Post by Eddie D. on Mar 22, 2016 15:34:59 GMT
This was it, this was the moment he’d been waiting for.
High Stakes 2016.
The Roulette.
Everything he’d been working for, fighting for, dying for comes down to this one night, this one match where thirty men will enter and only one man will leave, an Imperial Championship match guaranteed at Night of the Immortals.
The odds had been staked against him right from the very beginning. Right from the moment he resigned with Imperial Wrestling, stepped back into the ring and declared that he would some day soon become Imperial Champion, that he would be the one to defeat Roberto Verona.
A target had been placed on his back ever since, a target that has only gotten bigger because now if someone manages to eliminate him from the Roulette they would be getting an Imperial Championship match at the Viewer’s Choice pay per view.
This was all weighing heavily on his head, for a while he’d been fighting this war by himself, pushing away friends and family to keep them safe but he figured out that he can’t do this alone, he needs as many people to stand with him as he can get so when Roberto Verona finally comes face to face with Rob Diamond he’ll also be coming face to face with every single person he’d fucked.
But before that, before he could fight for his future and the future of Imperial Wrestling he had to go through an old foe, a man who is determined to see Rob Diamond driven from Imperial Wrestling once and for all, a man who made him pass out just one short month ago, a man Rob has never liked.
Mike Laszlo.
Last Man Standing rules, literally only one of them gets to walk away from this match and Rob wouldn’t want it any other way. He smiles to himself as he thinks of the hell they’re about to put themselves through just so one of them can say they’re better than the other. This is what professional wrestling should be about, not that Survival of the Fittest bullshit Verona spews, it should be two men going toe to toe, bell to bell until there is only one left standing.
The better man.
He looked himself up and down in the mirror, he’d trained as hard as he could, harder than he thought he could, he was ready for this, his body was ready for this but his heart?
His heart was sunk deep in his chest, hollow and hurting because his daughter was still missing, Hope was nowhere to be found and as much as he wanted to beat Mike Laszlo, win the Roulette and go on to topple Roberto Verona, he’d give it all up just to hold Hope one more time…
Amy: Rob, it’s almost time.
He looked up into her beautiful blue eyes, he still couldn’t believe she forgave him.
Rob: I know.
He looked away back to his reflection, back to his steely gaze and determined look, trying to push everything down that had been bothering him and just focusing on this match, on Mike Laszlo and what he had to do in just a few moments.
Amy: You ok?
Rob: Heh…
He snorted a laugh and looked down at the floor.
Rob: No… Not really…
She felt bad for him, how could you not after everything he’d been through. He didn’t want her sympathy but he did appreciate it. She placed her hand on his back and gently caressed him.
Amy: No matter what happens tonight, tomorrow, whenever, you’ve got me Rob. I’m not going anywhere.
He looked up at her with a tired look in his eyes, the look of a man who’d been through hell and kept on walking.
Rob: I’ve heard that before… From a lot of people…
Amy: But not from me. I mean it.
She hugged him lightly but he pulled her in good and tight.
Rob: I love you, Ames.
Amy: I love you, Rob.
He pulled back, grabbed his shirt off the bench and threw it on over his head, loosening his neck as he walked toward the door.
Rob: All right. Here we go.
This is it, this is the moment, it’s do or die. He pushed it all down, buried it deep in his belly and wiped everything from his mind except for one thing, one person, Mike Laszlo. He opened the door and prepared himself to walk into the most grueling match he’d ever been in when he came to a sudden stop, his jaw dropped as everything he’d been thinking about was suddenly forgotten.
Rob: Hope?
Hope: DADDY!!!!
His beautiful baby girl stood on the other side of the door, her brown hair and puppy dog eyes locked on her father before she leapt up into his arms, Rob dropping to his knees as he squeezed her tight.
Rob: Jesus Christ! Where have you been baby??
Hope: Wit mommy!
Rob: An… And where is she?
Hope: I dun know… Potty?
Rob held her back and looked into her eyes, checking her all over making sure she was perfectly fine and she was. She was here. Kate was gone. To where? He didn’t know but he had Hope back, his daughter and now nothing else mattered…
So what are we gonna do, huh? Debate semantics with each other?
Yeah Mike, in the record books you got the “win” you made me pass out and the referee called the match.
But you didn’t beat me. Spin that whichever way you want but you and I both know it’s true. You won the match, you didn’t fucking beat me. And you sure as hell didn’t end me like you’ve been promising.
See, I got right back fucking up after we kicked each other’s asses all over the arena, got right back in the fucking ring and went right back to kicking ass, winning matches and showing the whole goddamn world why I am the one who deserves a shot at the Imperial Championship.
I’m not gonna debate this shit with you anymore Mike, why you came back, why you attacked me, how you won, none of that fucking matters because this is a new day, a new match and the two of us? We don’t need a reason to beat the hell out of each other.
It’s a simple as you don’t like me and I don’t like you.
We never have. We never will. Ain’t nothing ever gonna change that. We’ve hated each other since NCW and we’re gonna hate each other until the end of fucking time. So let’s not waste each other’s times trying to figure out which one of us is the hero of this little story.
There ain’t one.
We’ve both done things we shouldn’t be proud of to each other but are. We’ve both been miserable fucking people and poor excuses for human beings. Fact of the matter is we bring out the worst in each other and that’s what makes this whole thing just a little bit fun for me. Because you wanna bust my face up as badly as I wanna bust your face up. I know when I step into the ring with you I’m fighting for my career, it’s not just something I need to tell myself to get hyped, it’s a fact.
I can’t take that away from you, wouldn’t try, end of the day you’ve come a long way since we met for the first time back in NCW. You’ve gone from being a little piss ant push over to being one of the top dogs in the biggest promotion in the world. As much it pains me to admit it, you’re one of the few people who actually made the effort to get better.
But you’re gonna need to be more than better at High Stakes, Mike, you’re gonna need to better than your best because I’m not just fighting you that night. I’m fighting the whole damn roster. People I love, hate, respect or feel indifferently about. See, I have to get through you then step into the Roulette and get through everybody else.
I’m literally fighting for my career.
For my future.
And I know you’re stepping into this match looking to hurt me as much as you possibly can, probably looking to end my career and remove that annoying thorn from your side. But that’s the thing Mike, that’s why you need to be better than last time because you didn’t end me.
You couldn’t.
Not because you don’t have the balls to do it but because I wouldn’t fucking let you.
And at High Stakes when we’re ripping each other to pieces, hitting each other with every single weapon we can get our grubby little fucking hands on I want you to know as much as I don’t like you, as much as I fucking hate you and as much as I’ll be trying to beat you to the point of unconsciousness you are just a fucking obstacle in my way.
See as good as you’ve gotten, as far up the ladder as you’ve climbed, you still aren’t my end game, you still aren’t the top dog, you still aren’t where my fucking journey ends. You’re the fucking intermission, the piss break I take on my way to becoming Imperial Champion, a blip on the fucking radar of my career because when it’s all said and done and I’ve laid you out for the count of ten I’ll be moving on to something bigger than you, better than you, something you’ve only ever experienced because once upon a time Roberto Verona felt fucking bad for you.
The Main Event.
That’s where I belong and NOTHING you can do is going to stop me from getting there.
NOTHING!
As far as I’m fucking concerned you’ve failed at every attempt to put me down, failed to drive me from this company and at the end of the day you’re going to fail to keep me from the Imperial Championship because I am going to fucking beat you, I’m going to lay you the fuck out and then I’m going to step into the Roulette and throw every single fucking person that steps into my path over that top goddamn rope and march into Night of the Immortals and TAKE the Imperial Championship from Roberto Verona.
I’m going to be the hero you should have been when you beat Angel Blake.
I’m going to be the man you should have been.
Because I’m not just going to do this one for me, nah, I’m done being selfish. I’m doing it for Imperial Wrestling, I’m doing it for Warren Kane, Jayson Matthews, Nighthawk, Ryan Shane and every other person that Roberto Verona has tried to stomp out. I’m doing it for the fans who pay their hard earned money to watch us week in and week out, who cheer or boo us when we step through that curtain.
I’m doing it for my daughter, Hope so when she grows up she can say her daddy was a hero…
I ran from that word for a long time, avoided it, tried to continue doing things the way I’d always done them but then it occurred to me, I never got anywhere and when I did, I never felt like I deserved it. I lied and cheated my way to a World title before, I back stabbed and betrayed people I considered family, I lived my life like a worthless scum bag for a long time but that’s over. That’s not who I am anymore. And I ain’t never gonna be that person again. Maybe you like looking in the mirror knowing how worthless you are, knowing no matter how much you yell and scream when the curtain closes ain’t nobody gonna remember you because there ain’t nothing worth remembering.
But I don’t.
I’m going to beat you Mike, I have to, and while you stand there and try and convince yourself other wise you know deep down inside that this time, it’s gonna be you that gets knocked the fuck out.
And at Night of the Immortals when I stand tall over Roberto Verona as the new Imperial Champion with you watching from the back clutching that little brief case of yours you’ll finally understand what a colossal fucking failure of a person you are because it could’ve been you, Mike. But you pissed it all away over some ill-conceived notion to beat respect out of people.
And I’m sorry to tell ya son, nobody respects an asshole.
An if you ain’t down with that then I’ve got two words for ya.
Suck it.
High Stakes 2016.
The Roulette.
Everything he’d been working for, fighting for, dying for comes down to this one night, this one match where thirty men will enter and only one man will leave, an Imperial Championship match guaranteed at Night of the Immortals.
The odds had been staked against him right from the very beginning. Right from the moment he resigned with Imperial Wrestling, stepped back into the ring and declared that he would some day soon become Imperial Champion, that he would be the one to defeat Roberto Verona.
A target had been placed on his back ever since, a target that has only gotten bigger because now if someone manages to eliminate him from the Roulette they would be getting an Imperial Championship match at the Viewer’s Choice pay per view.
This was all weighing heavily on his head, for a while he’d been fighting this war by himself, pushing away friends and family to keep them safe but he figured out that he can’t do this alone, he needs as many people to stand with him as he can get so when Roberto Verona finally comes face to face with Rob Diamond he’ll also be coming face to face with every single person he’d fucked.
But before that, before he could fight for his future and the future of Imperial Wrestling he had to go through an old foe, a man who is determined to see Rob Diamond driven from Imperial Wrestling once and for all, a man who made him pass out just one short month ago, a man Rob has never liked.
Mike Laszlo.
Last Man Standing rules, literally only one of them gets to walk away from this match and Rob wouldn’t want it any other way. He smiles to himself as he thinks of the hell they’re about to put themselves through just so one of them can say they’re better than the other. This is what professional wrestling should be about, not that Survival of the Fittest bullshit Verona spews, it should be two men going toe to toe, bell to bell until there is only one left standing.
The better man.
He looked himself up and down in the mirror, he’d trained as hard as he could, harder than he thought he could, he was ready for this, his body was ready for this but his heart?
His heart was sunk deep in his chest, hollow and hurting because his daughter was still missing, Hope was nowhere to be found and as much as he wanted to beat Mike Laszlo, win the Roulette and go on to topple Roberto Verona, he’d give it all up just to hold Hope one more time…
Amy: Rob, it’s almost time.
He looked up into her beautiful blue eyes, he still couldn’t believe she forgave him.
Rob: I know.
He looked away back to his reflection, back to his steely gaze and determined look, trying to push everything down that had been bothering him and just focusing on this match, on Mike Laszlo and what he had to do in just a few moments.
Amy: You ok?
Rob: Heh…
He snorted a laugh and looked down at the floor.
Rob: No… Not really…
She felt bad for him, how could you not after everything he’d been through. He didn’t want her sympathy but he did appreciate it. She placed her hand on his back and gently caressed him.
Amy: No matter what happens tonight, tomorrow, whenever, you’ve got me Rob. I’m not going anywhere.
He looked up at her with a tired look in his eyes, the look of a man who’d been through hell and kept on walking.
Rob: I’ve heard that before… From a lot of people…
Amy: But not from me. I mean it.
She hugged him lightly but he pulled her in good and tight.
Rob: I love you, Ames.
Amy: I love you, Rob.
He pulled back, grabbed his shirt off the bench and threw it on over his head, loosening his neck as he walked toward the door.
Rob: All right. Here we go.
This is it, this is the moment, it’s do or die. He pushed it all down, buried it deep in his belly and wiped everything from his mind except for one thing, one person, Mike Laszlo. He opened the door and prepared himself to walk into the most grueling match he’d ever been in when he came to a sudden stop, his jaw dropped as everything he’d been thinking about was suddenly forgotten.
Rob: Hope?
Hope: DADDY!!!!
His beautiful baby girl stood on the other side of the door, her brown hair and puppy dog eyes locked on her father before she leapt up into his arms, Rob dropping to his knees as he squeezed her tight.
Rob: Jesus Christ! Where have you been baby??
Hope: Wit mommy!
Rob: An… And where is she?
Hope: I dun know… Potty?
Rob held her back and looked into her eyes, checking her all over making sure she was perfectly fine and she was. She was here. Kate was gone. To where? He didn’t know but he had Hope back, his daughter and now nothing else mattered…
So what are we gonna do, huh? Debate semantics with each other?
Yeah Mike, in the record books you got the “win” you made me pass out and the referee called the match.
But you didn’t beat me. Spin that whichever way you want but you and I both know it’s true. You won the match, you didn’t fucking beat me. And you sure as hell didn’t end me like you’ve been promising.
See, I got right back fucking up after we kicked each other’s asses all over the arena, got right back in the fucking ring and went right back to kicking ass, winning matches and showing the whole goddamn world why I am the one who deserves a shot at the Imperial Championship.
I’m not gonna debate this shit with you anymore Mike, why you came back, why you attacked me, how you won, none of that fucking matters because this is a new day, a new match and the two of us? We don’t need a reason to beat the hell out of each other.
It’s a simple as you don’t like me and I don’t like you.
We never have. We never will. Ain’t nothing ever gonna change that. We’ve hated each other since NCW and we’re gonna hate each other until the end of fucking time. So let’s not waste each other’s times trying to figure out which one of us is the hero of this little story.
There ain’t one.
We’ve both done things we shouldn’t be proud of to each other but are. We’ve both been miserable fucking people and poor excuses for human beings. Fact of the matter is we bring out the worst in each other and that’s what makes this whole thing just a little bit fun for me. Because you wanna bust my face up as badly as I wanna bust your face up. I know when I step into the ring with you I’m fighting for my career, it’s not just something I need to tell myself to get hyped, it’s a fact.
I can’t take that away from you, wouldn’t try, end of the day you’ve come a long way since we met for the first time back in NCW. You’ve gone from being a little piss ant push over to being one of the top dogs in the biggest promotion in the world. As much it pains me to admit it, you’re one of the few people who actually made the effort to get better.
But you’re gonna need to be more than better at High Stakes, Mike, you’re gonna need to better than your best because I’m not just fighting you that night. I’m fighting the whole damn roster. People I love, hate, respect or feel indifferently about. See, I have to get through you then step into the Roulette and get through everybody else.
I’m literally fighting for my career.
For my future.
And I know you’re stepping into this match looking to hurt me as much as you possibly can, probably looking to end my career and remove that annoying thorn from your side. But that’s the thing Mike, that’s why you need to be better than last time because you didn’t end me.
You couldn’t.
Not because you don’t have the balls to do it but because I wouldn’t fucking let you.
And at High Stakes when we’re ripping each other to pieces, hitting each other with every single weapon we can get our grubby little fucking hands on I want you to know as much as I don’t like you, as much as I fucking hate you and as much as I’ll be trying to beat you to the point of unconsciousness you are just a fucking obstacle in my way.
See as good as you’ve gotten, as far up the ladder as you’ve climbed, you still aren’t my end game, you still aren’t the top dog, you still aren’t where my fucking journey ends. You’re the fucking intermission, the piss break I take on my way to becoming Imperial Champion, a blip on the fucking radar of my career because when it’s all said and done and I’ve laid you out for the count of ten I’ll be moving on to something bigger than you, better than you, something you’ve only ever experienced because once upon a time Roberto Verona felt fucking bad for you.
The Main Event.
That’s where I belong and NOTHING you can do is going to stop me from getting there.
NOTHING!
As far as I’m fucking concerned you’ve failed at every attempt to put me down, failed to drive me from this company and at the end of the day you’re going to fail to keep me from the Imperial Championship because I am going to fucking beat you, I’m going to lay you the fuck out and then I’m going to step into the Roulette and throw every single fucking person that steps into my path over that top goddamn rope and march into Night of the Immortals and TAKE the Imperial Championship from Roberto Verona.
I’m going to be the hero you should have been when you beat Angel Blake.
I’m going to be the man you should have been.
Because I’m not just going to do this one for me, nah, I’m done being selfish. I’m doing it for Imperial Wrestling, I’m doing it for Warren Kane, Jayson Matthews, Nighthawk, Ryan Shane and every other person that Roberto Verona has tried to stomp out. I’m doing it for the fans who pay their hard earned money to watch us week in and week out, who cheer or boo us when we step through that curtain.
I’m doing it for my daughter, Hope so when she grows up she can say her daddy was a hero…
I ran from that word for a long time, avoided it, tried to continue doing things the way I’d always done them but then it occurred to me, I never got anywhere and when I did, I never felt like I deserved it. I lied and cheated my way to a World title before, I back stabbed and betrayed people I considered family, I lived my life like a worthless scum bag for a long time but that’s over. That’s not who I am anymore. And I ain’t never gonna be that person again. Maybe you like looking in the mirror knowing how worthless you are, knowing no matter how much you yell and scream when the curtain closes ain’t nobody gonna remember you because there ain’t nothing worth remembering.
But I don’t.
I’m going to beat you Mike, I have to, and while you stand there and try and convince yourself other wise you know deep down inside that this time, it’s gonna be you that gets knocked the fuck out.
And at Night of the Immortals when I stand tall over Roberto Verona as the new Imperial Champion with you watching from the back clutching that little brief case of yours you’ll finally understand what a colossal fucking failure of a person you are because it could’ve been you, Mike. But you pissed it all away over some ill-conceived notion to beat respect out of people.
And I’m sorry to tell ya son, nobody respects an asshole.
An if you ain’t down with that then I’ve got two words for ya.
Suck it.
Well howdy there pardner.