RP #10- "It's Your Empire"

[Promo - The Undeniable Words #10, 4/25/08]

And here we stand, ladies and gentlemen.

We are now two days away from Dishonorable Discharge- and my first defence of my PDW Bloodshed Championship. Not an awful lot has been said since the last Undeniable Words and now, but unfortunately I cannot wait any longer. I have a tight schedule to run on, and to be honest, the rest of my days are going to be lost in a haze of training and preparation. So I'm not going to waste time on pointless stuff- it's time to get straight the hell back into it.

Nicholas Jaxx! You were up last last time, now you get the dubious pleasure of being first this time. I haven't yet seen a response to my words, but I think it's pretty safe to say that whatever reaction you have in place will be venomous- probably immensely so. Unfortunately, as I said, I don't really have the time to deal with it all- but fortunately, your... unique personality is such that I still have a lot to say about you.

One of the interesting things I wanted to come to was the matter of nicknames. First of all, Jaxx, do your research- the 'Undeniable' line is a catchphrase, not a saying. My God! For someone who claims to be all about doing your research, you can't even tell the difference? I mean, let's face it, we all know you're pretty stupid anyway, but even a child could tell the difference. So claiming I'm 'not undeniable' or whatever is a pretty stupid move, since I never claimed to be. What I say, though? What I say right before making that phrase? That is, and there hasn't been one goddamned person in this federation to disprove that theory. You can call it luck or whatever you want, but the fact remains it's pretty damn true. As for your nicknames? They may be true, Jaxx... but they're kinda... well, bland.

"New King of Hardcore?" Lame. Heard it a million times in a million different varieties. They're usually used by your standard brain-dead nimrod whose idea of 'hardcore' is to come around swinging a stick or a chair or something around and leave out the actual 'take all kinds of hell thrown at you' part of it. All talk, no action. Sounds... well, you do run your mouth a bit. 'The Mid-Card Filler'? I don't get it! Are you trying to tell us all that you like running the mid-card? That's what it sounds like. Congratulations, you pride yourself on the area that just about everyone else in this federation wants to get out of as fast as humanly possible. If you're not trying to tell us you like running the mid-card... well, heh, you've got a pretty freakin' stupid way of saying it. 'The Playboy Bunny Thriller'? Hah. Congrats. You have successfully become the fifty millionth person on this planet to use yet another boring, tired old Playboy analogy. Usually, it's the chicks that do it, though. Something you wanna tell us, Nicola?

And then there's... heh... the most interesting one of all. The Ego Killer. Bit hypocritical, don't you think? If you were truly some kind of person hunting down egos and killing them, you'd have committed suicide long before you ever found this place. Oh, wait, nobody's allowed to have one other than you, right? That's it? Why's that, Jaxx? Afraid that someone might actually prove their ego to be solid gold, while yours is nothing but hot air? At any rate, you can officially retire that role for this match, because one person's going to be sticking a knife into someone's ego and ripping it wide open, and it's not going to be you that does it.

I'm not going to even go into 'Sinner', as I've literally lost count of the amount of people waving that flag around like they're the first one to invent it.

Anyway, there's something I kind of wanted to come back. The Order of Chaos. The way you touted and parroted it for all it was worth got me thinking. And hell, you even pretty much blatantly said that you had some kind of plan up your sleeve to counter whatever it was I was coming up with. First of all, Jaxx- there is no devious plan on my end. I haven't got all that many allies backstage, and the ones I do won't be coming with me. Other than that, there's not an awful lot else I can do, is there? I mean, I could break a nunchuck over your skull, but that's not really underhanded, as that's legal anyway. I won't be bringing an army, I won't have a surprise run-in, I won't have anyone to save me. I will be all on my own, Jaxx. You can bring whoever you want, but I will still be standing there alone.

But somehow, I get the impression that you didn't think your cunning plan through completely anyway.

Last Disclosure, we all got the message loud and clear behind you and the Order of Chaos. We all understood its message completely when you had Ebdon get the drop on Odd. But here's a question I have for you. If you really are putting together some devious scheme to get you through all this, then why in the hell did you even bother unveiling the OOC before this title match? I mean, honestly, what did you achieve? You jumped Odd? Congratulations, you want a medal for that? The fact of the matter is, now we know you exist, and now we have every reason to suspect that you'll get involved during this matchup.

Do I need to spell this out for you, Jaxx? We! Know! You're! Coming! Now! You honestly don't think I haven't anticipated Ebdon making some grand run-in for you? You don't think I haven't anticipated one of your chicks will get involved? You don't think I haven't even suspected you might do a bit of recruiting and unleash your newest member in this match? The hilarious thing is, if you hadn't done your grand unveiling last week, I might actually have been surprised if you'd unveiled the OOC at the PPV. But now, that one chance you might have had of getting the drop on me and taking me by surprise has just been blown to the winds. Congratulations, Jaxx. What you thought was some kind of grandiose step towards victory has actually seriously hampered your chances of seizing an advantage. My God. I would have thought it was virtually impossible to screw an advantage like that up, but once again, your boundless idiocy has proven us all completely and utterly wrong. Damn. That's all I've got to say there.

But you know something, Jaxx? I'm going to candidly admit something here. You may be an idiot, blind, mentally retarded, arrogant, living in a dream world, out of touch with reality, be blessed with an IQ lower than your girlfriend's bra size, and various such epithets, but I'm candidly going to admit something here- out of the three opponents I face, I actually do think you just might give me the closest fight I've had for this title. Hell, you might even out-do the bloodbath that I had to put myself through to get the title in the first place. That much, I will concede. While you have all the personal charm of a skunk with syphilis, you can fight. Your attitude and what I've seen in the past both illustrate that.

And perhaps that's what's going to make my triumph against you just that good, Jaxx. Let's face it, if the on-air efforts of our opponents are any indicator, it's likely to come down to you and me. And I actually do think it's going to be close. I think most PDW professionals and the locker room think the same way. And I sincerely hope that goes to your head, Jaxx. I actually want you to come so very, very close to victory that you assume you have it. I want you to actually go into victory mode early, to assume that being as close as you are, you just about have your victory in the bag. I want to see the exultation, the triumph, the foregone conclusion showing clearly in your eyes... right before I reach out and snatch it away from you.

Does that make me a bad person? Wanting nothing more than to deliberately crush you at the point where you almost had victory? Probably, but to be honest, Jaxx, I've been waiting for someone like you to show up for some time now. Some loud-mouth, up-himself nimrod who wanted to try to sink his teeth into me. Up until you, nobody had shown up. Maybe it's because this fed has a surprisingly low number of idiots, or maybe it's because people are smarter than to start with me, but nobody's tried it until you. Unfortunately, the first person that does it must be made an example of. You, Nicholas Jaxx, will serve as that example. Anyone who wants to follow your example and get in my face will observe your fate at Dishonorable Discharge, and will think twice before wanting to get that completely and utterly crushed.

Heh. I'd like to say it's nothing personal... but to be frank with you, Jaxx, everything about it is personal.

[MAIN STORY]

DATE/TIME: 11:05 PM, Thursday April 24, 2008
LOCATION: Brighton Beach, Brooklyn, New York City

There was something... disturbingly mesmerising about staring at the lit-up streets of Brooklyn in the dead of night. As Steve sat in the back of a van cruising through the district of Brighton Beach in the dead of night, his eyes had inevitably been caught by the near-infinite number of bright lights of all kinds of colors blurring past him as he gazed out the van's window. Steve himself was dressed for a casual occasion, a short blue button-up shirt, jeans and skate shoes being his choice of attire tonight, and was taking this moment to simply relax, settling himself in the zone. After days and days of straight training, it was good to finally be able to clear his mind for a little while... before inevitably getting back into it for the lead-up to his match.

"Hey. You awake?" The voice of one Kaitlyn Hawking snapped Steve back to reality, causing him to turn his gaze from the window back to the main area of the van. While Dougy was driving the van itself, Steve, Stretch and Kate had piled into the back on top of bench seats on either side of the van, and Kate happened to be on the bench seat next to him. She'd obviously taken the whole 'party' side of the event they were on their way to seriously, and had decked herself out with stunning makeup, her brown hair hanging loose and caught back slightly with a headband, her slender body decked out in a silky short aquamarine dress that clung to her figure, enhancing her form. No doubt there'd be more than a few eyes on her this evening.

"Yep, I'm alert. Just in my own head for a little bit." Steve replied casually.

"Trying to get into the zone for the match, aren't you?" she guessed accurately.

"Yeah. This is gonna be a big one, possibly the biggest yet. I really can't afford any slip-ups, so I'm keeping my mind on this one for as much as I possibly can."

"It means a lot to you, doesn't it?"

"Yeah. I really need to come out the victor here. It's my first major defence, and it could make or break my reputation as the Bloodshed Champ. I really want to come out successful- if I don't, I'm just a flash-in-the-pan transition champ. And if I lose to Nicholas Jaxx, it's gonna take me a week of straight bathing to get the reek of failure off me."

"I noticed you really don't like him too much..." she chuckled softly at that before her dark eyes softened and closed onto his gaze, "Just take it easy, alright? If you get too wound up, that's going to help nobody. This party should be good for that, I think you really need to loosen up after locking yourself up for days and focusing solely on the match. I know it's what you came to New York for, but still."

"You're right. It'll probably help the process to have a break. How close are we now, anyway?"

"We're just pulling into the place now, I think." Sure enough, the lurch of motion reverberated throughout the truck as finally, Steve made out a somewhat wide parking lot in front of a compound- a distinctly wider area than most of the narrow streets Dougy had been sliding the van through. Sure enough, deceleration hit the van, and Steve had to steady himself to avoid what would have been a rather embarrassing tumble into Kate's lap.

As the van drew to a halt, Steve wasted little time hauling the side door open and practically slinging himself out of the van, touching down almost catlike on his feet. Kate's disembarking was just a little more graceful- with a dress, it almost had to be- while Stretch just had to be cautious to avoid smacking his head on the roof. Dougy had parked them pretty close to the compound entrance- no more than about twenty feet of walking distance, allowing Steve to rather quickly leg his way up to the main gate.

The compound, as the name suggested, was an enclosure that, while still out in the open and surrounded by the night air, was nevertheless separated from outsiders by large, thick brick walls that seemed to stretch out to form a large octagon. A few bright flames could be seen behind the gates, and the thump of some kind of Eastern European music could be heard coming from within. Obviously, whatever party was going on in there was in full swing. Keeping Steve and his friends out from the compound itself was a thick iron gate operated by some kind of button-switch, which was at this time guarded by a short yet powerful man in a beanie and long black coat over a white shirt and black pants. As the guard saw Steve and his friends approach, he nodded and spoke up in a booming voice- and not in English.

"Добрый вечер!"

"I knew this was going to happen..." Dougy was, naturally, the first to comment.

"Uh... hey." Steve replied, pausing to observe the confused man's expression, "We're the guys that Sergei invited?"

"Oh! Sergei's friends! Come in, come in!" The man sprung to life at the mention of Sergei's name, slipping into accented English and reaching out immediately to shake Steve's hand, "Sergei mentioned that he would be inviting some friends to join our little celebration. My name is Kirill. Sergei and I go way back."

"The name's SJ," Steve replied, "The tall guy's Stretch, the short, skinny, bizarrely-dressed alcoholic there is Dougy, and the young lady's Kate. Like you pretty much said, Sergei invited us to this little celebration or whatever it is you've got going on. Has he shown up yet?"

"He has. He's just inside the compound." As if to emphasize that point, Kirill reached out to push the button next to the gate, causing it to gradually slide aside with a quiet rumble, "I'll take you over to go see him." With that said, Kirill stepped through the gate itself and led them through.

It looked like there was quite a party going in there. There was a round firepit set up at the very center of the compound- no doubt where the colossal licks of flame were coming from, as Steve could feel its warmth even from the edge of the gate. The air was alive with conversation- but not in English. Whether it was Russian or a mixture of other Eastern European languages, Steve couldn't tell, but he suddenly felt very much in the minority as an English speaker. The compound itself was mostly wide-open space, although there were a few rustic-looking buildings on the far end. The boom of music- now identified as Eastern European rap of some kind- still flooded through the area, while crowds were assembled on makeshift dance floors spread throughout the compound. Other groups of people, ranging from their twenties to their thirties, assembled in groups, drinking, talking, laughing to name a few things.

"So, what brings you and your friends to New York?" Kirill asked in a pleasant, conversational style as the group passed a small number of gossiping young women- or at least Steve had to assume they were gossiping as he couldn't understand a word that was actually being said.

"Well, these three are along for the ride..." Steve motioned to Stretch, Dougy and Kate, "As for myself, I'm here on business. You might have heard about Platinum Dynasty Wrestling visiting New York?"

"Ah yes, the wrestling place! There's been a bit of news about it among the community. Some of my own friends plan to attend the show when it airs. Myself..." Kirill shrugged, "I don't really keep up with the wrestling world very much. You are a fighter?"

"I am," Steve answered, "That's more or less why I'm here. The show's on this Sunday, and I came to New York a few days ahead of the show to get settled in early and to commit myself to my training as soon as possible."

"And for the record, we are not all just along for the ride..." Kate added her own piece in, "Some of us have to get work in this country, Steve. New York's a good place for me to start looking."

"Alright, alright, fair call. I've been cooped up in a dojo for the last couple of days, so I can't keep track of what you're all doing. How's that panning out, anyway?"

"Not too bad..." she shrugged, "The world's pretty much my oyster at the moment. I came out of college with a media degree, and that means I can do a whole bunch of things. I wouldn't mind working with a few of the fashion places- maybe do some media work with them and hopefully have my eyes open towards taking on a design role- but it's wide-open, really."

"Designer, eh? Have to admit, I could see you pulling that. I could also see you pulling a model role, judging by the eyes you're getting right about now..." Steve inclined his head towards a small group of twenty-something males who were making attempts to subtly ogle the young woman- and failing rather miserably.

"Oh! I... um... I hadn't noticed them..." Kate laughed quietly, slightly embarrassed at Steve's revelation.

"Don't know how you couldn't, they're about as subtle as a shotgun to the face..." Steve smirked, "Don't judge 'em too harshly. They're guys, and you're a rather pretty girl. They probably can't even help it."

"Well, let's find out..." A broadly-beaming, mischievous-looking Dougy suddenly bellowed out to the group, "Oi, comrades! Hot, ain't she?"

The result was rather predictable- the group of men suddenly coughed and looked down at their shoes in a rather embarrassed fashion. No doubt they did understand what Dougy had just more or less broadcast to the world.

"Dougy!" Of course, the men weren't the only ones embarrassed.

"What? I only brought what they were actually feeling to the surface!" Dougy smirked, "Besides, SJ'll back me up on this, won't he?"

"Er..." That question caught Steve aback just a bit, and he wasn't quite sure how to answer it.

"Hey, SJ, isn't that Sergei?" Stretch seemed to know just the right time to intervene and break what could have become a rather... taxing conversation, motioning over towards another group of men rather close to the firepit they were rapidly approaching. Sure enough, it was Sergei- he'd had a haircut in the last few days, sporting much shorter hair, but the same rough facial features were there, and he'd actually dressed up surprisingly well, wearing a black long-sleeved dress shirt, slacks and dress shoes.

"That it is. Hey, Sergei!" Steve raised his voice.

"Ah, about time you guys showed up..." Sergei turned away from the group he was conversing with, quickly crossing over towards the group, "I see you met our local door guard already. I'm glad you could make it. I know you all have major commitments- let me guess, training..." He motioned to Steve, "Networking and seeking employment opportunities..." He then gestured to Kate, "And last but by no means least, drinking yourself into a coma..." That last point was rather obviously directed at Dougy.

"You got it in one." Steve chuckled, "Interesting party you seem to have going on here."

"Yes, we have these little cultural celebrations from time to time. They always seem to capture the fascination of outsiders. Although you're the only non-American outsiders we've had for quite a while." He motioned to a somewhat long, rectangular wooden table off to the side slightly, which was currently unused, "Do you want to sit down?"

Steve nodded in affirmation, allowing Sergei to lead the way over towards the table. Sergei sat down at the far end, leaving Dougy to sit at the opposite end. Steve and Kate took the seats to the right of Dougy, while Stretch took up the left seat.

"I suppose I'd better start with the bad news..." Sergei leaned forward at the table, steepling his hands together, "Diablo's finally figured me out. I tried to keep him from working out exactly what was going on for as long as I could, but there's only so long you can hide your defection before your former employer works out what's going on. Diablo Industries have blackballed me from their computer networks, and I can't get into the offices here in New York."

"In New York? I thought Diablo was Philadelphia-based..." Steve blinked.

"He is primarily, but he's got his hands in a few other pies on the East Coast. You don't have to worry about the West though... your friends over in the Richards Conglomerate keep him well out of business over there."

"Oh, bloody brilliant, so I've only got to worry about the whole East Coast trying to force me out of business instead of the entire country. Lovely. I'm so overjoyed to hear that..." Dougy remarked with what could best be described as an overdose of sarcasm.

"Chillax, Dougy. You're supposed to be a happy-go-lucky friendly buffoon, remember? You're gonna give yourself a heart attack with all this worrying..." the ever-calm Stretch shrugged, leaning back on his chair.

"Back on the topic..." Steve intervened politely, "So you're basically locked out of Diablo's business now? Has anybody actually... I dunno, told you that you were officially booted out?"

"No, but that's to be expected. Diablo tends to cut all ties with those who he wants to get rid of. In his world, they just stop existing once he's finished with them. My phone calls basically get hung up on as soon as I identify myself. That means that he knows that I've defaulted on something, and I would bet that he already knows that I'm working with you. That means if he wants to make a move against you, he knows that he'll have to deal with me, too."

"Crap. That ain't good..." Stretch's brow crinkled with concern, "What's our plan, anyway? We know Diablo's lurking and we know he wants to get The Shack off Dougy. How are we going to give him the message to back off?"

"To put it quite simply, if Diablo steps up into full force..." Sergei spread his hands, "...you will need more security, Dougy. You do not have enough to protect The Shack at this time."

"We're doing fine for security..." Dougy disagreed, shaking his head, "We've got SJ, don't we? He's pretty much agreed to take care of any trouble at The Shack while he's there..."

"Problem is, Dougy, I'm only one man..." Steve intervened, "...and as much as I hate to say it, I can't be at The Shack 24/7. I've got no problem keeping an eye on the place when I'm actually there, but the unfortunate problem is that I'm not a full-time worker there. Hell, I'm not even part-time. My main priority has to be PDW, and that extends beyond wrestling once a week. I'm under obligations to be at peak condition, I'm under obligations to train, to make media statements, to show up to the Spectrum from time to time outside of shows. To rely solely on me to take care of your security would be a mistake, cause Diablo knows I have a life outside of the place. I think what Sergei's saying is worth taking on board. You need more manpower, dude."

"Fortunately for you, I have a way of offering it..." Sergei continued, rubbing at his chin thoughtfully, "You've spent some time in the compound, and you have seen some of my friends. I think it's safe to say you know some of them are either without employment, or they have to work in rather pathetic conditions. Either way, they're looking for work. I can personally vouch that any of my friends would be reliable, hard-working and trustworthy. I can go so far as to claim personal responsibility for anybody I sought to work as security for you, Dougy. As Steve said, he can't protect your place forever... and who else do you have? The cute barista? The technician?"

"How do I know this isn't just some stunt to get your mates jobs, though?"

"As I said, I will take personal responsibility. If they slack off, I'll pay you their wages myself. I can't even afford that, so you have to know I wouldn't make that vow lightly." Sergei's voice certainly sounded honest enough.

"Steve? What do you think I should do?" Dougy's eyes now fell on Steve- followed by the gazes of Stretch, Kate and even Sergei himself.

"It's your empire, Dougy." Steve shrugged, "Therefore it's your call. I can't give you any orders or instructions on this one. What I will say is that Sergei's right- I can't provide adequate security for The Shack. What Sergei's offering you seems to be that- and he's even put his hand up to keep these guys in line. Sounds like you'd be getting a Chief of Security in addition to a security team. Question is, do you trust him?"

"Do you?"

"Doesn't matter if I do or not. It's not my empire."

That point having finally been made clear to Dougy, he took in a deep breath, rubbing his temples as if to seriously debate the idea within his own mind. All the while, the others simply watched, awaiting with baited breath. After what almost seemed like an eternity, Dougy let his breath out and set his hands down on the table.

"Alright, then. You want it, you got it, Sergei. I'll give your friends a run at protecting The Shack, since it seems like we'll need something to keep Diablo off our arses. But I'm doing it on one condition, mate- I'm doing it under the condition that you are in charge of them. You said you'd take responsibility for them- well, I'm putting that to the test. I want you to co-ordinate these guys, motivate them, and make damn sure they do their jobs. Since you wanted 'em in, you're the one that's gonna keep 'em in line. In other words, I'm putting you in charge of security. You up for that?"

"Well..." Sergei managed a shrug, "You're right, I did say I'd take responsibility for them. If you're willing to trust me in the security role, then I have absolutely no problem working at The Shack and keeping Diablo's goons off it. That sounds fine then, Dougy. Hire them, and I'll keep them in line. Sound good?"

That was a question that only Dougy could answer, of course. Thus it was that Steve slumped back in his seat, awaiting his friend's reaction. When Dougy gave it, it was accompanied by a bright, beaming smile, and a booming, friendly voice.

"Bloody good. You're hired, mate. You're hired."

[CONTINUED: Promo - The Undeniable Words #25, 4/25/08]

So now that I've pretty much effectively driven a spike through Nicholas Jaxx's obnoxious, six-inches-thick skull, I imagine that this would be the time for me to address my other two opponents. To be honest, there's only one real thing that's going through my head right now, so I'll just get it out in the open:

Hellooooooooooooooooo?

Tank? Odd? Are you there? Earth to Tank and Odd? Is something wrong with the two of you right now? Have you contracted an unusual disease that means every TV and every piece of recording equipment you take the slightest step towards immediately explodes? Have you been abducted by aliens and taken to Mars, put in the deepest hole they can find and had your eyes bound and your ears sealed shut with Superglue? You two... er... you two do know that Dishonorable Discharge is a bare matter of days away now- virtually so close that there's virtually no window for preparation if you haven't so much as tried to get ready for this match by now?

From what I've seen, you two have pretty much vanished without so much as a blip on official or unofficial PDW business for the last week. Which is funny, since I seem to remember distinctly instructing everyone involved with this match to be at their absolute one hundred percent best if they want to stand the slightest chance. Was I too intimidating for you guys? Is that it? Did mean old SJ say a few confrontation words and now all of a sudden you're curled up in your little bunnyholes desperately hoping this whole 'Bloodshed Championship match' dealy will just blow over?

Now, I imagine this'll open the door for someone to go 'BUT SJ WE'VE BEEN BUSY TRAINING!' Well, guess what, so have I. Nicola Jaxx might even have for all I know. Fact of the matter is, you have a god-damn obligation to prepare for this match to the best of your ability in every single facet, and making some kind of presence known is one of them. You two have cut promos against far lesser opponents than I, haven't you? So why in the hell am I not seeing anything? Either you haven't prepared yourselves fully, or worse, you aren't even trying. In either case, I will not go easy- on the contrary, I am likely to view such as an insult and will not hesitate to strike you down to prove a point. Yeah, I'm normally a decent guy unless someone screws with me, but such obvious slackness or lack of caring for your match is a slap in my face.

I'll give you boys one last warning, in the very vain hope of spurring you to capitalize on what tiny trickle of time you have left. You're not 'busy' unless you are doing something for this match. You do not have better things to be doing than addressing myself and Jaxx. Hell, as much as Jaxx annoys the crap out of me, at least the man's giving this his all. You have a very short amount of time left, gentlemen, so I suggest you get your heads out of your digestive tracts and say something, dammit! If not, I take no responsibility for any injuries, setbacks or humiliations that you may suffer from being ill-prepared. You have been duly warned- a multitude of times. No excuses when you're in this division. Shape yourselves up, or I will break you down. End of discussion.

I want to conclude with something that came to me while I was out with some friends last night. One of my friends is something of a budding entrepreneur, and he tends to run questions by me- even the important ones. He asked one really important one of me last night, and the only question I gave him was- 'it's not my empire'. And that got me thinking. Precisely what is my empire? There are a few people out there who are known for building empires, monopolies, major ventures. Bill Gates, Donald Trump, Rupert Murdoch to name a few. Hell, one could argue that Star's starting to do the same for herself. The question came to me- do I have one? And if so, what is it? Then it came to me.

The Bloodshed Championship division, at this time, is my empire. And come hell or high water, no matter what any of you throw at me, no matter how hard you bring it, I intend on making the three of you realise that to the very core of your souls. By the end of the night, if I have it my way, I'll hear out of you in one way, shape or form that's the case. Maybe it'll come out of your mouths, although I highly doubt that. Maybe it'll be showing in your eyes, your face, maybe in the way you hold yourself. Or maybe, just maybe, it'll be shown in precisely what I have to do to you guys to get the job done. One way or the other, I intend on making it pretty damn evident for all to see by the end of the night. The same message will be said to me by opponent, referee and fan alike:

'It's your empire, SJ. It's your empire'.

And that... IS UNDENIABLE!