Friday, November 6th, 2009
10:22am Mountain Standard Time
Las Vegas, Nevada, USA

A deep yawn rolls from my lungs, staring almost unconsciously at the teller behind the large oak counter. Separated by plexiglass I can barely make out most of her physical features, and the voicebox further impedes seeing beyond it. There is a rustling of papers, a few deep sighs and even a hard slam of a stapler that gives me the hint things are going well. "Sir, you have to produce your license and the key to the safety deposit box." she quips, slamming the metal drawer open under the glass- which gives just an inch of space to place anything inside. With the thumb and index finger of my right hand I secure a loose grip on my wallet and pull it from the back right pocket of my blue Diesel jeans. I quickly flip it open and slide my California-state issued drivers license from one of the leather flaps holding it inside. When it is free I place both the leather wallet and my identification on the counter, and dig both of my hands deep into the tight front pockets of my pants- unable to remember which one I dropped the key into. It only takes a bit of fumbling around before my right thumb rubs over the rough edge of the key, and swoops it up into my palm when I clench my fist. Producing the key from my pocket I again take hold of my license and drop both it and the key into the drawer in unison. Not a second passes before the drawer is slammed shut again, and I lose sight of the ongoing process to get inside of my locked box. I keep staring into the plexiglass cubicle, but now I am not even sure if anyone is there anymore. I cup both of my hands around my eyes and press them against the plexiglass, hoping if I cut out the source of bright flourescent light that I'll be able to see anything.

I become startled when I hear "Sir?" chirped from the far end of the counter. I compose myself the best I can as I pull away from the plexiglass, and stare at presumably the woman who was handling my account just seconds ago. "Please follow me." she adds before turning back around and heading to a large oak door guarded by a large and heavily armed private security guard. I scurry behind, trying to keep up as she stops in front of the door and turns while waiting for me. When I reach her she pulls out a white card and swipes it through a slot designated next to the door. It flashes green and she then turns to the door, and turns the handle- popping the door open, with a rush of hot air hitting us both in the face. She steps inside and I follow, as we find ourselves in a huge room full of filing cabinets all labelled in some fashion or another- and a four by four desk in the middle of the room, covered in felt upon its top. Tall library ladders lean up against the shevles of locked cabinets, anchored to the floor under their wheels. The door is slammed shut behind us, with the swinging flourescent lights blinding my line of vision for the moment. All I am able to see is the woman look down at one of the stapled pack of papers, and head off towards one of the ladders.

Standing taken back by the mass amounts of cabinets in the room, and even feeling a bit claustrophobic, I watch her ascend rung by rung- only to stop at about seven feet off the ground, and the second row of locked cabinets. With her right hand she places the paper in front of her on the shelf, and eyes up the corresponding box to make sure everything is order. In her left hand she holds the key I handed to her earlier, which she sticks into the lock. She clicks it open, and pulls the door open to reach inside of the large metal cabinet. She removes a large locked box and keeps it held under her right arm while pulling the key from the lock on the cabinet. Very carefully she climbs back down the ladder and when she gets back to the marble floor, she places the box onto the felt lined table.

She hands the cold key over, placing it in the palm of my right hand as the security guard enters. They lock eyes and she walks off to the door, brushing past me and leaving me to my belongings. Upon her exit she slams the door up against it's frame, which locks electronically. The guard looms over my shoulder behind me, making sure I can feel his presence. I make sure to avoid acknowledging him vocally or visually by keeping my mouth shut and my eyes fixated on the box. Tilting my hand downward to the table, the key slides along my palm where I am able to grasp it with my index and thumb digits. The key slides into the lock with ease, and pops open with a quick turn to the right- slightly opening the top panel of the box. I unclench my left fist and with my sweaty hand secure a hold of the corner of the box before lifting it up. A metal connector is positioned along the joint, locking the top in an acute angle which keeps it from moving any further up or down until I unhinge the hook. The green felt laid over the table top absorbs any remaining sweat from my hands as I place them both palm down on opposite sides of the box. Both my eyes focus inside, which is dimly lit by the lighting from above but well enough to illuminate the contents.

"Vicodin ES...seven fifty milligrams." I read to myself from the white label, which is barely still adhesed to the orange pill bottle. The perscription is dated from a year ago, but that is none of my concern right now. Instead I concentrate on keeping my body between the pills and the guard, as this type of contraband could easily get confiscated. Leaving the pill bottle in the box I first pull out a white vile of a drug test cleanser and slip it into the front pocket of my jacket. Next I pull out a set of keys and use them as a diversion to scoop the pills from the box, into my palm, and drop them into the other pocket of my coat. I'm about to turn and inform the guard I am ready to leave, but I glance back at the box once more just to make sure I have everything out of it. I do, and spin around on the balls of my feet- basically coming nose to nose with the security guard. The awkward silence and stare is broken as he hums "You all set?", to which I nod in reply. Keeping his sights on me he extends his right arm away from his body and knocks on the wooden door with the back of his hand. A second passes and the door is opened, swinging open into the room with the woman from before re-entering.

"All done, Mr. Williams?" she softly asks, and again I nod in response. She steps to the side so I can exit the room, and I set my eyes across the floor to the exit nearest to my parked car. As I walk I realize that my keys are in the same pocket as the pills so I can't even get them ready until I exit to the parking lot. I make quick work of traversing the bank, and begin to approach the doors. To my utter dismay I hear the security guard scream "Sir, stop!", as he jogs all the way from the other side of the bank- making up all the distance I had put between us in just mere seconds. I fall flat footed just feet from the door and contemplate making a break for it, but I remain frozen. Ready to face my consequences I turn around as the guard reaches me, and stops to catch his breath. He picks his hand up, holding the key to my locked box and my drivers license between his fingers. "You forgot these." he quips, and without a word of acknowledgment I take hold of both and simply turn back around- exiting through the glass doors.

Well that worked out well, didn't it? Of course I mean my return to the ring. Put aside the fact that we had the return of The Phoenix to in ring action since I removed him from it, along with Angel and Draco going at it once more, I was still basically just the sprinkles on an already loaded sundae. I asked for any match, and I received one. Turns out it was for a match booked by Jake Steel, which doesn't really mean much but losing to Dashery just cut me right to the bone. It wasn't a pin or submission, but stung just as bad as if I had suffered a fall.

The point is I lost an opportunity to make good on the words I spoke at Uprising. Now the next time I open my mouth, it will be taken with a grain of salt. To further prove that, look at my first real comeback match. I don't get a chance to avenge my loss to Dashery, or maybe get a shot at JC. Nope, I'm going right back down to the bottom of the ladder and starting off against Eddie Williams. And you know what, I am okay with that. The only thing I can do to bounce back from my bout of humiliation is to make good on a few promises I made. When I said I'd go through anyone, I meant it and if I have to regain a level of respect in NLW then I will be happy to do so.

Because lets be honest, my run with the NLW Championship was a little rushed. Two matches in a federation and I got hot shotted into a spot where I was the right man, at the right time. It really could have been anybody who was close to my talent level, and without question I was not prepared to be the top guy here. The timing of the federations return couldn't have been worse for me, and I went into the situation knowing that I couldn't possibly defeat all the odds everytime they are stacked against me. That may be what I made my name on in the past, but this is nothing like anything I have ever experienced before. A rush of emotion from all sides, and it really put me in my place. But what do I have to show for it besides disappointment? I'm winless in my last three bouts here in NLW, and combining that with the OWF you can count up to five straight matches where I haven't walked out on top. That is something I will never be used to, and something I can never and will never accept.

I used to make this about my opponents, but it is clear to me now that it never was. If I can walk into a match and execute my plan, there are only a handful of opponents who could possibly throw a wrench into my gears and stop me short. But for a majority, I can dominate them and make them look absolutely foolish. But that isn't what this is going to be about. This is about reclaiming my name, on my terms- not lowering my opposition at the expense of my ascention. I'm not going to sugarcoat a match, or prolong it to show boat- because I need to get myself to the point where I cannot be beat when I perform to my utmost ability. I am the first to admit I am not there, but just because I say it doesn't mean anyone has any validation in underestimating me. Even on their worst day, the crappiest competitor in the world could defeat Hulk Hogan- it's a slim chance, but anything can happen. I have finally understood that even if I do everything right, I can still walk out with my head hung to the floor while my opponent stands in triumph. And that brings me back to my opponent at Uprising.

The reason I have no problem facing Eddie Williams is the same reason I just listed. Anyone can beat anyone on any given night. So you could possibly see Eddie Williams pull off the upset and become the more relevant Williams in NLW, and I have to prepare to defend against that. How can I possibly match up against all these odds being the same guy who has been romped over lately? How can I overcome the seething pain that coarses through my lower back with every step, and hope to walk out on top? I can't, so I have to take a good hard look at myself and find out what I need to do to give myself the best chance to win. First I need to cure my pain, which will be lessened by the perscription I stashed nearly a year ago. The side effects of the pain killer really won't bother my preparation, and will go a long way in getting me back to ring speed. And when I get the rust off, I have to approach winning in a different fashion. Forget the J-Dubz Drivers, or Laid to Waste- I am going to do whatever is necessary to win, and nothing more. If that means I use my signature moves during the course of an encounter, then so be it- but I'm not going to just drop people on their head for the fun of it anymore. I'm not the same person, and my malicious streak has parted ways for a more respectful mindset. Call me narcissistic but I know that from here on out, my future will be dictated by my own actions. My choices will and always have impacted those around me, but I'm only doing this for myself now.

It's nothing personal Eddie, and that goes to you too NLW, it's just me doing whatever I can to get back to the form I once was. Line 'em up, and I'll knock them down. It's time to earn the respect that I seek so desperately, and even though I stumbled last time out- I'm steadfast in my resolve to avoid being tripped up again.