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Reborn
Trust me that you won’t be able to do anything in the ring against me. Shit man, if you can’t beat The Thriller when he is ‘Taking it easy‘ you’re sure as hell not going to beat me. It’s just facts, Mexican Samurai, it’s just facts. You can throw around your Samurai/Mexican heritage around and your MMA bullshit all over the place but I’m not buying into it. You have too much hype around you when you’re nothing but filler. You’re filler for my huge appetite. You’ll be a nice notch in my NLWF resume come Sunday night. You’re on my hit list now son. Bang. Bang. You’re not competition for me. You can’t handle me on your best day, kid. Especially at The Hall of Fame Tribute show. Now, you’ve seen me in action before. Multiply that by ten and you’ll bear witness to what I’m going to bring to you. Give me props and give me respect but I guarantee you’ll take all that back when your body twists from left to right, contorting from the effects of a very tragic DVD moment. You can try to stop it from happening… hell, you can even make a machine to freeze time… you’re not walking out of this match under your own volition. You’re not leaving this match in one piece. I’ll send your legs back to Joe Santiago, I’ll sent your fingers to Silva, I’ll send your cock back to your woman so she can please herself better than you ever could, and I’ll send your head in a nice icepack back to the Iceman so he can remember who killed one of his kind. He’ll do his line of coke, fuck his wife, and put your head on his mantle. Why? He knows that you were killed by the best of the best of the best. Finito. Capiche? I don’t care if you think you deserve your place or not. I don’t care if you’re some kind of Submission expert. I’m going to put you in your place and I’m going to keep you on the ground so you don’t have a chance to wrap your arms around me. When I say keeping you on the ground, I mean knocking you out cold so I don’t have to deal with you anymore. People hate me because I show up all their favorites. I don’t need paths of destruction to get a point across. That’s child’s play. I think I was done with that within the first month of me wrestling. You’re still doing it and you’ve been in this game how long? Yeah, sad. There are more important things in this match, Mexican Samurai, than just utterly destroying you. I have a mission to accomplish, so this match is to show Chaos Castillo that he can’t and won’t beat me at War Games. The body count for me is and will keep going up and up until I reclaim what Tails tossed away. That includes your sorry ass Mexican Samurai. See, it’s quite elementary from here. Mexican Samurai is going to respond in one of his tirades about respect, shed a tear and then describes himself beating the shit out of me, shed another tear, and how he will beat the shit outta anyone who comes in his way. If he says it, it must be true. Thing is, he hasn’t been able to beat anyone outside cheap shots, so we’ll see how he responds to me. We’ll wait and see how the big monkey responds. Hopefully it’s better than his usual shit. That’s just so boring, right? I’m done trying to tell everyone how good I am. The only reason people, like Castillo, think I’m done is because I’ve done so much in this business that it seems like I’ve been wrestling for longer than I have been. I’m a three time world champion and I’ve been in this game for three years. Not to mention all the other titles I have. But somehow they’re all tainted. Somehow they were all handed to me. Every title I’ve had has been handed to me. Every win I’ve ever had has been handed to me. I’m just that bad that I’ve been handed everything. Nah, I don’t see that as the case. I see it as being so good you have to look for excuses to mask your jealousy. I see it as a thank you. Thank you for bringing talent back into wrestling. Thank you for being one of the only people who still speaks from their soul. Thank you for showing me my flaws. I say you’re welcome to everyone who thinks this. Mexican Samurai, this means you. You might think you are safe behind your extremely massive frame but you’re not. No one is safe from THE BEST IN THE WORLD Frank Hart. No one is safe until I take control of the West. So keep saying I’m trash. Keep saying I’m horrid, throw in some respect Mexican Samurai. You all know that the feel of NLWF isn’t the same without The Intensity, Desire, the HEART. It’s simple why that is. I AM NLWF I simply don’t fuck around when it comes to this wrestling shit. The newest thing I’ve heard, through all the jealousy, is that I’m mediocre in the ring and that I get ‘lucky’. Yeah, I’m a three time champion by chance. But yet I am absolute trash. So are you Mexican Samurai. I don’t know where you get off thinking you’re all great and everything when you’ve done nothing here. You’ve done nothing in the creation of NLWF, have you? Nah, you haven’t. Face it your Not Rico Sutton, your not a beast, your still that show opening jobber we all know and love! Welcome to the jungle, Mexican Samurai. You got your chance. I don’t need a spotlight so I’ll turn it to you for a moment. You can relive all your past glory once more before it’s taken from you. You can relive your times facing Joe Santiago before I take it away from you. It’s just funny that when you don’t get what you want, you drop like flies. When someone else, named Frank Hart, is atop of the mountain, you all scramble out of the light like cockroaches. With my recent track record, what makes you think you’re going to be any different? Because you’re The Hybrid Wrestler? What the hell is a Hybrid Wrestler? It really carries no meaning. Ya know, you can be the Hybrid Wrestler all you want but that is just a moniker you want to keep. Why? My name is in the bright lights and it kills you. The reason you’re getting face time this week isn’t because of your talent. It’s because I was picked as your poison. It’s because, on the marquee it reads ‘FRANK HART IN ACTION TONIGHT!!!!!!” People pay to see me, Mexican Samurai. Do I need to go into this bit again? Do I need to remind you that I’m The Entity for a reason? Sure, you can downgrade my wrestling ability all you want. It’s the new trend. Thing is, though, you can’t doubt what I’ve made the West today. You cannot question that I have brought the excitement and passion back into the West. Did you think Havoc and the Goth bunch are brining in the ratings? There just like you… Boring! I’ve never seen you do anything spectacular. I’ve never seen you do anything that stands out. You follow the motions because you’re a Hybrid Wrestler. You get the standard things, you follow standard rules and you embrace the standard. You don’t branch out and do things differently. You don’t take chances because behind your mutton chops you’re afraid. Behind your Hybrid Wrestler tag name and your bullshit you’re afraid. You are afraid of taking that risk. It’s why no one cares what you are now. You’ve been on the same shtick for years. Give it up, man. Just give it up. Don’t even show up Sunday night. If you do, you’re going to meet living, breathing violence. Try and use your Hybrid moves on me and I’ll break your legs. Then I’ll hang you upside down, taunt you for a bit, and slit your throat causing your blood to drip into a bucket. Call me The Hybrid Killer. Don’t take this as a diss, Mexican Samurai. I don’t diss people. I dismiss them. Think of this as your referral to the principal’s office before I dismiss you from NLWF for good, thusly killing the age of comeback Jobbers once and for all. You just got to the middle of the jungle. That’s where all the drama takes place. God, tell me I’m boring. Tell me you’ve heard this before because even if I did it’s a lot better than the shit you spew off. ‘I respect you…it’s a honor….CRY…CRY…CRY.’ What the hell does that mean? I know… I know… you’ll tell me I’ll find out at Sunday about your passion and blah blah blah. Spare it, Samurai. Spare the usual list that people tell me. You want the list? Here it is: - Tell me I am too cocky and that the gimmick is dumb. - Tell me that I am going to be knocked off the mountain soon. - Tell me about my past and all the things I did in the past. - Tell me I’m mediocre at best. That’s the best one, especially when I beat those guys in the ring. Then that makes them trash, but they already were. - Tell me that I got handed everything in JWF. That’s another classic too. - Tell me I’m nothing compared to you. - Tell me on Sunday I’m (insert catchphrase or a clever quip on my catchphrase) So, keep that at your side when you’re sitting in front of the camera. Have a black backdrop instead of being in your living room, like myself. Sit there and shake while talking. Have some water to drink so you can clear your throat before you read off the paper. You’re a joke when you try and talk shit to me and you’re an even bigger joke in the ring. We’ll see what you’re made of against the three time champion. We’ll see if you still have it or if you’re pretty much done. Keith Cunningham said something really good the other day about this match. This could be your crowning moment or the end of your career. I don’t think you have what it takes to take me down. Few do. “Começ a foda acima! (get the fuck up!)” My eyes open, as I’m dragged to my feet by two men, one on each arm. I’m at an ocean pier, but where, your guess is as good as mine. I lick the dry blood from the corner of my mouth; I must have been out for a while. The two men walk me over to a large man, wearing a beige suit, smoking a cigar. He is leaning against a large black limousine. He takes a drag from the cigar, and then looks at me, with broken English. “Mister Hart. How are doing you?” he asked. “I’ve had better days” I replied. Nerves of steel I have. “You know how lucky you today?” he said, nodding off to the right, where two men are tossing a bloody carcass into the back bed of a shitty Toyota pick-up truck. “I guess I am, what’s going on?” I asked the man, who was extraordinarily calm. “You trespass on my territory; you have a record, a past. Usually, men like you, I’d cut your limbs off, then feed them to you.” He said. “So, why am I still hungry?” I wit fully replied. “I always like a man with a humour of sense, or however you say it. You knew Cruz, correct? Well, I know the answer of that, and let’s say that I had it out from that man. You killed him for me, so let’s just say here’s my gift, my reward, to you. Your life” he said. “....great. So, where’s my truck and let me go now?” I asked, trying to walk away from the men holding me. “You see, now that I’m aware that you’re here, I know you’re a threat. So, were shipping you back to the states.” He said. “States? Listen man, I’m not going to be a threat. I don’t do that sort of shit anymore, I’m not involved with drugs, or crime, or any bullshit like that. I just want to go back to my home, back to my girlfriend, and I will act like none of this never happened.” I said, waiting for the man’s response. “Mister Hart, I make the decisions around here, not you.” He said, as the two men get plastic ties, and tie up both of my arms. “What the fuck, get off from me” I said, as I pushed away from the two men, head butting one in the face, before the other grabs his gun and cracks me in the knee with the end of the gun. “Now, Mister Hart. If I ever catch you in Brazil again......I’ll fucking behead you, and your girlfriend.” He said, as he took one last drag from his cigar, before climbing in the limo, and shutting the door. The two men carry me onto this large container ship, with me trying to fight, trying to break the ties with all of my strength, screaming from the top of my lungs. Nothing worked. They placed me inside of the ship’s hull, as I scream for my Juliana, but nothing by the steel walls could hear my pleas. The ship was now in full sail...... ........ ...........I’d never leave you.....… .......or at least I thought I wouldn’t. |