Post by Deleted on Sept 24, 2016 1:44:22 GMT
Origins Part III - Dead Man Walking
Like I'm dancing on angels
And I'm gone
through a crack in the past
Like a dead man walking
- David Bowie
Prologue
Welcome one and all back to the story you just can't seem to get enough of and the only story that really matters in the grand scheme of things; the origins of Noah Field, and as usual I'm your narrator for this saga of an American family.
Now before we get underway, we're going to attempt to do things a little bit different. Thus far, you've all grown accustomed to a certain type of story telling. I've used a tried and true format I love for chapter one (there in is a "present" and a "flashback") followed by a second chapter. But this time, things will be a bit different. Part of a good story is keeping one's attention throughout the telling of the story, all while keeping them thirsting for more. Now today's portion of the saga does provide all of that, but it seems our titular character for the entire epic, Noah, got a little long winded in his most recent blog, thus we are going to attempt to break this part of the story up into two parts so as not to take up too much of your precious time.
And now we are underway.
When we last left off, Sonny Carmangelo and Bruno Zaluchi had grown their business to become a force in the underworld of the southside of Chicago. But as they grew in reputation, they caught the attention of the most feared boss in the Windy City, Frank Sorvino. As Frank was making a move to extort Sonny and Bruno, Joe Stabilo (Frank's bodyguard) aided Sonny in killing Frank with hopes of claiming his business.
Eleven years later, Sonny Carmangleo runs organized crime in all of Chicago, becoming one of the most powerful men in the city. With drugs, women, gambling, smuggling, all of it under his thumb, along with a list of cops and politicians on the payroll. But with such great power comes great enemies and this is where we pick up our story.
1949: Severed
The twenty year old son of Sonny's, Tony, paced back and forth in the waiting room at University of Chicago Medical Center. His mother Sofia had long ago went to the room to be with her husband not long after he came out of surgery. His other siblings Tony had sent home with an armed escort earlier in the night, feeling they were better protected at home.
As Tony wore out the floor, Joe Stabilo, Sonny's right hand the past eleven years, came stepped into the waiting room with four faceless nameless men with him. Joe caught Tony's eye and briskly approached.
"How is he?"
Tony rubbed his chin as he answered, something he always did when he was thinking things over. "The one to the spine paralyzed him, doctors say he'll never walk again. The one to head just grazed. They don't know yet if it caused brain damage or not. But he will live."
Joe sighed in relief. "Good, good. Who do you have back there right now?"
"I got a police detail on him. Officers Edgars and Connelly if I recall."
"Conlon. Edgars and Conlon. Dismiss them."
"Why?" Tony asked.
"This was an inside job, Tony. He was set up by one of our own. The Rossi's had nothing to do with it." Joe nods toward the rooms. "Those two are buyable and I can't promise they aren't already bought out."
Joe glances at the four men behind him. "You four go watch him. I want two of you in the room two of you outside the room at all times."
Without a word, they all four rushed off without even questioning a word Joe said; he had that kind of power over his men. Tony still rubbed his chin between his thumb and his index finger. "So how do you know it wasn't the Rossi's?"
"Your father heard whispers and had his own suspicions, but wouldn't do anything about it until he had no doubts left. So we had one of our own following him for the past two months and a guy reporting back to us from his crew..."
"Then who was it, Joe? Tell me who it was and I'll finish it myself."
"Tony, there's no need you get your hands dirty. Something happens to your father...."
"And you'll run things," Tony snapped without hesitation.
"No, you'll run things..."
"Joe...tell me...."
Eight Hours Earlier
Marco Moretti had heard whispers from the guy on the inside that something was in play tonight; that Sonny was a target. Marco had sent word directly to Sonny, foregoing his boss Joe. He was loyal to Joe, but any chance to get in good with the big boss he couldn't deny. If he could help Sonny avoid a hit, he might move up the ranks. Sonny was grateful for the information, but he seemed almost in denial over the whole ordeal. But at least he had decided to carry both of his bodyguards with him at once, rather than his normal rotation.
Joe wasn't as trusting as Sonny. Well, trusting wasn't the word. Sonny wasn't a trusting man by nature. But for some reason, this one facet of his operations he had remained in denial, refusing to believe he had become a target. Nevertheless, Joe had given Marco implicit instructions to follow the would be assassin at a distance.
Thus far the task had proven pointless, but now things had gotten interesting. He picked up his pace as he pulled his fedora down over his forehead, shielding more of his face. That alone made him suspicious, but to inflate matters, he was at a farmer's market on the wrong side of the city, the same farmer market that Sonny swore by, claiming they sold the best tomatoes in the city.
Then Marco caught a glimpse in the distance, picking up peppers and feeling them for girth and freshness was Sonny. Marco knew this was the moment and he had to act fast. Just as Marco went to pull his gun from his inside pocket Jerry Conlon, one of Chicago's finest, grabbed Marco by the arm.
"If it isn't Marco Moretti with a gun."
Marco tried to push him away, but Conlon was insistent. Marco closed his eyes and ran through names. He worked directly for Joe, Joe kept the pockets of the police lined. Was Conlon one of his? He thought so but wasn't sure, but it was worth the risk so he took a shot in the dark.
"Look Conlon, Sonny's about to be...."
"Replaced...I know...now turn around and cuff up."
It was then that a loud POP POP POP POP was heard. Marco saw it almost as if in slow motion. Angelo Zaluchi, Bruno's oldest boy, had a revolver in each hand. He unloaded two shots a piece in each bodyguard, dropping them to the round; dead. Then he fired off a fifth shot, just grazing the side of Sonny's head. Not a fatal shot but enough to incapacitate him. Then he stepped up to point blank range and put a shot into the chest.
Angelo turned and looked at Conlon, gave him a curt nod, and then dropped both guns in the street before walking away, discarding his coat and hat as he did so.
From The Blog of Noah Field: Just Like Lex Luthor
If you could see me, if you could hear me, you’d hear a slow clap.
Clap, clap, clap.
That’s me giving props. It’s not often deserved, but I’m not such a gigantic egomaniac that I can’t give credit where credit is due (Okay, so I am).
Both Chris King and Zasshu forced a weakness to get what they wanted. But I’ll come back to that, it’s not time yet. It has to be built to in order to have it’s full effectiveness. Besides, we have one piece of information far more important and far more vital to the overall scheme of things.
Any ideas what that one piece of vital information could be? I’ll give you a hint.
Six -
Six wins and zero losses. The streak continues (was there ever a doubt?). The checklist continues to grow in length. With each match, I continue to make my case for the greatest Invictus Champion (a case I shouldn’t have to make). With each victory, I further cement myself as the Champion of Champions here in IWF, placing myself above and beyond both JFK and Cable Arcane.
Despite my stature, my impeccable record, my position as the Champion of Champions, however, I'm still not where I deserve to be; headlining shows. It's a slap in the face and utter disrespect.
I've made mention before that it's a conspiracy of sorts. The "establishment" that is IWF wants to hold me down because of what I "represent". There's truth to that and I will always maintain. Not only am I a changing of the guard that they don't want to come about, but I represent a truth they want to ignore as if it doesn't exist.
My name, my family bane Field - what both myself and my father have accomplished in wrestling in the last fifteen years, it shows that there is life outside of that narrow little universe that holds IWF and the death of NCW. It proves the ugly truth (or in my case the beautiful truth) that perhaps the best talent in this industry doesn't always have to find a home here.
But that's not what this about, not today. Because despite the very real determination to undermine my family legacy by denying what I rightfully deserve, there's another reason I've taken this slap of the face not headlining an event like Extreme Endurance while having the most intriguing build up, and it's simple.
My opponents don't deserve it. A high level, main event grade match needs to have that uncertainty to it (though there's never any uncertainty to a Noah win). I may be a God of sorts; The Crown Prince, Saviour, or one of my many other nicknames. I might be perhaps the biggest draw in all of wrestling (And I use might to show humility, I AM the biggest draw), but even the greatest of villains are in need of a good hero to attract interest.
I like comic books (You caught me, don't relish in it. But it's part of pop culture which I love). And since you all should worship me but don't, I'll be a realist and cast myself in the proper light (For those of you too stupid to understand that, I'll cast myself as the villain #NoahTheSupervillain). The Joker has Batman. Lex has Superman. Sinestro has Green Lantern. Even someone who knows nothing of comic books know of these great battles. Fanboys rushed to buy issues to see these superpowers clash head on.
But what about the forgettables? Joker and Atom? Lex Luthor and Blue Beetle? Sinestro and Black Condor? While the villains are still fantastic, who could really care about third rate heroes? Even the most diehard of fanboys don't know of these issues and have never glanced upon their pages. Despite being some of the best characters ever put on paper, these "evil rogues" (Though the villains are most interesting) couldn't even make these weak adversaries matter to people.
And therein lies my problem. I am Lex Luthor fighting the Blue Beetle.
I'm wrestling down a league, taking a step down the lighter to fight non contenders. Granted, there was a day and age that names like Zasshu and Chris King might be Invictus contenders, but once I came into the picture this belt became something more.
Zasshu.
He falls under the "what have you done for me lately" category, and let's face it, that's this business. He squandered a chance to keep Chris King out of the title picture by laying down in that ring (You're welcome Chris King). He insufferably lost his title to Chris King in the rematch (You're welcome again Chris King). He took the pinfall from me at Heir to the Throne (You're welcome IWF and Invictus Championship).
Zasshu has become synonymous with losing (though losing to me is no shame, Chris King? Really?). Now one could argue that I cost him both matches against King, but I maintain it wouldn't have mattered. I was just pushing along the inevitable and assuring my place in the middle of the fray, because let's face it; had I not done it I would have never gotten the title shot I rightfully deserved.
And we'll just quell all my detractors right now; his handicap match win means very little in the grand scheme of things. He beat a rookie wrestler who was only climbing in the ring for the second time in his life and a hired bodyguard who's a trained fighter but don't know the first thing about the finer points of wrestling. What's more telling than his win, is the realization that he had to use underhanded tactics to beat two guys that truly aren't even wrestlers (at least not yet with Jace). So how does that constitute him truly deserving to get in the ring with me? How does that earn him another match for the belt that he's already tried to win back?
How does any of this make him the Future?
And Chris King....
What is there I can really say about Chris King that I haven't already said? This guy has assured himself a place in history just simply by being a thorn in my side since the day I showed up in IWF and I've already wasted too much time on him; now here I sit unfortunately (though good for him, it's the highlight of his career) wasting more of my valuable time.
I could sit here and do the norm and just rehash everything I've ever expressed about Bingo Hall, regurgitating the same thing just phrasing it different to put a mask on it and make it appear to be something fresh. What fun is that? After all, we already know the facts. I made him a champion, he can't beat me, he's lucky to be where he's at - and on and on and on and on.
But rather than to do that, I think I'll refer back to my original analogy because I know Chris King and how his feeble mind works.
In the end of the comics, after losing battle after battle against the super villain, the hero wins the war. Joker is carted off to Arkham, Lex ends up behind bars, Sinestro is vanquished and goes into hiding. I'm that "villain" who has won every battle at this point, but when that final battle takes place Chris King has convinced himself he'll win because that's how it always goes; good conquers evil.
Here's the misstep in that logic though; it was an analogy. This isn't a comic book or a movie. This is real life. This is what I do. In the end, it's the best who comes out on top (and anyone who's paying attention knows that I'm that best).
But let's live in an alternate universe real quick where life is like a comic book and I am that villain, destined to be vanquished in the end. Here's the problem though; you're not my ultimate foil. I may be "Sinestro" but you're no "Green Lantern". Who was it I used? Black Condor as the foe of Sinestro? The same Black Condor that died at the hands of Sinestro.
Now this brings back to where I started; clapping to give credit where credit is due. I'm about to face two men who don't deserve a shot at my belt; two men who are lucky to even share the same air I breathe (face it, this is my world, you're just living in it). But....
It's to my own doing. They both played off of my emotions.
I had Chris King all but bought and paid for. Three matches, three wins. Nothing left to prove (not that there ever was, but for sake of this blog it's more dramatic), time to pick and move on to bigger and better things. But then he had to insult my blood; calling into question my legitimacy of heir to all that is Field.
He said the right thing at the right time and weaseled his way into a match that he has no place in. I have to give credit there, but..it comes at a price. Before, this was just about climbing the ladder quickly and beginning my journey to become a triple crown winner and you were a road block.
Zasshu is no different. He can't seem to even beat Chris King, much less me. He played his part in my story by losing his belt and was written out. I even went as far as filing a restraining order to make sure I kept that criminal off the pages of my legacy any farther, but then Laura, as a representative of Zasshu, laid her hands on Morgan. Even a man such as myself, a man above it all, couldn't let that go unpunished.
So for the third and final time; I'll give you two credit for playing what few cards you had left to put me in the position to give you both what you so badly want but so definitely don't deserve. But the deck has ran out now, and after I win at Extreme Endurance (as if there could be another outcome) there are no cards left to play, because Noah giveth and Noah taketh away.
Like I'm dancing on angels
And I'm gone
through a crack in the past
Like a dead man walking
- David Bowie
Prologue
Welcome one and all back to the story you just can't seem to get enough of and the only story that really matters in the grand scheme of things; the origins of Noah Field, and as usual I'm your narrator for this saga of an American family.
Now before we get underway, we're going to attempt to do things a little bit different. Thus far, you've all grown accustomed to a certain type of story telling. I've used a tried and true format I love for chapter one (there in is a "present" and a "flashback") followed by a second chapter. But this time, things will be a bit different. Part of a good story is keeping one's attention throughout the telling of the story, all while keeping them thirsting for more. Now today's portion of the saga does provide all of that, but it seems our titular character for the entire epic, Noah, got a little long winded in his most recent blog, thus we are going to attempt to break this part of the story up into two parts so as not to take up too much of your precious time.
And now we are underway.
When we last left off, Sonny Carmangelo and Bruno Zaluchi had grown their business to become a force in the underworld of the southside of Chicago. But as they grew in reputation, they caught the attention of the most feared boss in the Windy City, Frank Sorvino. As Frank was making a move to extort Sonny and Bruno, Joe Stabilo (Frank's bodyguard) aided Sonny in killing Frank with hopes of claiming his business.
Eleven years later, Sonny Carmangleo runs organized crime in all of Chicago, becoming one of the most powerful men in the city. With drugs, women, gambling, smuggling, all of it under his thumb, along with a list of cops and politicians on the payroll. But with such great power comes great enemies and this is where we pick up our story.
1949: Severed
The twenty year old son of Sonny's, Tony, paced back and forth in the waiting room at University of Chicago Medical Center. His mother Sofia had long ago went to the room to be with her husband not long after he came out of surgery. His other siblings Tony had sent home with an armed escort earlier in the night, feeling they were better protected at home.
As Tony wore out the floor, Joe Stabilo, Sonny's right hand the past eleven years, came stepped into the waiting room with four faceless nameless men with him. Joe caught Tony's eye and briskly approached.
"How is he?"
Tony rubbed his chin as he answered, something he always did when he was thinking things over. "The one to the spine paralyzed him, doctors say he'll never walk again. The one to head just grazed. They don't know yet if it caused brain damage or not. But he will live."
Joe sighed in relief. "Good, good. Who do you have back there right now?"
"I got a police detail on him. Officers Edgars and Connelly if I recall."
"Conlon. Edgars and Conlon. Dismiss them."
"Why?" Tony asked.
"This was an inside job, Tony. He was set up by one of our own. The Rossi's had nothing to do with it." Joe nods toward the rooms. "Those two are buyable and I can't promise they aren't already bought out."
Joe glances at the four men behind him. "You four go watch him. I want two of you in the room two of you outside the room at all times."
Without a word, they all four rushed off without even questioning a word Joe said; he had that kind of power over his men. Tony still rubbed his chin between his thumb and his index finger. "So how do you know it wasn't the Rossi's?"
"Your father heard whispers and had his own suspicions, but wouldn't do anything about it until he had no doubts left. So we had one of our own following him for the past two months and a guy reporting back to us from his crew..."
"Then who was it, Joe? Tell me who it was and I'll finish it myself."
"Tony, there's no need you get your hands dirty. Something happens to your father...."
"And you'll run things," Tony snapped without hesitation.
"No, you'll run things..."
"Joe...tell me...."
Eight Hours Earlier
Marco Moretti had heard whispers from the guy on the inside that something was in play tonight; that Sonny was a target. Marco had sent word directly to Sonny, foregoing his boss Joe. He was loyal to Joe, but any chance to get in good with the big boss he couldn't deny. If he could help Sonny avoid a hit, he might move up the ranks. Sonny was grateful for the information, but he seemed almost in denial over the whole ordeal. But at least he had decided to carry both of his bodyguards with him at once, rather than his normal rotation.
Joe wasn't as trusting as Sonny. Well, trusting wasn't the word. Sonny wasn't a trusting man by nature. But for some reason, this one facet of his operations he had remained in denial, refusing to believe he had become a target. Nevertheless, Joe had given Marco implicit instructions to follow the would be assassin at a distance.
Thus far the task had proven pointless, but now things had gotten interesting. He picked up his pace as he pulled his fedora down over his forehead, shielding more of his face. That alone made him suspicious, but to inflate matters, he was at a farmer's market on the wrong side of the city, the same farmer market that Sonny swore by, claiming they sold the best tomatoes in the city.
Then Marco caught a glimpse in the distance, picking up peppers and feeling them for girth and freshness was Sonny. Marco knew this was the moment and he had to act fast. Just as Marco went to pull his gun from his inside pocket Jerry Conlon, one of Chicago's finest, grabbed Marco by the arm.
"If it isn't Marco Moretti with a gun."
Marco tried to push him away, but Conlon was insistent. Marco closed his eyes and ran through names. He worked directly for Joe, Joe kept the pockets of the police lined. Was Conlon one of his? He thought so but wasn't sure, but it was worth the risk so he took a shot in the dark.
"Look Conlon, Sonny's about to be...."
"Replaced...I know...now turn around and cuff up."
It was then that a loud POP POP POP POP was heard. Marco saw it almost as if in slow motion. Angelo Zaluchi, Bruno's oldest boy, had a revolver in each hand. He unloaded two shots a piece in each bodyguard, dropping them to the round; dead. Then he fired off a fifth shot, just grazing the side of Sonny's head. Not a fatal shot but enough to incapacitate him. Then he stepped up to point blank range and put a shot into the chest.
Angelo turned and looked at Conlon, gave him a curt nod, and then dropped both guns in the street before walking away, discarding his coat and hat as he did so.
From The Blog of Noah Field: Just Like Lex Luthor
If you could see me, if you could hear me, you’d hear a slow clap.
Clap, clap, clap.
That’s me giving props. It’s not often deserved, but I’m not such a gigantic egomaniac that I can’t give credit where credit is due (Okay, so I am).
Both Chris King and Zasshu forced a weakness to get what they wanted. But I’ll come back to that, it’s not time yet. It has to be built to in order to have it’s full effectiveness. Besides, we have one piece of information far more important and far more vital to the overall scheme of things.
Any ideas what that one piece of vital information could be? I’ll give you a hint.
Six -
Six wins and zero losses. The streak continues (was there ever a doubt?). The checklist continues to grow in length. With each match, I continue to make my case for the greatest Invictus Champion (a case I shouldn’t have to make). With each victory, I further cement myself as the Champion of Champions here in IWF, placing myself above and beyond both JFK and Cable Arcane.
Despite my stature, my impeccable record, my position as the Champion of Champions, however, I'm still not where I deserve to be; headlining shows. It's a slap in the face and utter disrespect.
I've made mention before that it's a conspiracy of sorts. The "establishment" that is IWF wants to hold me down because of what I "represent". There's truth to that and I will always maintain. Not only am I a changing of the guard that they don't want to come about, but I represent a truth they want to ignore as if it doesn't exist.
My name, my family bane Field - what both myself and my father have accomplished in wrestling in the last fifteen years, it shows that there is life outside of that narrow little universe that holds IWF and the death of NCW. It proves the ugly truth (or in my case the beautiful truth) that perhaps the best talent in this industry doesn't always have to find a home here.
But that's not what this about, not today. Because despite the very real determination to undermine my family legacy by denying what I rightfully deserve, there's another reason I've taken this slap of the face not headlining an event like Extreme Endurance while having the most intriguing build up, and it's simple.
My opponents don't deserve it. A high level, main event grade match needs to have that uncertainty to it (though there's never any uncertainty to a Noah win). I may be a God of sorts; The Crown Prince, Saviour, or one of my many other nicknames. I might be perhaps the biggest draw in all of wrestling (And I use might to show humility, I AM the biggest draw), but even the greatest of villains are in need of a good hero to attract interest.
I like comic books (You caught me, don't relish in it. But it's part of pop culture which I love). And since you all should worship me but don't, I'll be a realist and cast myself in the proper light (For those of you too stupid to understand that, I'll cast myself as the villain #NoahTheSupervillain). The Joker has Batman. Lex has Superman. Sinestro has Green Lantern. Even someone who knows nothing of comic books know of these great battles. Fanboys rushed to buy issues to see these superpowers clash head on.
But what about the forgettables? Joker and Atom? Lex Luthor and Blue Beetle? Sinestro and Black Condor? While the villains are still fantastic, who could really care about third rate heroes? Even the most diehard of fanboys don't know of these issues and have never glanced upon their pages. Despite being some of the best characters ever put on paper, these "evil rogues" (Though the villains are most interesting) couldn't even make these weak adversaries matter to people.
And therein lies my problem. I am Lex Luthor fighting the Blue Beetle.
I'm wrestling down a league, taking a step down the lighter to fight non contenders. Granted, there was a day and age that names like Zasshu and Chris King might be Invictus contenders, but once I came into the picture this belt became something more.
Zasshu.
He falls under the "what have you done for me lately" category, and let's face it, that's this business. He squandered a chance to keep Chris King out of the title picture by laying down in that ring (You're welcome Chris King). He insufferably lost his title to Chris King in the rematch (You're welcome again Chris King). He took the pinfall from me at Heir to the Throne (You're welcome IWF and Invictus Championship).
Zasshu has become synonymous with losing (though losing to me is no shame, Chris King? Really?). Now one could argue that I cost him both matches against King, but I maintain it wouldn't have mattered. I was just pushing along the inevitable and assuring my place in the middle of the fray, because let's face it; had I not done it I would have never gotten the title shot I rightfully deserved.
And we'll just quell all my detractors right now; his handicap match win means very little in the grand scheme of things. He beat a rookie wrestler who was only climbing in the ring for the second time in his life and a hired bodyguard who's a trained fighter but don't know the first thing about the finer points of wrestling. What's more telling than his win, is the realization that he had to use underhanded tactics to beat two guys that truly aren't even wrestlers (at least not yet with Jace). So how does that constitute him truly deserving to get in the ring with me? How does that earn him another match for the belt that he's already tried to win back?
How does any of this make him the Future?
And Chris King....
What is there I can really say about Chris King that I haven't already said? This guy has assured himself a place in history just simply by being a thorn in my side since the day I showed up in IWF and I've already wasted too much time on him; now here I sit unfortunately (though good for him, it's the highlight of his career) wasting more of my valuable time.
I could sit here and do the norm and just rehash everything I've ever expressed about Bingo Hall, regurgitating the same thing just phrasing it different to put a mask on it and make it appear to be something fresh. What fun is that? After all, we already know the facts. I made him a champion, he can't beat me, he's lucky to be where he's at - and on and on and on and on.
But rather than to do that, I think I'll refer back to my original analogy because I know Chris King and how his feeble mind works.
In the end of the comics, after losing battle after battle against the super villain, the hero wins the war. Joker is carted off to Arkham, Lex ends up behind bars, Sinestro is vanquished and goes into hiding. I'm that "villain" who has won every battle at this point, but when that final battle takes place Chris King has convinced himself he'll win because that's how it always goes; good conquers evil.
Here's the misstep in that logic though; it was an analogy. This isn't a comic book or a movie. This is real life. This is what I do. In the end, it's the best who comes out on top (and anyone who's paying attention knows that I'm that best).
But let's live in an alternate universe real quick where life is like a comic book and I am that villain, destined to be vanquished in the end. Here's the problem though; you're not my ultimate foil. I may be "Sinestro" but you're no "Green Lantern". Who was it I used? Black Condor as the foe of Sinestro? The same Black Condor that died at the hands of Sinestro.
Now this brings back to where I started; clapping to give credit where credit is due. I'm about to face two men who don't deserve a shot at my belt; two men who are lucky to even share the same air I breathe (face it, this is my world, you're just living in it). But....
It's to my own doing. They both played off of my emotions.
I had Chris King all but bought and paid for. Three matches, three wins. Nothing left to prove (not that there ever was, but for sake of this blog it's more dramatic), time to pick and move on to bigger and better things. But then he had to insult my blood; calling into question my legitimacy of heir to all that is Field.
He said the right thing at the right time and weaseled his way into a match that he has no place in. I have to give credit there, but..it comes at a price. Before, this was just about climbing the ladder quickly and beginning my journey to become a triple crown winner and you were a road block.
Zasshu is no different. He can't seem to even beat Chris King, much less me. He played his part in my story by losing his belt and was written out. I even went as far as filing a restraining order to make sure I kept that criminal off the pages of my legacy any farther, but then Laura, as a representative of Zasshu, laid her hands on Morgan. Even a man such as myself, a man above it all, couldn't let that go unpunished.
So for the third and final time; I'll give you two credit for playing what few cards you had left to put me in the position to give you both what you so badly want but so definitely don't deserve. But the deck has ran out now, and after I win at Extreme Endurance (as if there could be another outcome) there are no cards left to play, because Noah giveth and Noah taketh away.
Well howdy there pardner.