Post by Eddie D. on Mar 1, 2016 20:48:35 GMT
I’m not mad…
I’m not mad about what happened at Danger Zone…
Not at all…
I’M EXTREMELY FUCKING PISSED OFF!!!!
I’m pissed off because as far as I’m concerned I didn’t lose that match, I didn’t tap out, I didn’t say I quit and I sure as hell didn’t lose but you know what, I’m not Mike Laszlo, I’m not going to harp about this forever at nausea. All I’m going to say is there will be another time, another place and I will break that pencil neck geeks back like my name was Bane, BITCH!
As for what I’m here today to talk about, it’s real simple.
Roulette.
In a few weeks time everyone on the IWF roster and I’m sure a few surprises who we haven’t seen in a while are going to step into the ring one at a time, over the top rules and the last man standing gets a shot at the Imperial Championship, at Roberto Verona at NIGHT OF THE IMMORTALS!
Guess who the last man standing is going to be?
Yeah, that’s right, the Greatest of all Time, the Mother Fucking InFamous One, Rob Diamond himself! Me. I’m going to be the last man standing and you wanna know why I can say that? Because for the better part of the last six months Roberto Verona has been a real pain in my ass and I’m not going to let anyone stand in between him, me and the Imperial Championship!
See, ever since I returned I’ve made it pretty goddamn clear that I want a shot at the Imperial Championship, the owner of the company took my desire for a title match as a personal slight and has set out to completely and utterly destroy me.
I’m still standing.
He’s sicked Jake Conway, Zasshu, Mike Laszlo and more on me and I’ve made it past every single one of them. I survived every single one of them. I stood tall through defeat and humiliation and now there is nothing left between him and me besides roughly thirty other people and you know what I have to say about that?
Bring em the fuck on.
Bring on Spike Kane, Warren Kane, hell drag Homeless Harold and Angel Blake out of retirement, Alex Jones, Jake Keeton and anyone else you can find. Bring on the fucking challengers because I’m telling you right here and right now that the Roulette is MY MATCH TO WIN! And there ain’t nobody good enough to stop me.
Not even God himself can keep this victory from me.
Rob’s brown eyes dilate from the light of the of the ring side medic as he checks him over for a concussion. He looks angry, frustrated and stitched back together like something out of a Mary Shelley novel but somehow calm at the same time, like he’s planning his next attack.
Phil: Rob, how many fingers am I holding up.
Rob: Go fuck yourself.
Phil, the medic, doesn’t even flinch at Rob’s off handed insults, being pretty used to it by now he continues to hold up three fingers waiting for the correct answer.
Rob: I mean three.
Phil: Good, that’s good.
Phil pulls away from Rob and jots some things down on his note pad. Rob just continues to stare dead ahead of himself, his mind going back over the closing minutes of his match with Mike Laszlo and where things went wrong and how they could of gone right.
Phil: Well, shockingly, it looks like you’re perfectly fine.
Rob: Awesome.
Phil half rolls his eyes as he gathers his things up and heads for the door of the locker room, Rob still in a silent fury over his match and over the way his last conversation with Amy went. He drops his head as the whole scenario plays through his mind again.
”GO HOME!”
He was worried that Mike or Alexis would try something, after all they’d already hurt her once so wouldn’t they try again if she was in the arena. Mike saw it as justified for what Rob had done to Alexis last year but the difference to Rob was that Alexis is a fully trained professional wrestler with years of experience, she knew how to take a bump. Amy had only been training for a few months, they could have seriously hurt her and it would have been his fault…
Rob: Fuck me…
Rob rolls his head on his neck trying to loosen it back up, his body one giant knot after his grueling Iron Man match, the weight of his failures mounting on his shoulders. The ding of his phone distracted him from his own self-loathing for a moment as he reached down to his bag and pulled it out. But he wasn’t prepared for what he read…
Message from: Mom
“Rob, she took her, she broke into the house during the night and took her, Hope’s gone.”
His eyes went red, his face flushed rage, his whole body shook as he read the message over and over again.
Rob: FUCK!!!! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!!!!!!!!
With blind rage he launches his phone across the locker room and shatters it into hundreds of pieces as the scene quietly fades out…
I want ya’ll to know that I’m not seeing faces in front of me, I could give a rats ass who you are, what you’ve done or whether or not we’re best friends or bitter enemies. This match is for a shot at the biggest prize in our industry.
The Imperial Championship.
So we ain’t friends once I’m inside that ring, we ain’t even enemies. What you are to me are human sized obstacles that I have to beat down and throw out to get to my ultimate goal, to get to the title shot I mother fucking deserve.
Call it harsh, cold, whatever, I call it the facts of life because I’m in this business for one reason and one reason alone. I’m here to be the best goddamn wrestler on the planet, I’m here to be the Greatest of all Time, I’m here to be the Champ and that goal comes before anything and everything else. It comes before butt hurt feelings or buried forbidden love.
So I’m sorry ahead of time if I hurt your feelings during the course of the Roulette.
I’m sorry if you take the things I say the wrong way.
I’m sorry if you get the fuck in my way because you WILL REGRET IT!
As for Roberto Verona, the man who’s been ducking and dodging me since I returned, the man who’s finally stepping into the ring with me on Open Fight Night next week.
I’m not a fucking idiot. I know you’ve got an “ACE” up you sleeve because there ain’t no way you’d just hand over what I want without having a sure fire plan to fuck me right up the ass. So you’re gonna have to excuse me if I’m looking past Open Fight Night and right to High Stakes, right to the Roulette and right to Night of the Immortals.
I WILL BE THE MAN TO END YOUR REIGN!
I will mow down your ENTIRE ROSTER to get to you and I know in your fucked up head you think that’s me proving you right but the rub has always been that I didn’t disagree with any of the things you’ve said about me.
I’m a selfish son of a bitch.
Yeah, you fuck with my friends and I will fuck with you back but when you boil it down to the bare bones I care about me and my success that’s why when you said everything was Survival of the Fittest from here on out I laughed in your fucking face.
I’ve surviving and I’ve been the fittest since the very beginning.
And that’s something EVERY ONE is about to learn.
An if you ain’t down with that then I’ve got two words for ya.
SUCK IT!
I’m not mad about what happened at Danger Zone…
Not at all…
I’M EXTREMELY FUCKING PISSED OFF!!!!
I’m pissed off because as far as I’m concerned I didn’t lose that match, I didn’t tap out, I didn’t say I quit and I sure as hell didn’t lose but you know what, I’m not Mike Laszlo, I’m not going to harp about this forever at nausea. All I’m going to say is there will be another time, another place and I will break that pencil neck geeks back like my name was Bane, BITCH!
As for what I’m here today to talk about, it’s real simple.
Roulette.
In a few weeks time everyone on the IWF roster and I’m sure a few surprises who we haven’t seen in a while are going to step into the ring one at a time, over the top rules and the last man standing gets a shot at the Imperial Championship, at Roberto Verona at NIGHT OF THE IMMORTALS!
Guess who the last man standing is going to be?
Yeah, that’s right, the Greatest of all Time, the Mother Fucking InFamous One, Rob Diamond himself! Me. I’m going to be the last man standing and you wanna know why I can say that? Because for the better part of the last six months Roberto Verona has been a real pain in my ass and I’m not going to let anyone stand in between him, me and the Imperial Championship!
See, ever since I returned I’ve made it pretty goddamn clear that I want a shot at the Imperial Championship, the owner of the company took my desire for a title match as a personal slight and has set out to completely and utterly destroy me.
I’m still standing.
He’s sicked Jake Conway, Zasshu, Mike Laszlo and more on me and I’ve made it past every single one of them. I survived every single one of them. I stood tall through defeat and humiliation and now there is nothing left between him and me besides roughly thirty other people and you know what I have to say about that?
Bring em the fuck on.
Bring on Spike Kane, Warren Kane, hell drag Homeless Harold and Angel Blake out of retirement, Alex Jones, Jake Keeton and anyone else you can find. Bring on the fucking challengers because I’m telling you right here and right now that the Roulette is MY MATCH TO WIN! And there ain’t nobody good enough to stop me.
Not even God himself can keep this victory from me.
Rob’s brown eyes dilate from the light of the of the ring side medic as he checks him over for a concussion. He looks angry, frustrated and stitched back together like something out of a Mary Shelley novel but somehow calm at the same time, like he’s planning his next attack.
Phil: Rob, how many fingers am I holding up.
Rob: Go fuck yourself.
Phil, the medic, doesn’t even flinch at Rob’s off handed insults, being pretty used to it by now he continues to hold up three fingers waiting for the correct answer.
Rob: I mean three.
Phil: Good, that’s good.
Phil pulls away from Rob and jots some things down on his note pad. Rob just continues to stare dead ahead of himself, his mind going back over the closing minutes of his match with Mike Laszlo and where things went wrong and how they could of gone right.
Phil: Well, shockingly, it looks like you’re perfectly fine.
Rob: Awesome.
Phil half rolls his eyes as he gathers his things up and heads for the door of the locker room, Rob still in a silent fury over his match and over the way his last conversation with Amy went. He drops his head as the whole scenario plays through his mind again.
”GO HOME!”
He was worried that Mike or Alexis would try something, after all they’d already hurt her once so wouldn’t they try again if she was in the arena. Mike saw it as justified for what Rob had done to Alexis last year but the difference to Rob was that Alexis is a fully trained professional wrestler with years of experience, she knew how to take a bump. Amy had only been training for a few months, they could have seriously hurt her and it would have been his fault…
Rob: Fuck me…
Rob rolls his head on his neck trying to loosen it back up, his body one giant knot after his grueling Iron Man match, the weight of his failures mounting on his shoulders. The ding of his phone distracted him from his own self-loathing for a moment as he reached down to his bag and pulled it out. But he wasn’t prepared for what he read…
Message from: Mom
“Rob, she took her, she broke into the house during the night and took her, Hope’s gone.”
His eyes went red, his face flushed rage, his whole body shook as he read the message over and over again.
Rob: FUCK!!!! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!!!!!!!!
With blind rage he launches his phone across the locker room and shatters it into hundreds of pieces as the scene quietly fades out…
I want ya’ll to know that I’m not seeing faces in front of me, I could give a rats ass who you are, what you’ve done or whether or not we’re best friends or bitter enemies. This match is for a shot at the biggest prize in our industry.
The Imperial Championship.
So we ain’t friends once I’m inside that ring, we ain’t even enemies. What you are to me are human sized obstacles that I have to beat down and throw out to get to my ultimate goal, to get to the title shot I mother fucking deserve.
Call it harsh, cold, whatever, I call it the facts of life because I’m in this business for one reason and one reason alone. I’m here to be the best goddamn wrestler on the planet, I’m here to be the Greatest of all Time, I’m here to be the Champ and that goal comes before anything and everything else. It comes before butt hurt feelings or buried forbidden love.
So I’m sorry ahead of time if I hurt your feelings during the course of the Roulette.
I’m sorry if you take the things I say the wrong way.
I’m sorry if you get the fuck in my way because you WILL REGRET IT!
As for Roberto Verona, the man who’s been ducking and dodging me since I returned, the man who’s finally stepping into the ring with me on Open Fight Night next week.
I’m not a fucking idiot. I know you’ve got an “ACE” up you sleeve because there ain’t no way you’d just hand over what I want without having a sure fire plan to fuck me right up the ass. So you’re gonna have to excuse me if I’m looking past Open Fight Night and right to High Stakes, right to the Roulette and right to Night of the Immortals.
I WILL BE THE MAN TO END YOUR REIGN!
I will mow down your ENTIRE ROSTER to get to you and I know in your fucked up head you think that’s me proving you right but the rub has always been that I didn’t disagree with any of the things you’ve said about me.
I’m a selfish son of a bitch.
Yeah, you fuck with my friends and I will fuck with you back but when you boil it down to the bare bones I care about me and my success that’s why when you said everything was Survival of the Fittest from here on out I laughed in your fucking face.
I’ve surviving and I’ve been the fittest since the very beginning.
And that’s something EVERY ONE is about to learn.
An if you ain’t down with that then I’ve got two words for ya.
SUCK IT!
Well howdy there pardner.