Taking a look back at the history of SCW, there have been various personas to etch their name into the stories told within the ropes, underneath that SCW banner. There have been so many vicious, hard hitting and cold blooded killers to step in between those ropes, that it makes me laugh. People have claimed Xander Valentine to be the Boogeyman of the SCW, yet I have broken him in more ways than one. I humanized that Boogeyman. I did what no one else felt to be possible. So, Xander…he is no Boogeyman. He is just a man and nothing more, just as Chad Evans is no God. He’s just a man.
I am a vicious human being. I am an evil man. I know this. I have accepted it. That is why it makes me laugh when I remember Xander showing up in his white face paint, looking like Marilyn Manson on steroids. That is why I laugh when someone like Damian Angel claims to be the Devil. They try to look the part, and put a name on it, in order to make themselves appear to be monsters, these big bad men who will inflict pain and haunt your dreams. These big, bad men who rely on metaphors and poetry in order to instill fear into the hearts of those around them.
Give me a fucking break.
I have never needed make up, or a nickname to show that I am a terrible human being. That I have no concern for the safety and well-being of others, especially those who stand across from me in the ring. I have always enjoyed driving my knee into the side of another human being’s skull. I have always enjoyed sending my elbow into the nose of someone, feeling it break and shatter. Same with applying more pressure to a limb just so I can hear my opponent scream in agony, and the way a bone breaks, when I twist, bend, and press a leg in the direction it isn’t meant to go.
Cracking Syren’s head on the wall and the cold concrete floor…I loved that! That was fun. Toying with her head for a few weeks was spectacular. Most people like to get on social media to stir up shit and vent their frustrations. I am not with that. It is annoying as fuck. Sure I will post here and there, but it isn’t every single goddamn day, every single time a fucking show goes off of the air. I don’t feel the need to reply to someone else’s Tweet. If I have an issue with someone, I will make sure I hurt them physically, as I am typically a man of few words. I let my actions speak for me.
My actions spoke for me every single time I kicked the shit out of Alexis Quinne. I didn’t need to take to Twitter to talk about random horse shit before typing levitate repeatedly. It is all nonsense. And what else is nonsense is the fact that I have been wrestling a pay per views more or less since my return. I have not been happy with this before, which is why I told the boss months ago that I wanted more of a full time deal. That fell on deaf ears, in front of blind eyes. And that is has left me bored. I’ve been bored with the SCW and its current product for a very long time now. I have been rather bored with a lot of what has gone on in my SCW career since I came back.
Being in the background of Past, Present, and Future was okay at first, but then the boredom grew. It grew and it fucking grew. Wrestling once a month, if that, only made the boredom intensify. Winning the Trios, as it turned out, was more for me than it was for the group. I feel good in stating that now. I was being asked to cost my team the win just so someone else could get it. You didn’t see me uttering a single fucking word like that. I am a fighter. I go to wars. Alexis Quinne went through one and barely survived. You don’t see me bitching about it.
But I don’t bitch about much. It’d be hard to, as Regan and Sienna are typically bitching enough for everyone else on the goddamn roster. I could gripe and I could be louder if I wanted, but I have chosen not to be, thus far. Like I went against what I truly wanted a few weeks ago, and that was to punt AJ Helms’ balls up into his fucking neck before winning a shot at the United States Championship. But instead, I set aside my personal feelings for Regan. After that, I don’t think I am going to do it again. It just isn’t as…fun.
And I want to have my fun. My time in wrestling may be over before I know it, so I need to do all that I can to enjoy it. It is time to get back to doing things for myself. I will stand with Regan and Sienna, but I will always come first. I helped build this house. I built this house before it ever became possessed by a Devil, or haunted by the Boogeyman. I was violent and vicious before they ever decided to lace up a pair of boots. Reminding the world and the roster of this will be fun. I will take great pleasure in reminding them as much as possible.
And it starts with Thirteen. He is a submission specialist, just as I am. He has been known to be violent, but he needed a car to do so. All I have ever needed are my fucking hands. That will be placed on display when we enter the ring at Breakdown. He is another Boogeyman that I laugh at, not because of his in-ring skill, as he is superb in competition. I laugh because, like Xander and Damian, he does all that he can to look the part. His little eyeliner and Gothic appearance…once again…
Give me a fucking break.
Well, he may not give me one, but I damn sure plan on breaking something of his. An arm, a leg…maybe going under the moniker of Thirteen will prove to be truly unlucky.
—————————————————
Years Ago
It was hard to believe. I was standing on the back porch of a home belonging to a man I came close to killing on more than one occasion. What was even harder to believe was that I was having a beer with him, while he flipped steaks over on the grill. Taking a sip of my beer, I couldn’t help but shake my head at the very reality that was going on around me.
I was in the company of Justin Davis and I was actually enjoying it. I never thought that would have been possible given our history. I had taken him under my wing when he was nothing more than some blonde haired loud-mouth. We held championship gold together for quite some time. Shortly after we lost them, he turned his back on me and injured me. Not only that, my then girlfriend left me for Davis. That is another funny thing. She stood in the kitchen, chopping up vegetables for a salad, as Amber was always a fucking health nut.
“You alright, man?” Davis had asked.
I looked over at him and took a swig of my beer, cracking a grin afterwards, “It is just all too fucking surreal, Justin. I never thought I would be here. I never thought we would be friends again after all that happened.”
Davis shrugged, “It could have been worse, dude.”
I looked at Davis, cocking my eyebrow in the same instance, “Are you crazy or what? I dropped you off of the big SCW screen and I watched you land on the metal stage below. I made you bleed several times…”
Davis chimed in quickly, flipping the steaks once more, “Hey man. Give me some credit. I made you bleed too. There is no reason to leave that part out.”
I nodded, “Okay, fair enough. We made one another bleed. Profusely. Like we went out of the way to hurt each other. We went out of our way to make sure the other felt nothing but absolute fucking harm. Yet here we are,” I said, extending my arms out, as if I was showing him the entire landscape surrounding his house, “Hanging out, having a few beers. I am getting ready to have dinner with you and my ex. I don’t think shit like this is normal in most circles, Justin.”
Davis cracked a grin, “Yeah you’re probably right, but dude, I’ve grown after all of that. Amber has, too. It has been years since all of that shit went down. You and I have had our ups and downs, but we’ve handled it. Hell, you’re the one who truly gave me my first big break and that is something I’ll never forget.”
After another swig of beer, I replied, “I saw something in you. I am not sure what it was, especially after all of the shit we had gone through, but yeah I saw something in you. You had potential. I felt you could take on the entire industry and give them a run for their money.”
Davis sighed, “I wish I could have. I had a fire lit under my ass when you took me under your wing…”
I cut him off, “And then you thought you knew more. You thought you knew better,” Davis shrugged and moved his head from side to side, as if he was thinking about what I said, as I continued, “But I have always been the sort of person to take an interest in those who are not your stereotypical main event players. You know that. It is why I linked up with our old friend, Glacier. I saw potential in him, but look where that ended up going.”
Davis shook his head, “I’d rather not talk about that son of a bitch,” He said, tossing a steak onto a plate, “But I see what you’re saying. I did think I knew more, but it turned out that I had no idea what I was thinking or what it was that I was doing. I had my head up my ass.”
“That couldn’t have been a pretty sight,” I said, with Davis looking at me and we actually shared a laugh. It was something we hadn’t done it quite some time. Not since 2008. I finished off my beer before grabbing his empty bottle, “I’m going to grab another beer. You want one, man?”
Davis nodded, “Yeah man. There should be some cold ones in the fridge in the kitchen. Help yourself.”
I nodded before stepping inside. I noticed Amber was still cutting off vegetables. She paused for a moment or two as I stepped inside, before going back to chopping away. We made brief eye contact before I made my way to the fridge, grabbing a beer for myself as well as Davis. I then began to make my way toward the door when Amber spoke, “Hey.”
I stopped and released a deep breath before turning and facing her. She was still as attractive as ever. Flashbacks of nights filled with wild sex with all things passionate thrown out of the window, entered my mind for a few moments before I finally managed to reply, “Hey Amber.”
Her chopping went from vicious to calm as she smiled and asked, “How are things going with you two?” She asked, motioning towards Davis with her eyes. Eyes that I had gotten lost in several times before in the past.
I looked out at Davis before locking eyes with her once again and I shrugged, “As he said earlier, it could be worse. We seem to be doing alright. I told him it was still unbelievable to me that I am even here to be honest. Especially with all that has gone on with he and I…and hell, even you.”
Amber nodded, “I get that, but I am sure he said that we’ve all moved on, right?” I simply nodded, and then she continued, “And we have. None of us were in a good head space. Things between you and I went south. Justin and I happened. It was all such a mess…”
I chimed in, “I think nightmare would be more like it…”
She smiled, “Okay fair enough. But what’s done is done. No reason to hang on to what happened back then. The harm we all caused.”
I nodded, “I completely agree, Amber. I think with me being here…it is a definite sign that we’ve all moved on. Unless, you are both planning on poisoning me or knocking me out just so I can wake up, tied down, as you guys prepare to torture me.”
She replied quickly, “I didn’t think me tying you up was torture…” And then silence fell over us. I looked down, then back up as she looked down. She turned her body away from me as she shook her head. Our eyes met once again as Amber spoke, “I’m sorry, Josh. I guess there are some things one never truly gets over.”
Feeling slightly uneasy in the moment, I shrugged and nodded, “You’re probably right, but you’re with Justin and I’m doing whatever it is that I’m doing.”
She nodded as silence fell between us again. A few moments passed and then the door opened, Davis stepped inside, breaking the silence, “Everything alright in here?”
I looked at Amber slightly before quickly giving Davis all of my attention, “Of course it is, you jack ass. We were just catching up. She was telling me how terrible of a cook you are.”
Laughter filled the kitchen for a few moments before Davis finally replied, “Well, I know that’s a lie. I am a great cook. I remind myself of that every day. Honey is the salad almost done?” Amber simply nodded before Davis continued, “Well, come on dick head. Bring the beers so we can chow down. I want to hear what you have planned for your return.”
Amber spoke again, “Oh…you’re going back into wrestling?”
I nodded, “Yeah. You know me. I can’t stay away,” We all shared another laugh before I followed Davis back outside, doing my best to forget what Amber had said. I told myself it was an accident and that I didn’t need to think any more about it.
“So…” Davis said, breaking me from my concentration, “What are you planning on doing? Are you going to go after Starr and get your rematch from last year or something else?”
Forcing myself to forget the moment with Amber, I sat down with Davis as he handed me a plate with my steak on it. I shook my head, trying to come off like I was into the conversation as much as I possibly could, “No, I am going after Dillusion. My whole thing is going to be me destroying the Underground division…”
Davis made a sad face, “But that was like my first singles title, man. Such hate.”
I shrugged, “You’re right. I do hate it. Hardcore wrestling is a joke in my opinion. It is like I told that ass hat, Helms last year. I didn’t need weapons. I would just hurt him with my fists. They are all I need to be hardcore…”
Before we could continue our discussion, Amber emerged from the kitchen , bringing a beer for herself and a bowl of salad, “Alright boys, no shop talk. I don’t want Justin getting any ideas…”
Davis replied, “Oh you know me. I’d never do such a thing.”
I spoke next, “This man and his ideas…talk about scary…” We then shared a laugh, before digging into our dinner as well as conversation, with me doing all that I could to keep my eyes off of Amber, to make my mind from going to places it didn’t need to go.
—————————————————
A Few Months Later
Rise to Greatness 2011
Post Match
The plan was for me to return with every single intention to destroy the Underground division. I wanted to piss all over it and set it ablaze, so I could sit back and watch it burn. It is why I went after Dillusion. He loved that division and being hardcore. He was the true embodiment of the division, his words displayed that, especially as he was preparing to face Jake Starr for the Underground Championship. His painted face was indeed the face of the division, even in a sea of blood containing the likes of Ducky and Rachel Foxx. His face that I wanted to pummel. His face I wanted to see once I destroyed him and his division.
But that didn’t happen. When I opened my mouth, no words of hatred came out in terms of my thoughts and feelings on the Underground division. Words came out and they were filled with hatred but the words were directed towards the SCW as a whole. I pissed all over the company and I took my goddamn head out of the match in the process. I wasn’t in it and it ended costing me big time, as I found myself draped over the top rope, a noose tightening around my neck. I didn’t want it to stop. I wanted it to snap my neck or choke me to death, because I indeed wanted to die. I wanted it all to end because I was nothing more than a fucking failure.
Once I found my way back to my locker room, I cut loose. There wasn’t a wall, locker, or door that my fist didn’t meet. My knuckles connected with all that I could find and at first the pain was sharp, but the more I unloaded on everything in my path, the pain left and I started to feel somewhat better.
And then my phone rang.
“Hello?” I asked, placing it to my ear, without even checking to see who it was.
“Hey, how are you?” The voice asked, quickly letting me know who was on the other end.
Air escaped my lungs as I pressed my back against the wall, “Hey Amber…I’m…” I started as I rubbed my neck, “I’m fine. Could be better but could definitely be worse.”
“Yeah you could be paralyzed. I saw your match…”
“Hazard of the job I guess you could say. Not that you’re a stranger to the way this sport works,” I replied, feeling myself coming down off my surge of anger the more our conversation continued, “So, I appreciate you calling and checking up on me. I’m sure you need to get back to Justin. Tell him that he doesn’t need to have his woman call to check on me next time.”
“I wanted to call, Josh,” she stated, “It had nothing to do with Justin. I wanted to know you were alright though something told me you were.”
“That something was correct. I’ll live to fight another day,” I said, as I started to remove my gear before grabbing a shower and heading back to the hotel room, “If you and Justin would like, we can meet at my room before going out and grabbing some dinner. Maybe a few drinks.”
Amber replied, and it was like I could sense that she was smiling, “Yeah, that sounds good. Justin should be finishing up his promotional work here shortly and we can head over. What hotel are you staying at?”
I provided her with the information before ending the call. I took my shower, washing away the defeat and watching it glide down the drain along with my blood, sweat, and tears. I got dressed and walked out of my locker room just as I heard Shawn Winters’ theme song begin blaring through the arena’s sound system. He was in a position I wanted to be in numerous times, but never quite reached.
The main event of Rise to Greatness. Him being there, along with the other face painted piece of shit, Shilo Valiant, made me sick. I left the arena with a bitter taste in my mouth. I got in my rental before heading back to the hotel. I got into my room and tossed my bag to the floor and drew in a deep breath. No longer than the time it took for me to exhale, there was a knock at my door.
I walked over and opened it to find Amber standing before me, in a short red dress, her makeup done up just right, and her fixed in a way that always drove me crazy. Sticking my head out of the doorway, I scanned the hallway for Justin Davis before locking eyes with her, “Where is that asshole, Davis?”
Amber gave a halfway smile, before replying, “He’s not here…it’s just,” she stopped speaking, clearing her throat, not hiding her uneasiness, “It’s just me.”
“Are you alright?” I asked, surprised at the fact I showed concern. Here was a woman who turned on me. I quickly reminded myself that I pushed her to that point with my own set of mind games years ago.
Her half smile remained, “Like you said it could be worse but I’d rather not talk about it out here. Are you going to invite me in?”
I looked down at the floor for a few moments, asking myself whether or not this was a good idea. I told myself that she and I could be friends. That would be fine. I then looked up at her, repeating it over and over in my head that things would be fine before I nodded, “Yes of course. Come on in,” I stepped aside as she stepped inside. I then closed the door behind me, not sure what was going to happen next.
I watched as she strolled through the room, keeping her back to me. A few moments passed before I broke the silence, “So where is Davis?”
Amber turned to me and frowned, “I don’t know really, Josh. He and I…we’ve grown distant over the last few months. He has been going out and gambling away our money. God knows what else he is doing.”
I stepped closer to her, each step feeling more hesitant than the other, “I’ve never known him to be a gambler. Are you sure that’s what he’s doing?”
Her eyes began to water as her cheeks started to turn red, “He told me!” She said, gasping for air, “He told me. Money was always missing and I always kept track of what I spent…Hell you know how I am with money…” she said, laughing out of desperation, “And when I confronted him…he lied to me over and over before he finally cracked…” Amber took a seat at the bar in the room, burying her face in her hands.
I stepped around the bar, “You want a drink?”
Pulling her face from her hands, and wiping the tears from her eyes, Amber cackled and nodded, “Yes, please. Make it a strong one.”
I grabbed a few bottles and two glasses, placing them down on the bar before getting to work, “If I remember correctly, you always enjoyed a good rum and Coke. I don’t have any Coke in the hotel room, but I definitely have rum.”
Taking the glass and drawing it closer to her lips, Amber replied, “Rum will do just fine,” I watched as she downed the rum before placing the glass back down on the bar and locking eyes with me, “I’ll take another, if you please.”
I smirked before downing mine as well. I then poured two more drinks, “Cheers,” I said, lifting my glass up.
“What are we toasting to?” Amber said, readjusting herself by placing one knee on the barstool, her other leg stretched out and her elbows on the bar.
I went to speak, but couldn’t find the words. I let out a sigh plus a slight chuckle, “You know I honestly have no fucking clue. It just seemed like the right thing to do. I’m more than open for suggestions.”
Amber grinned, which was good, because I’ve never been one to enjoy seeing a woman cry, unless of course they were an opponent. In that case, I’d give no fucks. She sipped slightly on her rum before shrugging, “Why not to us?”
“What is there to toast to in terms of us?” I asked, not sure of how I was supposed to feel with her uttering words like that. In my mind, there was no “us”. There hadn’t been an “us” in years.
I watched as Amber slowly removed herself from the barstool and began to make her way towards me, our eyes locked the entire time. She then stood a few inches from me and downed the remainder of her rum, “The fact that we’ve always had that spark. It’s been buried for a long time, but as soon as we saw one another at the house…it found its way back.”
“You’re married, Amber…” I said.
She continued, my words meaning nothing to her, “And ever since that night, I haven’t been able to keep my mind off of you…” Amber pressed her hands onto my chest. I started to drink, as she continued speaking, “And with Justin caught up in himself, leaving me to be alone, I just want to be touched again,” She said, her hands undoing my shirt, “I just want to be cared for again…” I finished my drink, my hands pressing against her, but not exactly fighting her off either, just as she undid my belt, “I just want to know what it is like to be loved once again…” And then her lips met mine.
“What…what…what are you doing?” I asked, doing my best to fight the urge of kissing her back, but finding it more and more obvious that I was weak in this instance. I kissed her back, lifting her up onto the bar, the sound of glasses breaking into my ears, causing me to come back to reality, “Wait…wait…you’re married, Amber. You are married…” I said, taking a step back.
She climbed down off of the bar, looking nothing short of defeated. I watched as she made her way to the door and before I knew it, I was behind her, slamming her into the door, locking it in the process. I found my way inside, and all of the memories of our past flooded my brain. Our bodies intertwined. The taste of her sweat. The wet warmth that always welcomed me. The memories of the past became our present, as we made new memories against the door, then the floor, on every piece of furniture, before reaching the bed.
Then, once it was over, the reality of what I had done, washed away any sort of joy and pleasure I had received, “Get out, Amber,” I coldly stated.
She looked up at me, “What?”
“Get out,” I repeated. She did not move. Amber looked at me, unsure of what was going on. I felt the same way and that infuriated me. Justin was supposed to be my friend. I shouldn’t have done this, I told myself. She shouldn’t have come here, I thought as well, before the words exploded from my mouth, “GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!!!”
Amber sprang from the bed, tears pouring from her eyes as she gathered her things, getting dressed as quickly as possible, before giving me one last look as she hurried out of the door, slamming it behind her. I sat on the bed, naked and filled with anger. I was disappointed in her and I was disappointed in myself.
I was also disappointed in the fact that I had no idea what the night’s disappointment would lead to.
—————————————————
March, 2018
New York City, New York
Regan smirks, “I guess the next time I see you in a ring, it may not be us standing side by side, but across from each other.”
I grab the ropes as I lock eyes with her, “If this destroys us, it is because you let it. You let your insecurities get the better of you. If we face, and you win then congrats to you.”
Regan goes to say something, but she doesn’t. She glares at me once again before turning and walking away. I watch as she exits the gym and I stand in the ring, knowing that the entire conversation did more harm than good.
I lean over the ropes and let out a sigh, as I shake my head, “Goddamn it,” I say, before pushing myself off of the ropes. I can’t help but question everything in terms of my relationship with Regan, as well as the entire concept behind Past, Present, and Future. I worked hard to earn the status of a legend, but that doesn’t mean I have to be considered “the past”, I tell myself.
My phone goes off again. I had ignored it during the confrontation with Regan. I grab it and look down, seeing that my own past was trying to contact me. I feel my grip tighten around the phone, wishing I could break it in the palm of my hand. I feel my body begin to tremble slightly as the anger I receive as soon as I see the identity of the caller. I take a few deep breaths before lifting the phone to my ear, “I told you not to fucking call me, yet you do. You don’t seem to take direction very well.”
“I need to talk to you.”
I roll my eyes, “I don’t really give a damn. There is nothing to talk about. You need to realize that.”
“Josh, this is important. We have to talk.”
My hand squeezes the phone even tighter, as I imagine it being her neck, “Amber, we have nothing to talk about, especially not something important. Whatever you think we shared years ago…you need to realize and you need to understand that it is all bullshit. I have moved on. I am married. I am happy living my fucking life. I suggest you do the same.”
It was Amber. I want her to stay in the past, where I buried her. I haven’t spoken to her since the night in my hotel room. That was nearly fucking years ago. I felt that I could just leave things be, not have to worry about a fucking thing. I paid for the house she lives, just as a way to do one last nice thing for her. I guess I thought that I was buying her off. I tell myself that money doesn’t always talk, and that it truly can’t buy you what you want.
She fires back, “But we do have something to talk about and it is pretty fucking important, Josh. A lot more important than whatever it is that you’re doing now. I need to see you…otherwise I will track down that wife of yours and fill her in on what’s going on.”
I imagine her in this ring, and I see myself club her down to the mat before I proceed to stomp on every single fucking inch of her body, stomping until skin splits and bones back. Stomping until there is nothing left but a broken and bloody mess.
“There isn’t a goddamn thing going on, Amber…” I hiss into the phone, “And if you come near my wife then I will make sure I have you arrested for trespassing.”
Silence falls over us for a few moments before she finally speaks once again, “Then meet me.”
“I don’t understand why you are trying to ruin my life all of a sudden. After everything that I have done for you and your family. I made sure that your son has had a rough over his head, because Davis decided to become a fucking deadbeat. I am the one who made sure you never had to live out on the streets. I told you when I bought paid your house off that there was to be no more contact, yet here you are…calling me out of the blue, wanting to talk! I really don’t fucking get you….”
“Josh…” Amber begins, taking in a deep breath and slowly exhaling, “If you meet me then it will be the last time you have to see me. I promise you that. I just need to tell you what it is that I need to tell you. Once I do that, I don’t care what you do at this point. I just need to get this off of my chest. I am not asking for much and I swear I won’t ask you for another fucking thing. You can go on and live your happy life with your new bride. You can forget about me, about everything that I need to tell you and that will just be it.”
I run my hand over my face, “You know, with you telling me that I won’t hear from you again…excuse me when I say that I don’t believe that. I have heard that before, Amber.”
She cuts me off, “I swear this is the last time,” Amber states, sounding like an addict, “I swear on all that I have…”
“That’s not really saying much, Amber.”
“Please just meet me. For fucks sake, Josh. I just need five minutes of your time.”
I bring the phone away from my ear and I mimic punching it, as if I am punching her before bringing it back to my ear, “Fine. When and where.”
“As soon as you can….my house…”
“You mean the house I bought for you and Davis to live in. I knew bringing you to New York was a big mistake….” I state, feeling a sense of dread beginning to blend in with my present anger, “But I will be there. So, if you have to practice what you need to say in front of a mirror, I suggest you get to it, because I won’t be staying long,” She goes to speak, but I end the call. I send a text to Rachel, letting her know that I am going to be a little late. I can’t let her know what is going on, because the way I see it, this is my mess and I have to be the one to clean it up. I get into my car, squealing tires as I exit my parking space and when I make my way onto the highway.
I repeat my thoughts to myself, that this is my mess and I have to be the one to clean it up, not thinking about how messier things could become.
—————————————————
SHOOT
“I’d like to start off by giving a big fuck you to Justin Davis, not to mention catering. Hell, let’s throw in Mr. Drachewych and the suits in SCW. Fuck all of you with a double sided dildo wrapped in barbed wire. You can go ahead and fine me if you wish. I’ve got more money than I know what to do with, as monetary gain has never been anything I’ve cared about.”
I turn away from the camera as the light turns green. I am in my truck, making my way to a certain spot in New York City. As I continue to drive, I keep my eyes on the road, but I speak loud enough to make sure my voice is heard.
“So, why the harsh words for all of those mentioned. Well, a few weeks ago at Unflawed, I had some jackass in a chef hat coming at me, swinging sharp objects. How is that promoting a safe work environment? Isn’t that something that Mr. D and the Board have been trying to promote for quite some time now? Maybe I am just mistaken, but either fucking way, idiots like that should not be allowed anywhere fucking near the talent. I am talking about Justin Davis because he is far from a talent, no matter if he has signed a contract with the company.”
I shake my head in disgust at the very mention of Davis, before I continue to speak.
“Speaking of Davis and keeping with this talk of safety, why is this son of a bitch even employed again? I am not saying this because he is a waste of roster space. This has been a proven fact for fucking years, so I don’t need to speak any further on that. What I do need to talk about is the fact that this fucking jackass said he was going to kill me over social media. Isn’t that considered communicating a threat? Now, you can all say that I have said some pretty harsh things over social media or even on camera, period, but the fact that is I am a sound and stable individual. I don’t have mental health issues. Davis, on the other hand, he is a loose fucking cannon. Not only does he have health issues…have you seen how bad he has let himself go? When he was under my wing, he was defined muscle wise. Now, there is nothing but matted hair and flab. It is disgusting and a disgrace to this sport. But the fact that he is able to communicate threats, threatening to kill me and nothing is done about, is a fucking disgrace to me. Do you hear me, Mr. D? I am not sure if you’re still in a coma after Regan put you in your fucking place, but if you can hear me, I want this taken care of yesterday.”
I find myself in traffic for a few moments, so I turn toward the camera once again, fuming at the thought of Justin Davis even mentioning my name.
“And, I want to go on record to state that Justin Davis is clearly psychotic. The motherfucker has been stalking me for years. It has become worse over the last six months or so. He is clearly obsessed with me, yet he is allowed to come back. He is allowed to be an employee of Supreme Championship Wrestling, yet James Evans, my protégé was cast out for smacking a bitch and grabbing her wrist? Get the fuck out of here with that bullshit. This goes back to something I said years ago. SCW truly means Security for Certain Wrestlers. This company shows you what it truly thinks of you, depending on how you are treated. And I guess that despite being a Hall of Fame legend in this company, hell in this entire industry, I have to walk around, looking over my shoulder due to the fact that some fucking lunatic who has a hard-on for, who is obsessed with me, is able to run around the hallways of any arena that I am in. He is given free rein to do as he pleases. He can say he is going to kill me and that he doesn’t have to suffer any sort of consequences. I guess he will have to take a page from Blake Mason’s book and run me over, or chop me up and feed me to the fucking poor before some sort of action takes place.”
Traffic begins to move and I turn away from the camera. I am still fuming, but I take a few deep breaths, doing my best to maintain control over my actions as well as my words.
“Justin Davis wants a match with me. I don’t want it. You may ask yourself…but you have never backed down from a challenge. And you are exactly fucking right, and this isn’t a fucking challenge. I have mopped the floor with the broken and bloodied carcass of Justin Davis more times than I can count. Yeah, it has been a fucking lot. You would think the fact that someone had to throw in the towel for him during an “I Quit” match we had nearly ten years ago would be enough for him to realize. But the sad part is that it isn’t. He should have realized a long time ago that he doesn’t measure up to me. That he never has and he never fucking will. I don’t want to waste my time beating him black, blue, and red with his own blood. It isn’t worthy of a man with my skills as well as my accolades. Those in charge need to do me a favor and fire the son of a bitch, if not based on the fact that he doesn’t measure up to what it takes to survive in the SCW, then they should do it because he is insane and a danger to myself as well as others. In one on one match, then I have his number yes. But he attacks me from behind, then who knows what will happen? He could kidnap me and take me somewhere to torture me before ending my life and wearing my skin for a coat. That shit happens. It isn’t just something you see on TV. It happens in reality. But then again, those in charge don’t exactly use logic, do they?”
I finally pull into my destination. I turn the truck off and grab the camera. I then pan around, soaking in the view of numerous tombstones before bringing the camera back to my face.
“You see, I use logic. I know that the SCW and those in charge will allow Davis to do what he’s been doing. They will force this idea of a match between he and I. When it eventually goes down, what happens to him will be on them. The blood that will inevitably be shed will be on their hands. And when all is said and done, I will tell them that everything was their fault, not mine. I don’t want things to go that route, but they will. And when does, they won’t have the balls to hold themselves accountable. And Justin Davis’ career will be like those who apparently rest here…it will be dead.”
I let out a slight chuckle before I continue.
“But enough about Justin Davis. Let’s talk about why I am here. This is the Calvary Cemetery. It has over three million burials, and covers over three hundred and sixty-five acres. So, why am I here? I felt it was only logical to come here, as my upcoming opponent likes to spend his times in cemeteries based upon what I’ve heard. Oh, the big and bad spooky Thirteen enjoys long strolls amongst the dead, to clear his mind from whatever has been troubling him that particular week. Oh yes, poor Thirteen has experienced trauma for the better part of his life, and he finds solace in places like this, because for the better part of his life, he has apparently been dead inside.”
I scoff before shaking my head. I then turn and begin to make my way through the cemetery.
“What is it about places like this that you enjoy so much Thirteen? Do you have a touch of necrophilia? Did you and Shilo Valiant take turns with a corpse in your youth, that it shaped you for the rest of your lives as potential grave robbers? What is it? I am only curious because I want to know you and what makes you tick, little one. Do you believe in darkness? Well, if that is the case then I need you to step out of that darkness and come into the light, so I can educate you on a few things, little one.”
I take a seat on an unclaimed plot of grass, placing the camera in front of me on the ground. I bring my knees to my chest and cup my hands, as I begin to speak once more.
“I am calling you little one, because you are like the son I never wanted. Like you, I was an angry, antisocial individual. Like you, I specialize in submission wrestling. Like you, I have gone out of my way to hurt people. I see quite a bit of myself in you, minus the infatuation with places like this. Had you been my kid, I would have whipped your ass and told you to stop being such a fucking creep. But then again, I am sure you dealt with that growing up, which is why you are the way that you are. All doom and gloom. Yeah, I went through some shit during my youth. Shit that left me with scars, but instead of being all doom and gloom like you, I made a choice to do what I wanted when I wanted. I made sure no one forgot who I was, be it in a conversation or a fight. I made sure those around me had scars of their own once things were said and done. And you can bet your pasty white ass that you will add a few more scars to your already staggering collection. These scars will be physical, mental, and even emotional. Physically, I am going to hurt you. That is already a given. It is what I do in that ring. It is my thing. Mentally, you will be hurt and scarred by the fact that the man you have tried to emulate is better than you, and that no matter how many submissions you lock on or wins you obtain, you will always be in my shadow, you will always be known as a poor man’s Josh Hudson. You will be scarred emotionally, because these truths that I speak to you now, will become much more apparent once we are between those ropes.”
“I am telling you this so that you can prepare yourself for the worst. You see, I know that this is a match that the world has been clamoring for, for a very long time. They have wanted to see what it would be like when the two of us get into a ring and go at one another, trying to wrestle move for move, hold for hold. And don’t get me wrong, I love the idea of that. It is why I got into this business. I smiled like a proud dad when you won the Adrenaline Championship and I smiled even more when you won the World Championship. You were a technical wrestler, one who relied on submissions like I have always done and it was a nice to see someone like me holding the richest prize in this sport. But you see, those smiles faded when I looked at you and saw nothing but gimmickry.”
I shake my head in disappointment, something I want my opponent to experience once our match is over and done with.
“Yes, I said it. Gimmickry. With your eyeliner and your all around Gothic look, like we are still living in the late nineties…it all screams attention seeking, in my humble opinion. Is that it? Are you doing all of this for attention, Thirteen? You want the entire world to look at you, because your mommy and your daddy didn’t give you the time of day, growing up? Well, seeing how I am basically your father in a wrestling sense, let me give you some fatherly advice. I have seen your matches. You are a true technical wizard in between those ropes. You are a serious submission specialist. A true suplex machine. So, the eyeliner and all of that bullshit…it is just that. It is bullshit. It is complete and utter useless nonsense. From a wrestling standpoint, I can take you seriously, but when you add all of that other nonsense, I can’t help but scratch my head and ask myself, where did this guy go wrong? I mean, you go around claiming to be this Dark Messiah? What is all of that? Are you going to summon the dead and seize the souls of those you defeat as your own? Do you have an urn or some other religious artifact from which you gain supernatural strength? Do you have people who believe in you like you are some sort of living, breathing Jesus who decided to take a walk on the dark side of the moon? It is shit like that that makes me shake my head at you in disappointment, boy.”
“I said you are a technical wizard. A submission specialist. A suplex machine. I meant all of those things, but here is the kicker, here is why people have wanted us to go at it for years. I am all of those things. I am the first person in this fucking company to receive those labels. I have never needed eyeliner or anything of that nature to get those titles. No, all I have needed are the skills I possess and these hands…”
I say, lifting my hands up into the camera’s view.
“With these hands, and my skills, I have outwrestled God and the Devil, so I have no issues with wrestling a Dark Messiah. And it has been said that out wrestling you is damn near impossible. Well, challenge accepted, bitch. You see, in that ring, on that mat, I am the best. Win or lose, I am the greatest wrestler to ever grace the SCW with his presence. I don’t go out and I don’t showboat or wear women’s underwear like I am Ace Marshall. I don’t need to be known as the Executioner, God, or the Devil. That is all window dressing. It is all nonsense. I am the greatest of all time in terms of wrestling ability, Thirteen. I have proven time and time again that I am the only one who can truly make any other performer out there look like they are worth a million bucks. Hell, chalk it up to a billion. I have proven that I have the ability to make any match you’ve seen me in on Breakdown look worthy of Rise to Greatness. I single handedly forced the so called Next Level to actually reach that next level and become world championship material. And I did that with my skills and these hands…”
I stop speaking for a few moments, letting the thought of how I have outwrestled names such as Xander Valentine, Chad Evans, the Real Speed, and Damian Angel race through my mind. I run my hands over my face before looking back into the camera and continue speaking.
“With these skills, and with these hands, I will elevate you, Thirteen. I am going to force you to up your game. You are going to have to do so if you want to beat me. I know that you can. It has been proven that I can be beaten over the years. You have proven that you have what it takes to be the World Champion in this company. You came back last year and you have achieved success once again. You have gone toe to toe with Kennedy Street and Bree Mason. You have pushed them, but there is still something missing. Something holding you back, boy. You are in my shadow, son and beating me this week will remove you from said shadow. You need this win more than you’ve needed anything else in your pathetic existence. You need this win, but I am not just going to give it to you. Oh no, I am going to make sure you have to scratch and claw in order to beat me, if you’re able to. If I allow you to survive, Thirteen. I am unlike anyone you have ever faced before and that is because I am who and what you strive to be.”
“I paved the way for your submission wrestlers, your monsters, your war machines. My record, my history with this industry, is littered with broken bodies that I have left in my wake. They aren’t buried in a cemetery, but I left them buried in the past and I will be looking to do the same to you. You see, when I win this match, Thirteen, I will prove to the world that I am the greatest technical wrestler. Hell, I will remind them is more like it. I will remind them why I have always been known as a submission specialist and a suplex machine. I will remind everyone what I can do with these skills and these hands. Hands that will reach out and wrap around your neck, choking you until the point you are feeling that you’re about to take your Last Breath. Hands that will grab you and throw you around a goddamn rag doll. Hands that will lift you onto a pair of shoulders before being throw off so you have a knee meet your face. Hands that will elevate you, but still pat you on the back, as I tell you that you fought well, that you gave a valiant effort, but you will never be who you wish to be…meaning, you will never be me…”
I lean forward and grab the camera as I stand up from the ground.
“Once I defeat you, you can come to your temple of darkness, you can have your pretend followers praise you and all of your dark ways, but then you can tell them what you were at Breakdown, which is a failure. You will not live up to your Dark Messiah moniker. You will be outwrestled, outclassed, and outdone in every way. I know you will give it your all. You always do. There is a reason you are a former World Champion in the most competitive company in the history of this industry, but you are facing a man who helped build this company, this industry. At Breakdown, you will be in my house, son. I will welcome you home with the worst beating you have experienced and when it is all said and done, you can simply thank me for putting you in your place. In the shadows….”
I then cut the feed.
Josh Hudson 