act six: the death of superman
I have had one hundred and twenty-four matches in my career.
That's a big number, right? One hundred and twenty-four... and though some of them only lasted a few minutes, and others were against opponents put before me as a joke, the fact remains that the majority of those matches were a big thing for me. The majority fo those matches either meant something to my career, or they were simply ones that pitted me against an amazing opponent.
In the NLCW, I have had sixty-eight matches total. Fifty-three wins, eight losses, and seven draws. Sixty-eight matches... just over half my career total, you know? Some were held in foreign countries, representing the company to the best of my ability. Others were held on home soil, defending titles or defeating enemies... no matter the reason, all sixty-eight matches meant something to me when they happened, too.
Now, here's the important part to this little history lesson, everyone... of the one hundred and twenty-four matches in my career, I have stepped into a ring with Chris Champion a grand total of ten times.
Of those ten times, I only fought alongside of him twice, meaning that in my entire career, I have fought against Chris Champion eight times. Eight matches, be them one on one or in our own teams or what have you... and of those eight matches?
I have won three times, fought Champion to a draw twice, and lost three times.
In many ways, this Sunday is a proverbial tie-breaker between Chris and I, the match that will finally push one of us over the other in the "official" statistics between to the two of us. However, if you look at the details of the matches... it's easy to see that, for the most part, Champion really has always been a step ahead of me ever since our days in the HWF.
See, of those matches... he and I have only ever gone one-on-one four times. Of those four... I have only ever beaten Champion once, and had to give it my all to just fight him to a draw in one of the final three. The rest? Well... the spoils from those wars went straight to Champion, if it wasn't already obvious.
So really, if nothing else, this Sunday is just my chance to even the score. Funny how that works... did you know, every single one of those one-on-one matches between he and I were actually title matches? When we clash against each other, we don't play around... the fact of the matter is that there always has to be something tangible on the line... it's the only reason we've ever really had to face each other at our best.
Any other reason just wouldn't be sufficient... there always had to be a measure of glory waiting for us at the end of that long tunnel.
Yet this time... this fifth match between he and I, it... it's different, you know? The glory at the end of it really isn't there for me any more, I've found a better reason to fight Chris than just holding onto this title of mine. And yes, to his credit, Chris has found that too... he really is trying to fight for the better of the NLCW... even if he's being a complete fucking dumbass about it.
Still... Champion did say it himself, he always has felt naked without this title of mine around his waist, and I can promise you... that's one of the many things fueling his desire going into this thing. Champion lives for a lot of things, but the one thing that gets his blood really going is the power that comes with being the king of the proverbial mountain, and knowing how few people there really are to threaten to stop him in his reign.
I guess, in many ways... that's why I'm going to win this Sunday, actually.
Champion is focused on so much now, he's putting his body and his mind through more strain than it could handle because of the poison in his veins, and while I'm honestly tired of touching on this subject, there is at least one key fact to be drawn from it all: Champion isn't fighting at his best.
And when Chris and I fight... we always fight at our best.
Oh, sure, the spirit is still there... the will for victory hasn't changed a bit for Chris, it's still as tangible as it has ever been; however... spirit will only get you so far. In Champion's case, at least, it's only going to get him down the ramp to our match, because by the time he enters the ring? Well... I'm sorry, Chris, but this won't even be a contest.
Like a dying Superman still fighting against an enemy who knows his every weakness... Chris is proud, and for that he deserves credit... but his pride won't win him the battle in the end.
In the end, my one opportunity to put Chris where he belongs isn't somuch a miniscule target I have to aim for as it is this huge fucking button reading "PUSH ME" across the face, and it's a button I intend to push when Sunday rolls around. Not for the sake of shutting Chris down, and definitely not for the sake of evening the score between the two of us... because to be honest, if this were any other match between he and I, a loss really wouldn't matter. No... I'm going to push that button because I want to see Chris come back again one day.
I want to fight him at his best again... not at some poor excuse for the man who once was capable of pushing me to my greatest limits.
So yes, it's true... Chris Champion is dying... and this Sunday, if I have anything to do with it, the ring will be his final resting place. The Golden Boy of the NLCW, this so-called hero Chris turned himself into... the, let's face it, poor man's Pericolo, as it were? It's going to be dead and buried, and I will see to it that The Educator is the one who rises from the grave.
I want my rival back, Chris... I want the guy who could actually kick my ass from pillar to post, not the one who likes to relive his glory days and try to take on an old friend who, let's face it, has simply out-grown him.
I mean, to put it to terms that might grasp you better, Chris... it's like Vegeta from the Saiyan Saga trying to take on a SSJ3 Goku. It's not even a match, it's just... it's pathetic.
And now those of us who know what the hell I just said feel a whole lot worse than they did going into this thing. My apologies, I... I never really watched that show, I just... Chris talks about it a lot, you know? He's kind-of a nerd.
...
We still catching the marathon at seven, Champ? I... I bought the wigs...
...
Yeah, so, anyway, this Sunday. I mean, what else can I say that I haven't already said, exactly? Champion's going out there for his big bad "I wanna be the very best" showdown against me and, let's face it, he's grossly mistaken if he thinks he can pull this thing off. I'm in my prime, and sure, if I was still being emo about this whole "Oh my God you're DYING" thing then yeah, he could probably beat me.
But I'm not. I'm not, because I actually realize now that there's more than enough ways for me to ensure that Champion gets the help he knows he needs, regardless of whether he wants it or not. His family wants him healthy, his son needs him... and his friends are damn certain they'd rather not see him go off and fade away. I mean yeah, it'll be tricky... Champ's always been a stubborn bastard, but then again...
... so have I.
Best of luck out there, old friend... because, yeah, if you really want to win this thing? You're going to need it.