Page 3 of 3 (TURN UP SPEAKERS!!) - Has he lost his mind? Can he see or is he blind?
Which brings us to now. Dazz is sat in a blue padded chair in the terminal of an airport dressed in designer jeans, a white shirt with the top few buttons undone and a pair of Gucci sunglasses covered his blue eyes. His long dark hair was just past his shoulders but not as long as it's been in the past, not as short as it has been either. He looked across, spotting a businessman in a black suit and tie sitting in a chair reading the newspaper, his hair greying while he wore a pair of clear reading glasses, one leg crossed over the other to keep his arms and the paper steady. He seemed engrossed in whatever article he was reading, brown leather briefcase sat at his feet slightly under his seat on the grey carpeted floor. It looked like this man had traveled before many times. Then to his left he saw a young looking woman with blonde hair looking nervous, the usual look on her face of a first time flier. He wanted to help ease whatever troubles were going through her head but he had other things on his mind, plus he had to let her conquer whatever fears she had. It also didn't help that a man with short spiky brown hair wearing a tanktop and shorts had sat down next to her, taking her hand and pulling her closer as she leant against his chest for comfort, obviously glad he hadn't approached her now that what seemed to be her boyfriend was in the vicinity.
He remembered his first time flying. It took him back to when he ran away from home, tired of the same old surroundings, same old people holding him back from becoming a musician. It were as if his goals and dreams of being up on stage as frontman of a heavy metal band were right in front of him and yet he had thick heavy chains around his wrists and ankles, binding tightly to his limbs and preventing him from moving more than a few inches from his tethers. The fact was that while he also had dreams of becoming a professional wrestler and had even spent a few months training at the legendary Hart Dungeon (where he saw a slightly older kid being stretched that would later become another legend known as Ethan Andrews), his dream of making music that connected with people in various ways emotionally, associated his songs with points in their life to be remembered with great memories, that was stronger at that moment in time.
He took enough money to make his way from his small home, his passport to cross the border and an acoustic guitar, trekking from Toronto into the United States and then traveling from New York State all the way down to San Francisco on a Greyhound bus, living on that for what seemed like forever, watching the scenery as he was driven across the massive country he would soon call his second home. He couldn't believe he'd made it this far already, the furthest from home he'd been in his life at this point, eventually making it to his destination. After first stepping off the bus and onto the street he looked around, officially here and willing to seek his fortune from this place.
His first port of call was to make his way to the Bay Area, the birthplace of some of thrash metal's biggest names such as Metallica, Testament, Anthrax, Exodus, Megadeth, Slayer and Vio-lence among others, the whole reason he came here in the first place. Having arrived in one of the Bay Area's cities he looked around, taking in the sights and sounds, taking to sleeping in bus shelters and doorways at night while playing guitar and singing by day to whoever would listen to get enough spare change to be able to eat and drink. Eventually he found Oakland and answered an ad looking for a guitarist, meetnig his drummer Russell and forming what was supposed to be a band. Several lineups later and after earning enough money to buy actual equipment, they had named themselves Havok Rising and were causing a storm in the Bay Area, eventually managing to sign to a smalltime record label and get their material onto compilation tapes and CDs, giving them further exposure. The label's manager was named Jase the Ace and while he didn't look too special with his stocky build, lack of hair and grey mustache he did help them secure what he dubbed an "international" tour which turned out to be a small slot on Japan's Summer Sonic festival and a stop off in Montreal on the way back for a small gig at a club. It was nothing special compared to life now touring the biggest stadiums on the globe to hundreds of thousands of screaming fans ready to let loose and mosh but at the time any break would do and it was just the start of many shows in grotty, dingy basements or clubs that needed demolishing, only the stench keeping the walls from collapsing to the floor.
The excitement of that Japanese date was overwhelming to all members of the band, sitting in economy with every other seat full of people flying back home after a vacation or visiting Japan for their own trip away, the instruments being shipped later that day. Dazz sat worrying, having never flown before and hoping that not only would the guys be safe but also that their equipment would make it to the venue and not get lost or damaged en route. He was sat by the window next to lead guitarist Lee, both resting back in their seats getting comfortable as the stewardesses walked up and down, pushing the overhead doors closed then closing the main door of the cabin, the light above them telling them to fasten their seatbelts. They did as they were told, a shot of nerves running through his veins as he glanced around, the safety speech just a distant murmur in his ears as he phased it all out, looking out of the window at the tarmac below and the other planes standing in place around the terminal building. The engines kicked into life as he heard them loud and clear, movement as the plane was reversed from its position then turned around to face the runway, looking down the stretch of tarmac like a Mexican standoff, daring the ground to keep it on terra firma as it made its dash for the freedom of the skies above, accelerating faster and faster, picking up speed until, with a gentle bump, the plane left its wheels, seemingly taunting the land below for failing to keep it down.
Higher they climbed at an angle, planet Earth growing smaller and smaller, his ears feeling full and stuffy causing a strange sensation in his head until his ears popped, allowing him the ability to breathe normally again. The lights flashed again, indicating they could remove their seatbelts, willingly doing so as people began rising from their seats and either visiting the onboard bathrooms or else just getting to walk around the cabin. The captain's voice sounded tinny and distant as he spoke of them being in the air, the height they were at, distance to their destination and that any eletronic equipment can now be used, one or two pulling laptops from the overheads and switching them on while others took their GameBoys to play Tetris. He just sat discussing with excitement the fact they were playing their first international shows at a major festival, talking about how they hoped to make an impression there and gain some more fans along the way on their bid for success........
The sight outside the window was breathtaking. A glorious blue colour, untainted and undisturbed, filled out most of the world beyond the cabin of the plane whilst a mass of white fluffy clouds, the kind that create awe inspiring gasps of wonder at how nature can produce something so beautiful, hung below the blue, a barrier between the sky and the ground far, far below. The plane began to feel like it was gently dipped forwards, caressing the clouds before descending down into them, creating a whispery smokescreen against the windows and then a total wash of white for a brief few seconds. All at once, the lush greens and solid browns of the ground below flashed into view, greys also making their presence known as a city and suburban areas sprawled out. After a long while looking at the spectacular view, Dazz looked up at the noise above, a ping lighting up the seatbelt request as he grabbed the buckle, making steel meet steel which clicked into place, relaxing back against his seat.
His ears began to pop again and before he knew it, the plane landed with a bump on the tarmac having reached its destination, the tyres skidding as the brakes were applied, eventually coming to a halt and being gently driven and guided toward the terminal. The seatbelts were unbuckled as everybody rose, going into the overheads for their carry-on luggage and waiting to be let off the plane, the cabin door opened fully while passengers filed out. He eventually reached the door, smiling at the flight crew on his way out, finding himself in a tunnel that sloped up. Grey carpets lined the way, following other passengers along it and into a line by a desk, a woman sitting behind it with a blue uniform and short dark hair, talking to passengers and smiling. Dazz reached her, handing his passport over and making small talk until being told to enjoy his stay, leaving this area and going into baggage claim. Various different carousels stood whirring slowly, people gathered around taking cases off it and walking away, Dazz joining them looking as if they were wildebeest gathered at a watering hole trying to find a spot to drink. After a short wait he recognised his cases and bags, taking them onto the floor and placing some on a trolley, wheeling them out to the main terminal where people were waiting to depart or just arriving.
The place looked huge, painted white, glass everywhere letting light in but it was nothing like he was used to usually looking out of the windows here, it was hot and sunny, almost feeling the warmth emanating into the building. He pushed his trolley full of bags and suitcases, pushing through the throng of people until he found the outside world, opening the door by the steel handle but able to see through the glass windows covering it, stepping onto the grey concrete sidewalk. The first thing he spotted was a black limo parked against the curb and a driver stood by it wearing a grey suit and hat holding a piece of card with his name written on it. Dazz stepped toward him, showing him a piece of paper to prove he was the guy he was waiting for then smiling, helping the driver with his bags then climbing into the back, the door open and waiting for him.
The seats inside were leather, soft and very comfortable. The rest was a tan colour, a large thick window directly in front to allow him to see the driver and front of the limo if he wished, currently seeing just his reflection in the dark tinted glass. Another large seat was also ahead of him, mini bar and refridgerator also visible where he could reach while a digital radio sat in place, the dial switched to the off position and would probably stay that way because he hated listening to radio these days, not finding anything played interesting or worth wasting his time on. A small television monitor stood grey and ready to watch whenever he felt like it, a remote control resting in a small dipped container. The sound of one of the doors being slammed shut and the engine starting into action allowed him to relax knowing he was being taken to his hotel, able to get a good rest and eat something other than plane food, plane in both the aircraft carrier and the plain sense of taste. He'd normally be looking out of the window, taking a look at the world as it sailed by but on this occasion he couldn't be bothered, instead yawning and looking at the clock inside the limo, noting the time. He couldn't believe it was mid-August already, the year 2008 had flown by so quickly.
To think that at the start of this year he was injured and partying with his then-girlfriend Karla Kotero every single night, then having enough of that lifestyle and ditching her to end up married to Faith after getting back with her. One of his friends Whitecloud passing away after losing a fight with cancer, a shock to everybody who knew him as he hadn't even mentioned it, instead competing regularly, becoming a World champion and inducted into a Hall of Fame before passing on at home. Dazz setting up the Whitecloud Memorial Cup and ending up battling and defeating Rayne Young in the finals after both men paid tribute to the great man they were competing for the memory of, both performing Whitecloud's finishing move to each other and paying tribute to him after the contest. He made his return to NLCW in June, dressed like his half brother Jason Stylez and attacking Fuel, wanting him, daring him even to step up his game instead of sitting back waiting for opportunities to come to him, wanting the man to improve by himself. Even the months secretly in Projekt Mayhem, spending weeks poring over the decision to either stick with the group or leave the moment he could, waiting until they revealed their identities before letting the other members continue their mission to try and take over NLCW by winning as much gold as possible, feeling he wasn't contributing enough or having enough fun to merit even being a member any more. That was the thing with Dazz, if he had fun with a group and contributed to a level he felt happy with he stayed, if not he'd leave and allow the others to continue without him dragging them behind. Little did he know he'd also be considering his NLCW career, not having fun with that company and deciding to leave that too, try something new where he could enjoy himself.
What a last match he'd have though for this company, the place he'd called home since January of 2004. This was the place he'd wrestled those main eventers who worked in the first company he signed for when he broke into the business. The company that allowed him to bring in Chaos A.D. rather than having them forced in without management's knowledge. The company where he got to cement his status as a main event star, a marquee attraction and a bona fide Hall of Famer, solidifying the years of main events he'd already conquered previously and continuing to allow his star to shine, at least while it suited management anyway. Finding himself winning, defending and retaining the World Heavyweight championship until losing it the first time in the second ever Highway to Hell match in history in 2004, after that being relegated to the bottom of the heap as if he didn't matter, forced to watch on the sidelines as people hopped over him main eventing show after show after show long before they were ready or in some cases never having it in them to reach that status anyway in any other company, demanding and pleading to get their shots rather than earn them the hard way. Then new management stepping in and taking over, promoting those same people because they didn't know any better than to go with flavour of the month rather than those that helped build and establish NLCW in the first place, people like Dazz, like Souless, like Frank Merritt. Of course at this moment in time he had no problems or beef with anybody in the company except for Fuel but that was only because he figured Fuel was coasting rather than using the talents he had deep inside.
He sat inside the ring, resting upon the canvas looking all around him, staring at the inside of Wembley Stadium. The place was huge, cavernous, the type of stadium he'd either play with his band or main event on a wrestling show for a World Heavyweight championship. In fact, now that he thought about it, he'd already done both of those things in this very building. It was here that his fellow country man Bret Hart had competed against the British Bulldog in a classic match and that was the athletic contest he tried to live up to and recreate for himself every time he stepped inside the ring here in London, England. In fact, just like Bret, who competed in one of the first and best Iron Man matches in history, tonight would see Dazz do the same and make his own history by competing in the very first triple threat Iron Man contest. His opponents? Fuel and Alex Taylor.
It seemed odd, sitting here, his back against the turnbuckles feeling the soft padding against his spine and the back of his head while he rested, closing his eyes, making the jeans and the black shoes he was wearing disappear from sight, replaced by a hazy orangey brown wall, the arena lights and additional spotlights set up by NLCW's crew shining brightly upon his eyelids. His mind wandered, the feeling of oddness overtaking him as he sat thinking about his career to date, especially in NLCW. What was so weird, so odd, was the fact that NLCW had four cornerstones from the beginning who stuck it out for years, helping build the company into what it was today, people associating those names with the very best of NLCW. Three of them - Rick Majors, Jason Stylez and Ethan Andrews - had retired from action, leaving the fourth - himself - still active but competing in his last NLCW contest, hopefully not ever but for a long time at least. They'd given up due to injury or wanting to try new things away from the company, away from wrestling, while he......his reasoning was that he'd felt forgotten and unused as the rightful main eventer and championship calibre athlete that he was so decided to try pastures new, places that would use his talents and abilities inside the ring to their full potential without glossing him over. Later tonight in the main event Chris Logan,. Bucky Skyler and Isaac Reynolds are gonna battle it out for the Undisputed World title, showing off their talents to claim the big prize but he couldn't help but feel that it should be him competing for that prize, feeling slightly bitter over the fact that both Sean Galen and Dillon Durst were able to disappear for up to a year then return instantly into the main event and title matches while he tried it after having already proven himself as a top guy but being told to work from the bottom of the ladder. He did so, happily, but was always held back by something or someone, he didn't quite know what but it seemed so unfair to him.
That's why, despite the fact his contest may not be the last match or even the second to last match, he'd be determined to blow the roof off the building like he did every contest he was booked for, knowing that Alex would feel the same. It was only right, show these people that would be seated backstage or firmly in the stands of Wembley Stadium just how a match is supposed to be done, especially one of this magnitude. His hand fell to his side, lying gently upon the mat, which felt soft and spongey underneath his touch, a stark contrast to the feeling when he's slammed hard and can feel the wood underneath wracking more bruises to his body. The ring ropes shined under the bright lights, as if they were him and his ilk wanting to become the brightest under those spotlights, shine in front of hundreds, thousands, millions. He inhaled slowly, trying to drink in the atmosphere in this still and almost silent area, the only sounds made are those of the crew setting up and testing the rigging, the lights and everything but the pyrotechnics at this point. Hard to believe that not long from now this stadium would be filled with the screams, the shouts and the chanting along with the cheers and the boos that accompany every professional wrestling company's shows.
He loved being here. Not in Wembley Stadium.......actually yes, he loved being in Wembley Stadium but here in a wrestling ring where the lights shine brightly, the fans can see every hold, every counter, every comeback and kickout, hearing them either chanting his name and cheering him on in support or booing him, yelling how much he sucks when he tries to cheat to win against the big fan favourite. Even the diehard Dazz supporters who cheer no matter what wherever he competes in the world, booing the opposition and lapping up his showmanship or flicks of arrogance and conceitedness. Some have said that professional wrestling is little more than a physical soap opera, a pantomime where the good guys are cheered, the bad guys heckled and everybody goes home knowing that whether they saw terrible judgment calls by booking committees in allowing an undeserving to win or whether they're happy that the best man truly won the contest, entertainment and shows of physical prowess with no limitations on what their highly trained bodies could do between the ropes would be top of the agenda, fulfilled to their maximum.
Could he live up to the hype and provide a show of strength, speed, agility that he's proven capable of before? Could he successfully combine his mat proficiency, submission abilities, high flying acrobatics, superb striking and skills as a grappler, a brawler and somebody who can utilise a weapon if needed, pull out a trick from every sleeve to aid him in gaining as many falls as he could in the 60 minutes while also trying to conserve as much energy as possible? Most would balk at the task ahead but he was more than ready, willing and able to take on that challenge full steam ahead, his stamina guiding him well in some equally tough bouts in the past.
He continued to stare ahead, spotting the timekeeper's bell resting on its table waiting to ring to signal the start of his match, hoping that when it rings to mark the end, it will also spell victory for him. Next to that table is the chair that ring announcer Lucinda Welch usually occupies, imagining her sweet voice ringing around this arena proclaiming him to be the winner of the contest. The announce table where Aaron Jennings and Bryan Terwilliger would sit calling the awesome spots and moves created during the match, hopefully reminding the world just what he's done for this company as well as this business as a whole. One final, slow deep breath as he looked around, seeming to address nobody in particular, talking for anybody in the vicinity to listen.
Now where do I start? An Iron Man match, not my first, probably won't be my last either. I'm hoping that it'll be a 60 minute thing at the very least, I deserve that, the fans deserve that and NLCW as a company deserves that because tonight, I prove to everybody just why I was the biggest and most accomplished athlete in this promotion and why I was wrongfully left aside like a broken toy. 60 minutes of nonstop athleticism, 60 minutes of sweat and perhaps a little blood poured into the most physically draining match of all, 60 minutes to prove just who has the stamina, the mental capacity, the physical prowess and the God given ability to outlast the others and rack up the most falls.
What could you do in an hour? Maybe tend to the plants in your back yard. Maybe sit on your couch with a can of Pringles in one hand, a can of beer in the other watching Lost and praying that they kill the fat dude and use his body as a makeshift cruise liner back home to get that show over with. Maybe kneel on the bathroom floor praying to the porcelain and giving the bowl an endless technicolour yawn after a night of heavy drinking or bad food. Maybe take a short nap after struggling to sit through a Fuel promo, listening to him babbling on with no rhyme or reason, making no sense as you find that perhaps he's the real cure for insomnia.
Whatever you do in an hour is nothing compared to the showcase that myself and Alex Taylor will provide, dragging Fuel kicking and screaming into his first and probably last decent match of his career. There's no two ways about it, everybody from London, England to London, Ontario....from China to Venezuela.....from the ladyboys of Thailand to the ladyboys seen going in and out of Ryan Coleman's apartment - and yes that's the reason Justice told me for divorcing him - everybody whether they be man, woman, child or Tanya Black will sit in wonder and awe at the amazing feats of agility and technical ability by yours truly. They'll sit in wonder and awe at the amazing feats of power and brawling performed by Alex Taylor. They'll sit in wonder and awe at the amazing feet of Fuel as he slips on the mat attempting a clothesline. Yes my friends, my fans and the non-believers who haven't yet converted, the Messiah of Metal will truly astound you all.
You see, as always I will be the man who has all eyes on him with everybody in this building and everybody watching on their couches at home cheering me on to victory, gawking in total shock as I annihilate not one but two other men. All in the same scheduled hour long match! I mean you have on one hand me, an athlete who has done it all in this industry, done almost everything I'm capable of here in NLCW. Why only almost? Simple reason, I could've held everything here and won everything here but for some reason I'm always held back, always stopped from dominating like I always have purely to allow others like get over and become who management sees as "champions" or "legends" or even "the best we have". Bullshit. The best you have is right here, getting ready to take on a glorified jobber and a guy who can't seem to make up his mind whether to wear clown makeup, a mask or whatever. It's that type of inability to win or indecisiveness that prevails here and while I've been consistent whether I'm opening the show or in my rightful place closing the show as the main event, others who have a lesser amount of skill and talent get the glory. Is that right? Is that fair? No, everybody sitting from front row to the nosebleeds, everybody at home or watching in bars, everybody outside this company knows that I am the biggest name this industry has ever seen and the man that single handedly carried this place from the moment I debuted whether I was Hardcore champ or World Heavyweight champ, I AM NLCW.
Fuel, I hope you're watching this because I want you to sit down, grab the remote control, turn up the volume and listen closely because I'm gonna say this just once. You my friend, you have no prospects in this business, you have no right being here. Sure you have the size, you have the power but you don't have the determination, the desire, the will to win. Your win over me in LCW was a fluke because I was still hurting from the fact that 4 guys who were much better than you wore me down because I was the biggest threat in that match. You only won last month because my head wasn't in the game but I assure you Fuel, my head isn't just in the game now, I am the game and you're the grandparent playing it that sits back and doesn't mind whether you win or lose, it's the taking part. Is that your goal, to take part? To be on the sidelines watching, taking your turn but not seeking glory or attempting to win? If that's the case then once I've dragged you kicking and screaming all over this canvas, I hope you sit at home reflecting and make the choice. You either come back and take your game to the next level or you stay right there watching the action on tv and letting people who want this have their spot.
It's like they say, you either wanna be the World champion or you get out of this business. The fact that all titles except the Undisputed belt are ignored says something but you Fuel, you just sit in your cosy little corner grunting and screaming from behind your mask like you have constipation in some pathetic attempt to look intense while the rest of the world just walks on by and don't even know you exist. Does it bother you that people just walk on by, kicking you as they trip over you on their way to important matches while you're waiting patiently for an opportunity to come to you? Hmmm? It should. If you had any respect for yourself or for professional wrestling, oh it should. In CWF I watched as you took pleasure in defeating those who were less experienced in the ring than you, beating The Punk for the International title then losing that belt two months later to Christian Connolly who surpassed you by a mile or more. Now look at you. Still the same old Fuel, watching while guys like The Punk who were easy targets for you before have managed to slip past and become better than you.
Doesn't that upset you, somebody as unfocused as The Punk becoming more popular with fans and becoming a much better wrestler than you are in such a short amount of time? Doesn't that make you wanna just destroy whoever is unlucky enough to be placed against you in the ring? No I didn't think so. You thrive on fluke wins and taking on people much better than you because then you have an excuse, a reason to complain about how you're not being treated fairly while the real reason you're being held back from your true potential is you. Nobody's telling you to have subpar matches, nobody's telling you to have all this confidence going into a match only to choke at the final hurdle. Your biggest match to date was an Iron Man match against Connolly where you managed to take him to the limit and survived his onslaught, barely losing with a second to go. I hope you bring that same determination at 1NE because you're against two athletes who are just as good as Connolly was so you have double the chance of losing by an even bigger margin.
And now you Alex. When we met I didn't know what to make of you but we quickly got along, forming what many see as the best lineup of Chaos A.D. and tearing up wrestling companies all over the world. We're still called the most dominant and the best tag team in history and the reason for that was simple. We were best friends. We were like brothers. We shared the same goals and enjoyed ourselves destroying the competition but you had to destroy that didn't you? We'd planned on taking Chaos A.D. to the top of NLCW, every member holding a championship like in the old days in other companies we worked in. You just couldn't let that happen though, waiting until I was successful defending my World title in the Wargames match against Rebellion, giving us another major win against yet another group that set out to try and break us but it was you and Souless who did the dirty work, attacking me and Faith for no damn good reason. What was the excuse, I was holding you back? I was taking the spotlight? Declaring myself as the leader and the main focus of the group? You knew then just like you've always known that every damn one of us had equal opportunities, were equals. The only reason I was seen as the focus and the leader was because I was the World Heavyweight champion you idiot. If you'd stuck with the group you know we would've acted out our plan to have a title match so I could take you on, see which of us was better and make Chaos A.D. and ourselves especially the main priority for NLCW's boardroom staff.
Yet no, you couldn't do that could you? A simple plan we'd worked on for months out the window because you got jealous of the fact that you failed to win the PPV title, then failed to win the TV title so you turned your back and acted like it was my fault. How pathetic. That's like you though lately, shifting blame and trying to make yourself look good. The fact is, you're a great wrestler, I've known that from the start but the fact you seem to think that you're somehow bigger than me, bigger than Souless, bigger than our group is a joke. We're all equally as good as each other. Look what happened though, Souless retires and hasn't got that fondness he deserves that we have. I achieve more than anybody in NLCW yet I'm ignored and forgotten while you......you always get the spotlight, always get the accolades. Sound familiar Alex, Violent A, whatever you choose to call yourself these days? That's the excuse you gave, me holding you back and collecting the glory which you and I both know is bullshit and yet here you are doing just that yourself since you ditched Chaos A.D. for your own selfish gains. We could've ruled NLCW together as a tag team, as friends, as blood brothers, conquering any obstacle in our path. Instead you choose to forget what made you, what made us all in the first place and your passion for this business faded away.
I don't want any excuses from you in our match Alex. I want you to bring the best you have, bring that passion for this business that I spotted in you on that day just over 6 years ago, bring that new mask you wear. The funny thing is that when you removed the makeup and competed as yourself, sure you won World titles but you just wasn't the same as when you have face paint or a mask covering you. Now you have one back on your head, you can be that little bit more dangerous, that little bit more psychotic. I wanna see the look in your eyes when you try and choke the life out of me or Fuel to come out on top. I wanna hear that gasp of air escaping your lungs as you bring yourself back to that hatchet carrying psycho clown that dominated with me over the years and that helped us get a time limit draw against one of wrestling's other great teams, Talent Inc just last April. Bring your A-game in more ways than one Alex, because I sure as hell won't let up until the bell rings and I'm declared the winner, every fibre in my body drained and exhausted but worth every single damn second. You and Fuel better be goddamn ready because I sure am.
Dazz gives a cocky smirk, not caring whether he wins by one fall or by a hundred, he just wants to win and looks around, staring at the middle of the ring specifically. That would be the spot where later tonight, the referee assigned to the match will raise his hand in victory, where he'll stand soaking in the adulation and support of the fans as he takes a look around Wembley Stadium at the many thousands of supporters and fans here tonight purely to see him.
Their Messiah.
Their Iron Man.
Their winner.
End of Roleplay
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