#areasonformetofight

[Eddie D.]

I ain't lying to myself, I know this is gonna be hard...

Winning the Roulette is probably gonna be the hardest thing I've ever done in my life but it's something I have to do.

I don't have a choice anymore.

See, Laszlo cost me my shot, the shot the Board of Directors gave me because they know, like everyone else knows that I goddamn deserve it. Now I'm down to this, the Roulette, because Verona sure as shit ain't gonna give me another shot and the best part? He's put a bounty on my head.

So it ain't just me and twenty nine other guys trying to throw each other outta the ring, it's literally me versus twenty nine other guys.

Fucking love the odds.

But that's the thing, it's all of you versus little old me. I know what I'm walking into, I know what I have to do, I know it's gonna be the fight of my life and if I don't win this one then I might as well just fucking quit.

It's do or die.

And I ain't ready to die yet.

That's how I chose to live.

I don't know what the fuck I'm supposed to do. My kids been missing for two weeks, the cops ain't got no leads, I haven't heard shit from that bitch Kate and I royally fucked things up with Amy...

Sometimes I really hate my life.

I'm trying to stay focused on the ring, on my matches and on what I have to do but it's so fucking hard. I can't stop worrying, I can't stop picturing my beautiful baby girls little face as she laughs at me. Everytime I blink I can see her, everytime I stop to think I hear her, it's fucking agonizing and I'm literally helpess.

For the first time in my life I can't solve this with my fists. All I can do is wait...

I try to train, to exercise, to push my body past it's limits so I can be ready for the Roulette, for Verona and for that little fucking worm Mike Laszlo. I've been pushing myself, working harder than I've ever worked before but it just isn't coming together. I'm too distracted... I should of seen Laszlo coming, I should of been able to stop him, I should be Imperial Champion right now but I fucked up...

God I miss you Hope...

And Amy, yeah she feels bad for me but she's still pissed at me for what I did. I got scared, sent her home because I was worried Laszlo or Caffrey would try something, worried that they'd hurt her again so instead I hurt her and they won anyways...

I hurt her just like I hurt Jazz, just like I'm hurting Hope now, that's all I do isn't it? I hurt people. It's what I do for a living, it's what I do in my personal life, it's all I've ever fucking been good at...

Warren wants me to believe I'm a good person, Amy says the same damn thing, Jazz... She used to say it but I don't see it... When I look in the mirror like I'm doing right now I don't see a good person...

I see my dad...

The same angry leer, the same dark rings under the eyes, the same way our lips quiver into a dark sneer and the same way we hurt everyone we love because we're too fucking weak to let anyone see who we are on the inside...

I want to, I want to let people in, I've tried, I tried to let Jazz in, god knows I've tried to let Spike and Warren in but everytime they get too close I make a joke or say something stupid to throw them off. I play the court jester because it's easier, that way if shit goes wrong, and it usually does in professional wrestling, it won't hurt as bad when we're at each other's throats...

But that doesn't always work, does it Rob?

It fucking hurt like hell when Spike drove you head first through that cell, didn't it?

It hurt you in your heart, your soul, because you couldn't finish him off, you didn't want to, am I right?

And you see that same crazy in the eyes of his son, Warren, the kid is so good, so caring but you're terrified that one day his father's demons will come home to roost and your best friend will become your worst enemy, again...

But if you don't let people in, if you keep living like him, like dad then you're never going to be happy. He died miserable, alone, he fucking killed himself because he hated the person he saw in the mirror every morning just like you do now.

Do you wanna die, Rob?

Do you wanna die like a fucking coward running a parked car in your garage?

Or do you wanna live?

Love?

Do you wanna find your daughter, give her a fantastic fucking life and die knowing you lived every day to it's fullest?

Rob: You goddamn right I do.

Then stop talking to yourself in the mirror, pick up the phone, call Amy and tell her...

Amy: Hey Rob... Everything ok?

Tell her.

Rob: Amy, I know I fucked up and I know everything is in a weird place right now and I know we've only really known each other for over a month but... I love you.

Can't live inside your shell forever, even if she doesn't feel the same at least you put it out there, atleast-

Amy: I love you too, Rob.

Thank God!

So that's what this all comes down to.

You're gonna have to kill me and throw my dead ass body over the top rope to keep me from winning the Roulette.

I'm serious.

Because this is about more than me becomming Imperial Champion now, this is way bigger than just a Championship. This is a fucking war between me and Roberto Verona. And I'll be damned if anyone is going to get in between me and that smug son of a bitch.

I don't just want his title, I don't just want to end his reign, I want his fucking still beating heart in the palm of my hand as I squeeze the last fucking pump out of it.

Does that sound nasty? Because it was supposed to.

That's how fucking pissed off I am, that's how badly I want to win this match, how badly I NEED to win this match because if I don't I won't be getting anywhere near him ever again. And between you and me, I can't live with that.

I can't live with another failure on my record and my life is full of them, guys like Alex Jones and Mike Laszlo would love to tell you about all the times I've ever fucked up. I need this, I need to stand in that ring with him again, one on one and I need to bury my fist in his fucking throat and end his fucking career.

He's a sickness.

A pure breed evil.

A goddamn monster.

In the past I've agreed with him, I've seen his point of view, I've even admitted I'd do the same goddamn thing, but you know what?

I couldn't.

I wouldn't.

Given the choice between ending the career of an innocent man or putting my own fire out, I'd chose myself every single time. And I have, even when the man wasn't so innocent. I couldn't put down my best friend when he was off his rocker and mutilating the roster but the difference between Spike Kane and Roberto Verona is this.

I love Spike.

I hate Roberto.

I hate what he's turned IWF into, I hate the way he manipulates everyone's words, I hate the smug look of satisfaction on his face every time one of us does something according to his plan, I hate every single moment that son of bitch gets to walk free while the rest of us claw out each other's throats.

Professional Wrestling is a competition! A sport! We're meant to step into the ring an beat each other's asses until only one us is left standing but Verona has turned every match into a blood bath. He's made it so we're all so busy killing each other that he continues to skate by with the one prize we should all be fighting for.

Who has he REALLY defended against?

Roberto Verona is striding into the longest reign in the history of the company just like he did in NCW with absolutely no competition because of Survival of the Fittest.

Warren Kane should be Imperial Champion right now if he wasn't so busy looking over his shoulder, out for revenge after his InVictus Championship was stolen.

Mike fucking Laszlo should be Imperial Champion if he didn't have his sights set on me.

Renee Pleasant should be Imperial Champion if Verona didn't fuck him and throw a curve ball named Alex Jones in his path.

Alex Jones should be Imperial Champion but he's drinking the cool aid of Verona and off busting skulls of those stupid enough to stand with me like Nighthawk.

Any one of us could be and should be Imperial Champion, any single fucking one of us but because of that egotistical Napoleon complex mother fucker we're all distracted, caught off guard, fighting each other tooth and nail and Verona is sitting pretty at the top of the goddamn ladder.

That shit ends in the Roulette.

I'm not just gonna win for me because I want too, I'm gonna win for Warren, for Renee, for Mike, for Alex and for everyone else in the back, everyone who has ever been looked over like Nighthawk and Andrew Jacobsen, everyone who has ever been laughed at or unjustly fired like Freakke or Mason St. Croix, everyone who was made to feel like they didn't matter because they weren't a fucking name in NCW like Jake Keeton or Ryan Shane.

WHEN I win the Roulette and WHEN I win the Imperial Championship it's not just going to be me in there holding the belt up, it's gonna be all of us, together, as brothers and sisters doing what we fucking love to do, what we were born to do.

WRESTLE!

And if you ain't down with that, well, I got two words for ya.

SUCK IT!