoulders; my name being announced the winner, after walking through my opponent with relative ease. Still, I couldn't help question myself.
Does it really have to be this way?
I don't think, I'll ever have the answer. I tried to pretend like I knew it, I tried to be someone who I simply wasn't. While every single thing I had said was from the heart; I cared too much about the people that were listening. No longer, will I let a human hold me back. No longer, will I be contained by what this world has set up as ''morales''. I'm Level-One, the True Expert, a devil who has ripped off his disguise. There's no fucking hiding now.
As I raise my head; I want you to look into my eyes. I want you to hear my roar. I want you to boo me, as I ascend the top rope. I look out into the empty crowd once again; and then...I look away.
They've never mattered.
''ONE'S''' ROAD TO RASSLEMANIA 55 DAYS AWAY''
A page out of One's journal
The day the devil woke
The warning signs? You ignored it. The cries for help? You failed to listen. You watched everything happen; and you didn't do a damn thing to stop it. There was apart of me; just itching to re-emerge. I did my best not to scratch at it. I did my best to contain it; but my best wasn't good enough. Just like your ''best'' wasn't good enough. I counted on you all to close her eyes shut; but you all? You only helped her re-open them.
I spent countless nights; trying to avoid her voice. I searched, and I searched, and I searched again for the key to lock her influence away forever. The greed she brought to me; the power she gave to me; and the influence she had on me; it made me a beast. An animal. Unable to feel any remorse for my actions; she encouraged everything wrong I have ever done. And for sometime? I changed.
I was a GOOD man. I was wrestling; because that's what I loved to do. I came to the APW wanting to put it on the map; not to claim it's land as my own. And now? I can feel it; I can feel it all on the line, and I want to do is grab...take...take everything from everyone, and then leave them scrambling. Searching for something that simply is no longer there.
Link failed to give me any enlightenment; instead he made me angry. He brought out the dark side of me. However; I could still be saved. Hurricane Jeff; in all reality he was the man that saved me. His corruption; saved me from my corruption. He tried to hold me back from this; he tried to point me in another direction, one that didn't evolve a main-event to fight for the powers of the devils prize. However; no longer is Hurricane Jeff in power.
With Jeff gone; no longer did I have any boundaries. Max Carter; a cocky fool only wanting to make money, and exploiting this side of me; had given me this shot. In the form of a match. I probably should've turned away, I wish I could've...but I can't. The devils seeds were already planted; and the APW did nothing but to watch them grow. One by one I walked through each competitor; each person who I asked to, I begged to, stop me. Oh, they tried. In the form of John Green; they tried to stop me from what I have become on that night!
No longer will I be down on myself for the course I have taken once again. That hurts too much. While she will never be back in full strength; she tells me I don't need her. She tells me that I'm powerfull on my own; I take my own lead. No longer; will I see through your hearts---unless I've decided to go pierce through it to get what I want. I won't blink twice; before watching your life slip away; and I'll laugh at you when it's all said and done. For so long; there's been apart of me. Apart of me that always felt empty, and now?
I'm whole.
This...this is the last time, I write to you in pen. It's about time I own up to my actions; take responsibility for them. From this day forward; I pay homage to the people I will come to hurt in their blood. And with my words? Their stores will be told.
The whole world will have no choice, but to listen.
And with that, I thank her.
Hardcore Kid, do you know how it feels to be this great? Last Sunday, you had all the questions for me in the world. While you would just love to classify that nonsensical bullshit you spoke ''trash-talk'' I saw it more as an annoying interrogation. It seemed like you were less worried about hearing the answers; and more focussed hearing yourself ask the questions. Questions like...Am I good enough? Good enough for what? Rasslemania? Because you got your answer. While your night was cut short; I ran for the long haul. I won that race. So let me ask YOU the questions...
Who the FUCK do you think you are? What makes you believe you have in the slightest shot at beating on overdrive? Why must you have the gull to show up to my ring, to even TRY to top me? I know this entire thing is hard to swallow. You have been in the APW since day one, and all you have to account for it; is a few scars and a trash can lid worth nothing. I mean, you love to claim that X-treme championship meant everything to you, yet you were aiming for what I have won a shot at?
The truth is, you are not content with the X-treme title. If you were; you wouldn't have shown up at survive and conquer. Face it, you like everyone else in this business, you want to hold the top gold. You would dump that X-treme championship in the nearest garbage can it's lid came from with the first chance to better yourself. I know you want to be better than the X-treme title. Even before I hit the darkness shine off the steel cage; I saw it in your eyes. You had hope. You had a dream. And I took that all from you...and surprisingly? I still don't feel bad.
Why should I? I warned you about this long time ago. When your dreams succeed your talent, you set yourself up for failure. You came into the match thinking you would win; you came into the match buying your own hype, selling the entire world your ego, and now...what do you have to show for it? A constellation prize facing me the very next week? I would have took the giftcard, bottle of Gateroade and t-shirt, before I chose to step into the ring with myself. However; you crave attention. And so, you'll get what you wish for as long as I'm willing to grant it, you naive fool.
Your just like everyone else who can't beat me. You make excuses, and you lower your standers. Last week, you were insisted I was overrated and that it was your time to shine. Now? Now your claiming that your goal isn't to beat me; but to put me through hell. You want to put me through some pain. Are you kidding me? I don't care how many cuts, bruises, or broken bones I walk out with when entering the ring; as long as I walk out the winner, with my hands raised standing above you, the fallen. Well, then my day is complete. I have accomplished exactly what I have set out to accomplish. Fuck, the bonuses and fun facts.
I'm tired of idiots like you insisting that everytime we walk out to the ring ''anything'' can happen. Yeah, no shit sherlock...anything CAN happen. However; why don't we look into the situation a little more deeply? Unless I become a paraplegic half way down the ramp; how much of a shot do you really have? I don't have bad nights. I've lost my fair share of matches in the past; but I don't think there's ANYONE who can beat me right now. There was a point; where I could be beaten. A point where I could be touched. But now? Now, you've all showed me that your inferior and that you can't help me any further. There is no ''Beth Harte'' to pin me 3 times in a row; there's no ''Shadow Man'' to deny me from what I want. There is fucking no one, willing and able to stop me--and so? From this day forward I must propel MYSELF forward.
Kid, I know you want to become a star. I know you want to become someone that is looked highly upon, and I know that you want people to actually give a fuck about you and acknowledge that you exist. However; this will not happen on my time. You will not propel yourself ''over'' by using me as some personal stepping stone. I don't need you, and I'm not your fucking welcome mat on your way to stardom. While your there; thanking god for this chance to walk through this open door which leads you to your hopes and dreams; just know that I'm standing right there pointing in another direction. This isn't going to work out for you.
Kid, understand that my goal come overdrive isn't to kill you. You aren't worth the blood on my hands; and the effort I would have to go through to clean them off. You mean nothing to me, and you simply aren't in my league. I'm going to overlook you. You may see this as an advantage; but understand that I'm looking over you, and past you. I know what I need to do to get to Rasslemania as one whole; and if your a small piece of the puzzle then I'll be sure to grab hold of you; but in no way do you make up the final picture, kid.
If there was anything you had said that was wise; it was the fact that I have put a target on my head. While you may lose points for being fucking obvious; you are still right. The truth is; I was a target since day one. The first night I stepped into an APW ring, and beat my first opponent; the whole locker room stiffened up in their position. The top dog feared losing his spot; and what the management saw as ''number 1 contenders'' re-evaluated their positions, and thoughts about becoming number ''two'' left them with plenty of sleepless nights. There are guys just like you, Kid. That look at me, see me in their way, and know that they can NEVER surpass me, and so they don't set out to beat me...but to hurt me. You can't beat me; the one thing you can do though? Is spoil my rasslemania chances.
I'm begging you to try. Let's up the anty; let's not be so predictable sha'll we? You have a big band of fucking talentless hacks watching your back, how about you do a nice dirty number on me, huh? Why don't you have your friends and shower butt buddies move their way out of the nosebleed seats and make their way down ringside with you, to get a closer look as I pin you for the three count? Trust me; they both know how it feels, and have attributed nicely to my solid winning streak.
I have a fucking target; and until someone can step their game up and take that shot...well then, I don't have much to worry about. If your the man behind taking me out? Well then suspicions confirmed. There really is no hope of stopping me. It's not about weather or not your going to beat me, nor is it about you taking me out. It's about how hard are you going to TRY to beat me, how far are you going to ATTEMPT to take me out? Take your threats; take your promises; take your fucking ego and shove it up your ass. Or...look over to Micheal Lively and his associate bitch Twister and let one of those two hold it for you. I don't have time for your shit.
Straight to hell? Fuck you. Start off by showing me the nearest exit...
My mind ran free. I sat in a large crowd; around me sat thousands of other wrestling fans. Waving their hands in the air; cheering for their favorite stars; others booing the one's they've learnt to hate. It's amazing how we've learnt to hate. After searching through the wave's of fans in the crowd; I focussed in on the ring. There I was on a top of a unsteady ladder; reaching for the prize every man, and every women in the wrestling business could've only dreamt of reaching...
No matter how hard I tried; I couldn't stop myself. I watched myself as grabbed the brief case. A case in which once unhooked from the place it hanged; turned my once warm body, into an ice cold frenzy, a shiver crept down my spine. With the blood soaking down my face; I held the brief case above my head in celebration. Although, I know that these people---these people that sit around me jeering me with all their might, they have nothing at all to celebrate.
The fans claps slowly died out; their presence slowly disappearing. I was delusional; seeing events that simply weren't real. I wasn't scared though, for I had come well prepared. I've been here before. Instead of running from it, I cherished it. This power; it felt so good and while I tried to prevent myself from feeling it, I had wondered if that was all a mistake. This is how I'm supposed to feel, I can't feel a single thing this way.
I sat in an empty crowd; with no one in the bleachers but myself. I got up off my chair; and stumbled down each row until I slipped over the barrier and approached the nearly dissembled ring. I slipped under the bottom rope; in no specific rush. I don't know why I was here; I guess the journey was what I was looking for.
I entered the ring; looking up at the rafters as I stumbled to the middle of it. And for a second, I stopped to think. Look how far I've come? It was quite amazing. The fans paid their hard owned money in a broken economy just to get a chance too boo me. I extract blood in this very ring, on a weekly bassis. Yet even with all this; I wanted to change. I wanted to do be the good guy, I wanted to do what's right. But another part of me; another part of me wanted to be the best I could be. In the form of a rasslemania main-event for the APW world championship; that was the best I could do. I begged for someone to stop me; I fall to my knees wishing I didn't have to thrust myself down on my own.
I lower my head; knowing this was the only way I could live up to my full potential. Lifting my head up; a flash back replays. The fans; blurred hands in the air; twisted faces of hate worn boldly on their shoulders; my name being announced the winner, after walking through my opponent with relative ease. Still, I couldn't help question myself.
Does it really have to be this way?
I don't think, I'll ever have the answer. I tried to pretend like I knew it, I tried to be someone who I simply wasn't. While every single thing I had said was from the heart; I cared too much about the people that were listening. No longer, will I let a human hold me back. No longer, will I be contained by what this world has set up as ''morales''. I'm Level-One, the True Expert, a devil who has ripped off his disguise. There's no fucking hiding now.
As I raise my head; I want you to look into my eyes. I want you to hear my roar. I want you to boo me, as I ascend the top rope. I look out into the empty crowd once again; and then...I look away.
They've never mattered.
''ONE'S''' ROAD TO RASSLEMANIA 55 DAYS AWAY''
A page out of One's journal
The day the devil woke
The warning signs? You ignored it. The cries for help? You failed to listen. You watched everything happen; and you didn't do a damn thing to stop it. There was apart of me; just itching to re-emerge. I did my best not to scratch at it. I did my best to contain it; but my best wasn't good enough. Just like your ''best'' wasn't good enough. I counted on you all to close her eyes shut; but you all? You only helped her re-open them.
I spent countless nights; trying to avoid her voice. I searched, and I searched, and I searched again for the key to lock her influence away forever. The greed she brought to me; the power she gave to me; and the influence she had on me; it made me a beast. An animal. Unable to feel any remorse for my actions; she encouraged everything wrong I have ever done. And for sometime? I changed.
I was a GOOD man. I was wrestling; because that's what I loved to do. I came to the APW wanting to put it on the map; not to claim it's land as my own. And now? I can feel it; I can feel it all on the line, and I want to do is grab...take...take everything from everyone, and then leave them scrambling. Searching for something that simply is no longer there.
Link failed to give me any enlightenment; instead he made me angry. He brought out the dark side of me. However; I could still be saved. Hurricane Jeff; in all reality he was the man that saved me. His corruption; saved me from my corruption. He tried to hold me back from this; he tried to point me in another direction, one that didn't evolve a main-event to fight for the powers of the devils prize. However; no longer is Hurricane Jeff in power.
With Jeff gone; no longer did I have any boundaries. Max Carter; a cocky fool only wanting to make money, and exploiting this side of me; had given me this shot. In the form of a match. I probably should've turned away, I wish I could've...but I can't. The devils seeds were already planted; and the APW did nothing but to watch them grow. One by one I walked through each competitor; each person who I asked to, I begged to, stop me. Oh, they tried. In the form of John Green; they tried to stop me from what I have become on that night!
No longer will I be down on myself for the course I have taken once again. That hurts too much. While she will never be back in full strength; she tells me I don't need her. She tells me that I'm powerfull on my own; I take my own lead. No longer; will I see through your hearts---unless I've decided to go pierce through it to get what I want. I won't blink twice; before watching your life slip away; and I'll laugh at you when it's all said and done. For so long; there's been apart of me. Apart of me that always felt empty, and now?
I'm whole.
This...this is the last time, I write to you in pen. It's about time I own up to my actions; take responsibility for them. From this day forward; I pay homage to the people I will come to hurt in their blood. And with my words? Their stores will be told.
The whole world will have no choice, but to listen.
And with that, I thank her.
Hardcore Kid, do you know how it feels to be this great? Last Sunday, you had all the questions for me in the world. While you would just love to classify that nonsensical bullshit you spoke ''trash-talk'' I saw it more as an annoying interrogation. It seemed like you were less worried about hearing the answers; and more focussed hearing yourself ask the questions. Questions like...Am I good enough? Good enough for what? Rasslemania? Because you got your answer. While your night was cut short; I ran for the long haul. I won that race. So let me ask YOU the questions...
Who the FUCK do you think you are? What makes you believe you have in the slightest shot at beating on overdrive? Why must you have the gull to show up to my ring, to even TRY to top me? I know this entire thing is hard to swallow. You have been in the APW since day one, and all you have to account for it; is a few scars and a trash can lid worth nothing. I mean, you love to claim that X-treme championship meant everything to you, yet you were aiming for what I have won a shot at?
The truth is, you are not content with the X-treme title. If you were; you wouldn't have shown up at survive and conquer. Face it, you like everyone else in this business, you want to hold the top gold. You would dump that X-treme championship in the nearest garbage can it's lid came from with the first chance to better yourself. I know you want to be better than the X-treme title. Even before I hit the darkness shine off the steel cage; I saw it in your eyes. You had hope. You had a dream. And I took that all from you...and surprisingly? I still don't feel bad.
Why should I? I warned you about this long time ago. When your dreams succeed your talent, you set yourself up for failure. You came into the match thinking you would win; you came into the match buying your own hype, selling the entire world your ego, and now...what do you have to show for it? A constellation prize facing me the very next week? I would have took the giftcard, bottle of Gateroade and t-shirt, before I chose to step into the ring with myself. However; you crave attention. And so, you'll get what you wish for as long as I'm willing to grant it, you naive fool.
Your just like everyone else who can't beat me. You make excuses, and you lower your standers. Last week, you were insisted I was overrated and that it was your time to shine. Now? Now your claiming that your goal isn't to beat me; but to put me through hell. You want to put me through some pain. Are you kidding me? I don't care how many cuts, bruises, or broken bones I walk out with when entering the ring; as long as I walk out the winner, with my hands raised standing above you, the fallen. Well, then my day is complete. I have accomplished exactly what I have set out to accomplish. Fuck, the bonuses and fun facts.
I'm tired of idiots like you insisting that everytime we walk out to the ring ''anything'' can happen. Yeah, no shit sherlock...anything CAN happen. However; why don't we look into the situation a little more deeply? Unless I become a paraplegic half way down the ramp; how much of a shot do you really have? I don't have bad nights. I've lost my fair share of matches in the past; but I don't think there's ANYONE who can beat me right now. There was a point; where I could be beaten. A point where I could be touched. But now? Now, you've all showed me that your inferior and that you can't help me any further. There is no ''Beth Harte'' to pin me 3 times in a row; there's no ''Shadow Man'' to deny me from what I want. There is fucking no one, willing and able to stop me--and so? From this day forward I must propel MYSELF forward.
Kid, I know you want to become a star. I know you want to become someone that is looked highly upon, and I know that you want people to actually give a fuck about you and acknowledge that you exist. However; this will not happen on my time. You will not propel yourself ''over'' by using me as some personal stepping stone. I don't need you, and I'm not your fucking welcome mat on your way to stardom. While your there; thanking god for this chance to walk through this open door which leads you to your hopes and dreams; just know that I'm standing right there pointing in another direction. This isn't going to work out for you.
Kid, understand that my goal come overdrive isn't to kill you. You aren't worth the blood on my hands; and the effort I would have to go through to clean them off. You mean nothing to me, and you simply aren't in my league. I'm going to overlook you. You may see this as an advantage; but understand that I'm looking over you, and past you. I know what I need to do to get to Rasslemania as one whole; and if your a small piece of the puzzle then I'll be sure to grab hold of you; but in no way do you make up the final picture, kid.
If there was anything you had said that was wise; it was the fact that I have put a target on my head. While you may lose points for being fucking obvious; you are still right. The truth is; I was a target since day one. The first night I stepped into an APW ring, and beat my first opponent; the whole locker room stiffened up in their position. The top dog feared losing his spot; and what the management saw as ''number 1 contenders'' re-evaluated their positions, and thoughts about becoming number ''two'' left them with plenty of sleepless nights. There are guys just like you, Kid. That look at me, see me in their way, and know that they can NEVER surpass me, and so they don't set out to beat me...but to hurt me. You can't beat me; the one thing you can do though? Is spoil my rasslemania chances.
I'm begging you to try. Let's up the anty; let's not be so predictable sha'll we? You have a big band of fucking talentless hacks watching your back, how about you do a nice dirty number on me, huh? Why don't you have your friends and shower butt buddies move their way out of the nosebleed seats and make their way down ringside with you, to get a closer look as I pin you for the three count? Trust me; they both know how it feels, and have attributed nicely to my solid winning streak.
I have a fucking target; and until someone can step their game up and take that shot...well then, I don't have much to worry about. If your the man behind taking me out? Well then suspicions confirmed. There really is no hope of stopping me. It's not about weather or not your going to beat me, nor is it about you taking me out. It's about how hard are you going to TRY to beat me, how far are you going to ATTEMPT to take me out? Take your threats; take your promises; take your fucking ego and shove it up your ass. Or...look over to Micheal Lively and his associate bitch Twister and let one of those two hold it for you. I don't have time for your shit.
Straight to hell? Fuck you. Start off by showing me the nearest exit...
