Steve Jason - Undeniable

[RP IN]

Story Music: "Wan Chai Theme" from Deus Ex

Location: Wan Chai, Hong Kong SAR, People's Republic of China
Date/Time: Friday 10 September, 2010

There were only a handful of cities around the globe that could be considered 'major world cities', and Hong Kong could be considered one. Its early status as a British colony, and the investment of major companies and figures along with its technology production had made the city a booming economic powerhouse populated not just by Chinese, but by people from all walks of life. Major Western corporations had stakes here, Europeans lived here - in fact the importance of the city was such that even the Communist Chinese government had allowed the city a certain extent of democratic autonomy. As a city it was enormous - dwarfing San Francisco and Perth, and giving New York a run for its money.

The bizarre fusion of Chinese culture, general Asian culture and Western influences led to a cosmopolitan feel, something Steve could see with every step he took through the Wan Chai district. Enormous, brightly-lit skyscrapers practically blotted out the sky around him while hawkers offered their wares, food stalls provided everything from traditional Chinese meals to McDonalds, and Buddhist temples and statues stood alongside hi-fi stores and computer outlets. That alone was enough to cause Steve, Talia and Marcus to feel lost in an enormous sea, but the swarms of people around them just added to it. There was no open space in Wan Chai - just a neverending ocean of people that the three somehow managed to navigate.

Steve was still aching from Thursday Anarchy. All things considered, he had to concede that it was only a matter of time before he was on the wrong end of a beatdown. Ace Vincent was arrogant enough, desperate enough and dishonourable enough to try to soften him up - or drive him out completely - before Rage In The Cage came around. If it wasn't him, it'd be somebody else - and at least Steve had weathered it. He was hurting like hell, but in the end, he'd survived worse.

Some would probably argue Steve shouldn't have been out and about after what went down on Thursday Anarchy. After all, a baseball bat to the stomach among other things wasn't the kind of thing you just ignored. Fortunately, medics detected no serious internal damage other than the usual bruising, and that meant Steve could move about - if a little painfully for the first few hours. Steve was not the kind to be cooped up 'convalescing' if he could possibly avoid it, and after all, this was Hong Kong. Steve hadn't been here since he was in his early twenties, and he'd be damned if he missed a chance to experience the megacity in all its glory again.

And perhaps it was some sense of pride, too. After what Ace pulled, Steve was damned if he was going to be seen in some bed somewhere trying to 'take it easy'. He would not be seen in deference to that douchebag - that was certain in his head. Perhaps it wasn't the wisest of decisions, but it mattered to him. Of course, he had more than just being seen moving around town planned for his defiance, but that was later. As it was, it was time to get out and about and see Hong Kong at its best.

"I'm feeling a tad claustrophobic in here..." Marcus Enderton said as he moved with the group through the enormous crowds, "How can one city be so goddamn huge? I've never seen anything like this before."

"You're in the most populated country in the world," Steve replied, swerving to the side to avoid a rickshaw food cart that had come out of nowhere before swerving back to the side of his friends, "...and pretty much the economic capital of Asia. It's a far cry from the farmstead you grew up in."

"Hah, true enough. But I've got to ask- are you really sure you want to be up and moving around, bru? You got smacked around pretty hard, you probably ought to go back to the hotel and shoot yourself full of painkillers for as long as you can."

"I'm OK. I tend to be able to shut out the pain after a little while..." Steve paused, then laughed quietly, a dull ache echoing through his ribs as he did, "Besides, it just wouldn't have been a Steve Jason return without some jackass trying to mob me before the match. That was about the last thing missing."

"Nevertheless... goddamn, I'm kind of glad I didn't make it long in the industry if that's what I'd be subjected to every other month. If I'm gonna have people trying to kill me, I'd like to have it be in conditions where I can shoot 'em if need be."

"Eh." Steve shrugged, "It comes with the territory. If you've got prestige - any kind of prestige - you've got to watch your back. Sometimes you just can't prevent a beating, and in that case, all you can do is defy them and keep on fighting until you can't fight any more."

Steve just had to laugh at that, "Oh, you have absolutely no idea. Defiance doesn't even begin to describe it. I've got a meeting with Steve Sayors later in the evening, and without going into too much detail, it's going to practically redefine the term 'defiance'."

"Oh, no." Talia sighed in resignation, "I know that tone and use of words. You're about to do something insane, aren't you?"

"That could be one way of describing it, yeah. Honestly, don't worry. Yes, I'm going to be provoking the beast, but trust me, I know how to handle these kinds of situations. Ace really, really should have just kept his trap shut - at least then I'd run out of things to mock him over. Well, maybe not, but it's so much easier when he practically giftwraps them."

"I knew it." Talia sighed again. Marcus just chuckled however, shaking his head.

"I'm almost kind of curious what you're going to pull out of your hat now. I'd actually come along, but I've made some... arrangements for the evening."

"Gambling's illegal in Hong Kong, dude." Steve anticipated Marcus' business immediately. Marcus simply smirked and shook his head.

"Not if you go through the Hong Kong Jockey Club, it's not! I already got this figured out. Sure, I won't be able to shoot dice or roulette like I usually do, but there's some horse races down at Happy Valley Racecourse, and I'm going to make a bomb! I'll catch you guys at the airport tomorrow, yeah?"

"Don't go broke," Steve warned him, "You lose your airfare, you're swimming to Beijing."

"Trust me, I can't lose. Hell, everybody's airfare is on me!" With that said, Marcus melted into the crowd in search of local public transport, disappearing from sight within seconds. Steve turned to Talia.

"I don't know if there is anywhere quieter..." Talia said dubiously, "But I guess we can try to find somewhere."

Unbelievably, they actually managed to find peace and quiet after some time searching - in the form of an isolated Chinese-style red pagoda, in the middle of some soft lawns not too far away from the waterfront. As Steve and Talia both walked together onto the lawns, they talked quietly.

"So, you ready for this?" Talia asked, "Big comeback, a lot on the line. I doubt they're going to make it easy for you."

"As ready as I'm gonna be, I think." Steve replied confidently, heading over towards the pagoda and finding himself a seat there, "Physically, Ace thought he got the upper hand... but I think I've got the mental one, and I know I'll have it by the end of this meeting with Sayors tonight. I think this might be it, Talia. The one we've been waiting for for half a decade. Reign four."

"Let's hope so." she said, sitting down beside him, "As it is, I think you've finally shaken what the critics have to say about you. If you didn't have what you used to have... I don't think you could have made it this far or trained this hard. I think one way or the other, you're going to have put that claim to bed for good."

"Damn straight - but I intend to come out with that, and with the gold. But if this is the case... if regardless of what happens at Rage In The Cage I stay in the XWF, and if we're gonna both be part of the crew together again... then there's some stuff I think we really need to sort out."

"Like?" Talia's brow raised. Trust her not to catch on and make it easier on the two of them. Steve drew in a heavy breath, looked around the pagoda to ensure they were alone, then spoke.

"We've known each other and worked together for a very long time now - seven years. We've been through a lot - you being my agent, my first Universal run, the whole fiasco with Rigg, working for your old man, the rise and fall of Club Paramount, my stint in the Setsujoku-Kai, you getting together with Dougy, XWF's Last Stand, me training Dan Malcolm - and you helping him with his problems - then him trying to extort you, your marriage falling apart, and now this, the ultimate return, redemption and reunion with the XWF. The point I'm getting at is we've been through a heap together. Out of everybody I've met in my life, you've probably been the most influential - and that includes Dougy. Fourth of July, 2003 - that was the day you entered my life, and it's a date I always treasure."

"That's sweet of you to say..." Talia looked down slightly, her cheeks pinkening, "I feel much the same way."

"There is somewhere I'm going with this, however. You know as well as I do that our friendship's been through ups and downs, and all kinds of events have happened in both of our lives that have altered the courses of our destinies. There was the issue with Rigg - that almost destroyed us. Then you got involved with Dougy. Then I wrecked your old man's company. And so forth. There've been many times in the past seven years that I've wanted to say what I'm about to say, but fate's always conspired against us in some way, shape or form to keep it from happening. Until now. Now, tonight, the time's right."

Steve turned to look Talia full in the face, ice-blue eyes inches from her dark eyes, "I love you, Talia Richards. I always have. I've kept it under wraps most of the time because of events and making things worse, but the truth is that you are the light of my life. I've been an idiot to let you go for as long as I have, and I'm not going to make the same mistake again. I love you."

For the first time since he'd ever seen her, Talia was speechless. Usually she always had some kind of response or comeback, and always had something feisty in her, but this time she actually seemed struck dumb. Perhaps it was the fact she'd finally heard those words, maybe it was confusion at hearing them, Steve didn't know. Her face reddened a bit more, but she held his gaze.

"I... I love you too, Steve." she confessed, "I always did - but like you said, things always came up to prevent either of us from doing anything about it. But yes, I love you too, and I want to be with you. Let's face it - we're soulmates."

"Heh... yeah, true. No matter what happens, one of us always ends up finding the other..." Steve laughed quietly. His eyes met hers again, but nothing was said between them - just utter silence as they drifted closer together, Steve's eyes closing. He felt her arm around the back of his neck, his arm moved around her waist, then finally the two joined lips in a deep, passionate kiss that sent electricity running through Steve's veins. In truth, he still didn't completely believe this was happening - yet the increasing intensity as the two leaned into each other continually reminded him it was.

At long last, after seven years of 'will they or won't they', Steve Jason and Talia Richards had unified.

It was still night, Steve could tell that much. The window of the high-rise hotel room had been left uncovered, and the ink-black night sky was visible - albeit offset by the billion different colors and lights from the vast cityscape of Hong Kong. Outside of that, however, he had no way of telling precisely what the time was - the mid-early hours of the morning, if he had to guess. He shifted in his blankets slightly, trying to get comfortable again.

"Are you still awake?" Talia's voice echoed in the darkness, and Steve could feel the heat from her naked body press up against the front of his torso. Her lips sought out his in the dark, pressing into a kiss as she shifted into his arms.

"Just woke up for a second." Steve answered, resting his hands on the small of her back, "Probably ought to try to get back to it, we've got a long flight tomorrow. Or did you want to talk?"

"There's a few things I'd like to do right now..." she said mischievously, "But yeah, there were a few things I wanted to talk about. Look, Sunday night... I know you're looking at some bad odds out there. I get the feeling that girl of Drake's is going to try to get involved, and you really don't have any friendly backup out there. I'm thinking... would you like me to go out there with you Sunday? If nothing else, to make you feel a bit less alone out there."

"I'm not sure that's such a good idea." Steve replied with hesitation, "I know you're just trying to help, but to be honest, if Ace calls in aid..."

"Hey, I know the risks - probably better than anyone. Seven years will do that, y'know? I'll be able to handle myself if things get messy - I can get pretty feisty."

"I noticed that." Steve deadpanned. Talia just giggled at that, while Steve tossed the idea around in his head, "I don't know if I can make that call right away, Tal. It's a pretty big move to make. If it means a lot to you, I'll definitely give it some thought. Can you do that? Maybe give me a day or two to think about it?"

"If that's what you have to do, then that's what you have to do. In the end if you say no, I'll understand. But I'd like to go out there."

"I'll let you know." Steve looked out the window slightly, studying the sky, "Damn. Still dark. Probably need some more sleep, but talking's kind of woken me up."

"Excess energy?" Talia raised an eyebrow, "You know, I can probably help you with that." As that was said, she shifted her position on the bed, the blankets moving back just enough to give Steve a momentary glance at her slender body before she slithered on top of him, her lips joining with his...

SJ's Theme: "Heaven's Devils" - Derek Duke / Glenn Stafford / Neal Acree / Russell Brower

Good evening, ladies and gentlemen! Do not adjust your television machine! Everything is hunky-dory! If you are looking for the latest 'Undeniable Words' promo video, you have come to the right place! My name is Khalid Al-Basrani, billionaire, international man of leisure and party animal, and I am here to present the start of the second Undeniable Words this week! Today the Undeniable Words will be a very rare, one-off episode featuring hilarious and exciting action like you have never seen it before! Live from Victoria Harbour in Hong Kong, with special facilitator Steve 'Ace Of Base's #1 Fan' Sayors, I present to you, an evening with Steve Jason and Ace Vincent, exchanging words in a battle of wits! Enjoy!

After Khalid's introduction went over the airwaves, the camera opened up to reveal a somewhat luxurious room, with a wine-red carpet, dim lighting, a number of comfortable chairs set up around a central table, and a suspended plasma TV. Set in the background was a solid glass window showing the waters of Victoria Harbour, and the cityscape of Hong Kong's main island in the background. Steve Jason sat in one chair, his hands steepled, while XWF Interviewer Steve Sayors sat in the other.

"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for joining us for an XWF exclusive. I have been asked by Steve Jason today to join him here in Victoria Harbour, Hong Kong for what he says will be a 'meeting of minds' between himself and Ace Vincent. Now Steve, I have to ask, after what Ace did to you on Thursday Anarchy... do you really think that's wise?"

"Well, Sayors, I have to admit it sounds like a pretty stupid idea, given Ace is known for having a bunch of doucherods with him to do his dirty work..." Steve answered, "But it convinced me that maybe I'd been taking the wrong tack with Ace. I thought that perhaps I would be the bigger man and take the first step to invite him to meet with me - featuring yourself as mediator - so we can discuss certain things both of us have been saying and doing in the leadup to this match."

"It surprises me that he agreed to this, but I've been informed that he has in fact just arrived. Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Ace Vincent."

The man who entered the room appeared appeared... ghoulish, at first look. A perpetual smug smirk seemed plastered onto his face as he moved with a grossly exaggerated swagger - some kind of failed attempt at a gangsta lean. His hair was cut short but with strange designs etched in - obviously something done under the influence of alcohol or serious narcotics. He was clad in a very tight pink polo shirt, with the collar popped up around his neck ridiculously, his biceps exposed by the polo for public viewing. A number of bizarre Chinese tattoos were scrawled onto his skin. By far the most distinguishing look about him, however, was his skin. It appeared as if he had been dipped into a vat of Cheetos, caking his skin with an almost flourescent orange color that was hideous to behold. This was, well and truly, a fool without compare. As he approached, he started waving one arm around while grabbing his crotch with the other, bellowing in a hyper-aggressive tone.

"Yo yo yo yo! Truth Until Death, man! Philly for life! Eagles rock! WOOOOO! I'm from Broad Street, bitch! I know Will Smith! YEEEEEAH!"

"Steve... come on, you don't honestly expect me to believe this is actually Ace Vincent, do you?" Sayors cocked an eyebrow at the scene, apparently trying to stifle his laughter at the same time.

"Sure it is, Sayors!" Steve assured him, "I mean, look at him - won't stop rambling on about some defunct stable nobody cares about, won't stop rambling on about some defunct city nobody cares about... that's Ace Vincent to a tee, don't you think?"

"I'm supposed to be impartial, Steve. You really shouldn't have tricked me into this."

"Remember the amount of times you busted into my house to get interviews and I didn't call the cops, Sayors? Consider this calling in a favor." Steve's eyes tracked over towards 'Ace' now, giving him a look of barely-hidden contempt, "Ace, thank you for making it here tonight. Take a seat."

"Hang on a second, my woman's in the can. BREE! Get out here, will you? TRUTH UNTIL DEATH!"

Sure enough, waddling into the room was... an utter mess of a woman. Her face was a caked mess of horribly-applied makeup, her hair was greasy and tangled, and there appeared to be inflated balloons inserted under her ratty black tied-above-the-navel t-shirt. Daisy dukes covered her posterior, with about half of her G-string clearly visible for the world to see. As she arrived, she squealed at 'Ace' and hopped up, clapping her hands.

"YEAH! ALL HAIL DONOVAN MCNABB! I was really scared there for a second!" 'Ace' agreed.

"Not to worry," Steve assured the couple, "I'm pretty sure people missing chromosomes are actually sterile, which means you can frolic without any fear of accidentally pissing in the gene pool."

"I can't believe you're making me a party to this..." Sayors muttered, putting a hand to his face.

"Anyway," Steve began, "let's get down to business, shall we? Ace, I've invited you and your lovely lady to join me here for a bit of a debate. You see, I've seen your recent use of the 'quote-crusher' - overused and stale as it may be - and it's inspired me a little bit. I've wondered, how do I top a concept like that? And then it came to me - why not invite Ace himself to state his points again, and have me rebut them in person, rather than regurgitating select points of a promo on one of my own? Sayors is here as a facilitator."

"I do not endorse this production, I do not endorse what Steve Jason is about to do, please don't hurt me, I was tricked..." Sayors said to the camera.

"So what do you think, Ace?" Steve said over to the impersonation of his foe, "Fancy taking this on?"

"HELL YEAH! I'm all man! CHEESE STEAKS RULE! YEOOOOW!" 'Ace' bellowed, pounding his fists against his chest that, along with his skin coloring, made him look like some kind of orang-utan.

"Alright then. Ace, as we no doubt know, you've recently raised a few counterpoints towards me in recent days. I was wondering - rather than have me repeat them myself, why don't we have you state them in your own... unique way? Anything you want, start from there."

'Ace' responded by puffing out his chest, then taking several seconds to think about what to say.

"Man, you are such a joke! You are such a phoney 'good guy'. 'Gallantry is back'? Ha, what a joke."

You said 'gallantry is back' man. Remember when that was your catchphrase? Man, I laughed my ass off at that one! Australians aren't gallant! What were you smoking when you came up with that one?"

"...did you ever say that, Steve?" Sayors seemed puzzled. Steve, on the other hand, simply gave 'Ace' the same look he would give a simpleton.

"What in the blue hell are you talking about, Ace? 'Gallantry is back'? That's an advertising slogan for a beer company in Tasmania! If I used it I'd probably get sued! Here, I'll even prove my point by showing you the commercial on this conveniently-placed plasma TV." With a snap of Steve's fingers, the TV began to flicker to life:

"At no point in my career have I ever used 'Gallantry is back' as a catchphrase, and do you know why? Because it's not. If you take a look around the planet today and see the measure of horrible things that people do to each other, you'll have to concede that it's not exactly in its best shape. So I honestly have no goddamn idea about these instances where you 'collapsed to the ground laughing your ass off' when I said that, because there's not one single goddamn moment in recorded history where I said that! I tell you what, Ace! Name one incident where I said that phrase, and I won't even show up to Rage In The Cage and give you the title by default. One incident! Name it!"

'Ace' simply sat there, a stunned look of idiocy on his face, his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth. Five seconds passed. Then ten. Then fifteen. Utter silence filled the room. Then finally, he spoke.

"...duuuh, if there's a beer in Australia that uses 'gallantry is back' as a slogan then obviously you said it because everybody in Australia is Steve Jason."

Steve gaped at him incredulously. Even Sayors gaped at him incredulously. The silence was only broken by 'Bree' perking up.

"I'm sure you would. Ace, your logic - like just about everything else about you - is retarded. The reason you can't find any moment is because there never was one, you imbecile. Congratulations, you made an accusation and sparring point that made absolutely no sense whatsoever. You have literally made up shit to have a go at me about - that's how desperate you are. You have now just exposed yourself as a complete and utter retard on live television. I'm sure all of your relatives are changing their names as we speak so as not to be connected with the fountain of idiocy that is you. NEXT!"

"Well, I... um... I... crap, I made half my line of argument based around you saying that phrase... oh god... Bree, I need a distraction!"

At that precise second, 'Bree' tore off her daisy dukes and then moved to try to remove the G-string, only stopped by Sayors' hysterical shouting.

"NO! NO! For the love of God, no! We'll get taken off the air! You can't do this, Steve!"

"Relax, do you honestly think I'm going to show that on national television? I'm not a moron, Sayors..." That gave 'Ace' the time he needed to overcome his fit of panic, finally levelling back into a more calm and coherent state of mind as he spat back the next line.

"Well... um... uh... man, you don't swear, man! You just use words like 'nimrod' and slang like that because you're afraid to talk shit! Cause that shit's controversial, like me! ALPHA, BABY!"

"Hmm... allow me to retort..." Steve set a hand on his chin, then looked 'Ace' directly in the eyes and spoke in a calm, casual deadpan, "Arse, Crap, Damn, Hell, Piss, Shit, Dick, Pussy, Fuck, Bree Benz's syphiloid cunt."

"We're gonna have to bleep a lot of that..." Steve could hear Sayors mumble. 'Ace', however, was spluttering and coughing on his own words, scrabbling for some kind of response to that. It was as if his eyes were bulging out of his head.

"In case you haven't noticed, I'm more than capable of cussing. I just don't need to. I don't need to throw the word 'fuck' around every second sentence so that the crowds are hissing and going 'oooh, he said the eff word, he's bad!' Now you might be in the frame of mind where your fragile brain uses profanities to cover for the fact that you really don't have anything of intelligence to say. But I don't feel that I have to drop the f-bomb every other second to try to stand out. Because every goddamn person has been doing it since the dawn of this industry. You wanna be a brainless clone, go right ahead. As for 'nimrod' - I happen to like the word. If you don't like it because it makes your brain hurt, not my problem."

"Y'know, all things considered, I don't think I honestly use any words bigger than what the average viewer can grasp. Everybody else seems to understand what I'm saying. It's not like I'm going around talking about discombobulation or aerodynamics of Newton's Law of the correlation of man-flesh and Bree Benz's legs opening. Now, if you are so retarded as to not understand what I'm saying, then that's your failing. Not mine. It's not my business to pander to evolution's failures such as yourself. NEXT!"

'Ace' was clearly sweating in his seat now - to the point where little bits of the orange gunk on his skin were beginning to drop off. He squirmed for a moment, then bellowed something out.

"Man, you're dedicating your life to winning this title! You've dedicated your life to your career, like every person in this federation except apparently me, because I'm all about the money and bitches! You know how sad that is? I bet you never got laid, man."

"Now here's an interesting one..." Steve chuckled slightly, turning towards 'Ace', "You are aware, of course, that you are in the middle of a wrestling federation? You are aware that most people here are of the same mindset as I am - that winning the title and mastering their craft is their dream? That this federation is not just a ticket to get into showbiz and make money? In fact, that attitude is... very frowned upon in the locker room. If there's one thing people hate more than spotlight-stealers, it's phoneys who are using them and making a mockery of their industry. I'd be very careful going back into that locker room, Ace, because with the admission you made, a lot of the people who have bled themselves dry for the industry are going to want to hack you apart with rusty razors for spitting in the face of the profession - the lifestyle."

"Man, you think I care?" 'Ace' retaliated, "I'll take all those bitches on! All of 'em! I talk shit about them without any real context anyway! TRUTH UNTIL DEATH!"

"Furthermore, your admission to only being in this for the cash is admission to weakness in the ring. Let's face it, Ace... if you don't view the Universal title as the peak prize of your life, you aren't going to be competing for it as hard. You aren't going to be wanting it as bad as I do. Working 'smart' is fine, but when you run up against somebody who's smarter - and who can derail your dirty little tricks, you're going to have to fall back on raw drive and talent, and from your display so far, you will fail. If Bree, the Greenman, whoever, are unable to tip the balance, you have already lost. As for coming back to the XWF for the female attention..."

"Here's a tip for you, Ace. Australians do not have to work very hard to make American girls go weak at the knees. It's the accent for some reason. I've had marriage proposals based on the sound of my voice. If I wanted women hanging off me, I wouldn't have to break my body in two. I'd just go out around Los Angeles and talk. That's honestly how easy it is. I don't even have to do what you do and go out into the red light district or pick up some hopeless past-the-hill old lady desperate to connect. As for you commenting on how long it's been since I got laid by somebody... well, dude, you thought me and Kitten got it on once. That shows how much you know about anything even remotely related to my personal life. Besides, I'm pretty sure you don't have that piece of arm-candy over there by merit of your winning personality. I guess maybe I've just got a bit too much pride to lower myself to paying for it."

"Aww... I wanna ride the Sting Diesel." 'Bree' actually sounded disappointed. Steve just smirked.

"Sorry, sweetheart. I know you'll be shopping for a replacement sugardaddy when your loser of a man craters - and flops out of the XWF a couple of weeks later, if his mentor is anything to go by - but I'm actually kinda spoken for."

At the mention of Ace's 'mentor', another figure entered the room - very slowly, apparently stopping several times to admire random things that caught his attention. Granted, it wasn't a perfect replica of Drake Komodo - not precisely, anyway, but then again, realism was never the aim of this game. At the sight of this Drake impersonator, 'Ace' hopped up to his feet and ran over towards him.

"ACE! Truth Until Death, brother! Epsilon Epsilon Epsilon for life! Bro-hug!" Flake and 'Ace' both ran for each other, arms outstretched, then appeared to leap towards each other to try to bounce their torsos off each other. It failed, however, as heads collided and both men crashed into a groaning heap on the ground. Steve could only shake his head as both of them worked their way to their feet.

"Man, how can you talk crap about my mentor being a flake after I tried to use the point against you?" 'Ace' demanded, putting an arm around Flake Komodo, "I mean, every time you had a failed start it was inexcusable, it was clearly a sign you were old and feeble and couldn't go any more and had no business being here... but how can you say that about Flake? Sure, he may have only appeared for weeks at a time before vanishing for no real reason... over and over and over and over again... but you don't understand, man! He has problems! You don't know what he's been through!"

"And yet, if I gave reasons for my disappearances, you would completely ignore them whatsoever. But when it's your buddy and mentor... oh, no, he left because life got so hard and all the pretty things distracted him and I think I'm going to cwy..." Steve deliberately added a mock-snivelling tone at the end of his voice, only enraging 'Ace' and 'Flake' further.

"What the hell do you think you're saying?!? I had damn good reasons for leaving! I flaked out, and apparently I trained my student under the premise of being a flake who made little to no actual memory in the XWF annals, and probably have the record of being the most insignificant Universal Champion of all time... but I had problems, man! Real life problems! And let me tell you something, I... ooh, shiny!" Just like that, Flake wandered away, apparently distracted by something. There was a long pause, then Sayors spoke.

"I didn't think so." Steve grinned impishly at the camera, "Alright, Ace, rather than allowing you to continue to make a jackass of yourself on that front, why don't we move on to another point. NEXT!"

'Ace' sat there for several moments, scratching his head. It was evident that whatever few points remained in his head were not precisely coming to his mind easily. He ummed and ahhhed for several seconds, then finally, a bright grin struck his face as if inspiration had reached him. All he needed was the comical lightbulb flicking on above his head.

"Yeah, well... at least I'm not descended from rapists and murderers and convicts! Yeah! You're from a penal colony and you take pride in it! HA! What do you have to say to that original and completely not overdone point!"

"Oh god, not this again..." Steve sighed, rolling his eyes skyward, "Always with the 'hurr durr you're Australian' crap. You honestly have no idea how many people in Australia are made up of post-colonial migrants, do you? I'll give you a hint - it's a lot larger than the population that have descent from convicts - some who were bad people, and others who were convicted of the heinous crime of stealing bread, which you could be killed for back then. My family didn't come in on the First Fleet. My family came later, after Australian federation. And I don't quite get where you're pulling this whole 'pride' thing from anyway? I don't run around waving the Australian flag everywhere I go. I don't jam my nationality down people's throats. I barely even consider Perth home any more - I go there to see family and that's about it. I'm a United States Citizen, buddy - just like you."

"Yeah, well... um... umumumum... you people killed the Aborigines! The Stolen Generation! You can't claim to be a good person when your government kidnapped families from the indigenous population! That makes you evil!" 'Ace' boomed triumphantly.

"Now here's one that I've been wanting to address for some time now..." Steve grinned slightly and turned to regard Ace, "This is the point where I get all angry and defensive and patriotic and go on about how dare you slander my country, right? Not gonna work that way. I have to give you some credit, you've actually been a bit more creative than most who pull the 'fucking Aussie' card, but you clearly have no idea who you're dealing with. Yes, the Stolen Generation happened. Children were taken from their homes. It was wrong - no, it was fucked up."

"I acknowledged this a long time ago - and in fact, I was of the opinion that we needed to apologize to the indigenous people for a hundred years of mistreatment. Most people play the 'I didn't do anything wrong' card - but I went against the grain - yes, that's right, Australians are actually not hive minds who all think the same thing - and pushed for an official apology - which my country delivered in 2008. And I support all efforts to help Indigenous Australians with the problems they face in adapting to modern Australia. I'd like to think my own work in the ring could help inspire some of them. I could have easily said 'this ended before I was born, my hands are clean' - but I didn't. So don't you dare associate my morality with the actions of the Stolen Generation. I never supported it. For you to assume that is for me to assume by your actions that all Americans are retards who don't think before their speak - both logical fallacies."

"I... I... no! Stop using big words! You killed the Aborigines! I'm not listening to the evidence! You were born in 1977, and clearly invented some kind of time machine to tacitly support what your government did!" 'Ace's lip was quivering violently at this, as if he were on the verge of crying. Steve, however, just kept going.

"But fine. If we're going to play that game... then that can just as easily be turned around on you. You wave your Irish-American or whatever heritage around, right? Well, first and foremost, if you take a shot at me for being born in a land where indigenous people were made to suffer, then I point you only in the direction of your own Native Americans. You remember them? Injuns? You want to talk to me about the Stolen Generation? Your own damn country isn't exactly bloodless, you know. Do you have any idea how many people - and I'm aware I could turn the crowd against me here - died because of the recklessness and disregard of your founders? Ninety percent of the indigenous population of Massachusetts died because of smallpox. Chicken pox wiped out huge swathes of the Native American population. Hell, you want to put blood on my hands for genocide, check out what your nation did to the indigenous population in California. I've even got a graph." With another snap of his fingers, a graph appeared on the TV screen:

"B-b-b-b-bbut the Aboriginals!" was all 'Ace' could say. Steve continued, relentless, boring in.

"What happened to others? Kicked off their land and stuck in reservations, sometimes rife with disease. Millions of people had to suffer for you to live where you live today. I don't see you raising a hornet's nest about that. Course you don't - when it's you doing the oppression, it's 'never wrong', is it? You can't honestly use the Stolen Generation to attack me without implicating yourself in what happened to the Native Americans. Want another one for you? Here's one - at least my country was never a slave-holding society. Up until... oddly enough, the same time the Stolen Generation came to an end - you treated people with the wrong color skin like crap. Even after they were taken from their homes and made slaves for work you couldn't be arsed doing yourself, and Lincoln finally did the right thing and stomped that shit out for good, for a long time African-Americans couldn't even drink from the same fountains, attend the same schools, sit on the same bus seats. They were burned by lunatics. They were murdered by braindead hicks. Do you want to take responsibility for that, Ace? If you're going to pin the Stolen Generation on me based on where I was born and raised, you must."

"So if you even think of blaming me for the Stolen Generation again, you just think about how much has been sacrificed so you can live the life that you do. Because by your logic, you are the product of a country as genocidal, selfish and prejudiced as mine. And by your logic, that makes you part of the problem. I happen to think that logic is retarded - I happen to think we're learning from our past mistakes, as both of our countries' political leaders - an African-American and a woman - show - but if we're going to play it that way, then you, Ace Vincent, are a murdering, racist bastard who's right up there with Stalin. Swallow that."

'Ace' just blinked at the devastating impact of Steve's rebuttal, apparently shocked into insensibility as he struggled to grasp at the full extent of Steve's words. Eventually, something snapped and he suddenly leaped out of his chair, sobbing and whimpering as he scurried away towards the door, tail between his legs. 'Bree' followed shortly after.

"Wait! Don't cry, Ace! It's OK! I'll give you a blow-J in the parking lot! Huh? Will that make you feel better?"

Sayors just gaped, shaking his head at the entire debacle he had just bore witness to. Steve, however, wasn't quite finished. He shifted in his chair and turned to regard the camera, steepling his hands as he addressed the audience.

Alright. That's enough of that. I think we all get the general gist of what I was hoping to achieve. Ace, this is how the world sees you. And this is how the world sees your lines of argument. You have already made so many catastrophic blunders going into this match that I don't honestly think you're gonna be able to compensate in time. I mean, really, if you think I've got a catchphrase that I never actually said and base half your argument off it, and if you think that I apparently was an item with Kitten... it shows that you don't know me a single bit. You are clueless, hopeless. You are already clutching at straws. I'm just waiting for you to pull the 'duuuh, you live in San Francisco so you must be gay!' card. Most of your arguments smack of the concocted-out-of-nowhere BS you pull out of your arse because you know you're gonna lose.

In case you haven't noticed, I'm still standing. My birthday? Probably not the nicest one I've ever had, but what are you gonna do about that. Thing is, Ace, while you may have knocked me around and gained what you think is the 'upper hand', you made one fatal mistake - you left me still breathing. You left me still physically able to compete. That will be your undoing, I think. But to me, it screams of a last-ditch attempt to avoid the inevitable. Let's face it, Ace, if you were really that good, you wouldn't have had to try to take me out of commission. What you did smacks of all the hallmarks of somebody who realises precisely what he's gotten himself into and is trying to get himself out as fast as he possibly can. What you did reeks of fear - fear that's well justified.

To be frank - I think what Jason Mudd said put a bit more of a fright into you than you'd like to admit. I mean, really, your attempts to handwave what he said and its relevance were poorly thought out. He is the only one who can speak from experience because he is the only one who has fought me. The sour-grapers in the back who are hanging their hopes on you haven't fought me. You haven't fought me. You defeated Jayzon Williamz. In case you haven't noticed, Jayzon Williamz and Steve Jason are not one in the same. We are quite unalike. And even then, let's face it, you needed half an army to stop him and he still almost came out the victor. You got out by the skin of your teeth. What if I'm tougher, Ace? What if this time, 'working smarter' isn't enough?

As for thirty-three being old in wrestling terms - first of all, Ace, how would you know? You basically said you're only here for the money and bitches. You don't know anything about this industry and you were trained by a professional flake so your opinion on this is a bit skewed to say the least. Secondly - and this is related to the point - do your damned research. There are federations out there where people have literally been wrestling from nineteen to fifty and still done alright. Hell, I even heard some rumors about some federation somewhere where two men over forty made everybody on the roster under forty look like amateurs - on two consecutive yearly PPVs. Fact - unless you've got access to my medical records, which you do not, you have no idea if there's anything hampering my performance. You can only guess and grab at straws. Rather than consider the possibility your arguments have no merit and plan accordingly, you've just made the easy choice of assuming. It will be this critical error that will allow me to defeat you.

And then of course, there's the old 'you sucked Jon's dick' gambit again. I can safely say that this is the card pulled when absolutely nothing else will work. Ace, one of the benefits of so-called old age is that I've seen a lot. One of the most trite, poorly-thought out, badly-founded and overused accusation of them all is that somebody's got their position because they fellated the owner. Honestly. It's nothing more than sourgrapes from somebody who's just a teensy bit jealous that somebody's doing better than they are. I imagine Bliz and Drake filled your head with that crap, because they're jealous as all hell. I mean, you claim that Jonathyn Brown and I were friends. Actually, the jury's kind of out on that. I've opposed him as many times as I've helped him. I've defended the federation when he's at the helm - and I've removed him from power. Everything that I've done, I do for the federation. That's where my loyalties lie - not to Jonathyn, not to James Raven, and certainly not to Aidan Collins - they lie with this federation and what it's founded upon.

Ultimately, Ace, I have to say that your efforts to demoralize me, big-note yourself and put an image of a champion forward have failed miserably. You have failed your research - multiple times. You have gone on tangents based on points that do not exist. You have slung mud at me for things that could just as easily be applied to you. You have used trite, played-out, lame-duck arguments that are last-ditch efforts when you know you're going to lose. I think deep down, a part of you already knows it, but you're simply too pigheaded to realise it. You insist on wrapping yourself up in a bubble, a dreamworld. Problem is that bubbles can be burst and dreams can easily become nightmares if things don't go your way.

You've failed, Ace Vincent. You've already lost this battle and you just don't know it. Your dreamworld is about to end, and my fourth reign - my redemption - is about to begin.