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At least your not nothing...Nothing is ever Nothing... I stretched out for the next rung and gashed my hand again, losing my grip on the cliff. I gritted my teeth and tried to hold on to this faint edge as the organ played louder, like it wanted to ignore me, like it wanted to keep being beautiful in spite of me. But inch by painful inch I lost it and slipped off the rock. Things tightened inside my body as I fell through the air. I tried to breathe through the pressure, and my legs contorted painfully. I gasped and reached for the rocks and my fingers stretched and popped. Finally I gritted my teeth and let out a final airless scream through collapsed lungs - And then the scenery changed. I woke up to myself shaking and covered in sweat in a tiny New York loft at 4 in the morning, looking down at something of a familiar lump in the sheets. "Naomi? Jesus christ -" I throw my hips forward with a mix of pleasure and physical stress, reach out and push her backward, and then roll over and bury my head in my pillow. "Fuck off." "You, are not cultivating a grateful attitude." "Feel like shit, Want sleep." I'd really overestimated my own physical conditioning. After spending quite a lot of time on a job where I prided myself on my ability to avoid violence. While I was, strictly speaking, in shape, any number of failed bodybuilders who've tried to cross into fighting will tell you, being in shape and being in fighting shape are two different things, and you only know about the second one once someone knocks your jaw off. Not good. "Sleep would be wonderful about now" She leans on the side of my back, making me cringe "If not for that godsdamned music coming through the walls!" I close my eyes and the stuff fades in somehow - the organ from my dreams wasn't a figment of my imagination either. But now there was some irritating squealing guitar and some "post-hardcore" faggot doing some CUT MY LIFE INTO PIECES shit at the top of his lungs downstairs. Ugh. Even in this down market, we had to get some assistance to get this loft : the real estate market is cheap here, but I wanted to get as close to America's warn, heaving bosoms as I possibly could - and we're about a block away from water. This is not fun romantic water, this is NY harbor water, and it still smells like garbage after all these years. I can see downtown, in what passes for the little italy area - there's always SOMETHING going on around here. That is a problem if it's 4 in the morning and Team DeGeneres has put a few lumps in your back and you want to get some rest. "What are you waking me up for?" I raise a finger toward the door. "It's the feminist era. You handle it." Wordlessly, I hear some clothing shuffling on, and a couple of footprints clicking the hardwood. "Wait." Wearily, I climb out of bed and roll my shoulders. "I fear your solutions." A shirt lands in my face. "As you should." 
King of Dx is a man tainted by desperation. I'm sure he'll call it hustle or desire or ambition or will to win or something like that, but when those things are tempered by a constant supply of failure? That's when desperation sets in, when you start to see your window closing. He's coming off a few big moments in his career, I mean he‘s the face of a promotion trying to do it again, to bad this is the big time. I feel like I stand here repeating myself over and over to a guy who seems to bring up only one epic lose of my career? I for one am very tired of listing to him spell the same shit over and over, it’s the reason I mention WWKF every ten minutes, with hopes he would get the drift of the repetition. He‘s showing nothing but desperation, desire to increase his stature and cement his march towards the top of company has convinced him that it was an EPIC stint, a CAREER DEFINING stint over a WORLD TITLE contender, and the standard for what hunger and competition is supposed to be all about. Let me make this perfectly clear at the outset: No one cares. Do you know what I do after I beat someone on WWKF’s level? I wake up and take a dump. Sometimes I scratch myself when I'm feeling ambitious, but that's about the extent of it. See, I understand that there's two kinds of people in wrestling amongst all the arrogant guys and hardcore kids and crafty cruisers and bacon hosses. Just two. Winners. Losers. And sure, sometimes Losers can beat other Losers. There has to be a tier of loserdom, or the world would implode every time two midcarders haggled in the ring. and that phenomenon was what happened last week - you, King of Dx, just barely made a name for yourself in a sub par promotion. Does King of Dx even have a gimmick or anything? Or a point to being here? Or is he just that skinny chick's baggage boy? But here's the thing, dude - while Losers can eat their Wheaties, summon their hopes and dreams, muster everything into a single shining moment and beat Winners, it happens once in blue moon, and it doesn't happen consistently. Losers talk about streaks, about hard times, about how they're finally on the right track. Losers like to get in front of a camera and do their best impersonation of a Winner. But the difference is like Mountain Dew and Mello Yello, man. Winners just... fucking Win. You can tell. Now, what separates a Winner from a Loser is not some innate greatness, King. Of course, Salvation will insist that they are Born Better Than You because it makes great copy and makes Losers feel bad. But it's not true. A long time ago, while Losers were barking into the camera pretend to be Winners, Winners ... Shut The Fuck Up and Listened and learned Really Important Stuff. And as a result, they know things that you don't. They aren't complex things. I could probably change the course of your career with thirty seconds, a napkin, and a sharpie pin. But they're important. See King, sometimes losers can become winners. This isn't the Soviet Union. These aren't the castes of India. This is America! Where all you need is a plan and people who need you, and - ... well, it works in Canada too, sometimes. All it takes is just a smidgen of humility. Self-analysis. The capacity to learn and adjust. A capacity you lack. I mean you start talking about how you're a dominant force who can win any championship he wants whenever you want - yes yes, dynamic alone, but brilliant together. You're controversial and exciting and interesting and cool. And all the kids who picked on you in school were totally jealous. Dude, you became the West's new "I'm Rick James, Bitch" in 2 weeks for the same reason Greek gods fucked farmer women and swans - the antics of the proles are amusing. You're a fucking train wreck, the end. I've been here for like 4 weeks, and at this rate, I'll be Universal World Champion by the time the credits roll on King of the Throne - and lets not forget that I am about to stomp the ugly juice out of the... actually, do you want me to call you something besides "Havoc’s Emergency Dick In A Glass"? I have bad news for you : you CANNOT be friends with anyone who calls themselves The Messenger of Hell and still be taken seriously as a physical, mental, or spiritual threat to anyone. Don't think for a second there's anything you can say that will shock, disturb, or intimidate me. I'm from Boston. You can't drop a deuce in that city without somebody who walks, talks, thinks, and acts just like you ready to swipe the turd out of the bowl I you can convince them its government aid. And don't fucking bother lecturing me on how mean I am for cracking Brenton’s head open or how I am a asshole for recycling the same old shit every week, because let's face facts, the shit you're doing is a lot dirtier than professional wrestling. What you're doing is child abuse. I mean, you're practically a rapist. I mean, you want the Universal championship so bad that your willing to suck of the current champion while he’s so heavily medicated that she starts spouting ridiculous shit every couple hours? Maybe one day you can leave her in a padded room for a while till he starts foaming at and the mouth and going really wild: KiNg Of Dx WilL be UnIvErSaL CHAMPiON anD PeOPlE wiL CaYRe aBoUt him!!
It takes a few minutes for me to get myself into sorts, but I manage to limp out of the room, down the narrow hallways and the stairs to the floor below me, letting my ears guide me to our destination. I rap the middle of the door, and a pudgy kid with a nose piercing and black lipstick opens the door. His T-Shirt says "As I Lay Dying". I have never heard the music, but if the stuff coming over the speakers is any indication, I know the feeling. "What?" "Cut your shit down." "Man, get the fuck out of here, it's almost morning. Did I interrupt your morning blowjob or something? Go outside, buy a coffee and wake your old ass up." He tries to slam the door, and Naomi catches it and throws it back open, which is good, because my arm would probably fall off if I had to do it. I do, however, manage to give him a look that indicates that We Are Not To Be Trifled With. "I'm not here to completely bust on you. Just Monday nights, you put on a set of headphones. You should have a job to go to on Monday anyway, shouldn't you?" "I'm a student. I have Tuesday and Wednesday off. And management lets us do whatever the hell we want as long as the rent comes in on time. Any other questions?" The phrase whatever the hell we want as long as the rent comes in on time is probably the wrong one to use around people of our temperament. Naomi's already looking for something to throw him through - I hold up a hand, reach into my pocket - and I pull out a mini DVD. "Let's make a deal" I say, flipping the disc around. "You watch this video. If you still feel like you're on the right track after you see it, play whatever you want whenever you want." Naomi twists her head. "Is that -" Shut up I don't say it out of any real irritation, I just don't want to discuss it at the moment. Pudge skeptically sticks out a hand, and I put a life changing experience into his hands.
Of course, if anybody loses that much of their shit, they'll more liable to need two bullets to the face instead of a couple aspirin. Actually, this is worse than child rape. A child understands itself well enough to say no. Havoc he's like... an animal. Like an abused dog, really. A long line of heartless guys have used him up like a damp sock, teasing him with emotion and sentiment and empty promises, getting what they wanted and then *poof* - disappearing. Yeah, you're worse than a child rapist. You're no pitbull either, you're like... you're like a dogfucker. The King of Dogfuckers, that's what we're gonna call you. Not because we're jealous, but because you'll keep on taking L's like a knight on a chessboard. I mean, it must be hard to get up in the morning and talk so much shit when that glass ceiling's been painted over with a load of bricks. I mean, Universal title? Hey, this division sets the bar pretty fucking low for their PPV filler #1 contenders and stuff, but seeing as Havoc smacked that ass twice in one night, nobody can credibly sell you on that match. You can't go for the tag titles because Shayne Wolf would crushed you and make you look like an even bigger joke. Whoops, Havoc just won back the Universal Title. You're about 500% more likely to polish that belt at night than you are to fight for it. Fuck you, addressing me like you've got something to teach me. Man, if I want to job to your faggot love, I'll break my own fucking legs an save myself the trouble of seeing your technique. Hey, it's cool - maybe you can pick a fight with Swan Lee. You'll probably get dropped on your head too at this rate. This chain reaction, the events that launched into motion the minute our names were across from each other on the board, it's something real, King of Dx, way realer than your trumped up fights in that other shit hole. See, the problem with desperation is two fold: it shields you from the truth you need to improve yourself, and in that ignorance, you come ever closer to turning your fear into reality. Or rather, having someone like me do it for you. And me? Yeah, two weeks ago I lost, and I‘ve move on from it, your more obsessed with it then I am. And yeah, this is a whole new ballgame. War Games was like... I dunno, basketball. The teams are roughly equal, there's a little back and forth, and one superlative player can change the tide of a game. This weeks ballgame is anticlimactic. This week's ballgame is like... golf. I wind up and swing really, really hard. Then you fly. Far away. You may already be a winner. But you and I both know, deep down, that you probably aren't. King, you act like I have to earn this match with you? That I have to work my way up the ladder to even think about fight you? King, I own the ladder. And I've owned it for years. In fact, I not only own the ladder, but I built it. It's mine. And it's not going anywhere. Don't you dare think for even a moment that you are in my league. Sure, you've been successful these last few months. You've even been down right impressive. But it's only been a few months Kiddy. It might feel good right now but, in the grand scheme of things, it means nothing. It's only a few months. Come back to me when you've dominated this business for years. When you've main evented pay-per-views. When you've been Wrestler of the Year. When you've been the most successful and most recognized face in the company. King, you come back to me where you're ME. Because right now you're not even close. And don't get me wrong. You're enjoying a pretty good run right now. I'm genuinely surprised and impressed. I didn't think you had it in you. You've really stretched that limited ability of yours far Kid. But that's the problem. You've overachieved up until this point. You have succeeded far more than your ability should allow you to. And you've looked good. You've looked strong. Dare I say it, but you've looked dominant. But there's a downside Kid. Because sooner or later everything regresses towards the mean. Do you know what that means DX? It's actually quite simple. It means that - in the long run - you can only go as far as your abilities. That's why good athletes can pull themselves out of slumps. They're talented and eventually that talent shines through. The cream always rises to the top. And it works the other way too Kid. Even the biggest loser wins once-in-a-while. But he doesn't win forever. Because sooner or later everything regresses towards the mean. And that's exactly what will happen with us King of DX. I'm better than I've been these last few months. I know it, you know it, and the entire world knows it. But Kid, I'm just about to come out of my slump. And you're just about to come spiraling back down to earth. Because you're not at my level. You may be right now - but that's only temporary. You may be trying to make a name for yourself, but deep down you're still that unknown loser who stumbled out of the minor league and found himself in a qualifying match. You're always going to be a few rungs below me on the ladder, Kid. In life, in wrestling, and in our match at Legacy. You're not the Standard here DX. You are simply a follower. You want to be me. You want to achieve everything that I have achieved. But you're not good enough. You're not talented enough. And so you take shortcuts. You get yourself disqualified. You attack me after the match. You use brass knuckles and sneak attacks and car windows to desperately attempt to gain some sort of an edge against me. Because you know that as long as I am around, you can never be me. As long as the original exists you will forever be a pathetic carbon copy. Well DX, this original is not going anywhere. You can try as you might, you can do whatever the hell you want, but my days in the NLWF will not end until I say they do. When I go out of here I'm doing it on my own terms. And I'm not about to leave yet. You'd love it if I laid down and just gave you the match, wouldn't you Kid? Because then you wouldn't have to compete with me. Then you wouldn't be exposed as the fraud that you are. But it's too late for that Kid. I'm not going to leave you alone. You started this war, but I am damn well going to finish it. And so we come to the main event match. Johnny Styles versus King of Dx. A ticket to King of the Throne hanging in the balance. It's pretty exciting stuff. But sadly for you, the outcome will be the same as it always is. I'm going to win. You seem to be looking forward to Legacy, King. Well I hope you're spending just as much time looking at the next day. Because the next day is All Salvation Day. And on All Salvation Day you remember and honor the dead. And that's exactly what I will be doing on Sunday. I am going to wake up on Sunday morning and I am likely going to be in pain. I'm sure my neck will hurt. My knee will feel stiff. And maybe some of these cuts on my head will re-open once again. But I'm going to wake up on Sunday and after I get out of bed the first thing I'm going to do is I'm going to light a candle. And I'm going to say a prayer. I'm going to pray for the career of King of Dx. It died tragically on Sunday April 12th in a brutal match with Johnny Styles. Sure, King of Dx himself made it out of the match okay, but his career is definitely dead. His moment in the spotlight is over. His brief success is no more. King of DX tried to use Johnny Styles to make his career, and instead I killed it. That's exactly what is going to happen in our match Kid. Your lucky streak has ended. Because, for the entire match, I will be one step ahead of you. I will be one strike faster than you. I will be one punch harder than you. I will be one move smarter than you. You're good King, but you're not ME. And you never will be. While young children are gathering candy and teenage girls are trying to outslut each other with their costumes, you and I will be engaged in battle. And this is going to be a real life horror movie. There will be suspense, there will be violence, and there will be blood. Oh yes... there will be blood. And like every good horror movie, at the end the villain will have been vanquished and the hero will have survived. And despite how popular this horror film will be, there is not going to be a sequel. This is it. This is your last shot. This is your last moment in the spotlight King. You had better use it wisely. Because after our match... it's all over for you. At Legacy... it ends. Au revoir. -- [ FIN ] -- |