Post by James Gilmore on Jul 27, 2018 18:32:15 GMT
Stardate: 96166.86 (July 26, 2018 + 7:00 AM)
The Morning Star rose from its slumber as waves crashed against the white sands of James Gilmoreâs small private beach.
Gentle southerly breezes created an aura of warmth around the Islander alum as he sat in his chair, looking out towards the open waters of Corpus Christi Bay. It was going to be another sunny and hot South Texas afternoon, the perfect time to head out to the local Schlitterbahn and catch himself some rays. Yet on this Thursday morning, his mind focused upon not getting soaked by the Shoot-the-Chutes ride, but by something much bigger than anything he could ever imagine.
His brother Johnnyâs return.
His girlfriend Yulia being taken prisoner by a violent psychopath.
They all served as reminders to his psyche, that he should never take life itself for granted. After all, none of these things would have happened had it not been for a single, solitary moment that changed the course of his existence forever. James closed his eyes and took a deep breath, listening as the waters continued to churn and winds continued to softly gust around him.
Remembering where he came from.
Remembering the events of October 25th, 2017.
âI wish I was someone else
I'm confused, I'm afraid, I hate the loneliness
And there's nowhere to run to
Nothing makes any sense, but I still try my hardest
Take my hand
Please help me man
'Cause I'm looking for something to believe in
And I don't know where to start
And I don't know where to begin, to beginâ
Nine months ago, on these very sands, James was an entirely different person, an entirely different soul as it were. He was outspoken, he was brash, and he often found himself at the center of trouble. He was a politician, a proud hard-right Republican that ran an incredulous campaign to become Corpus Christiâs mayor. Yet most of all, all he ever wanted in his life back then...was contentness.
He truly felt, at the time, as if he were at peaceâŚ
...yet little did he know, that peace came with a price.
On the surface, things were looking up for James. He thought he had it made, with one Lindsey Grawn as his campaign manager. He once imagined he could simply coast on by, without making any errors in judgment or showing any other flaws. He had aspired to live the life of a politician, enjoying its perks to the fullest without giving a damn about how anyone else might have felt about him.
It was supposed to be the best time of his life, when nothing could possibly harm him in any way. Then, on that crystal-clear October afternoon in 2017...the bullets flew from a killerâs .45, and sand flew in all directions as a fight would break out.
Everything around him had devolved into chaos.
âIf I was stupid or naive
Trying to achieve what they all call contentness
If people weren't such dicks and I never made mistakes
Then I could find forgiveness...â
James had found himself fighting for his own life and that of his bodyguard. It was a situation he had never anticipated, that he would have to let his own animalistic instincts kick into high gear as he rolled around with his friend and the gunman on the beach in an effort to disarm the latter.
Yet a single shot rang out, and everything became quiet and still.
In a heartbeat, in a split-second, that sense of peace and contentness was gone.
When it was all over, James was left kneeling in the sand with blood on his hands, crying over the corpse of a gangbanger that sought to break into his villa and kill him. Even though, in Gilmoreâs mind, he never intended for the resulting scuffle over the would-be assassinâs firearm to end in the manner it did, the damage had already been done on his own backyard. When he found out about Lindsey being the one that hired the gunman in the first place, all the Islander alum could do lament the day of the accident and wish that things had turned out differently.
He was lost. He was confused. He was useless to anyone.
He had hit rock-bottom.
Yet the only way he could go from that awful, awful day...was up.
âI can't be someone else
I don't feel that it's hopeless
I don't feel that I'm useless
I can't throw it all away
I need some courage to find my weakness
And with your love, I know with all my heart I can winâŚâ
The ex-Islander opened his eyes, the winds still blowing through his hair.
He stood up and pointed his gaze towards a shiny red, white, and blue object leaning against his back deck. It hat the phrase âMake America Great Againâ and was, when he stood it upright, taller than he was. He strolled up to the âstrangeâthing and chuckled, bobbing his head up and down as he examined everything from the pointy-tipped bow, down to the fins on the stern.
Nine months ago, the Old Glory-inspired surfboard would have been a political symbol used for campaign rallies.
But now, in the present day? Gilmore grinner from ear to ear as he pulled his prized âBig Kahunaâ off of the deck, marched towards the bubbling and crashing waters of the Bay, and proceeded to do what came naturally.
He stood tall about the water, rocking and rolling as the waves underneath him grew more intense with every second. It was an exhilarating experience to say the least, one that tempered his inner joy and happiness to a degree. Yet just as quickly as the ride began, James caught a gnarly rip-current that sent him flying head over heels before crashing into the warm drink. He popped his head out of the water and took several breaths, noticing his surfboard had landed off to his right.
It was at that moment...when everything dawned on him.
James had to take a long andd painful road to get back into a position where heâd been feeling good about himself. Johnny--his older brother--was back in his life, and even though his girlfriend Yulia was still MIA, the Islander alum began to laugh out loud as he began to reflect upon the one thing that, nearly a year prior, he probably would have never believed to be true.
That there was, indeed, hope.
Within a space of nine months, James had to go through untold pain and hardship just so he could get to the point where he was at now. Yet as he swam awkwardly towards his surfboard, he did so with a newfound sense of purpose. He was no politician...he was simply a man who loved to be outward in nature, a man who was learning to appreciate the moments he have been given.
He had something to believe in.
He had something worth fighting for.
He knew that there was still a little while left before he could finally return to a sense of ârealâ normalcy, but in the here and now...he was finally able to begin living his life for the right reasons. He smiled lovingly before shaking off the water from his body, picking up his surfboard, and catching the waves once more.
The sky was burning brighter than anything he couldâve ever imagined, for James Gilmore was doing more than simply appreciating life.
He was having fun--all over again.
To be continuedâŚ
----
Lineage.
Itâs an awesome name for a pay-per-view, ainât it? I mean, shoot...what better way to show off your skills to the world on one of IWFâs biggest stages! Yet when ya stop to take a deep breath, ya soon begin to realize that the name âLineageâ ainât just a catchy moniker that sells this grand company on the whole. Nah, itâs so much more than that. It reminds us about how far weâve come as a federation, about how much weâve evolved ever since Joe Everyman become IWFâs first champ. Yet even as the company continues to evolve to this very day, one thing remains constant:
The Heir to the Throne.
It has, is, and always will be, a mesmerizinâ showcase of the best menâs talent the IWF has to offer, with the endgame beinâ to launch careers into the stratosphere. This year ainât no exception, and with a competition for the 2018 prize beinâ stacked from top to bottom as it is, this tourney has become a wild and unpredictable jungle--as it SHOULD be! Ya got the familiar names, those whoâve been in this series every year, such as Xavier, âHawk, Laszo, and Matthews. Ya got first-timers like Redcap, Bancroft, or Ethan.
Then...thereâs me and you, Roberto Verona.
Itâs fittinâ, ainât it? On a night when we celebrate IWFâs ongoinâ evolution, I get to step into the ring and take on The Big Boss, The Head Honcho, Donald Trump on steroids and HGH! Umm, the last one might be a stretch over-the-top, but still, when I think about it Iâm gonna be tradinâ blows with a legit Hall of Famer, someone who was the second-longest-reigninâ World champ in our history, not to mention the dude responsible for buildinâ this company from the ground up!
I know it sounds kinda corny or cliche, but this is gonna be the biggest test I will undertake in the two years since I put my name on the dotted line.
Our journey to get here, to this match and this moment, has been the very microcosm of polar opposite in every sense of the word.
Youâve been tagged as the odds-on favorite to win this thing âcuz of your past history. Yet ya got here by beatinâ...hrmm, Todd Williams?! Câmon man...the dude would rather hide under a rock and troll than actually strap on a pair of boots and kick butt! Then ya beat Xavier Cross...okay, he used to be a strong dude back in 2013, but he seems a lâil too rusty these days and is havinâ a hard time rediscoverinâ the mojo he had. Ya then dispatched a former Heir winner in Mike Laszlo, a consistently good major star time in and time out...and Iâll say âbravoâ and just leave it at that.
Youâve been on everyoneâs bucket list for years, walkinâ around the locker room knowinâ ya got a big, fat âXâ on your back just âcuz ya give orders around here not to mention all the in-ring stuff youâve accomplished--a delicate balancinâ act, Iâd say.
One that Iâll give ya props for.
As for me Bertie? For the past five weeks, with few exceptions, Iâve been gridinâ through this tournament without so much as gettinâ a single mention from anyone involved--in spite of the fact that the journey Iâve had to go on...is perhaps the longest, hardest road anyone can ever take.
Yet I took the ball...and ran with it.
Accordinâ to the âexperts,â I wasnât supposed to beat Dean Harper! I wasnât mentally capable of beatinâ Jayson Matthews either! Those two dudes have established themselves as IWF mainstays through a two-year stretch--the current and a former Joker in the Pack, mind you--yet I got âem both in back-to-back weeks and BEAT âem both...all the while, flyinâ under the radar of just about every single competitor in this series.
Even yours.
Hereâs the deal...I like to see the good in everything, and I see not beinâ mentioned as a threat to win Heir to the Throne as, perhaps, the best thing I can ever imagine. In fact, even as my tag partner Malo got pinned and I couldnât make the save thanks to Jaysonâs nice form of prevent defense...it only makes me even hungrier to show people like you that I ainât the same James Gilmore that was outspoken on Twitter, that could never do nothinâ on my own. In theory, that would be easy enough, but in practice...it just ainât that simple nor will I expect it to be that way.
Especially with a war goinâ on, with evil on both sides of the aisle.
Ya know it, I know it...for nearly eight months the Pack and the Age of Gods have done everything in their power to try and tear this very federation apart, and now, with everything at stake, ya wanna step in and play referee as these two warrinâ factions continue to bludgeon each other to shreds and subjugate people along the way! After screwinâ over the likes of Jake Conway and many others over the years, ya wanna play âheroâ all of a sudden?!
CâMON MAN!!!
It ainât that simple to be a hero, right?!
No, itâs not. Beinâ a hero ainât simply about protectinâ a brand name or its image in the corporate world! Itâs about takinâ a deep breath and steppinâ up to the plate for those whoâve been victimized by both sides of this power struggle! Yet here ya are...claiminâ to be proactive in doinâ whatâs needed to protect the foundations of this promotion yet ya would rather not care about nothinâ that ainât ânailed down.â
So lemme get this straight: there are two gangs runninâ roughshod all over YOUR company, but ya would rather see collateral damage left behind?!
Youâd rather throw other people under the bus instead of fightinâ for âem as ya claim youâre doinâ!?!
How can ya claim to be a âreal messiahâ yet spit on those men and women that have tried so hard to step in and put an end to all this vileness by the Pack or Age of Gods yet only to wind up physically or emotionally scarred--or in some cases both!?! Seriously...do ya really think that people such as Mason St. Croix, Fifi McFly, Jessica Reed, or MY GIRLFRIEND YULIA are just expendables that ya can toss into the trash can on some diabolical whim to protect a brand-name?! As a dude that works for you and this company, one thatâs been on the receivinâ end of the worst punishment from both warrinâ factions, that offends me Bertie.
That really does, and Iâm gonna say this to your face, not behind some stupid keyboard, so that EVERYONE in Imperial can hear me loud and clear:
You ainât no hero!!
In fact, you ainât no different than the false god himself--except youâre more subtle in your approach than he is.
That makes me sick--as a person AND a competitor!
It chills my blood that you think youâre all good and pious while everyone else is morally wrong or evil for doinâ what they love in order to stop the bad guys from causinâ even more harm! You believe that there ainât no light thatâs gonna emerge from the darkness! You believe that people like myself, âHawk, or AJ canât be champions if a company is in ashes! Yet as I think about what I have to do to prove your sorry butt wrong...I close my eyes and remember a lâil somethinâ that my mother once told me before she took a trip to Heaven four years ago:
âThere is always hope. Always.â
Nine months ago, when I was the absolute rock-bottom of my life, I woulda never believed that statement to be true, but now? Now that I realize that, as I get older, I canât let my own ego get in the way of somethinâ much bigger than anything Iâve ever known--includinâ my own self. Iâm talkinâ about my brother, my girlfriend...and the men and women who make IWF tick in the midst of the companyâs darkest hours. They are ALL my family, in and out of the ring...and I will defend âem all...
...âtil I draw my last breath!
Those words my mom said to me, about there always beinâ hope, are the match that lights the fire in my soul--now and forever. In a world that can be mean and nasty, there will always be people who are willinâ to take charge and shine their light upon the darkness--even if they have to stand alone! They scratch, claw, and fight for everyone whoâs ever been victimized by those who do them harm, standinâ with them for the rest of their own lives!
Thatâs whatâs driven me these past five weeks and--more importantly--these past nine beepinâ months!
While youâre out there in your office, distracted by your balancinâ act of keepinâ a name-brand afloat and addinâ more muscle to your stable as if ya needed any more in the first place, Iâm sittinâ at my own beach by myself, watchinâ the sun rise and thinkinâ about what I need to do in order to put my foot down and keep on fightinâ for all of those whoâve been caught in this senseless act of barbarism.
Stayinâ focused on this tournament, one round at a time. Stayinâ disciplined in the ring, one step at a time. Fightinâ for my family, friends, and colleagues...one week at a time.
All so I can earn the chance to apply my most famous move, the Wipeout!
In case you ainât familiar with the Wipeout, Iâll spell it out for ya...I flip ya head over heels, lock ya up in a triangle choke, and make ya tap. Now hereâs the thing...I could get the chance to put ya in my favorite move, but then again, I understand youâre gonna do all ya can to prevent me from gettinâ that chance. Yet at the end of the day, I canât allow myself to dwell upon the notion that I might, or might not, be able to make ya cry âuncleâ in front of the whole, wide world!
âCuz quite frankly, the results wonât matter to me.
What WILL matter to me, however, is that Iâm gonna standinâ across the ring from you, lookinâ into your eyes and listeninâ to the sound of 50,000 people screaminâ with love and joy. When I walk into that stadium, Iâm gonna be lookinâ straight down at ya with a gleam in my eyes and a smile on face, knowinâ darn well that I can make all them trolls that said I was a joke, that told me I wasnât much of nothinâ, trudge back to their man-caves in shame. Nobody ever thought Iâd beat Dean Harper and Jayson Matthews in back-to-back weeks! Nobody ever imagined that Iâd be right in the midst of this Heir to the Throne series with 15 points to my credit!
Yet here I am, on one of IWFâs biggest stages, chompinâ at the bit to take you head-onâŚ
...primed and ready to steal the whole effing show at your expense!
After all, I might not be on nobody elseâs radar...but guess what?! Youâre on mine now, and Iâm gonna personally show ya that heroes DO, in fact, exist in a cruel, heartless world!
Think about it, dude...it ainât no accident that Iâm in this series to begin with. Iâm in this position âcuz, despite beinâ largely ignored by people like you and just about everyone else in this competition, I believed I could get here, win or lose! Cominâ into this match, I never thought, for a second, that Iâd be feelinâ very good about where I am at this point in time, but guess what?!
In my mind, the scoreâs still nothinâ-nothinâ in the bottom of the 9th--a moment Iâve been preparinâ for my entire life!
And you can bet your keyster that I ainât gonna be holdinâ nothinâ back when that bell rings!
This is MY TURN to show you just how good I CAN be from this time onward. This is MY TIME to make a statement to the IWF Galaxy and let them know exactly who I am--now and forever! âCuz no matter what you might throw at me, results be damned...Iâm gonna keep on ridinâ the wave thatâs been buildinâ and buildinâ since week one and seize every single moment I can get my hands on, showinâ the entire planet what it truly means to...
#Rise2Greatness
The Morning Star rose from its slumber as waves crashed against the white sands of James Gilmoreâs small private beach.
Gentle southerly breezes created an aura of warmth around the Islander alum as he sat in his chair, looking out towards the open waters of Corpus Christi Bay. It was going to be another sunny and hot South Texas afternoon, the perfect time to head out to the local Schlitterbahn and catch himself some rays. Yet on this Thursday morning, his mind focused upon not getting soaked by the Shoot-the-Chutes ride, but by something much bigger than anything he could ever imagine.
His brother Johnnyâs return.
His girlfriend Yulia being taken prisoner by a violent psychopath.
They all served as reminders to his psyche, that he should never take life itself for granted. After all, none of these things would have happened had it not been for a single, solitary moment that changed the course of his existence forever. James closed his eyes and took a deep breath, listening as the waters continued to churn and winds continued to softly gust around him.
Remembering where he came from.
Remembering the events of October 25th, 2017.
âI wish I was someone else
I'm confused, I'm afraid, I hate the loneliness
And there's nowhere to run to
Nothing makes any sense, but I still try my hardest
Take my hand
Please help me man
'Cause I'm looking for something to believe in
And I don't know where to start
And I don't know where to begin, to beginâ
Nine months ago, on these very sands, James was an entirely different person, an entirely different soul as it were. He was outspoken, he was brash, and he often found himself at the center of trouble. He was a politician, a proud hard-right Republican that ran an incredulous campaign to become Corpus Christiâs mayor. Yet most of all, all he ever wanted in his life back then...was contentness.
He truly felt, at the time, as if he were at peaceâŚ
...yet little did he know, that peace came with a price.
On the surface, things were looking up for James. He thought he had it made, with one Lindsey Grawn as his campaign manager. He once imagined he could simply coast on by, without making any errors in judgment or showing any other flaws. He had aspired to live the life of a politician, enjoying its perks to the fullest without giving a damn about how anyone else might have felt about him.
It was supposed to be the best time of his life, when nothing could possibly harm him in any way. Then, on that crystal-clear October afternoon in 2017...the bullets flew from a killerâs .45, and sand flew in all directions as a fight would break out.
Everything around him had devolved into chaos.
âIf I was stupid or naive
Trying to achieve what they all call contentness
If people weren't such dicks and I never made mistakes
Then I could find forgiveness...â
James had found himself fighting for his own life and that of his bodyguard. It was a situation he had never anticipated, that he would have to let his own animalistic instincts kick into high gear as he rolled around with his friend and the gunman on the beach in an effort to disarm the latter.
Yet a single shot rang out, and everything became quiet and still.
In a heartbeat, in a split-second, that sense of peace and contentness was gone.
When it was all over, James was left kneeling in the sand with blood on his hands, crying over the corpse of a gangbanger that sought to break into his villa and kill him. Even though, in Gilmoreâs mind, he never intended for the resulting scuffle over the would-be assassinâs firearm to end in the manner it did, the damage had already been done on his own backyard. When he found out about Lindsey being the one that hired the gunman in the first place, all the Islander alum could do lament the day of the accident and wish that things had turned out differently.
He was lost. He was confused. He was useless to anyone.
He had hit rock-bottom.
Yet the only way he could go from that awful, awful day...was up.
âI can't be someone else
I don't feel that it's hopeless
I don't feel that I'm useless
I can't throw it all away
I need some courage to find my weakness
And with your love, I know with all my heart I can winâŚâ
The ex-Islander opened his eyes, the winds still blowing through his hair.
He stood up and pointed his gaze towards a shiny red, white, and blue object leaning against his back deck. It hat the phrase âMake America Great Againâ and was, when he stood it upright, taller than he was. He strolled up to the âstrangeâthing and chuckled, bobbing his head up and down as he examined everything from the pointy-tipped bow, down to the fins on the stern.
Nine months ago, the Old Glory-inspired surfboard would have been a political symbol used for campaign rallies.
But now, in the present day? Gilmore grinner from ear to ear as he pulled his prized âBig Kahunaâ off of the deck, marched towards the bubbling and crashing waters of the Bay, and proceeded to do what came naturally.
He stood tall about the water, rocking and rolling as the waves underneath him grew more intense with every second. It was an exhilarating experience to say the least, one that tempered his inner joy and happiness to a degree. Yet just as quickly as the ride began, James caught a gnarly rip-current that sent him flying head over heels before crashing into the warm drink. He popped his head out of the water and took several breaths, noticing his surfboard had landed off to his right.
It was at that moment...when everything dawned on him.
James had to take a long andd painful road to get back into a position where heâd been feeling good about himself. Johnny--his older brother--was back in his life, and even though his girlfriend Yulia was still MIA, the Islander alum began to laugh out loud as he began to reflect upon the one thing that, nearly a year prior, he probably would have never believed to be true.
That there was, indeed, hope.
Within a space of nine months, James had to go through untold pain and hardship just so he could get to the point where he was at now. Yet as he swam awkwardly towards his surfboard, he did so with a newfound sense of purpose. He was no politician...he was simply a man who loved to be outward in nature, a man who was learning to appreciate the moments he have been given.
He had something to believe in.
He had something worth fighting for.
He knew that there was still a little while left before he could finally return to a sense of ârealâ normalcy, but in the here and now...he was finally able to begin living his life for the right reasons. He smiled lovingly before shaking off the water from his body, picking up his surfboard, and catching the waves once more.
The sky was burning brighter than anything he couldâve ever imagined, for James Gilmore was doing more than simply appreciating life.
He was having fun--all over again.
To be continuedâŚ
----
Lineage.
Itâs an awesome name for a pay-per-view, ainât it? I mean, shoot...what better way to show off your skills to the world on one of IWFâs biggest stages! Yet when ya stop to take a deep breath, ya soon begin to realize that the name âLineageâ ainât just a catchy moniker that sells this grand company on the whole. Nah, itâs so much more than that. It reminds us about how far weâve come as a federation, about how much weâve evolved ever since Joe Everyman become IWFâs first champ. Yet even as the company continues to evolve to this very day, one thing remains constant:
The Heir to the Throne.
It has, is, and always will be, a mesmerizinâ showcase of the best menâs talent the IWF has to offer, with the endgame beinâ to launch careers into the stratosphere. This year ainât no exception, and with a competition for the 2018 prize beinâ stacked from top to bottom as it is, this tourney has become a wild and unpredictable jungle--as it SHOULD be! Ya got the familiar names, those whoâve been in this series every year, such as Xavier, âHawk, Laszo, and Matthews. Ya got first-timers like Redcap, Bancroft, or Ethan.
Then...thereâs me and you, Roberto Verona.
Itâs fittinâ, ainât it? On a night when we celebrate IWFâs ongoinâ evolution, I get to step into the ring and take on The Big Boss, The Head Honcho, Donald Trump on steroids and HGH! Umm, the last one might be a stretch over-the-top, but still, when I think about it Iâm gonna be tradinâ blows with a legit Hall of Famer, someone who was the second-longest-reigninâ World champ in our history, not to mention the dude responsible for buildinâ this company from the ground up!
I know it sounds kinda corny or cliche, but this is gonna be the biggest test I will undertake in the two years since I put my name on the dotted line.
Our journey to get here, to this match and this moment, has been the very microcosm of polar opposite in every sense of the word.
Youâve been tagged as the odds-on favorite to win this thing âcuz of your past history. Yet ya got here by beatinâ...hrmm, Todd Williams?! Câmon man...the dude would rather hide under a rock and troll than actually strap on a pair of boots and kick butt! Then ya beat Xavier Cross...okay, he used to be a strong dude back in 2013, but he seems a lâil too rusty these days and is havinâ a hard time rediscoverinâ the mojo he had. Ya then dispatched a former Heir winner in Mike Laszlo, a consistently good major star time in and time out...and Iâll say âbravoâ and just leave it at that.
Youâve been on everyoneâs bucket list for years, walkinâ around the locker room knowinâ ya got a big, fat âXâ on your back just âcuz ya give orders around here not to mention all the in-ring stuff youâve accomplished--a delicate balancinâ act, Iâd say.
One that Iâll give ya props for.
As for me Bertie? For the past five weeks, with few exceptions, Iâve been gridinâ through this tournament without so much as gettinâ a single mention from anyone involved--in spite of the fact that the journey Iâve had to go on...is perhaps the longest, hardest road anyone can ever take.
Yet I took the ball...and ran with it.
Accordinâ to the âexperts,â I wasnât supposed to beat Dean Harper! I wasnât mentally capable of beatinâ Jayson Matthews either! Those two dudes have established themselves as IWF mainstays through a two-year stretch--the current and a former Joker in the Pack, mind you--yet I got âem both in back-to-back weeks and BEAT âem both...all the while, flyinâ under the radar of just about every single competitor in this series.
Even yours.
Hereâs the deal...I like to see the good in everything, and I see not beinâ mentioned as a threat to win Heir to the Throne as, perhaps, the best thing I can ever imagine. In fact, even as my tag partner Malo got pinned and I couldnât make the save thanks to Jaysonâs nice form of prevent defense...it only makes me even hungrier to show people like you that I ainât the same James Gilmore that was outspoken on Twitter, that could never do nothinâ on my own. In theory, that would be easy enough, but in practice...it just ainât that simple nor will I expect it to be that way.
Especially with a war goinâ on, with evil on both sides of the aisle.
Ya know it, I know it...for nearly eight months the Pack and the Age of Gods have done everything in their power to try and tear this very federation apart, and now, with everything at stake, ya wanna step in and play referee as these two warrinâ factions continue to bludgeon each other to shreds and subjugate people along the way! After screwinâ over the likes of Jake Conway and many others over the years, ya wanna play âheroâ all of a sudden?!
CâMON MAN!!!
It ainât that simple to be a hero, right?!
No, itâs not. Beinâ a hero ainât simply about protectinâ a brand name or its image in the corporate world! Itâs about takinâ a deep breath and steppinâ up to the plate for those whoâve been victimized by both sides of this power struggle! Yet here ya are...claiminâ to be proactive in doinâ whatâs needed to protect the foundations of this promotion yet ya would rather not care about nothinâ that ainât ânailed down.â
So lemme get this straight: there are two gangs runninâ roughshod all over YOUR company, but ya would rather see collateral damage left behind?!
Youâd rather throw other people under the bus instead of fightinâ for âem as ya claim youâre doinâ!?!
How can ya claim to be a âreal messiahâ yet spit on those men and women that have tried so hard to step in and put an end to all this vileness by the Pack or Age of Gods yet only to wind up physically or emotionally scarred--or in some cases both!?! Seriously...do ya really think that people such as Mason St. Croix, Fifi McFly, Jessica Reed, or MY GIRLFRIEND YULIA are just expendables that ya can toss into the trash can on some diabolical whim to protect a brand-name?! As a dude that works for you and this company, one thatâs been on the receivinâ end of the worst punishment from both warrinâ factions, that offends me Bertie.
That really does, and Iâm gonna say this to your face, not behind some stupid keyboard, so that EVERYONE in Imperial can hear me loud and clear:
You ainât no hero!!
In fact, you ainât no different than the false god himself--except youâre more subtle in your approach than he is.
That makes me sick--as a person AND a competitor!
It chills my blood that you think youâre all good and pious while everyone else is morally wrong or evil for doinâ what they love in order to stop the bad guys from causinâ even more harm! You believe that there ainât no light thatâs gonna emerge from the darkness! You believe that people like myself, âHawk, or AJ canât be champions if a company is in ashes! Yet as I think about what I have to do to prove your sorry butt wrong...I close my eyes and remember a lâil somethinâ that my mother once told me before she took a trip to Heaven four years ago:
âThere is always hope. Always.â
Nine months ago, when I was the absolute rock-bottom of my life, I woulda never believed that statement to be true, but now? Now that I realize that, as I get older, I canât let my own ego get in the way of somethinâ much bigger than anything Iâve ever known--includinâ my own self. Iâm talkinâ about my brother, my girlfriend...and the men and women who make IWF tick in the midst of the companyâs darkest hours. They are ALL my family, in and out of the ring...and I will defend âem all...
...âtil I draw my last breath!
Those words my mom said to me, about there always beinâ hope, are the match that lights the fire in my soul--now and forever. In a world that can be mean and nasty, there will always be people who are willinâ to take charge and shine their light upon the darkness--even if they have to stand alone! They scratch, claw, and fight for everyone whoâs ever been victimized by those who do them harm, standinâ with them for the rest of their own lives!
Thatâs whatâs driven me these past five weeks and--more importantly--these past nine beepinâ months!
While youâre out there in your office, distracted by your balancinâ act of keepinâ a name-brand afloat and addinâ more muscle to your stable as if ya needed any more in the first place, Iâm sittinâ at my own beach by myself, watchinâ the sun rise and thinkinâ about what I need to do in order to put my foot down and keep on fightinâ for all of those whoâve been caught in this senseless act of barbarism.
Stayinâ focused on this tournament, one round at a time. Stayinâ disciplined in the ring, one step at a time. Fightinâ for my family, friends, and colleagues...one week at a time.
All so I can earn the chance to apply my most famous move, the Wipeout!
In case you ainât familiar with the Wipeout, Iâll spell it out for ya...I flip ya head over heels, lock ya up in a triangle choke, and make ya tap. Now hereâs the thing...I could get the chance to put ya in my favorite move, but then again, I understand youâre gonna do all ya can to prevent me from gettinâ that chance. Yet at the end of the day, I canât allow myself to dwell upon the notion that I might, or might not, be able to make ya cry âuncleâ in front of the whole, wide world!
âCuz quite frankly, the results wonât matter to me.
What WILL matter to me, however, is that Iâm gonna standinâ across the ring from you, lookinâ into your eyes and listeninâ to the sound of 50,000 people screaminâ with love and joy. When I walk into that stadium, Iâm gonna be lookinâ straight down at ya with a gleam in my eyes and a smile on face, knowinâ darn well that I can make all them trolls that said I was a joke, that told me I wasnât much of nothinâ, trudge back to their man-caves in shame. Nobody ever thought Iâd beat Dean Harper and Jayson Matthews in back-to-back weeks! Nobody ever imagined that Iâd be right in the midst of this Heir to the Throne series with 15 points to my credit!
Yet here I am, on one of IWFâs biggest stages, chompinâ at the bit to take you head-onâŚ
...primed and ready to steal the whole effing show at your expense!
After all, I might not be on nobody elseâs radar...but guess what?! Youâre on mine now, and Iâm gonna personally show ya that heroes DO, in fact, exist in a cruel, heartless world!
Think about it, dude...it ainât no accident that Iâm in this series to begin with. Iâm in this position âcuz, despite beinâ largely ignored by people like you and just about everyone else in this competition, I believed I could get here, win or lose! Cominâ into this match, I never thought, for a second, that Iâd be feelinâ very good about where I am at this point in time, but guess what?!
In my mind, the scoreâs still nothinâ-nothinâ in the bottom of the 9th--a moment Iâve been preparinâ for my entire life!
And you can bet your keyster that I ainât gonna be holdinâ nothinâ back when that bell rings!
This is MY TURN to show you just how good I CAN be from this time onward. This is MY TIME to make a statement to the IWF Galaxy and let them know exactly who I am--now and forever! âCuz no matter what you might throw at me, results be damned...Iâm gonna keep on ridinâ the wave thatâs been buildinâ and buildinâ since week one and seize every single moment I can get my hands on, showinâ the entire planet what it truly means to...
#Rise2Greatness
Well howdy there pardner.