Post by Level-Two on Dec 22, 2008 2:39:19 GMT -4
''One's'' The acceptance
The missing link?
There was once with a man with so much promise. He had the contract, he had the fame, and he had a family. In a land of opportunity he could’ve very well set up shop with a nice home, with a stream bed flowing beside it, his porch leading out to a grassy pasture. The land of opportunity; was his. He wore a fresh yet tired face; he showed promise; his face was lit with a flare of determination. And now, here I am. Sitting here; disgusted to the pit of my stomach. As I stop to think what this man could’ve, should’ve, would’ve been. And hell, if miracles did come true? He might’ve been bigger than me…
Look at him now. That man he was has vanished before our eyes, everything he could’ve been being consumed by an empty bottle to mix with a liquor fix. A man gave him the chance to shine, grow, and become a star; like anyone of his other employees. The man had powerful people around him to improve the odds of standing strong and never failing. The people around this man gave him EVERYTHING and didn’t even charge him a little. Now, look at him?
The man once on his little grassy hill, is now kicking it on the streets hoping to stumble across a few quarters every day of the week; hoping by the end of it, he’d have enough to round up enough pocket change to feed his addiction. I can tell he wants help, but he won’t admit to it. While he may not believe he needs my help; I’ve thrown him an extra quarter from a pay check a man named Jeff provided me. Little does this man know that the quarter I granted him; gave him enough to feed his addiction longer.
This man, he’s broken. The only way to make him whole again is if he BEATS me. If he can destroy the man he could’ve became, then that chapter he could finally turn the page on. And come Sunday, this man get’s his chance. However; this man despite what he might claim to the world, he doesn’t hate me. I don’t hate him. This enlightenment he plans on showing me? I’ve already seen and know full well about. This man doesn’t need to destroy me to see what he COULD’VE become? He hasn’t got a damn thing to prove to me, or you. For we all already know this.
Link, you don’t have to beat me to show me what you could’ve been. I look in them mirror everyday, and I smile. I smile because I became what YOU were on the path to becoming.
…A legend.
The old Link with so much promise? He’s gone. He’s drained out in your own head; fulfilled by that liquid ignorance you swallow with the help of your tongue every day. And you’ll NEVER get him back. The truth hurts, doesn’t it?
I’m missing Link too. And it just hurts me; that he’ll never be back.
Left, right. Side to side. Up, down. Motions. All in which have you running the same circle. This city I lived in; it was if the entire place was circular. Whenever I was in the city; and out of the wrestling ring. I’d be walking the streets. Each and every time I walked; I passed the same things. The same deli shops, the same fish markets, and the odd stumbling lost drunk looking for someone to lean onto to keep his balance. The streets were always jammed pack. People of all colors, races, religion and sizes walked on by. Although, on a side walk with damn no chance to breath never mind turn—size can be a problem for some.
Lazy and un motivated. Hell, it sounds like half the APW roster. I was aware I had a match to prepare for; weather that be mentally, or physically it was always important to keep in tip top shape. With a soft layer of snow kicking beneath me, the Christmas lights brightening the city that much more; I simply couldn’t help but wonder. I wasn’t confused about the amount of idiots saving their Christmas shopping to the last day, or how much they spend, or even why the hell they’re doing ANYTHING for their spoiled children. I was confused because it’s been awhile since I seen a sight like this. Christmas.
It’s been years since I’ve got a gift. In fact, I’ve never had a gift. Not one wrapped under a tree with a little bow, and Christmas tag with my name on it. I do have the gift of talent. Why the hell would I need any ‘’gift?’’ anyways? A stupid present. For what? Everything in my life I worked for; not one thing was handed to me. I can’t believe I was even thinking of this.
‘’Mommy, mommy’’ A voice shot in the distance. A peered my head over a shoulder of someone walking ahead of me, only to see a boy. About 8 years old. His face lit up in excitement, him holding a gift in his hand running down the street. ‘’Mommy, mommy!?’’ He called out, his voice more panic ridden then before. At first I figured he was lost. But with a quick look behind my shoulder I could see his mother by a small out-door sale set out; where the Chinese shelled their cheap Christmas ordainments.. They shared the same spoiled face.
His racing foot steps crunched through the snow, as he dodged all and on coming flow of people. The boy, ripping past them with-out a care in the world. But when he came by me, I extended my foot out beside me; the kid tumbling over my feet into what was now a few inches off snow. The present fumbled right in-front of him. The mother calling out.
‘’Jacob, why are you running?’’ The mother said, as she made her way towards her son. The boy looked at me, a first tear drop streaming down his face. I repaid him with a smile.
‘’Merry Christmas’’ I mumbled.
I was bitter; and I slowly became to know it. Everyone was happy. Joy full. They had that ‘’Christmas’’ spirit, but fuck. I’ve never had a spirit. When god made me, he left me with-out one. He left me a heart in a physical sense, but not in the emotional. Honestly. I tried. I tried to take a walk in here to brighten up my mood. I try so hard to fit in with all these people. But I’m NOT like these people.
…I’ll never be like them.
It was cold. Dark. Isolated. What was he doing here? Well, the answer was simple. Brian felt as if he had no choice. Slowly he crept into the back alleyway where the mysterious man on the other end of the phone told him to be. As Brian’s feet dragged almost helplessly through the slush, he couldn’t help but look behind him. Nothing was there. What did he have to worry about anyways? Jace Brown provided him with protection; an unmarked pistol stolen out of an evidence case. If this mysterious man tried anything, all he had to do is reach for his holster, and pull out the gun. Brian had tried the action trying to quicken his pace just in case; he never fired a gun before.
And hell what were the chances of this mysterious man turning up anyways? It was just a prank, it had to be. A crazy Level-One fan. Brian knew it had to be one of those guys messing with his head, trying to use real life events to sike him out. With a quick flick of a wrist Brian’s looked down at his Rolex watch and checked the time. Two minutes late, the man was. Brian Mc Phee stopped, looked at his surroundings, and couldn’t imagine he was fooled. He wasn’t angry, he just laughed. How stupid could he really be?
Brian slowly kicked through the slush reaching the back ally, where he leaned up against an old dumpster. His expensive loafers were already soaked with the dirty slush, and his suite although expensive and high tailor; he had 10 of them just like it. Brian had money, which with that money, he often breeds more money. It’s what his life had become. The fact that he was here only backs that claim up. Brian wasn’t keen up people threatening his money, which was why he was always hard on Level-One to be the best he could be. Every time Level-One came out with a world title, or even a win on a weekly show, Brian’s pay roll rose.
Rebuilding the fight club, was only Brian’s way of maintaining his money making process.
Brian now frustrated reached into his pocket, pulling out his blackberry. After knocking in a few digits quickly, he made his call.
‘’Hey, Brian here’’ Brian casually stated. Before looking around at the alleyway, shaking his head in disappointment. ‘’I told you, it was all just a prank. The punk didn’t show up.’’
‘’Pissed off? Of course I’m pissed off. I could’ve gotten some business deals done today. This only holds me back’’
…
‘’Yeah, come pick me up alright? 15 minutes? Alright sounds good…’’ Brian says, before being caught off guard with a real time reply.
‘’I’ll only need five’’ A voice crept up behind him. Before Brian could turn around, his blackberry fell into the slush; the phone immediately being shut off. Brian felt a sharp pain in his stomach, a hand wrapped around his throat, as he stares helplessly into a mans face. A masked face. One hiding his identity. The man stood inside the trash can, its lids folded open, hanging over the side like massive wings.
‘’I’m really pleased that you could make it…’’ The man stated as Brian clenched his teeth, gargling his own blood the man removed his arms around his throat causing Brian Mc Phee to fall to his knees the slush splashing up around him. He choked, he spit, and he coughed up his own blood all while the mysterious man simply paced back and forth, his feet slipping and slide around Brian who gasped for air.
‘’I don’t expect to hear from you just yet, so just keep your ears open and catch every last word of mine’’ The man threatened Brian as he continued to pace back and forth, all the while not removing his hidden eyes from underneath his white mask off of Brian. He monitored his condition. It was part of his ‘’plan’’
‘’Mr. Mc Phee. You have a someone in your close circle. A man who is destructive, just like me! But you see, your friend was careless with his destruction. Careless when he decided to fuck with me. When he decided to light a structure on fire, and burnt the skin right off of my face. It’s a long story really, but I don’t think your going to live to hear the entire thing?’’ The man quizzed before laughing to himself. Brian slowly got to his knees, still coughing up yet even more blood. Grasping his waist, he feels the wound. Brian’s been stabbed.
‘’…and because of your friend’s actions, you will pay for it. I don’t think you understand how much torture your friend has caused me. The pain and agony, it makes me want to take it out on others…don’t you see?’’ The man smiled; his lips showing through his white mask. He crouches down beside Brian, who lefts his head up too get a closer look at the figure.
‘’He’s not my friend’’ Brian manages to stumble out through his voice; still coughing helplessly. The figure tilted his head almost as if he was taunting Brian.
‘’I have sources, Mr. Mc Phee’’
Brian shook his head; blood dripping through his lips. His face contorted, he projects yet another sentence. ‘’…your sources are wrong. I no longer associate…I no longer associate myself with Level-One. You have my word...’’ The masked man once again looked perplexed, even through his white mask.
‘’You want to destroy Level-One too?’’ The man in the masked asked, as Brian reached over pulling the man by his coat for leverage.
‘’You don’t want to kill me…’’ Brian states; his voice shaking with pain. ‘’No, you want to help me. That’s what this is about, isn’t it? I have a fight club…’’
The man in the masked nodded his head. ‘’If it means killing Level-One, I’ll fight for you’’ The man in the masked slowly stood up to his feet, still looking down at Brian who had collapsed on his back. ‘’I’ll beat him…’’
‘’Physically, yes’’ Brian stumbled. ‘’But I need to kill him emotionally first…’’ Brian states trying to stay focused on the task at hand, trying to battle his injuries. The masked man however isn’t worried, as he reaches down and picks up a small locket that laid beside Brian Mc Phee. Brian watched the masked man, as he flipped it open.
‘’What’s this?’’ The masked man demanded.
‘’The key…the key to victory’’ Brian uttered softly. Even through all the pain, he showed a look of pleasure. The masked man closed the locket, before throwing it over the building. Brian closed his eyes, and shook his head.
‘’Look, you do whatever you have too. But I want Level-One. In your ring; you do whatever it takes to get him to fight me. You make it happen; I’ll kill him!’’ The masked man stated, before reaching into his pocket, before flipping a switch. A flame emits; as he holds it to his face. ‘’And then, I’ll take what he took from me’’ The masked man stated, before removing his finger off the switch—the flame falling to nothingness.
‘’As for you, you won’t die’’ The masked man stated; as he reached over and picked up a bloody knife before tossing it into the dumpster.
‘’…I got you spot on. You won’t bleed to death from that wound’’
Lifeless. It’s the best way to describe myself as I returned to my 5 star hotel suite. Christmas was quickly approaching, while I was still miserable. Angered by the past holidays. The lack of family mother left me while she was out getting drunk off her face. I imagined an Christmas tree in my old apartment, the shitty one me and my mother once lived it. I imagined it where the liquor cabinet used to be in the corner, and how it would look if I was to celebrate it. And just imagine my mother a normal human being? Well, it made me feel good. For once.
Was that what I was missing? A family? Maybe all those lectures Kayla used to give me were true, maybe they weren’t as far fetched as they seemed? She often talked about having kids, and me putting off my career. And when I did the exact opposite; she left. Now I look at myself, I still have a the career…but maybe there’s more to that?
Maybe it’s why wrestlers who aren’t even performing at my level are much happier with where they are? Maybe there’s more to the titles. The fame. The main-events. Maybe, Kayla was right? Maybe this career did take me places. Dark and dirty places. Desperate places. Fucking hell. I tear people apart, I break their bones, pride, and leave them stumbling home to their sons and daughters…for what? A world championship strap?
‘’Sir’’ A voice called out behind me, I slowly turned around. A man dressed in a suite, with white gloves approached me with a bouquet of flowers. The man approached me, as I stared with him with high levels of suspicion.
‘’Are those for me?’’ I asked. The man stopped in-front of me; giving me a blank stare.
‘’Oh why, yes sir’’ And by then, I was asking myself what the fuck was wrong with this fruitcake?
‘’Uh…’’ I stuttered. ‘’I’m the type that supports Prop 8’’ I stated calmly, as the man looked up at me and simply smiled. It was one of those agitated fake smiles.
‘’These aren’t from me. They are from a lady’’ The man replied, as he handed me over the flowers. I looked at them in confusion, and then back at the guy as he began to turn away.
‘’Wait, why would a girl send me flowers?’’ The man simply turned around, and shrugged his shoulders.
‘’Perhaps because you never did’’ The man replied. His words hurt. Catching me off guard; with a swing only Mike Tyson would throw. Who the fuck was this guy? I watched him as he walked off.
Confused, disoriented, eager for an answer I looked down at the flowers. They were nice I guess, ones you would see in the back round of a default computer, or something. I did not know anything about flowers, nor did I give a shit about learning about them too. A black tag hung loose, with fancy gold writing embedded on it. Grabbing it, I pulled open the small tag. Before glancing down at the neat writing.
‘’Hey, Level. It’s Kayla. Been along time. I know. I want to see you this weekend, with Christmas coming around and everything. I know you’ve been lonely. Meet me at the sky light café/bar tomorrow night at 8, put something nice on
Love Kayla, XoXoXo’’
I flipped down the tag. Before closing my eyes. I opened them up. I looked at the tag, and read it once more. It was true. I wasn’t dreaming. I had a second chance. A second chance at making everything work again. Christmas; it didn’t have to be alone. It could be with Kayla. Together WE could be again. It was a long time since I’ve seen, a real long time.
And things really started to hit me. The family she talked about; well it was now possible. I had to get everything right, and I mean everything. Battling with my excitement; I took one long sigh. If she asked me, I would HAVE to be prepared with an answer. I couldn’t imagine losing her again. It didn’t take me much time, maybe my decision was rushed. Stupid. Ignorant maybe. However Kayla; she made ME feel whole.
And then I knew. It was it…
I’m done with wrestling.
Who the FUCK is missing, Link?
The question is not weather or not I will win this match. It isn’t even about how I’m GOING to win the match. No. This is about weather or not; Link will shut his fucking cake hole and stop wasting my time, every god damn pay-per-view. I’m tired of his rants. I’m tired of his shit put together promos. And I’m tired of his fucking shtick. News flash; moron. Kid nappings, and murders are not ways to put your self over. If they were; you’d have more than 3 and a half fans outside of a mental institution. You rely on this pathetic bullshit to get recognized, where as I step into the ring, run my mouth around the track, and back it up every step of the way even while moving forward. See the difference, Link?
I’ve never seen an entire roster so fucking obvious to shit around them. It’s as if they stand with there pants full of their own shit and piss; yet claim they the fresh’s piece of hot shit around. Yet another news flash, morons. Julian Bale; hasn’t done nothing but beat up the most overrated, debuting piece of shit I’ve seen in my life time, and now feels as if he’s accomplished the great deed of turning piss into a glass of fucking wine. Jeff must be smacking his forehead trying to come to an conclusion, on why he would waste his money, time, and resources on Rocky Starr to begin with. Next we have a main-event full of stars; that I can all beat as of this moment. They don't mind throwing Trevor Blackwell; only to be beat in submission, but they'll never give me a shot at the crown Jewel sabur. I have to ''earn'' a shot, that's it.
Isn’t that ironic? Hey, Link! We are earning things around here now, aren’t we? I mean besides being handed off shitty titles that aren’t fit to hang with me, even if I tied it to my ankle using a dog leash. If we are earning things around here then your in debt. You owe ME shit. I have to show up to the arena, just to beat your face in again? Are you kidding me? If Jeff wasn’t paying my flight out here just to kick your ass, I would’ve just phoned it in. I never walk away from a fight; but I hate having to sharpen my blade for the slaughter house too.
The only thing you’ve earnt around here is a nice hefty pay check for doing nothing but fuck all, and an ass kicking supplied by yours truly. I can’t wait to hear your useless threats before our match. There’s nothing better than you dropping the ‘’Level-One is overrated bomb’’ or ‘’Level-One has no talent’’ claims just before a loss. Check yourself, fool. You’re stepping in the ring with the BEST wrestler in the world. Fact.
You want to call me overrated? Talent less? I’ve been recognized as a top tier superstar all around the globe. You’re not even recognized in the APW alone. You know, it’s easy to be at your level sitting your ass in a pile of nothingness and dirt to then point up to the stars and claim it isn’t bright enough. But what does your opinion mean anyways? Nothing. When Link speaks; it’s slurred, it makes no sense, and he’s drunk off his face. They say you should NEVER drink and promo…
…Link should just never promo.
I’ve been around the world, Link. I’ve seen many faces; none of them being as ugly as yours. I’ve seen a lot of places, Link. You’ve been around the street corner sucking dick for bus fair and back. Link, I’ve done many things over the course of my career that I don’t even need to justify too. The ‘’who’s, who’’ in this wrestling business are well aware of my accomplishments. If anyone knows about you, it’s because you’ve found a decent cock-tail to ride.
Oh, the truth hurts doesn’t it? The only time you’ve ever looked hopeful, is by standing by someone much bigger, and much better than you. While catching a bit of spotlight it always looked as if you were going to walk out with a nice tan; but yet each time you still came out looking like you do now, a dead, pale, pasty motherfucker. My recommendation is that you head back over to the EWC and start taking bites out of James Chamber’s left ass cheek and hopes some of his complexion rubs off on you, alright Casper?
The cock tails you rode or swallowed; you know exactly who they are. It started off with Retribution Inc. BDC, Joey Orsome, Lance Fiennes, Hopper Rose and hell you didn’t seem to mind Jeffy too now did you? You’ve got recognized because of that dominant stable. And when you realized that dominate stable started to fall apart, you broke off on your own and attacked the WORLD CHAMPION in hopes of keeping you relevant. And like everything else, that also failed miserably.
You soon vanished; as vanishing after a string of losses is the cool thing to do. When you finally did decide to return, you took your rage out on Moses Lake a FORMER EWC CHAMPION. The truth is, Link. Since day one, you’ve been going after the big dogs only to get smacked around each and every time. Each time you look as if your going to break out, as if your finally going to take the big bad dragon and strangle by it’s throat and finally become the guy who was more than just a diversion, a distraction, a mere challenger.
By dropping that little bit of history; it’s clear to see why your trying to kick it with me. You want to become a star. You’re finally tired of being an irrelevant piece of shit. You want to ride my cock-tails, all the way to a chance. A chance to finally become something. Well, I recommend teaming up with Crazy Man, so you can suck with each-other. Because those are the exact same philosophies he shares with you. Your just like 10 others backstage, and 1000 other wannabes in other nameless promotions, you all want to be the big star. And while you in-front of me, while you took the extra mile to do so, you’ll just prove to the other 10 back stage that staying back there simply observing me in action is the best career decision they could EVER make.
Like everything you do Link, you jump the gun. You bite off more than you can chew, and you end up choking on your own shit. This thing between us, it’s gone on too long. You’ve been nothing but distraction, when it comes to achieving bigger and greater things, Link. I hope you’ve had fun. I hope you’ve take pride in the fact, that for two solid months—you’ve wasted my time, energy, and strength on you. But you should know this better than anyone, Link. Justice will prevail. The world will be enlightened, as I show them EXACTLY what they can expect in the New Year.
What’s that exactly? I’m going to show them that they are looking at their NEW world champion. I’m going to show them that the Link in 2008, is the same fucking Link that’s going to be returning in 2009 still continuing to be a fucking skid mark on this federation as if it was in style. Last and certainly not least; they can finally remove their calendars of their walls and begin to count down each day, as I get one step closer of cementing my name as a legend.
I don’t give a fuck about what the Chinese tell you.
This is the year of Level-One; and now the fucking entire WORLD can enjoy the 365 days in which they will all remain inferior.
Link; I’ll be seeing you.
There was once with a man with so much promise. He had the contract, he had the fame, and he had a family. In a land of opportunity he could’ve very well set up shop with a nice home, with a stream bed flowing beside it, his porch leading out to a grassy pasture. The land of opportunity; was his. He wore a fresh yet tired face; he showed promise; his face was lit with a flare of determination. And now, here I am. Sitting here; disgusted to the pit of my stomach. As I stop to think what this man could’ve, should’ve, would’ve been. And hell, if miracles did come true? He might’ve been bigger than me…
Look at him now. That man he was has vanished before our eyes, everything he could’ve been being consumed by an empty bottle to mix with a liquor fix. A man gave him the chance to shine, grow, and become a star; like anyone of his other employees. The man had powerful people around him to improve the odds of standing strong and never failing. The people around this man gave him EVERYTHING and didn’t even charge him a little. Now, look at him?
The man once on his little grassy hill, is now kicking it on the streets hoping to stumble across a few quarters every day of the week; hoping by the end of it, he’d have enough to round up enough pocket change to feed his addiction. I can tell he wants help, but he won’t admit to it. While he may not believe he needs my help; I’ve thrown him an extra quarter from a pay check a man named Jeff provided me. Little does this man know that the quarter I granted him; gave him enough to feed his addiction longer.
This man, he’s broken. The only way to make him whole again is if he BEATS me. If he can destroy the man he could’ve became, then that chapter he could finally turn the page on. And come Sunday, this man get’s his chance. However; this man despite what he might claim to the world, he doesn’t hate me. I don’t hate him. This enlightenment he plans on showing me? I’ve already seen and know full well about. This man doesn’t need to destroy me to see what he COULD’VE become? He hasn’t got a damn thing to prove to me, or you. For we all already know this.
Link, you don’t have to beat me to show me what you could’ve been. I look in them mirror everyday, and I smile. I smile because I became what YOU were on the path to becoming.
…A legend.
The old Link with so much promise? He’s gone. He’s drained out in your own head; fulfilled by that liquid ignorance you swallow with the help of your tongue every day. And you’ll NEVER get him back. The truth hurts, doesn’t it?
I’m missing Link too. And it just hurts me; that he’ll never be back.
Left, right. Side to side. Up, down. Motions. All in which have you running the same circle. This city I lived in; it was if the entire place was circular. Whenever I was in the city; and out of the wrestling ring. I’d be walking the streets. Each and every time I walked; I passed the same things. The same deli shops, the same fish markets, and the odd stumbling lost drunk looking for someone to lean onto to keep his balance. The streets were always jammed pack. People of all colors, races, religion and sizes walked on by. Although, on a side walk with damn no chance to breath never mind turn—size can be a problem for some.
Lazy and un motivated. Hell, it sounds like half the APW roster. I was aware I had a match to prepare for; weather that be mentally, or physically it was always important to keep in tip top shape. With a soft layer of snow kicking beneath me, the Christmas lights brightening the city that much more; I simply couldn’t help but wonder. I wasn’t confused about the amount of idiots saving their Christmas shopping to the last day, or how much they spend, or even why the hell they’re doing ANYTHING for their spoiled children. I was confused because it’s been awhile since I seen a sight like this. Christmas.
It’s been years since I’ve got a gift. In fact, I’ve never had a gift. Not one wrapped under a tree with a little bow, and Christmas tag with my name on it. I do have the gift of talent. Why the hell would I need any ‘’gift?’’ anyways? A stupid present. For what? Everything in my life I worked for; not one thing was handed to me. I can’t believe I was even thinking of this.
‘’Mommy, mommy’’ A voice shot in the distance. A peered my head over a shoulder of someone walking ahead of me, only to see a boy. About 8 years old. His face lit up in excitement, him holding a gift in his hand running down the street. ‘’Mommy, mommy!?’’ He called out, his voice more panic ridden then before. At first I figured he was lost. But with a quick look behind my shoulder I could see his mother by a small out-door sale set out; where the Chinese shelled their cheap Christmas ordainments.. They shared the same spoiled face.
His racing foot steps crunched through the snow, as he dodged all and on coming flow of people. The boy, ripping past them with-out a care in the world. But when he came by me, I extended my foot out beside me; the kid tumbling over my feet into what was now a few inches off snow. The present fumbled right in-front of him. The mother calling out.
‘’Jacob, why are you running?’’ The mother said, as she made her way towards her son. The boy looked at me, a first tear drop streaming down his face. I repaid him with a smile.
‘’Merry Christmas’’ I mumbled.
I was bitter; and I slowly became to know it. Everyone was happy. Joy full. They had that ‘’Christmas’’ spirit, but fuck. I’ve never had a spirit. When god made me, he left me with-out one. He left me a heart in a physical sense, but not in the emotional. Honestly. I tried. I tried to take a walk in here to brighten up my mood. I try so hard to fit in with all these people. But I’m NOT like these people.
…I’ll never be like them.
It was cold. Dark. Isolated. What was he doing here? Well, the answer was simple. Brian felt as if he had no choice. Slowly he crept into the back alleyway where the mysterious man on the other end of the phone told him to be. As Brian’s feet dragged almost helplessly through the slush, he couldn’t help but look behind him. Nothing was there. What did he have to worry about anyways? Jace Brown provided him with protection; an unmarked pistol stolen out of an evidence case. If this mysterious man tried anything, all he had to do is reach for his holster, and pull out the gun. Brian had tried the action trying to quicken his pace just in case; he never fired a gun before.
And hell what were the chances of this mysterious man turning up anyways? It was just a prank, it had to be. A crazy Level-One fan. Brian knew it had to be one of those guys messing with his head, trying to use real life events to sike him out. With a quick flick of a wrist Brian’s looked down at his Rolex watch and checked the time. Two minutes late, the man was. Brian Mc Phee stopped, looked at his surroundings, and couldn’t imagine he was fooled. He wasn’t angry, he just laughed. How stupid could he really be?
Brian slowly kicked through the slush reaching the back ally, where he leaned up against an old dumpster. His expensive loafers were already soaked with the dirty slush, and his suite although expensive and high tailor; he had 10 of them just like it. Brian had money, which with that money, he often breeds more money. It’s what his life had become. The fact that he was here only backs that claim up. Brian wasn’t keen up people threatening his money, which was why he was always hard on Level-One to be the best he could be. Every time Level-One came out with a world title, or even a win on a weekly show, Brian’s pay roll rose.
Rebuilding the fight club, was only Brian’s way of maintaining his money making process.
Brian now frustrated reached into his pocket, pulling out his blackberry. After knocking in a few digits quickly, he made his call.
‘’Hey, Brian here’’ Brian casually stated. Before looking around at the alleyway, shaking his head in disappointment. ‘’I told you, it was all just a prank. The punk didn’t show up.’’
‘’Pissed off? Of course I’m pissed off. I could’ve gotten some business deals done today. This only holds me back’’
…
‘’Yeah, come pick me up alright? 15 minutes? Alright sounds good…’’ Brian says, before being caught off guard with a real time reply.
‘’I’ll only need five’’ A voice crept up behind him. Before Brian could turn around, his blackberry fell into the slush; the phone immediately being shut off. Brian felt a sharp pain in his stomach, a hand wrapped around his throat, as he stares helplessly into a mans face. A masked face. One hiding his identity. The man stood inside the trash can, its lids folded open, hanging over the side like massive wings.
‘’I’m really pleased that you could make it…’’ The man stated as Brian clenched his teeth, gargling his own blood the man removed his arms around his throat causing Brian Mc Phee to fall to his knees the slush splashing up around him. He choked, he spit, and he coughed up his own blood all while the mysterious man simply paced back and forth, his feet slipping and slide around Brian who gasped for air.
‘’I don’t expect to hear from you just yet, so just keep your ears open and catch every last word of mine’’ The man threatened Brian as he continued to pace back and forth, all the while not removing his hidden eyes from underneath his white mask off of Brian. He monitored his condition. It was part of his ‘’plan’’
‘’Mr. Mc Phee. You have a someone in your close circle. A man who is destructive, just like me! But you see, your friend was careless with his destruction. Careless when he decided to fuck with me. When he decided to light a structure on fire, and burnt the skin right off of my face. It’s a long story really, but I don’t think your going to live to hear the entire thing?’’ The man quizzed before laughing to himself. Brian slowly got to his knees, still coughing up yet even more blood. Grasping his waist, he feels the wound. Brian’s been stabbed.
‘’…and because of your friend’s actions, you will pay for it. I don’t think you understand how much torture your friend has caused me. The pain and agony, it makes me want to take it out on others…don’t you see?’’ The man smiled; his lips showing through his white mask. He crouches down beside Brian, who lefts his head up too get a closer look at the figure.
‘’He’s not my friend’’ Brian manages to stumble out through his voice; still coughing helplessly. The figure tilted his head almost as if he was taunting Brian.
‘’I have sources, Mr. Mc Phee’’
Brian shook his head; blood dripping through his lips. His face contorted, he projects yet another sentence. ‘’…your sources are wrong. I no longer associate…I no longer associate myself with Level-One. You have my word...’’ The masked man once again looked perplexed, even through his white mask.
‘’You want to destroy Level-One too?’’ The man in the masked asked, as Brian reached over pulling the man by his coat for leverage.
‘’You don’t want to kill me…’’ Brian states; his voice shaking with pain. ‘’No, you want to help me. That’s what this is about, isn’t it? I have a fight club…’’
The man in the masked nodded his head. ‘’If it means killing Level-One, I’ll fight for you’’ The man in the masked slowly stood up to his feet, still looking down at Brian who had collapsed on his back. ‘’I’ll beat him…’’
‘’Physically, yes’’ Brian stumbled. ‘’But I need to kill him emotionally first…’’ Brian states trying to stay focused on the task at hand, trying to battle his injuries. The masked man however isn’t worried, as he reaches down and picks up a small locket that laid beside Brian Mc Phee. Brian watched the masked man, as he flipped it open.
‘’What’s this?’’ The masked man demanded.
‘’The key…the key to victory’’ Brian uttered softly. Even through all the pain, he showed a look of pleasure. The masked man closed the locket, before throwing it over the building. Brian closed his eyes, and shook his head.
‘’Look, you do whatever you have too. But I want Level-One. In your ring; you do whatever it takes to get him to fight me. You make it happen; I’ll kill him!’’ The masked man stated, before reaching into his pocket, before flipping a switch. A flame emits; as he holds it to his face. ‘’And then, I’ll take what he took from me’’ The masked man stated, before removing his finger off the switch—the flame falling to nothingness.
‘’As for you, you won’t die’’ The masked man stated; as he reached over and picked up a bloody knife before tossing it into the dumpster.
‘’…I got you spot on. You won’t bleed to death from that wound’’
Lifeless. It’s the best way to describe myself as I returned to my 5 star hotel suite. Christmas was quickly approaching, while I was still miserable. Angered by the past holidays. The lack of family mother left me while she was out getting drunk off her face. I imagined an Christmas tree in my old apartment, the shitty one me and my mother once lived it. I imagined it where the liquor cabinet used to be in the corner, and how it would look if I was to celebrate it. And just imagine my mother a normal human being? Well, it made me feel good. For once.
Was that what I was missing? A family? Maybe all those lectures Kayla used to give me were true, maybe they weren’t as far fetched as they seemed? She often talked about having kids, and me putting off my career. And when I did the exact opposite; she left. Now I look at myself, I still have a the career…but maybe there’s more to that?
Maybe it’s why wrestlers who aren’t even performing at my level are much happier with where they are? Maybe there’s more to the titles. The fame. The main-events. Maybe, Kayla was right? Maybe this career did take me places. Dark and dirty places. Desperate places. Fucking hell. I tear people apart, I break their bones, pride, and leave them stumbling home to their sons and daughters…for what? A world championship strap?
‘’Sir’’ A voice called out behind me, I slowly turned around. A man dressed in a suite, with white gloves approached me with a bouquet of flowers. The man approached me, as I stared with him with high levels of suspicion.
‘’Are those for me?’’ I asked. The man stopped in-front of me; giving me a blank stare.
‘’Oh why, yes sir’’ And by then, I was asking myself what the fuck was wrong with this fruitcake?
‘’Uh…’’ I stuttered. ‘’I’m the type that supports Prop 8’’ I stated calmly, as the man looked up at me and simply smiled. It was one of those agitated fake smiles.
‘’These aren’t from me. They are from a lady’’ The man replied, as he handed me over the flowers. I looked at them in confusion, and then back at the guy as he began to turn away.
‘’Wait, why would a girl send me flowers?’’ The man simply turned around, and shrugged his shoulders.
‘’Perhaps because you never did’’ The man replied. His words hurt. Catching me off guard; with a swing only Mike Tyson would throw. Who the fuck was this guy? I watched him as he walked off.
Confused, disoriented, eager for an answer I looked down at the flowers. They were nice I guess, ones you would see in the back round of a default computer, or something. I did not know anything about flowers, nor did I give a shit about learning about them too. A black tag hung loose, with fancy gold writing embedded on it. Grabbing it, I pulled open the small tag. Before glancing down at the neat writing.
‘’Hey, Level. It’s Kayla. Been along time. I know. I want to see you this weekend, with Christmas coming around and everything. I know you’ve been lonely. Meet me at the sky light café/bar tomorrow night at 8, put something nice on
Love Kayla, XoXoXo’’I flipped down the tag. Before closing my eyes. I opened them up. I looked at the tag, and read it once more. It was true. I wasn’t dreaming. I had a second chance. A second chance at making everything work again. Christmas; it didn’t have to be alone. It could be with Kayla. Together WE could be again. It was a long time since I’ve seen, a real long time.
And things really started to hit me. The family she talked about; well it was now possible. I had to get everything right, and I mean everything. Battling with my excitement; I took one long sigh. If she asked me, I would HAVE to be prepared with an answer. I couldn’t imagine losing her again. It didn’t take me much time, maybe my decision was rushed. Stupid. Ignorant maybe. However Kayla; she made ME feel whole.
And then I knew. It was it…
I’m done with wrestling.
Who the FUCK is missing, Link?
The question is not weather or not I will win this match. It isn’t even about how I’m GOING to win the match. No. This is about weather or not; Link will shut his fucking cake hole and stop wasting my time, every god damn pay-per-view. I’m tired of his rants. I’m tired of his shit put together promos. And I’m tired of his fucking shtick. News flash; moron. Kid nappings, and murders are not ways to put your self over. If they were; you’d have more than 3 and a half fans outside of a mental institution. You rely on this pathetic bullshit to get recognized, where as I step into the ring, run my mouth around the track, and back it up every step of the way even while moving forward. See the difference, Link?
I’ve never seen an entire roster so fucking obvious to shit around them. It’s as if they stand with there pants full of their own shit and piss; yet claim they the fresh’s piece of hot shit around. Yet another news flash, morons. Julian Bale; hasn’t done nothing but beat up the most overrated, debuting piece of shit I’ve seen in my life time, and now feels as if he’s accomplished the great deed of turning piss into a glass of fucking wine. Jeff must be smacking his forehead trying to come to an conclusion, on why he would waste his money, time, and resources on Rocky Starr to begin with. Next we have a main-event full of stars; that I can all beat as of this moment. They don't mind throwing Trevor Blackwell; only to be beat in submission, but they'll never give me a shot at the crown Jewel sabur. I have to ''earn'' a shot, that's it.
Isn’t that ironic? Hey, Link! We are earning things around here now, aren’t we? I mean besides being handed off shitty titles that aren’t fit to hang with me, even if I tied it to my ankle using a dog leash. If we are earning things around here then your in debt. You owe ME shit. I have to show up to the arena, just to beat your face in again? Are you kidding me? If Jeff wasn’t paying my flight out here just to kick your ass, I would’ve just phoned it in. I never walk away from a fight; but I hate having to sharpen my blade for the slaughter house too.
The only thing you’ve earnt around here is a nice hefty pay check for doing nothing but fuck all, and an ass kicking supplied by yours truly. I can’t wait to hear your useless threats before our match. There’s nothing better than you dropping the ‘’Level-One is overrated bomb’’ or ‘’Level-One has no talent’’ claims just before a loss. Check yourself, fool. You’re stepping in the ring with the BEST wrestler in the world. Fact.
You want to call me overrated? Talent less? I’ve been recognized as a top tier superstar all around the globe. You’re not even recognized in the APW alone. You know, it’s easy to be at your level sitting your ass in a pile of nothingness and dirt to then point up to the stars and claim it isn’t bright enough. But what does your opinion mean anyways? Nothing. When Link speaks; it’s slurred, it makes no sense, and he’s drunk off his face. They say you should NEVER drink and promo…
…Link should just never promo.
I’ve been around the world, Link. I’ve seen many faces; none of them being as ugly as yours. I’ve seen a lot of places, Link. You’ve been around the street corner sucking dick for bus fair and back. Link, I’ve done many things over the course of my career that I don’t even need to justify too. The ‘’who’s, who’’ in this wrestling business are well aware of my accomplishments. If anyone knows about you, it’s because you’ve found a decent cock-tail to ride.
Oh, the truth hurts doesn’t it? The only time you’ve ever looked hopeful, is by standing by someone much bigger, and much better than you. While catching a bit of spotlight it always looked as if you were going to walk out with a nice tan; but yet each time you still came out looking like you do now, a dead, pale, pasty motherfucker. My recommendation is that you head back over to the EWC and start taking bites out of James Chamber’s left ass cheek and hopes some of his complexion rubs off on you, alright Casper?
The cock tails you rode or swallowed; you know exactly who they are. It started off with Retribution Inc. BDC, Joey Orsome, Lance Fiennes, Hopper Rose and hell you didn’t seem to mind Jeffy too now did you? You’ve got recognized because of that dominant stable. And when you realized that dominate stable started to fall apart, you broke off on your own and attacked the WORLD CHAMPION in hopes of keeping you relevant. And like everything else, that also failed miserably.
You soon vanished; as vanishing after a string of losses is the cool thing to do. When you finally did decide to return, you took your rage out on Moses Lake a FORMER EWC CHAMPION. The truth is, Link. Since day one, you’ve been going after the big dogs only to get smacked around each and every time. Each time you look as if your going to break out, as if your finally going to take the big bad dragon and strangle by it’s throat and finally become the guy who was more than just a diversion, a distraction, a mere challenger.
By dropping that little bit of history; it’s clear to see why your trying to kick it with me. You want to become a star. You’re finally tired of being an irrelevant piece of shit. You want to ride my cock-tails, all the way to a chance. A chance to finally become something. Well, I recommend teaming up with Crazy Man, so you can suck with each-other. Because those are the exact same philosophies he shares with you. Your just like 10 others backstage, and 1000 other wannabes in other nameless promotions, you all want to be the big star. And while you in-front of me, while you took the extra mile to do so, you’ll just prove to the other 10 back stage that staying back there simply observing me in action is the best career decision they could EVER make.
Like everything you do Link, you jump the gun. You bite off more than you can chew, and you end up choking on your own shit. This thing between us, it’s gone on too long. You’ve been nothing but distraction, when it comes to achieving bigger and greater things, Link. I hope you’ve had fun. I hope you’ve take pride in the fact, that for two solid months—you’ve wasted my time, energy, and strength on you. But you should know this better than anyone, Link. Justice will prevail. The world will be enlightened, as I show them EXACTLY what they can expect in the New Year.
What’s that exactly? I’m going to show them that they are looking at their NEW world champion. I’m going to show them that the Link in 2008, is the same fucking Link that’s going to be returning in 2009 still continuing to be a fucking skid mark on this federation as if it was in style. Last and certainly not least; they can finally remove their calendars of their walls and begin to count down each day, as I get one step closer of cementing my name as a legend.
I don’t give a fuck about what the Chinese tell you.
This is the year of Level-One; and now the fucking entire WORLD can enjoy the 365 days in which they will all remain inferior.
Link; I’ll be seeing you.
