Post by Dre Cutler on Aug 28, 2016 6:03:57 GMT
After weeks of battling and jostling in the Heir to the Throne, the dust is finally falling back to the ground.
And there are only two competitors still standing: Cable Arcane and Dre Cutler.
And the wrestling world is stunned.
See, when the competitors were announced, many fans and wrestling enthusiasts developed a serious and debilitating case of tunnel vision. There were a few well known wrestlers involved, guys like Adam Knite, Mike Laszlo, and Ryan Shane. And their name power and past accomplishments immediately made them favorites to win the tournament. Some people thought outside the box and looked at guys like Nighthawk and James Franklin Karn as potential sleeper picks.
As for me? People looked at my name while shrugging and scratching their heads. And now that I'm here, two matches away from becoming the Imperial champion, their bodies are convulsing because the shock is too much to handle.
Yet, I'm not surprised. I knew I'd be here because I am confident in my abilities. I needed an opportunity to showcase my skills and IWF gave me one.
And I think it's safe to say I didn't disappoint.
And my opponent, Cable Arcane, I believe it's a bit of a surprise that he's here as well, although to a much lesser extent. While no one truly thinks he's the "Best in the World" other than himself, he's been around in the public's eye longer than I have and he's been all around the world.
We came into this tournament and truly shook the foundation of this company.
And now one of us has the opportunity to become the face of it.
I know you put on your arrogant makeup in the morning, Cable. But before you apply it, when you stare in the mirror, do you feel confident? Do you think you have what it takes to carry the industry on your shoulders? Or do you feel scared and alone? I think it's the latter, if I'm being honest with you. When you're looking back at yourself, you feel naked, you feel inadequate -- and most of all, you feel disappointed with the man you've become. But contrary to popular belief, we don't get second chances in this world, Cable, so you go through the same routine, morning in and morning out, applying the mask that covers your wounds and putting on a visage of cockiness.
You get in front of the people, safely behind your mask, and you claim that you're the best and will annihilate anyone and everyone in your way. Yet, I sit back and ponder to myself: how can the self-proclaimed "Best in the World" be so one dimensional? Your problem is your comfort level starts and ends on your feet. If you're on your back, you're through -- you realize that, right?
You're a fighter, not a wrestler.
And so far you've been able to cruise through with your fists and kicks. What happens when you step into the ring with someone like myself? A proclaimed and self-ordained student of the game? Will you be able to adapt to my game plan? Will you be able to go where I take the match? If I fly, will you fly? If I lock you up, twist and torque your joints and muscles, will you be able to handle it and reverse the momentum? Do you, in your heart of hearts, really believe you're the best, Cable?
You talk a big game but what happens when I remove your mask in front of everyone? When the real Cable is revealed, how will you handle it?
Do you think you're championship material?
It seems kind of funny, at least to me, that the only way you could feel man enough, or confident enough, to come back to this promotion -- to come back to American wrestling -- is when someone coddles you and promises to hold your hand every step of the way. You were too ashamed of your past failures, so you ran away to other countries.
You claimed your were honing your skills, although you came back just as sloppy and singular-minded as when you left.
But Laura came from the shadows, promised to help apply your arrogant cream in the morning and accompany you when it got dark outside. And suddenly you felt strong -- but that's not enough, now you're flanked by a whole crew of wrestlers. Kind of funny, isn't it? You're the cockiest son of a bitch here but you're willing to play third or fourth fiddle?
How does that work?
You're the best -- you know, when Spike, and Rob, and even Zasshu aren't around. And maybe, just maybe, your claim is accurate at that point in time; when those guys are away, sure you're the best House of Howlett has to offer, seeing as there is no body else.
Is that championship material?
Run away, tail tucked between your legs, embarrassed and humiliated by failed and missed opportunities?
Only to come back and get so close to the top of the mountain, albeit on the shoulders of so many others.
You're sure you're ready to take the next step?
I've been in the ring with you, Cable. We were partners a few weeks ago. I've seen, up close and personal, how hard your strikes are. How loud they are when they connect with flesh and bone. Hell, I felt the strikes and I wasn't even the one on the receiving end. When you hit, and connect, it hurts -- hurts like a mother fucker.
So yes, I respect the hell out of your striking abilities.
But I'm a chameleon.
You come in with your same old, same old and I'm going to counter it with a contingency plan.
Because that's what championship caliber wrestlers do.
This is going to be a battle, but I've come too far to be stopped now. The opportunity to succeed is right in front of me and it's up to me, and only me, to grab it. I don't need anyone else in my corner, in my ear, telling me which foot goes first when I go up the ring steps. I don't need someone to tell me which foot I should put over the ropes first to enter the ring.
I just need myself.
Dre Cutler needs Dre Cutler.
And if I believe in myself, I can do anything I want to do.
And I'm going to win this match. I'm going to be the Heir to the Throne.
Period.
----------
Dre Cutler and Kelsey Grace are sitting in a booth at a local diner on the east side of Montgomery. Given the time of day and local popularity of the establishment, every table in the building is occupied. Unfortunately for Dre and Kelsey, their table is in the center of the room -- effectively putting them on display like a Picasso at the Louvre. A quiet chatter attacks their eardrums from every direction, creating a consistent and rhythmic song. But the conversations are muffled, as everyone is speaking very quietly, perhaps better categorized as a whisper.
They're sitting in silence, focusing only on drowning out the background noise. Or, in Dre's case, trying to ignore all of the noise. Kelsey is bent forward, her forearms resting on the edge of the table and her cell phone cradled in both hands. Dre's bouncing his leg beneath the table; which, depending on the situation, is either a nervous habit or an act of impatience. In this case, since they've yet to be approached by a waitress, it might be both.
Dre Cutler: You know they're talking about us, right? Or, to be precise, me -- they're talking about me.
Kelsey Grace: And what if they are, Dre? You and I are here to enjoy a meal, we have the right to do that the same as everyone else.
Dre Cutler: It's --
He trails off as he makes the mistake of allowing his eyes to travel beyond his table. Damn near every individual in the diner, from the guests to the employees, is alternating between staring daggers, laughing, and pointing. Dre can feel a change internally as his blood thickens and his heart threatens to explode from his chest. It's one thing to assume they are cracking jokes and talking about you, but it's something entirely different to see it.
Kelsey Grace: Dre?
Dre Cutler: It's --
He tries again but his mind and body is preoccupied with trying to develop a creative way to handle all of the hate. He sighs softly as he plants both elbows on the table and rests his chin in his hands, returning his gaze and attention back to Kelsey.
Dre Cutler: It's just -- you know, I've dealt with this type of shit my entire life. And, at this point, I don't know if I'm more pissed at them or the fact that it still bothers me.
She rests her phone on the table; and for the first time, she takes a look around the diner. She curls her bottom lip in disappointment before returning her beautiful brown eyes to Dre. She immediately feels a bit of guilt because he's right, they are being obnoxious towards him and she's the one that dragged him here -- he wanted to order in.
Kelsey Grace: I don't think this is something for which you're supposed to become numb; this kind of treatment, it's gonna hurt because it's not the way a human being is supposed to treat another one.
Dre Cutler: I go all over the country, you know? And I swear, this is the only place I've been to where a huge divide between whites and blacks manifests itself daily.
Kelsey Grace: It's the way people are brought up around here, Dre. Racism is not something you're born with, you know? It's -- it's something that's taught; and these people were pushed in this direction by their parents. And, unfortunately, it seems like they are going to push their children in the same direction.
Dre Cutler: So, in other words, Montgomery is stuck in a never-ending cycle of bullshit?
Kelsey Grace: I -- fuck, Dre, I'm so sorry. You were right, this is a horrible idea and I'm ready to go. We can grab something on the way and eat at my place?
Dre shakes his head profusely in response. The hair on his arms and neck remain in the alert position as everyone's eyes are still fixated on him. He sniffles as he sits back and does a quick once over of the diner, trying to find a waitress because they've yet to have their order taken.
Dre Cutler: We're not leaving, okay? Don't worry about it. If I'm gonna live over here, I'm gonna have to be able to man up and leave the house. But, you know, it'd be nice if someone came to take our order at some point. How long's it been? Twenty minutes?
Kelsey Grace: (shrugging) Something like that. I -- I want you to know, Dre, you know I don't look at you -- you know, like these other people? To me, you're Dre, you're not black, white, yellow, or pink, you're just Dre; and if I'm honest, you're probably the coolest cat I know.
Dre Cutler: Probably? Just -- probably? Ah, come on, that's doing me dirty, Kels.
Kelsey smiles, this is the first time in the week plus he's known her, and they've hung out a lot in that time period, in which he's seen her stoic outer frame become deteriorated. She's usually very strong and very blunt, and doesn't let Dre get caught up in the issue of race; but there's something about this situation, in this moment, where she feels it, almost as if all of the snickering and pointing is directed at her as well.
She opens her mouth to respond, but the jingle of the door opening and the entrance of two police officers immediately causes her to lose her train of thought. A couple of the employees meet the officer at the door and there's a quick conversation before the employees turn and point to the booth occupied by Kelsey and Dre. One of the officers nods at the employees and starts towards their booth, while the other follows closely behind.
Kelsey Grace: W -- what?
Dre sees the confusion on her face and turns in his seat to follow her gaze. The officers reach the table and stop next to it; the one in front has his hand on his weapon and the officer in the back appears ready for action as well.
"You're gonna need to exit the diner, boy, ya no longer welcomed here."
"Ma'am, ya more than welcomed to stay, have a nice meal, but the negro's gotta go."
The comment from the officer in the back causes Dre to instinctively rise to his feet. Both officers are ready, snaps undone and hands on their weapons, as they take a step back. There's complete silence in the building as everyone's watching with bulging eyes.
"Ya better take a step back, right now, before we take you in. Or worse, before we put you down."
Dre Cutler: Before you put me down? What? Like a wild animal? Is that the comparison you're trying to make? What's the problem? I don't understand it, we are here, with money -- the same fucking color as everyone else's -- and we are trying to have a meal.
"Don't make us ask ya again, boy."
Dre's biting his bottom lip extremely hard, a tad bit more force and he'd bite it off. His fists are clenched at his side; it's taking everything in his power not to swing at the officers. Kelsey realizes this; and she quickly bounces to her feet and wraps her arms around his side and tries to pull him away.
Kelsey Grace: Come on, Dre, let's go -- this place has shitty food anyway.
"Yeah, listen to her, hurry on now, you've caused enough trouble."
Kelsey Grace: Dre, let's go, now, please.
Her efforts to pull him away are unsuccessful; but he swallows hard and slowly starts backing away on his own. He keeps his stare fixated on the officers as Kelsey guides him from behind towards the exit. They reach the door and she opens it, stepping outside and tugging on Dre, trying to get him to do the same. He stops, however, still furious and unsure of his next action.
Kelsey Grace: I'm begging you, Dre, let's go.
He shakes his head as he steps outside and joins Kelsey in front of the diner. As the door closes behind them, loud cheering and applause escapes through the open windows as everyone inside celebrates the fact that he's no longer in the building.
He looks at the diner, a look in his eyes that no words can explain as he stands there, stationary. Kelsey steps towards him and tries to put her hand on his arm, but he rips it away quickly and takes a couple of steps back.
Kelsey Grace: (whispering) Dre...
Dre Cutler: I -- just leave me alone, okay? I -- I need to be alone.
He says this as he continues to back away from her. He switches his gaze from her, to the diner, and back again. He shakes his head slowly before turning around and walking off in the other direction.
Kelsey, meanwhile, remains frozen in front of the diner, watching as he walks away. She looks at the diner herself, looking up at many of the patrons peeking back at her. She turns her attention back to Dre, watching as he continues to walk further and further away.
And, for some reason, she loses it -- bursts into a sob as she stands there, being laughed at by the diner customers, and feeling stranded on an island as Dre disappears into the darkness.
----------
And come Sunday, twenty-four hours after my victory over Cable Arcane, my time to shine arrives when I step into the ring with Jayson Matthews -- and the winner will be crowned the Imperial champion!
First and foremost, I like you, Jayson. I really do. When I look at you, I see someone that's in the business for all the right reasons. Someone that has a passion for the sport and a desire to succeed. And from what I've seen, you try to do things the way they should be done.
You're a respectable individual.
And I'm honored to have this opportunity against you.
But I don't think you're up to the task, Jayson.
See, I applaud your route to this match. You had to beat a hell of an athlete and an amazing wrestler for this opportunity. You weren't handed it on a silver platter -- you didn't have to beg or steal or humiliate yourself for an opportunity. You were given a shot to accomplish it and you hit it out of the park. But I think that's going to be a big problem for you. It's been so long since you've earned the shot, so long since you've really had any title aspirations, that you seem to have ran off the road a little bit.
You've been waiting, having random matches here and there. And, I mean this with all due respect, you've been under-performing in these matches.
And while you've been waiting, you've developed a pimple on your ass in the form of Howlett and company. You coming into this match with a clear mind, Jayson? Or are you distracted, pondering the situation with Diamond and the rest of the Brady Bunch? You've seem to find yourself a war while you waited. In my eyes, that's taken some of your focus away from this opportunity.
And that spells bad news for you, man.
Just last week, in your match against Smiles, you managed to have a brain fart and allow things to conclude in a double count-out. What's that all about? You had Smiles on the outside, down and out, and you peaked your head through the ropes to talk to the referee?
About what? Asking if he wanted to get a pizza after the show?
You should have been in the ring, pondering your next move and perhaps hoping for a count-out victory.
A win's a win, right?
Or, on the contrary, you could have jumped out and continued the attack.
To me, that shows distraction, you're pre-occupied. And if you're losing focus in that situation, how are you going to handle it when the lights are brighter and the temperature is thirty degrees hotter? You gonna hold your own or is your brain going to take another shit?
It's like I've said, you've been waiting too long. While I've had to claw and fight my way these past few weeks for this opportunity. I'm riding momentum and a hot hand. You're just trying to hold on enough to make it look like you still belong in this match.
It's okay, though, we all go through rough patches.
Unfortunately for you, yours has come at the worst possible time.
When you need to be as sharp as ever, you're dull and can't find the sharpener.
But your business is your business, perhaps you've just been saving your best for the match. And the Jayson Matthews we've seen these past few weeks is not the Matthews that is ready to be the face of the company. I like surprises, Jayson, and believe me I am ready for it.
I'm not looking past you. I think you're just as dangerous as anyone else in this company....
When you're focused.
For the fans, I hope you're able to block everything out. I hope your able to get a great week of training in. I hope you come into the ring and bring your very best. I know I will, and when I win the match, and the championship is placed around my waist, I want to be able to go home knowing that I beat you at your very best. I don't want to beat you via a mistake or a hiccup. I don't want to luck into an easy win by any means.
There's something sweeter about earning it, Jayson.
And I want to earn it.
So, please, come to the party with your hat on and your mind right. You and I, we're gonna go to war to determine the champion, the proverbial man of this company.
Is it gonna be you?
No, frankly, it's not.
But if you come with a clear mind and wide eyes, at least you can feel like you gave it your all.
And that's all I ask.
See you in the ring.
And there are only two competitors still standing: Cable Arcane and Dre Cutler.
And the wrestling world is stunned.
See, when the competitors were announced, many fans and wrestling enthusiasts developed a serious and debilitating case of tunnel vision. There were a few well known wrestlers involved, guys like Adam Knite, Mike Laszlo, and Ryan Shane. And their name power and past accomplishments immediately made them favorites to win the tournament. Some people thought outside the box and looked at guys like Nighthawk and James Franklin Karn as potential sleeper picks.
As for me? People looked at my name while shrugging and scratching their heads. And now that I'm here, two matches away from becoming the Imperial champion, their bodies are convulsing because the shock is too much to handle.
Yet, I'm not surprised. I knew I'd be here because I am confident in my abilities. I needed an opportunity to showcase my skills and IWF gave me one.
And I think it's safe to say I didn't disappoint.
And my opponent, Cable Arcane, I believe it's a bit of a surprise that he's here as well, although to a much lesser extent. While no one truly thinks he's the "Best in the World" other than himself, he's been around in the public's eye longer than I have and he's been all around the world.
We came into this tournament and truly shook the foundation of this company.
And now one of us has the opportunity to become the face of it.
I know you put on your arrogant makeup in the morning, Cable. But before you apply it, when you stare in the mirror, do you feel confident? Do you think you have what it takes to carry the industry on your shoulders? Or do you feel scared and alone? I think it's the latter, if I'm being honest with you. When you're looking back at yourself, you feel naked, you feel inadequate -- and most of all, you feel disappointed with the man you've become. But contrary to popular belief, we don't get second chances in this world, Cable, so you go through the same routine, morning in and morning out, applying the mask that covers your wounds and putting on a visage of cockiness.
You get in front of the people, safely behind your mask, and you claim that you're the best and will annihilate anyone and everyone in your way. Yet, I sit back and ponder to myself: how can the self-proclaimed "Best in the World" be so one dimensional? Your problem is your comfort level starts and ends on your feet. If you're on your back, you're through -- you realize that, right?
You're a fighter, not a wrestler.
And so far you've been able to cruise through with your fists and kicks. What happens when you step into the ring with someone like myself? A proclaimed and self-ordained student of the game? Will you be able to adapt to my game plan? Will you be able to go where I take the match? If I fly, will you fly? If I lock you up, twist and torque your joints and muscles, will you be able to handle it and reverse the momentum? Do you, in your heart of hearts, really believe you're the best, Cable?
You talk a big game but what happens when I remove your mask in front of everyone? When the real Cable is revealed, how will you handle it?
Do you think you're championship material?
It seems kind of funny, at least to me, that the only way you could feel man enough, or confident enough, to come back to this promotion -- to come back to American wrestling -- is when someone coddles you and promises to hold your hand every step of the way. You were too ashamed of your past failures, so you ran away to other countries.
You claimed your were honing your skills, although you came back just as sloppy and singular-minded as when you left.
But Laura came from the shadows, promised to help apply your arrogant cream in the morning and accompany you when it got dark outside. And suddenly you felt strong -- but that's not enough, now you're flanked by a whole crew of wrestlers. Kind of funny, isn't it? You're the cockiest son of a bitch here but you're willing to play third or fourth fiddle?
How does that work?
You're the best -- you know, when Spike, and Rob, and even Zasshu aren't around. And maybe, just maybe, your claim is accurate at that point in time; when those guys are away, sure you're the best House of Howlett has to offer, seeing as there is no body else.
Is that championship material?
Run away, tail tucked between your legs, embarrassed and humiliated by failed and missed opportunities?
Only to come back and get so close to the top of the mountain, albeit on the shoulders of so many others.
You're sure you're ready to take the next step?
I've been in the ring with you, Cable. We were partners a few weeks ago. I've seen, up close and personal, how hard your strikes are. How loud they are when they connect with flesh and bone. Hell, I felt the strikes and I wasn't even the one on the receiving end. When you hit, and connect, it hurts -- hurts like a mother fucker.
So yes, I respect the hell out of your striking abilities.
But I'm a chameleon.
You come in with your same old, same old and I'm going to counter it with a contingency plan.
Because that's what championship caliber wrestlers do.
This is going to be a battle, but I've come too far to be stopped now. The opportunity to succeed is right in front of me and it's up to me, and only me, to grab it. I don't need anyone else in my corner, in my ear, telling me which foot goes first when I go up the ring steps. I don't need someone to tell me which foot I should put over the ropes first to enter the ring.
I just need myself.
Dre Cutler needs Dre Cutler.
And if I believe in myself, I can do anything I want to do.
And I'm going to win this match. I'm going to be the Heir to the Throne.
Period.
----------
Dre Cutler and Kelsey Grace are sitting in a booth at a local diner on the east side of Montgomery. Given the time of day and local popularity of the establishment, every table in the building is occupied. Unfortunately for Dre and Kelsey, their table is in the center of the room -- effectively putting them on display like a Picasso at the Louvre. A quiet chatter attacks their eardrums from every direction, creating a consistent and rhythmic song. But the conversations are muffled, as everyone is speaking very quietly, perhaps better categorized as a whisper.
They're sitting in silence, focusing only on drowning out the background noise. Or, in Dre's case, trying to ignore all of the noise. Kelsey is bent forward, her forearms resting on the edge of the table and her cell phone cradled in both hands. Dre's bouncing his leg beneath the table; which, depending on the situation, is either a nervous habit or an act of impatience. In this case, since they've yet to be approached by a waitress, it might be both.
Dre Cutler: You know they're talking about us, right? Or, to be precise, me -- they're talking about me.
Kelsey Grace: And what if they are, Dre? You and I are here to enjoy a meal, we have the right to do that the same as everyone else.
Dre Cutler: It's --
He trails off as he makes the mistake of allowing his eyes to travel beyond his table. Damn near every individual in the diner, from the guests to the employees, is alternating between staring daggers, laughing, and pointing. Dre can feel a change internally as his blood thickens and his heart threatens to explode from his chest. It's one thing to assume they are cracking jokes and talking about you, but it's something entirely different to see it.
Kelsey Grace: Dre?
Dre Cutler: It's --
He tries again but his mind and body is preoccupied with trying to develop a creative way to handle all of the hate. He sighs softly as he plants both elbows on the table and rests his chin in his hands, returning his gaze and attention back to Kelsey.
Dre Cutler: It's just -- you know, I've dealt with this type of shit my entire life. And, at this point, I don't know if I'm more pissed at them or the fact that it still bothers me.
She rests her phone on the table; and for the first time, she takes a look around the diner. She curls her bottom lip in disappointment before returning her beautiful brown eyes to Dre. She immediately feels a bit of guilt because he's right, they are being obnoxious towards him and she's the one that dragged him here -- he wanted to order in.
Kelsey Grace: I don't think this is something for which you're supposed to become numb; this kind of treatment, it's gonna hurt because it's not the way a human being is supposed to treat another one.
Dre Cutler: I go all over the country, you know? And I swear, this is the only place I've been to where a huge divide between whites and blacks manifests itself daily.
Kelsey Grace: It's the way people are brought up around here, Dre. Racism is not something you're born with, you know? It's -- it's something that's taught; and these people were pushed in this direction by their parents. And, unfortunately, it seems like they are going to push their children in the same direction.
Dre Cutler: So, in other words, Montgomery is stuck in a never-ending cycle of bullshit?
Kelsey Grace: I -- fuck, Dre, I'm so sorry. You were right, this is a horrible idea and I'm ready to go. We can grab something on the way and eat at my place?
Dre shakes his head profusely in response. The hair on his arms and neck remain in the alert position as everyone's eyes are still fixated on him. He sniffles as he sits back and does a quick once over of the diner, trying to find a waitress because they've yet to have their order taken.
Dre Cutler: We're not leaving, okay? Don't worry about it. If I'm gonna live over here, I'm gonna have to be able to man up and leave the house. But, you know, it'd be nice if someone came to take our order at some point. How long's it been? Twenty minutes?
Kelsey Grace: (shrugging) Something like that. I -- I want you to know, Dre, you know I don't look at you -- you know, like these other people? To me, you're Dre, you're not black, white, yellow, or pink, you're just Dre; and if I'm honest, you're probably the coolest cat I know.
Dre Cutler: Probably? Just -- probably? Ah, come on, that's doing me dirty, Kels.
Kelsey smiles, this is the first time in the week plus he's known her, and they've hung out a lot in that time period, in which he's seen her stoic outer frame become deteriorated. She's usually very strong and very blunt, and doesn't let Dre get caught up in the issue of race; but there's something about this situation, in this moment, where she feels it, almost as if all of the snickering and pointing is directed at her as well.
She opens her mouth to respond, but the jingle of the door opening and the entrance of two police officers immediately causes her to lose her train of thought. A couple of the employees meet the officer at the door and there's a quick conversation before the employees turn and point to the booth occupied by Kelsey and Dre. One of the officers nods at the employees and starts towards their booth, while the other follows closely behind.
Kelsey Grace: W -- what?
Dre sees the confusion on her face and turns in his seat to follow her gaze. The officers reach the table and stop next to it; the one in front has his hand on his weapon and the officer in the back appears ready for action as well.
"You're gonna need to exit the diner, boy, ya no longer welcomed here."
"Ma'am, ya more than welcomed to stay, have a nice meal, but the negro's gotta go."
The comment from the officer in the back causes Dre to instinctively rise to his feet. Both officers are ready, snaps undone and hands on their weapons, as they take a step back. There's complete silence in the building as everyone's watching with bulging eyes.
"Ya better take a step back, right now, before we take you in. Or worse, before we put you down."
Dre Cutler: Before you put me down? What? Like a wild animal? Is that the comparison you're trying to make? What's the problem? I don't understand it, we are here, with money -- the same fucking color as everyone else's -- and we are trying to have a meal.
"Don't make us ask ya again, boy."
Dre's biting his bottom lip extremely hard, a tad bit more force and he'd bite it off. His fists are clenched at his side; it's taking everything in his power not to swing at the officers. Kelsey realizes this; and she quickly bounces to her feet and wraps her arms around his side and tries to pull him away.
Kelsey Grace: Come on, Dre, let's go -- this place has shitty food anyway.
"Yeah, listen to her, hurry on now, you've caused enough trouble."
Kelsey Grace: Dre, let's go, now, please.
Her efforts to pull him away are unsuccessful; but he swallows hard and slowly starts backing away on his own. He keeps his stare fixated on the officers as Kelsey guides him from behind towards the exit. They reach the door and she opens it, stepping outside and tugging on Dre, trying to get him to do the same. He stops, however, still furious and unsure of his next action.
Kelsey Grace: I'm begging you, Dre, let's go.
He shakes his head as he steps outside and joins Kelsey in front of the diner. As the door closes behind them, loud cheering and applause escapes through the open windows as everyone inside celebrates the fact that he's no longer in the building.
He looks at the diner, a look in his eyes that no words can explain as he stands there, stationary. Kelsey steps towards him and tries to put her hand on his arm, but he rips it away quickly and takes a couple of steps back.
Kelsey Grace: (whispering) Dre...
Dre Cutler: I -- just leave me alone, okay? I -- I need to be alone.
He says this as he continues to back away from her. He switches his gaze from her, to the diner, and back again. He shakes his head slowly before turning around and walking off in the other direction.
Kelsey, meanwhile, remains frozen in front of the diner, watching as he walks away. She looks at the diner herself, looking up at many of the patrons peeking back at her. She turns her attention back to Dre, watching as he continues to walk further and further away.
And, for some reason, she loses it -- bursts into a sob as she stands there, being laughed at by the diner customers, and feeling stranded on an island as Dre disappears into the darkness.
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And come Sunday, twenty-four hours after my victory over Cable Arcane, my time to shine arrives when I step into the ring with Jayson Matthews -- and the winner will be crowned the Imperial champion!
First and foremost, I like you, Jayson. I really do. When I look at you, I see someone that's in the business for all the right reasons. Someone that has a passion for the sport and a desire to succeed. And from what I've seen, you try to do things the way they should be done.
You're a respectable individual.
And I'm honored to have this opportunity against you.
But I don't think you're up to the task, Jayson.
See, I applaud your route to this match. You had to beat a hell of an athlete and an amazing wrestler for this opportunity. You weren't handed it on a silver platter -- you didn't have to beg or steal or humiliate yourself for an opportunity. You were given a shot to accomplish it and you hit it out of the park. But I think that's going to be a big problem for you. It's been so long since you've earned the shot, so long since you've really had any title aspirations, that you seem to have ran off the road a little bit.
You've been waiting, having random matches here and there. And, I mean this with all due respect, you've been under-performing in these matches.
And while you've been waiting, you've developed a pimple on your ass in the form of Howlett and company. You coming into this match with a clear mind, Jayson? Or are you distracted, pondering the situation with Diamond and the rest of the Brady Bunch? You've seem to find yourself a war while you waited. In my eyes, that's taken some of your focus away from this opportunity.
And that spells bad news for you, man.
Just last week, in your match against Smiles, you managed to have a brain fart and allow things to conclude in a double count-out. What's that all about? You had Smiles on the outside, down and out, and you peaked your head through the ropes to talk to the referee?
About what? Asking if he wanted to get a pizza after the show?
You should have been in the ring, pondering your next move and perhaps hoping for a count-out victory.
A win's a win, right?
Or, on the contrary, you could have jumped out and continued the attack.
To me, that shows distraction, you're pre-occupied. And if you're losing focus in that situation, how are you going to handle it when the lights are brighter and the temperature is thirty degrees hotter? You gonna hold your own or is your brain going to take another shit?
It's like I've said, you've been waiting too long. While I've had to claw and fight my way these past few weeks for this opportunity. I'm riding momentum and a hot hand. You're just trying to hold on enough to make it look like you still belong in this match.
It's okay, though, we all go through rough patches.
Unfortunately for you, yours has come at the worst possible time.
When you need to be as sharp as ever, you're dull and can't find the sharpener.
But your business is your business, perhaps you've just been saving your best for the match. And the Jayson Matthews we've seen these past few weeks is not the Matthews that is ready to be the face of the company. I like surprises, Jayson, and believe me I am ready for it.
I'm not looking past you. I think you're just as dangerous as anyone else in this company....
When you're focused.
For the fans, I hope you're able to block everything out. I hope your able to get a great week of training in. I hope you come into the ring and bring your very best. I know I will, and when I win the match, and the championship is placed around my waist, I want to be able to go home knowing that I beat you at your very best. I don't want to beat you via a mistake or a hiccup. I don't want to luck into an easy win by any means.
There's something sweeter about earning it, Jayson.
And I want to earn it.
So, please, come to the party with your hat on and your mind right. You and I, we're gonna go to war to determine the champion, the proverbial man of this company.
Is it gonna be you?
No, frankly, it's not.
But if you come with a clear mind and wide eyes, at least you can feel like you gave it your all.
And that's all I ask.
See you in the ring.
Well howdy there pardner.