Post by Roberto Verona on Aug 28, 2015 2:06:29 GMT
{ Our scene opens in the large ornate mansion that is the family home of IWF COO Roberto Verona, deep in the wilderness away from civilisation. As our view shifts from the grand hall way to a few other large rooms filled with countless objects we arrive at a long hall way where we can hear the sound of frantic footsteps. As we move along one of the doors suddenly opens and a frustrated Hannah Reed emerges from inside, a look of confusion washed across her face. Hannah paces down a long corridor, her head darting from side to side as she opens a number of doors to quickly peer inside the countless number of rooms.
Hannah Reed: Roberto!
{ Hannah stops, cursing under her breathe as she stands with her hands on her hips. }
Hannah Reed: Where the hell is he?
{ Suddenly she looks up and sees a dim orange glow appearing through a slightly ajar door. Her face lights up as she moves over to the room, quickly stopping as she notices a rusted key jammed firmly in the key hole and she quickly realises where she is. Hannah gently pushes the door open and to her relief she sees the figure of Roberto standing by a table, clutching something firmly in his hand. The room is dimly lit by a few candles which flicker in the gloom, the windows covered by a pair of thick curtains which shuts it out from the outside world. Hannah looks around but struggles to make out many features before looking back at Roberto as she places a tentative foot inside the threshold. }
Hannah Reed: Roberto?
{ Hannah carefully peers around the door as Roberto stands motionless by the table. }
Hannah Reed: May I come in?
{ Roberto’s head turns slowly over his shoulder, hovering for a moment before he closes his eyes slowly and nods his head approvingly. Hannah steadies herself, taking a deep breathe before she walks into the room, leaving the door open behind her and allowing some light to find its way in. Hannah walks towards Verona with trepidation, her head turning from side to side as she stares around the room, carefully navigating the gloom before finally reaching him. She pauses for a moment, desperately trying to find the right words before admitting defeat, opting instead to place a reassuring, yet shaking, hand on his shoulder. }
Hannah Reed: I was worried about you, you’ve been up here for hours, I thought something may have happened…
{ Hannah looks down and notices the picture clutched tightly in Roberto’s hand. Inside the frame is a photograph of a man, a women and a small young boy who resembles a much younger Roberto. Hannah looks at it for a moment before it dawns on her that it is a picture of Verona with his parents. }
Hannah Reed: Is that them?
{ Roberto nods before suddenly moving forward, carefully placing the frame back in the indentation in the layers of dust. }
Roberto Verona: You know, it’s funny, but it’s been so long I’d honestly forgotten what they even looked like myself. It’s stupid I know, I’ve spent so long trying to forget it ever happened that I’ve erased every memory of them I ever had, even the happy ones.
Hannah Reed: It’s nothing to be ashamed of.
Roberto Verona: Oh, I’m not ashamed, I just never realised how far down the rabbit hole I’d buried myself. All of the hopes and dreams I had, they all evaporated so quickly. Did you know when I was a kid I always wanted to be President?
{ Roberto picks up a home-made pin badge, the words “Verona 1990” written across a crudely drawn American flag. He smiles for a moment, letting himself revel in nostalgia before placing it back down. }
Roberto Verona: Can you believe that? Even as a kid I was determined to try and change things for the better. To help people.
Hannah Reed: It’s a noble cause.
{ Hannah smiles, trying to inspire one from Roberto but it is all in vain. }
Hannah Reed: What is the place?
{ Roberto looks at Hannah, pausing hesitantly for a second. }
Roberto Verona: This is… was my bedroom. This is the last place I ever saw my parents. My mother kissed me good night and my father scruffed up my hair. Then I never saw them again. My last memory of this room is my Nanny crying as she told me they were dead.
{ Hannah gulps. }
Hannah Reed: That’s… that’s horrible.
{ Roberto shrugs. }
Roberto Verona: That’s life. I learnt young that it was a cruel, harsh bastard.
Hannah Reed: Why are you here, Roberto?
{ Hannah suddenly stops herself, realising the blunt tone of her voice as she quickly rushes to replace it with a more reconciliatory one. }
Hannah Reed: I mean… we moved back in a year ago and you’ve kept this room locked the entire time. Every time I try to ask you about this place you change the subject, you’ve never even told me about your childhood and we’ve known each other for well over a decade. Why did you decide to open it now?
{ Roberto stands silently for a moment, mulling over how best to respond in his head. }
Roberto Verona: I… well… after everything that has happened recently, I had to see if everything I stand for, everything I had dedicated my life to building was just some flimsy coping mechanism or something… deeper. Something that I’ve always had inside me.
{ He turns around, sitting on the edge of the table. }
Roberto Verona: Ridiculous as it sounds, I needed to reconnect with everything I’ve tried to desperately to erase to find out if I am truly just a hollow shell on an empty mission to feel validated at everybody else’s expense. I’ve always deeply believed in my convictions, that I am trying to do what’s best for everyone, to let everybody live their dreams despite their respective upbringings but lately… I’ve been questioning if it’s truly worth it.
{ Hannah sits down softly beside him, laying a head on his shoulder. }
Hannah Reed: You’ve been under a lot of stress. Anybody would question themselves.
Roberto Verona: Perhaps, but I’m not just anybody, Hannah. Recently I’ve had to question if they really deserved this investment. You’ve said it yourself, I’m not just putting my body on the line for people who routinely despise me, I’m sacrificing my heart and soul. I always knew it would be lonely endeavour, but quite honestly I never appreciated the sheer scale of selfishness people would have.
Hannah Reed: Never underestimate people’s ability to be so short sighted that they become ignorant to how lucky they truly are. Half the cases that came across my table were people whose entitlement exceeded their situations, people do stupid things when they think they deserve something.
Roberto Verona: Hmm.
{ Roberto falls silent, slowly beginning to get lost in his own thoughts again which prompts Hannah into action. }
Hannah Reed: So what does all of this mean? You’re not just here trying to reconnect with your childhood are you?
Roberto Verona: It means I need to stop burying the past. I can’t run away from it forever and I can’t let my fear of what it may erupt inside of me stop me from realising my dreams of making a difference. I’m not promising to be touchie feely and bear my soul, but it’s about time I acknowledge that my life didn’t begin in that courtroom in Chicago.
Hannah Reed: Where exactly do we begin?
Roberto Verona: Where I’ve always solved my problems, inside the ring. I’m going to start by putting an end to this little rebellion. I’m through playing games and placating self-absorbed egotistical vagrants. Body Count and the rest of the roster who are obsessed with eroding everything I’ve built to cultivate their own success are going to find out what happens when you defy my will.
{ Roberto smiles. }
Roberto Verona: I’m taking back what is mine, once and for all. I am going to rebuild IWF, brick by brick, and cement the values it has always stood for.
{ Verona halts for a moment, looking up towards the doorway. }
Roberto Verona: Starting with the head of the beast.
{ Our view slowly pans to look in the direction Roberto is staring, eventually landing on the distant sight of a piece of memorabilia in the office opposite, a large post of A Night to Remember 2013. Alex Jones vs Roberto Verona. As our sight fixes on this image our scene gradually begins to fade to black. }
Hannah Reed: Roberto!
{ Hannah stops, cursing under her breathe as she stands with her hands on her hips. }
Hannah Reed: Where the hell is he?
{ Suddenly she looks up and sees a dim orange glow appearing through a slightly ajar door. Her face lights up as she moves over to the room, quickly stopping as she notices a rusted key jammed firmly in the key hole and she quickly realises where she is. Hannah gently pushes the door open and to her relief she sees the figure of Roberto standing by a table, clutching something firmly in his hand. The room is dimly lit by a few candles which flicker in the gloom, the windows covered by a pair of thick curtains which shuts it out from the outside world. Hannah looks around but struggles to make out many features before looking back at Roberto as she places a tentative foot inside the threshold. }
Hannah Reed: Roberto?
{ Hannah carefully peers around the door as Roberto stands motionless by the table. }
Hannah Reed: May I come in?
{ Roberto’s head turns slowly over his shoulder, hovering for a moment before he closes his eyes slowly and nods his head approvingly. Hannah steadies herself, taking a deep breathe before she walks into the room, leaving the door open behind her and allowing some light to find its way in. Hannah walks towards Verona with trepidation, her head turning from side to side as she stares around the room, carefully navigating the gloom before finally reaching him. She pauses for a moment, desperately trying to find the right words before admitting defeat, opting instead to place a reassuring, yet shaking, hand on his shoulder. }
Hannah Reed: I was worried about you, you’ve been up here for hours, I thought something may have happened…
{ Hannah looks down and notices the picture clutched tightly in Roberto’s hand. Inside the frame is a photograph of a man, a women and a small young boy who resembles a much younger Roberto. Hannah looks at it for a moment before it dawns on her that it is a picture of Verona with his parents. }
Hannah Reed: Is that them?
{ Roberto nods before suddenly moving forward, carefully placing the frame back in the indentation in the layers of dust. }
Roberto Verona: You know, it’s funny, but it’s been so long I’d honestly forgotten what they even looked like myself. It’s stupid I know, I’ve spent so long trying to forget it ever happened that I’ve erased every memory of them I ever had, even the happy ones.
Hannah Reed: It’s nothing to be ashamed of.
Roberto Verona: Oh, I’m not ashamed, I just never realised how far down the rabbit hole I’d buried myself. All of the hopes and dreams I had, they all evaporated so quickly. Did you know when I was a kid I always wanted to be President?
{ Roberto picks up a home-made pin badge, the words “Verona 1990” written across a crudely drawn American flag. He smiles for a moment, letting himself revel in nostalgia before placing it back down. }
Roberto Verona: Can you believe that? Even as a kid I was determined to try and change things for the better. To help people.
Hannah Reed: It’s a noble cause.
{ Hannah smiles, trying to inspire one from Roberto but it is all in vain. }
Hannah Reed: What is the place?
{ Roberto looks at Hannah, pausing hesitantly for a second. }
Roberto Verona: This is… was my bedroom. This is the last place I ever saw my parents. My mother kissed me good night and my father scruffed up my hair. Then I never saw them again. My last memory of this room is my Nanny crying as she told me they were dead.
{ Hannah gulps. }
Hannah Reed: That’s… that’s horrible.
{ Roberto shrugs. }
Roberto Verona: That’s life. I learnt young that it was a cruel, harsh bastard.
Hannah Reed: Why are you here, Roberto?
{ Hannah suddenly stops herself, realising the blunt tone of her voice as she quickly rushes to replace it with a more reconciliatory one. }
Hannah Reed: I mean… we moved back in a year ago and you’ve kept this room locked the entire time. Every time I try to ask you about this place you change the subject, you’ve never even told me about your childhood and we’ve known each other for well over a decade. Why did you decide to open it now?
{ Roberto stands silently for a moment, mulling over how best to respond in his head. }
Roberto Verona: I… well… after everything that has happened recently, I had to see if everything I stand for, everything I had dedicated my life to building was just some flimsy coping mechanism or something… deeper. Something that I’ve always had inside me.
{ He turns around, sitting on the edge of the table. }
Roberto Verona: Ridiculous as it sounds, I needed to reconnect with everything I’ve tried to desperately to erase to find out if I am truly just a hollow shell on an empty mission to feel validated at everybody else’s expense. I’ve always deeply believed in my convictions, that I am trying to do what’s best for everyone, to let everybody live their dreams despite their respective upbringings but lately… I’ve been questioning if it’s truly worth it.
{ Hannah sits down softly beside him, laying a head on his shoulder. }
Hannah Reed: You’ve been under a lot of stress. Anybody would question themselves.
Roberto Verona: Perhaps, but I’m not just anybody, Hannah. Recently I’ve had to question if they really deserved this investment. You’ve said it yourself, I’m not just putting my body on the line for people who routinely despise me, I’m sacrificing my heart and soul. I always knew it would be lonely endeavour, but quite honestly I never appreciated the sheer scale of selfishness people would have.
Hannah Reed: Never underestimate people’s ability to be so short sighted that they become ignorant to how lucky they truly are. Half the cases that came across my table were people whose entitlement exceeded their situations, people do stupid things when they think they deserve something.
Roberto Verona: Hmm.
{ Roberto falls silent, slowly beginning to get lost in his own thoughts again which prompts Hannah into action. }
Hannah Reed: So what does all of this mean? You’re not just here trying to reconnect with your childhood are you?
Roberto Verona: It means I need to stop burying the past. I can’t run away from it forever and I can’t let my fear of what it may erupt inside of me stop me from realising my dreams of making a difference. I’m not promising to be touchie feely and bear my soul, but it’s about time I acknowledge that my life didn’t begin in that courtroom in Chicago.
Hannah Reed: Where exactly do we begin?
Roberto Verona: Where I’ve always solved my problems, inside the ring. I’m going to start by putting an end to this little rebellion. I’m through playing games and placating self-absorbed egotistical vagrants. Body Count and the rest of the roster who are obsessed with eroding everything I’ve built to cultivate their own success are going to find out what happens when you defy my will.
{ Roberto smiles. }
Roberto Verona: I’m taking back what is mine, once and for all. I am going to rebuild IWF, brick by brick, and cement the values it has always stood for.
{ Verona halts for a moment, looking up towards the doorway. }
Roberto Verona: Starting with the head of the beast.
{ Our view slowly pans to look in the direction Roberto is staring, eventually landing on the distant sight of a piece of memorabilia in the office opposite, a large post of A Night to Remember 2013. Alex Jones vs Roberto Verona. As our sight fixes on this image our scene gradually begins to fade to black. }
Let’s just get straight to the point, no pithy little sarcastic introduction and no pussyfooting around in an attempt to at least portray the illusion of diplomacy because quite frankly you’ve long since lost any sort of reasonable claim to that privilege.
Alex Jones, you are perhaps the biggest sack of disingenuous shit heinously being granted the privilege of drawing breath on this entire roster.
You’re seriously going to have the absolute audacity to lecture me on my behaviour?
You’re so self-important, so absorbed in your own cult of personality, that you would dishonestly, maliciously and selfishly play fast and loose with the careers of three people under the most flimsy of façades of a readily transparent anti-authoritarian movement, all to just re-position yourself back in the main event.
A position you lost through your own feckless incompetence which you now try to dress up as a narrow defeat at the hands of a man you respect deeply and consider your equal. All despite spending months gnawing at his throat and publically denouncing his behaviour, the very behaviour I am disapproving of, the same disapproval you are now lashing out in defiance against behind the veneer of sincerity.
But then, that’s not exactly the only thing you’ve been a hypocritical oxygen thief over, is it?
Quite frankly, if your little campaign slogan is to be believed, you and the rest of this banal little crusade are so lacking in self-awareness its long since walked the borderline of being completely pathetic and arrogantly strode well over it.
You’re being held down?
Really?
Did you and the rest of the gibbering bunch of absolute cerebral abortions really decide to fly your flag for that?
Do you idiots realise just how easy it is to destroy the credibility of your vacuous and predictable claims? Are you honestly so lacking in self-retrospection to realise that you’ve effectively tried to front a professional integrity movement with two of the most privileged people in professional wrestling? It’s like Occupy Wall Street being led by fucking Donald Trump and the Koch brothers.
I mean, fuck, let’s just take one long look at the members of Body Count: Special Victims Unit.
Kyle Mason? Let’s throw you a bone here and start with quite literally the only person in your group with any legitimate right to hold a grievance about his position in the company. Yet, even Kyle’s cries should fall on deaf ears, that is, if we are talking about the same man who has had a Tag Team Championship title match, a number one contender’s match for the Man of Steel Championship and an opportunity to earn his way into the Heir to the Throne. That Kyle Mason?
Aaron Owens? The man who was until very recently the IWF Invictus Champion and who was only impeded in defending that championship by his participation in a competition which feasibly could have earned him an Imperial Championship match. The man who lost his championship fair and square in the middle of the ring once he ceased to be in the running for that prize. That Aaron Owens?
Andrew Jacobsen? The very man who until he decided to super kick me in the face three years too late was a supposed beneficiary of the very corruption you openly decry whilst also been the recipient of a position in the Heir to the Throne tournament that provides eight men the opportunity to control their own destiny. That Andrew Jacobsen?
Ana Jones? I mean seriously, are you legitimately going to attempt to convince the world that Ana Jones, one of the single most, if not the most, successful women in the entire of professional wrestling was held back by my nefarious and uncontrollable ego? The same woman I allowed to run roughshod over the entire female roster despite her repeated attempts to avoid legitimate titles defences, who has been granted an opportunity for her dream match repeatedly with Jessica and who was recently inducted into the Hall of Fame. That Ana Jones?
And then we come to you, Alex, the proverbial rotten cherry atop the stinking festering moral aberration that is Body Count. You of all people are going to cry your little eyes out about being held back? The same man who, after his complete global embarrassment at A Night To Remember was supported completely by this company in the pursuit of a rehabilitation of his image, allowing him to achieve multiple personal successes and finally granted the opportunity to represent a federation as it’s champion? That Alex Jones?
I mean seriously, I could go on and on, but that really should suffice for anybody who is legitimately stupid enough to believe that Body Count is anything more than a vehicle for the reinsertion of you and Ana back into the main event at the expense of everybody else because you are completely incapable of coping with the fact that your golden era ceased three months ago.
Let’s be really blunt here you disingenuous little parasite, all of this is a pathetic attempt to dupe three gullible and impressionable idiots with a chip on their shoulder into buying into your special snowflake narrative in a desperately futile attempt to con everybody into believing you’ve somehow been screwed over by not only myself, but anybody else who you care to slander.
If you weren’t such an intellectually dishonest little prick, you’d realise that we are in no way obligated to provide you, or anybody else for that matter, with an automatic rematch for any opportunities that you may squander.
For a man who is pretending to give something approaching a damn about fairness, it’s bizarre that you’ve launched this petulant little crusade over being denied the opportunity to effectively monopolise the Imperial Championship for yourself at the complete expense of all the people you’re claiming to be liberating from my despotic rule. Nobody likes a hypocrite, Alex, least of all when they’re such a lecherous little bastard like you.
But then, you’re just banking on everybody’s collective attention span resembling that of a goldfish so they all completely forget that you are the single most detestable piece of human garbage on this roster, which is saying a lot when the entire men’s division is represented by a sexual deviant with a rapidly evolving criminal record.
Seriously, think about that for a second.
You can keep trying to hide your vapid and egomaniacal intentions behind the often trod out “Verona is the Devil” stereotype and continue to cast me as the villain to illicit support from people who so desperate for an excuse to explain away their own failings, but sooner or later your true colour are going to start showing.
And when they do, the knives will be sharpened.
Listen, you capricious little drama Queen, let me elucidate your immediate future for you and because I have one last shred of generosity left I’ll be quite candid.
I am not just going to beat you this weekend, because quite frankly I’ve ascended a position in this business that renders individual victories in isolation moot, what’s more important now is the context of those victories.
At Legacy I am going to leave the broken husk of what was once called Alex Jones laid completely bare before the world so they may gaze upon your nakedness and realise that beneath the veneer, below the false and empty platitudes about “helping people”, you’re still the same black-hearted egotistical little prick you’ve always been.
I’m going to show the world exactly what you are, and they’re going to recoil at the ugliness of it.
This weekend isn’t just about gaining some sort of moral victory for your assault last month, this is about well and truly shattering the illusion that you’ve carefully constructed around yourself as the head of some sort of liberation movement with the interests of the entire roster at its heart. Not to save myself from some inevitable karma for my alleged misdeeds, not to protect my position as head of IWF and not even to keep myself from losing my alleged cabal of yes men.
I’m going to do it for the roster you so arrogantly claim to represent.
No matter how naïve they are, nobody deserves to have their career pissed away chasing your misguided dream, Alex. They may be too stupid to see right through you, but I’m not. I know how this starts, with fanfare and public shows of decency, all designed to show how you’re “different to me”.
And I know how it ends.
Win or lose, it won’t be for the benefit of anybody but yourself.
Once you’ve used them, you’ll spit them out and kick them to the curb and they’ll be left wondering why they ever bought into you, cursing themselves for buying your bullshit hook, line and sinker. Whatever I may be, and believe me I’m not for one second trying to delude anybody into thinking I’m an angel, one thing I’m not is somebody who shirks his responsibilities.
I promised I would always fight for a fair and equitable platform for professional wrestler to ply their trade and compete to be the very best. I have no intention of letting you and your pack of misguided fools tear that apart under the illusion that I have lost my way and you’re here to restore order.
This Sunday, I’m going to shatter the illusion that is Alex Jones, saviour of the people.
Until there is nothing left.
Alex Jones, you are perhaps the biggest sack of disingenuous shit heinously being granted the privilege of drawing breath on this entire roster.
You’re seriously going to have the absolute audacity to lecture me on my behaviour?
You’re so self-important, so absorbed in your own cult of personality, that you would dishonestly, maliciously and selfishly play fast and loose with the careers of three people under the most flimsy of façades of a readily transparent anti-authoritarian movement, all to just re-position yourself back in the main event.
A position you lost through your own feckless incompetence which you now try to dress up as a narrow defeat at the hands of a man you respect deeply and consider your equal. All despite spending months gnawing at his throat and publically denouncing his behaviour, the very behaviour I am disapproving of, the same disapproval you are now lashing out in defiance against behind the veneer of sincerity.
But then, that’s not exactly the only thing you’ve been a hypocritical oxygen thief over, is it?
Quite frankly, if your little campaign slogan is to be believed, you and the rest of this banal little crusade are so lacking in self-awareness its long since walked the borderline of being completely pathetic and arrogantly strode well over it.
You’re being held down?
Really?
Did you and the rest of the gibbering bunch of absolute cerebral abortions really decide to fly your flag for that?
Do you idiots realise just how easy it is to destroy the credibility of your vacuous and predictable claims? Are you honestly so lacking in self-retrospection to realise that you’ve effectively tried to front a professional integrity movement with two of the most privileged people in professional wrestling? It’s like Occupy Wall Street being led by fucking Donald Trump and the Koch brothers.
I mean, fuck, let’s just take one long look at the members of Body Count: Special Victims Unit.
Kyle Mason? Let’s throw you a bone here and start with quite literally the only person in your group with any legitimate right to hold a grievance about his position in the company. Yet, even Kyle’s cries should fall on deaf ears, that is, if we are talking about the same man who has had a Tag Team Championship title match, a number one contender’s match for the Man of Steel Championship and an opportunity to earn his way into the Heir to the Throne. That Kyle Mason?
Aaron Owens? The man who was until very recently the IWF Invictus Champion and who was only impeded in defending that championship by his participation in a competition which feasibly could have earned him an Imperial Championship match. The man who lost his championship fair and square in the middle of the ring once he ceased to be in the running for that prize. That Aaron Owens?
Andrew Jacobsen? The very man who until he decided to super kick me in the face three years too late was a supposed beneficiary of the very corruption you openly decry whilst also been the recipient of a position in the Heir to the Throne tournament that provides eight men the opportunity to control their own destiny. That Andrew Jacobsen?
Ana Jones? I mean seriously, are you legitimately going to attempt to convince the world that Ana Jones, one of the single most, if not the most, successful women in the entire of professional wrestling was held back by my nefarious and uncontrollable ego? The same woman I allowed to run roughshod over the entire female roster despite her repeated attempts to avoid legitimate titles defences, who has been granted an opportunity for her dream match repeatedly with Jessica and who was recently inducted into the Hall of Fame. That Ana Jones?
And then we come to you, Alex, the proverbial rotten cherry atop the stinking festering moral aberration that is Body Count. You of all people are going to cry your little eyes out about being held back? The same man who, after his complete global embarrassment at A Night To Remember was supported completely by this company in the pursuit of a rehabilitation of his image, allowing him to achieve multiple personal successes and finally granted the opportunity to represent a federation as it’s champion? That Alex Jones?
I mean seriously, I could go on and on, but that really should suffice for anybody who is legitimately stupid enough to believe that Body Count is anything more than a vehicle for the reinsertion of you and Ana back into the main event at the expense of everybody else because you are completely incapable of coping with the fact that your golden era ceased three months ago.
Let’s be really blunt here you disingenuous little parasite, all of this is a pathetic attempt to dupe three gullible and impressionable idiots with a chip on their shoulder into buying into your special snowflake narrative in a desperately futile attempt to con everybody into believing you’ve somehow been screwed over by not only myself, but anybody else who you care to slander.
If you weren’t such an intellectually dishonest little prick, you’d realise that we are in no way obligated to provide you, or anybody else for that matter, with an automatic rematch for any opportunities that you may squander.
For a man who is pretending to give something approaching a damn about fairness, it’s bizarre that you’ve launched this petulant little crusade over being denied the opportunity to effectively monopolise the Imperial Championship for yourself at the complete expense of all the people you’re claiming to be liberating from my despotic rule. Nobody likes a hypocrite, Alex, least of all when they’re such a lecherous little bastard like you.
But then, you’re just banking on everybody’s collective attention span resembling that of a goldfish so they all completely forget that you are the single most detestable piece of human garbage on this roster, which is saying a lot when the entire men’s division is represented by a sexual deviant with a rapidly evolving criminal record.
Seriously, think about that for a second.
You can keep trying to hide your vapid and egomaniacal intentions behind the often trod out “Verona is the Devil” stereotype and continue to cast me as the villain to illicit support from people who so desperate for an excuse to explain away their own failings, but sooner or later your true colour are going to start showing.
And when they do, the knives will be sharpened.
Listen, you capricious little drama Queen, let me elucidate your immediate future for you and because I have one last shred of generosity left I’ll be quite candid.
I am not just going to beat you this weekend, because quite frankly I’ve ascended a position in this business that renders individual victories in isolation moot, what’s more important now is the context of those victories.
At Legacy I am going to leave the broken husk of what was once called Alex Jones laid completely bare before the world so they may gaze upon your nakedness and realise that beneath the veneer, below the false and empty platitudes about “helping people”, you’re still the same black-hearted egotistical little prick you’ve always been.
I’m going to show the world exactly what you are, and they’re going to recoil at the ugliness of it.
This weekend isn’t just about gaining some sort of moral victory for your assault last month, this is about well and truly shattering the illusion that you’ve carefully constructed around yourself as the head of some sort of liberation movement with the interests of the entire roster at its heart. Not to save myself from some inevitable karma for my alleged misdeeds, not to protect my position as head of IWF and not even to keep myself from losing my alleged cabal of yes men.
I’m going to do it for the roster you so arrogantly claim to represent.
No matter how naïve they are, nobody deserves to have their career pissed away chasing your misguided dream, Alex. They may be too stupid to see right through you, but I’m not. I know how this starts, with fanfare and public shows of decency, all designed to show how you’re “different to me”.
And I know how it ends.
Win or lose, it won’t be for the benefit of anybody but yourself.
Once you’ve used them, you’ll spit them out and kick them to the curb and they’ll be left wondering why they ever bought into you, cursing themselves for buying your bullshit hook, line and sinker. Whatever I may be, and believe me I’m not for one second trying to delude anybody into thinking I’m an angel, one thing I’m not is somebody who shirks his responsibilities.
I promised I would always fight for a fair and equitable platform for professional wrestler to ply their trade and compete to be the very best. I have no intention of letting you and your pack of misguided fools tear that apart under the illusion that I have lost my way and you’re here to restore order.
This Sunday, I’m going to shatter the illusion that is Alex Jones, saviour of the people.
Until there is nothing left.
Well howdy there pardner.