Post by Gerard Angelo on Mar 13, 2022 6:37:14 GMT -5
“It’s been a crazy year. For everyone, not just me personally. Third-year fighting a plague that many people think is still a hoax. There’s a war going on in Europe started by a real-life Bond villain that might be the catalyst for a nuclear holocaust which is always fun.”
Gerard stares down as he speaks, buttoned up in a winter jacket. Snow flurries fall onto him, sticking to his hair and jacket as he holds an arm behind his back. The weather in New Jersey had been wild the past few days. Summer weather on Monday and Winter storms alternating days. He would have visited last week when Monday Night Clash was in the state, but he had prior filming obligations that he was required to complete. Also, he didn't want fans trying to intrude on him for pictures and autographs in a cemetery. Some wrestling fans are entitled pricks.
“I did two movies over the past year. I just finished up one of those action flicks you don’t like and I did an artsy tearjerker. I think you would like that one. Oh, and I’m just a few days away from becoming the United States champion. That’s very exciting.”
His face had been locked in a somber expression, an artic breeze biting at his nose and cheeks. He pulled his arm back around, holding a bouquet of lilies.
“I wish you were here to see this one.”
Gerard crouches down and lays the flowers at the base of the headstone. It's an up-right headstone with an oval top. Simple and dignified. The inscription reads EVELYN ANN ANGELO JUNE 10TH 1971- MAY 8TH 2012, LOVING MOTHER, DAUGHTER & FRIEND.
Gerry stands back up, gloved hands clasped in front of him as he stares down at his mother’s grave. The only reason he was in the position he was today was her. Her unwavering support was the catalyst for all his success. It’s been nearly ten years since she passed and a day hasn’t gone by without her in his thoughts.
The cemetery stretched out around where he stood, a light dusting of white covered the ground, accumulating on tree limbs and tombstones. The same knot formed in his chest as it did that day he stood in the same spot.
=====
Time’s up, CJ. No more running and hiding from me.
Battlebowl. Tacoma Dome.
I finally get my fair and honest rematch for the United States championship. I honestly can’t believe it took this long since you cheated by changing the rules of the match, throwing me off my meticulously crafted game plan. And I was still a hair away from becoming the US champ.
You didn’t beat me in that match, you survived me.
So what’s going to happen this time, CJ? When everything is fair and honest? Trends show when that happens, I don’t fucking lose. I’m undefeated in Action Wrestling when the rules aren’t changed two seconds before the bell rings. You could say it’s skewed due to three matches being against John Blade and two frat boy idiots.
But look at the quality of my other opponents. Kidsgrove couldn’t beat me and I broke him. He hit rock fucking bottom. Made him rethink his career and life. Odin thought he was going to run through me. What did I do? I smashed a future Hall of Famer so bad that he knew it was a better idea to go fool around with the cast of Degrassi. Lissie? I beat the so-called “pillar” of Action Wrestling so convincingly that she crumbled and went to find other places to hold up. Now she's back to using Addy as her own pillar.
I’ve taken this goddamn company by storm. Might as well just hand me all of the year-end awards at Battlebowl because I’m gonna have that shit locked up. I got the god damn Midas touch. Millions of people tune in every week to see the Living Legend. I took Grindhouse when they were just another tag team and turned them into champions. AW is hotter than ever because the biggest damn star in the world competes here.
=====
The young man stood there, tears streaming down his cheeks as he stared at the casket. The world was a blur around him, not even hearing the words from the priest giving his Rite of Commital. His brother was sobbing next to him and he put his arm around his sibling. They both stood in silence, tear blurred eyes watching the casket as lowered into the earth.
Gerry is taken from his memory as a hand is placed on his shoulder. He looks over and sees his brother Sean. They stand there in silence as the snow fell down on them. Not much else is going on at the cemetery at this hour except for an older man in a trenchcoat and a Mets hat visiting a grave further down.
“I miss her,” Sean says, breaking the silence as a tear falls down his cheek. Gerard closes his eyes and nods, fighting back his own tears.
“Yeah, me too,” Gerard says, slipping his arm around his brother as he did nearly a decade ago.
=====
You had some luck since we last faced off too, CJ. You have a giant, massive, incredible, stupendous "win" over the World champion… that doesn’t count because it was unsanctioned. It was touted as your defining moment, even though you didn’t pin or submit Dandy. You just mugged him with a chair, which any asshole can do. Doesn’t prove you’re better than Dandy, and it doesn’t prove you’re better than me.
And why were you in a position for an opportunity like that? Get it? Postion. Because you can’t keep it in your pants around DiVito’s old lady? Hmm, you don’t seem like you really are that good guy you portray to everyone. Give it back to the community with an academy while simultaneously watching your former stablemate’s girl throw it back on you. Messy.
But that’s not my business.
=====
After a while of reminiscing and sharing stories, the brothers decide it is time to depart.
“Can I drive?” Sean asks, looking at his brother. Gerard scoffs.
“You think I’m going to let you drive the Aston Martin to Gram’s?” Gerry shakes his head. Sean put’s his hands together.
“Please, please. When will I ever get to drive a Vantage? I’m not gonna do anything!”
Gerard looks at his pleading brother, sighs, reaches into his coat pocket, and tosses Sean his smart key. He manages to catch it in one grab which oddly leads to relief for Gerry. Sean grins and takes off jogging towards the parking lot.
“Just gonna get it warmed up!” Sean yells behind him, almost slipping on the frozen path. Gerry rubs his eyes with one hand, immediately regretting his decision. Gerard reaches into one of his pockets, producing a pill bottle. He pops the top and shakes two into his gloved hand before popping them into his mouth and dry swallowing. He returns it to his pocket.
“Got a light?”
Gerard turns around to see the man in the Met’s cap standing there. He repeats himself as he holds up a half-smoked cigar.
“Do you got a light?” the man asks again. Gerard pats his jacket and reaches inside, pulling a lighter out. The man takes it and lights up his cigar, rolling it between his fingers as he lets out a puff of smoke. He hands it back to Gerard.
“Thanks. Some crazy weather we’re having, huh?”
“Yeah. I live out of state though.” Gerard says, slipping the lighter back into his jacket. The man nods as he puffs away on his cigar.
“Where you live?”
“California.”
“Ah I see,” the man says, giving a look that has Gerry thinking he’s about to get told all about the 'liberal elite'. Thankfully the man in the Mets hat goes in a different direction.
“What brings you to Jersey then?”
“Visiting my mom,” Gerard says, motioning over his shoulder as he wonders, not for the first time, why he’s just chatting with a stranger in the middle of the cemetery. The man just nods.
“Shame. Was visiting my wife,” the man says, gesturing with a thumb backward, “Gone too soon. Lung cancer. She didn’t even smoke.”
Gerry raises an eyebrow as he watches the man continuing to smoke his cigar.
“That’s a shame.”
“Don’t I know you?” the man asks, pointing at him. “Aren’t you that actor?”
Gerry pushes his tongue into his cheek, not expecting to be recognized today but he just nods.
“Gerard Angelo. In the flesh.”
“That’s it!” Mr. Met says excitedly, “You also do the wrestling too. I knew I knew you.”
“Yeah very exciting for everyone,” Gerry says as he pulls out his phone to check the time, he should’ve been at his grandmother's then head to the jet to Tacoma by now.
“Terrible what happened to your mom, though.”
“Yeah, a heart attack that young is awful,” He says, wondering how the man knew about his mother. He brushed it off thinking the old man read an article since his father was the founder of a tech giant.
“More like a murder.”
Gerard freezes.
“What the fuck are you talking about old man?”
“I’m talking about it not being a heart attack. Your mom was murdered.” The old man says matter of factly. Gerard has a full-fledged scowl on his face as he finds himself gripping the old man by the collar of his trench coat, nearly going nose to nose with him.
“What do you know?” Gerard asks as his eyes narrow. The old man stares at him and just laughs.
“Know something?” The man asks, moving his hands up to grip Gerry’s wrist with surprising strength, removing the actor’s hands from his collar, “I’m just a senile old man. The person you should ask is your father.”
Gerard rubs his eyes, fighting the beginnings of a migraine. What was this old idiot saying? That his father had something to do with the death of his mother. His father was a piece of shit but murder?
“So I’m just supposed to take your word for-” Gerry trails off as he moves his fingers, opening his eyes to not see the old man who was standing there a moment ago. Gerard looks around and sees no sign of him. Gerry sighs and reaches in his jacket, producing a pack of cigarettes. He pulled one out and clenched it between his limbs, fumbling in his pockets for his lighter. If it wasn’t one thing, it was another.
=====
My business is the ten pounds of red, white, and blue you got a death grip on. It’s been the singular focus for me since I debuted on Clash. I completed your Trials, CJ. I had you beat at Revolution despite your underhanded tactics. If not for a slight miscalculation, I would already have what I deserve. You can’t run from me anymore. Time for me to free the United States title from you like George Washington freed the United States from the tyranny of England. Good thing they did too. Can you imagine calling soccer football and saying shit like “Proper, innit”? Ugh, and the teeth? I’m just going to stomp you just like our heroes of the revolution stomped out the Red Coats! I will liberate the US title and America from your desperate rule. The U.S.A. will be forever be known as the United States of Angelo.
Has a nice ring to it, no? Slap that shit on a t-shirt ADub and watch the money roll in.
You said once that I would have to accept the need to change or run away like a scared bitch. Well, I’m still fucking here. I’m still coming for you. I told you that until I’ve taken the debt that I’m owed, I would be your despair. Sunday I collect that debt by force. I become the fifteenth different United States champion, adding even more prestige to an already prestigious title because Gerard by-fucking-god Angelo won it.
It will be the best thing for Action Wrestling when I rip that strap away from you. What kind of role model are you as a champion? Cheating on your wife and having a child out of wedlock? Tsk, tsk, CJ. And you want to be shaping young minds at your Academy. I’m an asshole but I at least have the decency to embrace it. You’re hiding behind this good-guy image.
And you do a damn good job of playing that part. You got everyone fooled. From the commentators to the guys that set up the ring to the fans, everyone loves that good guy CJ Pheonix. You get praise after praise heaped upon you by nearly everyone. You’re the new darling being positioned for bigger and better things.
You’re almost a better actor than me, CJ. But it takes an asshole to know an asshole. I see through your charade. You’ve got a little too big for your britches here, CJ, and I’m just the asshole to knock you down a peg and humble you. No more games. I’ll be honest. I absolutely need to win. This is crucial for me. You’ve already made a name for yourself here in AW. I need to walk out of Battlebowl with the belt. I need to prove to myself and everyone else that I deserve to walk around here in the number one company in professional wrestling with my head held high. My entire legacy is riding on this match.
=====
Gerard slams the passenger door of his car closed, blowing smoke out his nose as he ashes his butt and buckles himself in. Sean just stares at him.
“I thought you were quitting.”
“Just fucking drive.”
Sean knows better than to push his brother in this mood and, not wanting his driving privileges revoked, takes off out of the parking lot in the Aston Martin as they ride in silence. Gerard stares out the window, cracking it a bit to let the cigarette smoke out. He tries to process all the information he had just gotten while wondering if he didn’t hallucinate the entire conversation. Did Tony Angelo have something to do with the sudden death of his wife? She was only forty when she died. His mother was in good health and she stayed active. They were separated when she died though. Gerard realized then and there that he just accepted the explanation of a heart attack without delving any deeper than that. Gerry shook his head.
He would ask his father in person. He turns his head to look at his brother. He was fighting a smirk as he drove the Vantage on Route 80. Gerard couldn’t help but flash a slight smirk as he knew Sean was fighting the urge to speed during a snowstorm. He wouldn’t tell him until he had some solid evidence about what happened to his mother. Maybe it was just a heart attack. No use both of them getting riled up.
But there was only one way to find out. He had a date with CJ Phoenix in Tacoma, Washington. Then it was off to San Jose to speak with his father. He would get his answers one way or another. Even if it was just for closure.
Gerard took a long drag of his cigarette, flicking the filter out the window
Maybe there was someone else who could help him too.
"Sean, forget Gram's. Head to the air strip."
=====
Sunday you are getting the absolute best version of Gerard Angelo. I will do anything needed to be done to become United States champion. An entire career of knowledge will be used, Chase. I’ve been doing this shit a long time. I’ve seen everything there is to see in the business. You’re a fucking rookie compared to me. You’re gonna learn why I’m the goddamn gold standard in professional wrestling. Living Legend isn’t just a moniker to slap on a fucking biography. It’s what I am. Gerard Angelo is going to teach you a lesson only someone like him can. I’m going to put on a fucking wrestling clinic as I pick you apart piece by piece. Call Yaz and your wife because you’re going to need both of them to sew you back together when I’m done.
You may not like me but you will put some goddamn respect on my name.
You’re going to have to fucking kill me to put me down because I won’t hesitate to do the same. This is for all the fucking marbles. It motherfucking Havoc SZN and that means Evolution is right around the corner. When the spotlight is brightest Gerard Angelo is at his zenith. You get to share the spotlight with me again, Chase. It’s going to be white-hot this time. Not even a Phoenix could rise from the ashes it will create.
We end this at Battlebowl. Either I walk out with the strap or I get carried out on a stretcher. I’m willing to risk everything for my legacy. Are you? I don’t think you’re prepared to do that.
The United States of Angelo is inevitable.
Learn to love it.
Gerard stares down as he speaks, buttoned up in a winter jacket. Snow flurries fall onto him, sticking to his hair and jacket as he holds an arm behind his back. The weather in New Jersey had been wild the past few days. Summer weather on Monday and Winter storms alternating days. He would have visited last week when Monday Night Clash was in the state, but he had prior filming obligations that he was required to complete. Also, he didn't want fans trying to intrude on him for pictures and autographs in a cemetery. Some wrestling fans are entitled pricks.
“I did two movies over the past year. I just finished up one of those action flicks you don’t like and I did an artsy tearjerker. I think you would like that one. Oh, and I’m just a few days away from becoming the United States champion. That’s very exciting.”
His face had been locked in a somber expression, an artic breeze biting at his nose and cheeks. He pulled his arm back around, holding a bouquet of lilies.
“I wish you were here to see this one.”
Gerard crouches down and lays the flowers at the base of the headstone. It's an up-right headstone with an oval top. Simple and dignified. The inscription reads EVELYN ANN ANGELO JUNE 10TH 1971- MAY 8TH 2012, LOVING MOTHER, DAUGHTER & FRIEND.
Gerry stands back up, gloved hands clasped in front of him as he stares down at his mother’s grave. The only reason he was in the position he was today was her. Her unwavering support was the catalyst for all his success. It’s been nearly ten years since she passed and a day hasn’t gone by without her in his thoughts.
The cemetery stretched out around where he stood, a light dusting of white covered the ground, accumulating on tree limbs and tombstones. The same knot formed in his chest as it did that day he stood in the same spot.
=====
Time’s up, CJ. No more running and hiding from me.
Battlebowl. Tacoma Dome.
I finally get my fair and honest rematch for the United States championship. I honestly can’t believe it took this long since you cheated by changing the rules of the match, throwing me off my meticulously crafted game plan. And I was still a hair away from becoming the US champ.
You didn’t beat me in that match, you survived me.
So what’s going to happen this time, CJ? When everything is fair and honest? Trends show when that happens, I don’t fucking lose. I’m undefeated in Action Wrestling when the rules aren’t changed two seconds before the bell rings. You could say it’s skewed due to three matches being against John Blade and two frat boy idiots.
But look at the quality of my other opponents. Kidsgrove couldn’t beat me and I broke him. He hit rock fucking bottom. Made him rethink his career and life. Odin thought he was going to run through me. What did I do? I smashed a future Hall of Famer so bad that he knew it was a better idea to go fool around with the cast of Degrassi. Lissie? I beat the so-called “pillar” of Action Wrestling so convincingly that she crumbled and went to find other places to hold up. Now she's back to using Addy as her own pillar.
I’ve taken this goddamn company by storm. Might as well just hand me all of the year-end awards at Battlebowl because I’m gonna have that shit locked up. I got the god damn Midas touch. Millions of people tune in every week to see the Living Legend. I took Grindhouse when they were just another tag team and turned them into champions. AW is hotter than ever because the biggest damn star in the world competes here.
=====
The young man stood there, tears streaming down his cheeks as he stared at the casket. The world was a blur around him, not even hearing the words from the priest giving his Rite of Commital. His brother was sobbing next to him and he put his arm around his sibling. They both stood in silence, tear blurred eyes watching the casket as lowered into the earth.
Gerry is taken from his memory as a hand is placed on his shoulder. He looks over and sees his brother Sean. They stand there in silence as the snow fell down on them. Not much else is going on at the cemetery at this hour except for an older man in a trenchcoat and a Mets hat visiting a grave further down.
“I miss her,” Sean says, breaking the silence as a tear falls down his cheek. Gerard closes his eyes and nods, fighting back his own tears.
“Yeah, me too,” Gerard says, slipping his arm around his brother as he did nearly a decade ago.
=====
You had some luck since we last faced off too, CJ. You have a giant, massive, incredible, stupendous "win" over the World champion… that doesn’t count because it was unsanctioned. It was touted as your defining moment, even though you didn’t pin or submit Dandy. You just mugged him with a chair, which any asshole can do. Doesn’t prove you’re better than Dandy, and it doesn’t prove you’re better than me.
And why were you in a position for an opportunity like that? Get it? Postion. Because you can’t keep it in your pants around DiVito’s old lady? Hmm, you don’t seem like you really are that good guy you portray to everyone. Give it back to the community with an academy while simultaneously watching your former stablemate’s girl throw it back on you. Messy.
But that’s not my business.
=====
After a while of reminiscing and sharing stories, the brothers decide it is time to depart.
“Can I drive?” Sean asks, looking at his brother. Gerard scoffs.
“You think I’m going to let you drive the Aston Martin to Gram’s?” Gerry shakes his head. Sean put’s his hands together.
“Please, please. When will I ever get to drive a Vantage? I’m not gonna do anything!”
Gerard looks at his pleading brother, sighs, reaches into his coat pocket, and tosses Sean his smart key. He manages to catch it in one grab which oddly leads to relief for Gerry. Sean grins and takes off jogging towards the parking lot.
“Just gonna get it warmed up!” Sean yells behind him, almost slipping on the frozen path. Gerry rubs his eyes with one hand, immediately regretting his decision. Gerard reaches into one of his pockets, producing a pill bottle. He pops the top and shakes two into his gloved hand before popping them into his mouth and dry swallowing. He returns it to his pocket.
“Got a light?”
Gerard turns around to see the man in the Met’s cap standing there. He repeats himself as he holds up a half-smoked cigar.
“Do you got a light?” the man asks again. Gerard pats his jacket and reaches inside, pulling a lighter out. The man takes it and lights up his cigar, rolling it between his fingers as he lets out a puff of smoke. He hands it back to Gerard.
“Thanks. Some crazy weather we’re having, huh?”
“Yeah. I live out of state though.” Gerard says, slipping the lighter back into his jacket. The man nods as he puffs away on his cigar.
“Where you live?”
“California.”
“Ah I see,” the man says, giving a look that has Gerry thinking he’s about to get told all about the 'liberal elite'. Thankfully the man in the Mets hat goes in a different direction.
“What brings you to Jersey then?”
“Visiting my mom,” Gerard says, motioning over his shoulder as he wonders, not for the first time, why he’s just chatting with a stranger in the middle of the cemetery. The man just nods.
“Shame. Was visiting my wife,” the man says, gesturing with a thumb backward, “Gone too soon. Lung cancer. She didn’t even smoke.”
Gerry raises an eyebrow as he watches the man continuing to smoke his cigar.
“That’s a shame.”
“Don’t I know you?” the man asks, pointing at him. “Aren’t you that actor?”
Gerry pushes his tongue into his cheek, not expecting to be recognized today but he just nods.
“Gerard Angelo. In the flesh.”
“That’s it!” Mr. Met says excitedly, “You also do the wrestling too. I knew I knew you.”
“Yeah very exciting for everyone,” Gerry says as he pulls out his phone to check the time, he should’ve been at his grandmother's then head to the jet to Tacoma by now.
“Terrible what happened to your mom, though.”
“Yeah, a heart attack that young is awful,” He says, wondering how the man knew about his mother. He brushed it off thinking the old man read an article since his father was the founder of a tech giant.
“More like a murder.”
Gerard freezes.
“What the fuck are you talking about old man?”
“I’m talking about it not being a heart attack. Your mom was murdered.” The old man says matter of factly. Gerard has a full-fledged scowl on his face as he finds himself gripping the old man by the collar of his trench coat, nearly going nose to nose with him.
“What do you know?” Gerard asks as his eyes narrow. The old man stares at him and just laughs.
“Know something?” The man asks, moving his hands up to grip Gerry’s wrist with surprising strength, removing the actor’s hands from his collar, “I’m just a senile old man. The person you should ask is your father.”
Gerard rubs his eyes, fighting the beginnings of a migraine. What was this old idiot saying? That his father had something to do with the death of his mother. His father was a piece of shit but murder?
“So I’m just supposed to take your word for-” Gerry trails off as he moves his fingers, opening his eyes to not see the old man who was standing there a moment ago. Gerard looks around and sees no sign of him. Gerry sighs and reaches in his jacket, producing a pack of cigarettes. He pulled one out and clenched it between his limbs, fumbling in his pockets for his lighter. If it wasn’t one thing, it was another.
=====
My business is the ten pounds of red, white, and blue you got a death grip on. It’s been the singular focus for me since I debuted on Clash. I completed your Trials, CJ. I had you beat at Revolution despite your underhanded tactics. If not for a slight miscalculation, I would already have what I deserve. You can’t run from me anymore. Time for me to free the United States title from you like George Washington freed the United States from the tyranny of England. Good thing they did too. Can you imagine calling soccer football and saying shit like “Proper, innit”? Ugh, and the teeth? I’m just going to stomp you just like our heroes of the revolution stomped out the Red Coats! I will liberate the US title and America from your desperate rule. The U.S.A. will be forever be known as the United States of Angelo.
Has a nice ring to it, no? Slap that shit on a t-shirt ADub and watch the money roll in.
You said once that I would have to accept the need to change or run away like a scared bitch. Well, I’m still fucking here. I’m still coming for you. I told you that until I’ve taken the debt that I’m owed, I would be your despair. Sunday I collect that debt by force. I become the fifteenth different United States champion, adding even more prestige to an already prestigious title because Gerard by-fucking-god Angelo won it.
It will be the best thing for Action Wrestling when I rip that strap away from you. What kind of role model are you as a champion? Cheating on your wife and having a child out of wedlock? Tsk, tsk, CJ. And you want to be shaping young minds at your Academy. I’m an asshole but I at least have the decency to embrace it. You’re hiding behind this good-guy image.
And you do a damn good job of playing that part. You got everyone fooled. From the commentators to the guys that set up the ring to the fans, everyone loves that good guy CJ Pheonix. You get praise after praise heaped upon you by nearly everyone. You’re the new darling being positioned for bigger and better things.
You’re almost a better actor than me, CJ. But it takes an asshole to know an asshole. I see through your charade. You’ve got a little too big for your britches here, CJ, and I’m just the asshole to knock you down a peg and humble you. No more games. I’ll be honest. I absolutely need to win. This is crucial for me. You’ve already made a name for yourself here in AW. I need to walk out of Battlebowl with the belt. I need to prove to myself and everyone else that I deserve to walk around here in the number one company in professional wrestling with my head held high. My entire legacy is riding on this match.
=====
Gerard slams the passenger door of his car closed, blowing smoke out his nose as he ashes his butt and buckles himself in. Sean just stares at him.
“I thought you were quitting.”
“Just fucking drive.”
Sean knows better than to push his brother in this mood and, not wanting his driving privileges revoked, takes off out of the parking lot in the Aston Martin as they ride in silence. Gerard stares out the window, cracking it a bit to let the cigarette smoke out. He tries to process all the information he had just gotten while wondering if he didn’t hallucinate the entire conversation. Did Tony Angelo have something to do with the sudden death of his wife? She was only forty when she died. His mother was in good health and she stayed active. They were separated when she died though. Gerard realized then and there that he just accepted the explanation of a heart attack without delving any deeper than that. Gerry shook his head.
He would ask his father in person. He turns his head to look at his brother. He was fighting a smirk as he drove the Vantage on Route 80. Gerard couldn’t help but flash a slight smirk as he knew Sean was fighting the urge to speed during a snowstorm. He wouldn’t tell him until he had some solid evidence about what happened to his mother. Maybe it was just a heart attack. No use both of them getting riled up.
But there was only one way to find out. He had a date with CJ Phoenix in Tacoma, Washington. Then it was off to San Jose to speak with his father. He would get his answers one way or another. Even if it was just for closure.
Gerard took a long drag of his cigarette, flicking the filter out the window
Maybe there was someone else who could help him too.
"Sean, forget Gram's. Head to the air strip."
=====
Sunday you are getting the absolute best version of Gerard Angelo. I will do anything needed to be done to become United States champion. An entire career of knowledge will be used, Chase. I’ve been doing this shit a long time. I’ve seen everything there is to see in the business. You’re a fucking rookie compared to me. You’re gonna learn why I’m the goddamn gold standard in professional wrestling. Living Legend isn’t just a moniker to slap on a fucking biography. It’s what I am. Gerard Angelo is going to teach you a lesson only someone like him can. I’m going to put on a fucking wrestling clinic as I pick you apart piece by piece. Call Yaz and your wife because you’re going to need both of them to sew you back together when I’m done.
You may not like me but you will put some goddamn respect on my name.
You’re going to have to fucking kill me to put me down because I won’t hesitate to do the same. This is for all the fucking marbles. It motherfucking Havoc SZN and that means Evolution is right around the corner. When the spotlight is brightest Gerard Angelo is at his zenith. You get to share the spotlight with me again, Chase. It’s going to be white-hot this time. Not even a Phoenix could rise from the ashes it will create.
We end this at Battlebowl. Either I walk out with the strap or I get carried out on a stretcher. I’m willing to risk everything for my legacy. Are you? I don’t think you’re prepared to do that.
The United States of Angelo is inevitable.
Learn to love it.