Post by Gerard Angelo on Nov 20, 2022 9:56:41 GMT -5
Gerard pushed open the hotel room door, shuffling in on weary legs. He tossed his gear bag on the bed and stripped down as he went to the bathroom, pulling his phone out of his pocket. Gerard turns the shower on, waiting for it to heat up, scrolling through his phone. He laid it on the counter and slipped into the shower, giving a sigh as the warm water cascade down his sore body. It felt like he had been in a car wreck. The nature of the tournament was single elimination, everyone was going to give it their best shot. Being the World Champion meant every match was someone's best. Gerard had survived though. This week was a completely different animal, a different beast if you will. Downfall was unlike any he had faced in his time in ADub. A man that had already proved he would do anything to secure a second consecutive Wrestler of the Year by attempting homicide last week. A Downfall who no doubt wants to make a statement against the World Champ. Gerard was going to be in an absolute war. He needed to be ready.
Gerard was torn from his musings as his smartphone began to ring. Gerard hopped out of the shower and pulled a towel off the pile, drying off his hand. He lifted his phone as he ran the towel over the side of his head, looking down at the called ID. It said restricted. Gerard hits the green button.
“Hello?”
“Meet me in front of your hotel in fifteen minutes,” came an almost bored voice. Gerry raised an eyebrow.
“Who is this?”
“You’ve been looking for us for so long and you ask who.”
Gerard’s eyes went wide.
“Front of your hotel. Fifteen minutes,” the voice said again before ending the call. Gerard tossed the phone down on the counter and stared at it for a moment before he started drying off hurriedly. Fourteen minutes later he was standing outside of the hotel in Orlando in a black hoodie, the hood pulled up almost covering his eyes. They flicked back and forth though, looking around the busy street. That was when a black limo pulled up right in front of him, the door being pushed open.
Gerard felt his stomach tighten a bit but he steeled his reserve and walked towards the car. As he crouched to get into the cab of limo, he noticed it was pitch black. That’s when a massive arm slid around his neck and pulled him in. Gerard struggled against the grasp, pulling at the arm and trying to wriggle free. Gerry felt something else trying to grab at his legs so he kicked wildly into the darkness. He felt his knee connect with something that prompted a grunt of pain so he flailed his legs in that direction, trying to move his face enough to bite the arm choking him out. That’s when another hand holding a gun slammed the grip into the back of his head. His mind went as dark as the limo’s cab.
#LOLGerryWins
I’m waiting to see all the internet nerds start Tweeting this shit every week. Well, so long as Elon doesn’t kill the company. I haven’t seen anyone buy something pretty good and turn it into a dumpster fire this fast since the Trump administration.
Oops. My agent told me not to get political in this because to quote him, “conservatives buy merch, too.” Like, it’s my money, you know? But I digress. Last week I did what I always do, and that’s win. Everyone's favorite “all most was” CJ Phoenix and I went to war last week. We beat the hell out of each other, I still have bruises. Yet again, I showed CJ that when everything is fair and honest, I don’t lose.
I’ve been showing that this entire year. No matter who they set up, I knock every single one of them down. Legends, psychopaths, world-class athletes. I’ve left them all broken and battered at my feet, burned to ash inside the white-hot spotlight where I reside. I stand at the precipice of the Wrestler of the Year finals where I could cap off a legendary year by undisputedly becoming Wrestler of the Year. But one man stands in my way. An obstacle that looms large like a dragon at the end of a fairytale.
Downfall. It is amazing that we haven’t crossed paths yet. For the first time ever, we face off. Before we get started, I have to tell you, I’m a big fan of your work over these past few months. You sent that grinning idiot Bacchus packing and I’m pretty sure you retired Corey Black. You even made Kidsgrove make that stupid face he does. You know the one where the vein in his head bulges out? All are great things in my book. Reminded me of the old Downfall.
I’ve followed your career from afar. I always keep tabs on the ones making noise. You were one selfish, self-serving, son of a bitch. You took what you wanted and didn’t let anyone stand in your way. It was admirable. That’s why I was shocked when I signed here and saw the watered-down version of yourself you were giving to these people. Changing your ways to make yourself more palatable for these people. You finally saw the light but it’s too little, too late.
Gerard gave a low groan as his eyes opened but quickly shut them as they were greeted by harsh fluorescent lights. His head felt like someone had split it open with an axe. Gerard tried to move but his arms and legs were bound. He opened his eyes slowly, letting them get focused and used to the light. He seemed to be in a meat packing plant as cow’s carcasses hung from steel hooks. He tried to move again but realized he was bound to a wooden chair. He tried to struggle again.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
Gerard looked up to see a younger man of Japanese descent casually leaning against a pillar off to the side. His long, dark, hair hung down, covering one side of his face. He was dressed in an oversized, white suit, his hands in his pockets. A toothpick stuck out of one side of his mouth. He seemed rather bored with this whole thing.
“You can’t untie these knots, my friend. Dano over there was a boy scout in a past life.”
Gerry turned to look where the man was, seeing two large men standing behind him with their massive arms crossed. One was overly tan with long blonde hair starting to turn white. The other was coal-skinned and looked chiseled from a mountain. Both men wore a black masks with a red demon’s mouth across the bottom of their faces.
“Well, I guess I met Khole and Kourtney in the limo,” He turns back to the bored man, “So you must be Kim.” He gave Gerard a smirk and stood up, taking two strides to stand in front of Gerard. He bent over to look Gerry in the eye.
“I heard you were supposed to be funny. That, not so much,” He kept his smirk on, “But I’ll give you a pass because Aubery hit you really hard I heard.” This got a grunt from the mountain of a man. The bored one stood up straight and sighed, sliding his hands back into his pockets. He pulls one back out with Gerard’s phone, scrolling through it.
“Hey! Stop looking through my phone!”
This fall on deaf ears as the bored man keeps looking through it, making a few impressed faces.
"You have Megan Fox’s SnapChat? Hmm, impressive.”
“If you think that’s impressive, you should see the nudes she sends me. Almost as impressive as the ones your mother sends me.”
The man shoots Gerard a smirk but the massive Aubrey steps over and drives a fist the size of the Rock of Gibraltar into Gerry’s jaw. His head lurches sideways, grimacing, blood trickling down a freshly split lip.
“I’ll admit, I like a good verbal jesting but my friends here,” he gestures to his accomplices, “don’t like when their boss is disrespected.”
Gerry stares a hole into the man before spitting blood at him, the glob landing at the bored man’s feet. Dano steps over this time but is waved off with a half effort of a hand. He sighs, looking down at Gerard
“I don’t wanna be here any more than you do, Mister Angelo. I had a date tonight with this Columbian girl from… you know what? That’s not important. When one of the big bosses calls and tells you, you need to take care of some business, you do it. No questions.”
He puts a foot up on the chair, between Gerard’s legs. He leans down to look him in the eye again.
“I’ma make this brief. The Brotherhood does not like when people poke around where they are not supposed to be,” The “poke” is emphasized by jabbing a finger into Gerry’s chest, “The Ronin take our business very seriously.” He pulled the toothpick out of his mouth.
“You sniffing around could get a lot of people hurt. I hear you’re very close with your brother. Would be a shame if something happened to him. Or your father’s wife. She’s pregnant with your new half-sibling,” he leans real close to Gerry whispering, “Or child.” He leans back up and Gerard stares at him, bloody mouth hanging in shock.
“We know everything about you. Like we know about that pretty blonde you’re in love with. I believe she lives in Milan currently.”
Gerard's look turned to one of anger as he mentions her. The man smirks, returning the toothpick to his mouth.
“One by one, we will take everyone that you love. So stop fucking with us,” He says in a tone completely different from before, “ Stay in your lane, Mister Angelo.” He pushes his heel on the chair and straightens his legs, sending Gerard hard down onto his back. Gerry groans as the bored man straightens his suit jacket, looking down at him.
“I won’t be as pleasant if we need to have another talk,” he says before snapping his fingers, leading his two goons out of the packing plant.
Two-thousand twenty-two should’ve been the year of Downfall. You won last year's WOTY, were in the world's hottest tag team and pinned Dandy for the World title. At the beginning of the year, you stood at the very summit of this business. Double champ and looking primed for a dominant run throughout the bulk of the year.
Then you fumbled the bag. You can blame it on Regan, Jill, Dandy, Bacchus, or Corey Black himself, but in reality, you’re the one that took the step that led to you slipping from the mountaintop. Whether it was having your attention split between two divisions or not having the same killer instinct, you had a chance to take Dandy out and you let the cockroach come back to the nest. Couldn’t even make it out of January as the champ. Tsk, tsk.
And then you set the record for the longest-reining tag champions of all time alongside Dion. You put down every tag team to stand against you with banger after banger. Then came Evolution. Set to defend those titles against almost everyone that has been a bane to your existence here in ADub. A chance to shut up every single critic at one time. Downfall primed for another triumphant moment, showing what happened with the World title was nothing but a minor setback.
You lost again. Your record reign ended in an instant by two legitimately awful people. It had to burn you up. I know that’s what started the old gears turning in that demented head of yours, waking up the beast.
While you were struggling with your demons, I was out here proving that I’m the best wrestler in the world. I debuted on the same show you won the World title on. Since then I’ve torn through seventy-five percent of the roster. I won the United States championship in less than three months. Right after, I won the World title. I took Dandy out of the picture. You couldn’t. I came in and took the spot that you seemed destined to fill in less time than it took for you to get to that point. When this company needed me because people they call “pillars” here like Corey Black, Lissie Hope, and Spencer Adams are off doing whatever, I put this place on my fucking back like Atlas.
You feel the same way, I’m sure. We are very similar despite a few, key, differences. We both entered this business young. We both joined because of our fathers. We both became massive stars in our own right outside of the ADub umbrella. We paid our dues on the road, fighting in bingo halls, dreaming of getting somewhere with a TV deal. Traveled the world to hone our craft. Japan, Mexico, the UK. If they set up a ring, you’d wrestle, right?
One key difference between us, I took the chance to get more famous. When Hollywood came knocking, I took the opportunity. Don’t try to paint me like Sam Kidsgrove. I’m not an actor that had a pre-mid-life crisis and said I want to be a wrestler one day. No, I paid my fucking dues. Driving from show to show on the mere chance that a promotor would book you. Being one of six professional wrestlers stuffed into a sedan, driving a hundred miles to the next town in a blizzard. Spilling my blood, sweat, and tears into that canvas for years. I lived for that and I have not one single regret.
I took the Hollywood gigs for a reason. You can fire off it’s about my ego, about my fame and money. Well, you’re goddamn right. You take the perks when you can get ‘em. I took it to help wrestling. To get every set of eyes possible on this great sport we love. And I’m a damn good actor.
Just like I’m a damn good wrestler.
You might just be my greatest opponent yet, Downfall. You’ve held a litany of championships here and in other places. You might already be a Hall of Famer here. And after what you did to Mister Deathproof last week, you might just be the most vicious man in the business.
You have to ask yourself right now, though, will that be enough? Will it be enough to do what no one has been able to do for months and defeat me? ‘Cause I’ve been on fucking fire. I’ve beaten a laundry list of people the fat fuck on commentary puts over as future Hall of Famers. I’ve spent more days in Action Wrestling holding a championship than not.
I’m sure you’re saying to yourself, “because you never faced me.” While that might be true, you’ve never faced me either. I’m the best in the business for a reason. I hold the most prestigious prize in the game for a reason. I’m in the final four for a reason. I’ll do anything to win this match, Downfall. Like I’ve said before, I’m fighting for history. I’m fighting for legacy.
Gerard stares up at the lights, his mind going millions of miles a minute. Was this the end of his search? The end of his quest for justice? It ends here in a meat packing plant, intimidated like it was a mob movie? Gerard struggled against the ropes, the fibers digging into his wrists. He did have more movent than before, though, and he looked down to see one of the arms had splintered. Gerry moved his wrist, rubbing the ropes against the jagged piece of wood. After some time he managed to free his arm and untied himself. He exited the plant and started to walk down the road, the sun starting to rise over the horizon. He would have called an Uber but he wanted time to reflect on tonight's events.
He couldn’t go to the police. That was pointless. He couldn’t talk to Sean or anyone about this. Deon would have him institutionalized. Jonathan would knock seven shades of shit out of him for getting mixed up in this. No. He needed advice from the one person that knew him best.
He needed to go to Milan.
What are you fighting for though? All four of us left have something to fight for, something fueling us through this grueling trial. Spencer is fighting for his legacy. Wanting to prove he’s the best in the history of this company. Kidsgrove is fueled by hate. Hatred of me, hatred of what people perceive him as. But what about you? Are you fighting for history as well? The first-ever back-to-back winner of this tournament? To get another crack at the World title strapped around my perfectly sculpted waist?
That has to be it. Well, now at least. I remember you telling Alice you want Black in the finals. You wanted to face him and exact your pound of flesh. I’m paraphrasing of course but last week you went out of your way to make sure Corey got eliminated. Hmmm. Is “The Beast Unleashed” afraid of Corey Black?
Of course not, right? I’m sure you’ll use your big book of SAT words to explain how you proved Corey Black wasn’t the man you said he was because he couldn’t get back up from twenty pounds of steel being driven into his skull. Here’s something else I did that you couldn’t. I was in a match with Black, and I won that match.
Are you sensing a theme here? I got rid of Dandy from the main event, didn’t lose to Black when it mattered and managed to hold the World title past my first defense. I do things on the regular that you can’t do.
And you think you can beat me? I’m battle-tested. Since I won the World title back in July I’ve been getting the best from every person that’s stood across the ring from me. Every match has been like a game seven. And every time I come out the winner.
You know why you won’t beat me though. Not because of a lack of skill or drive. No, you have both in spades. It’s because you’re a hothead. You stew at every single quip and insult slung your way. Bacchus got to you because of a few mean Tweets and you ended his ADub tenure. Black gave you the old, “what have you ever done” and you tried to kill him. One might say I should be afraid but I could pull one thread out in the ring and you’ll fall to pieces.
And if you think about swinging that crowbar at me and caving in my skull, well, I’ll tell you what I’ve told everyone else gunning for me and my spot.
You better not miss, because I won’t.
I’m not Alice Gemini and I’m not Teo Blaze. I’m Gerard fuckin’ Angelo. I’m the World Heavyweight Champion. You might be my greatest test yet but I’m damn sure going to be yours. They said this was the weak side of the bracket right? As if John Thomas knows anything about lacing up a pair of fucking boots. I say this is the best side, because it led me to you, Downfall. Fate brought us together for a reason. I wouldn’t have it any other way. If I’m going to call myself the best in the business, I need to beat the best in the business. I need to send the defending Wrestler of the Year back to brood about that Hardcore title and wanting to make Jackson Pollock paintings with Corey’s blood.
Bring your absolute best with you on Monday. I want the real Downfall. I want the Purveyor of Anarchy. I want the beast. I don’t want to leave any doubt when I win Wrestler of the Year. Because I will stop at nothing to win this match. I hope you’re ready to catch another body, Downfall. Because you’re gonna have to put me six feet deep to stop me.
Bring your proverbs, Downfall. Tell me a story. Show me why a god should be afraid of the man wielding the Godkiller. Because when I look at you, I see a man who is already broken. I just have to apply a little pressure and you will shatter.
We close out the go-home show of Clash in the main event. And I’ll give you a little spoiler of what the end is going to be. It’s not going to be Downfall standing tall, punching a ticket to a second consecutive final. No.
It’s gonna be a Hollywood Ending. Just like so many before it.
Gerard was torn from his musings as his smartphone began to ring. Gerard hopped out of the shower and pulled a towel off the pile, drying off his hand. He lifted his phone as he ran the towel over the side of his head, looking down at the called ID. It said restricted. Gerard hits the green button.
“Hello?”
“Meet me in front of your hotel in fifteen minutes,” came an almost bored voice. Gerry raised an eyebrow.
“Who is this?”
“You’ve been looking for us for so long and you ask who.”
Gerard’s eyes went wide.
“Front of your hotel. Fifteen minutes,” the voice said again before ending the call. Gerard tossed the phone down on the counter and stared at it for a moment before he started drying off hurriedly. Fourteen minutes later he was standing outside of the hotel in Orlando in a black hoodie, the hood pulled up almost covering his eyes. They flicked back and forth though, looking around the busy street. That was when a black limo pulled up right in front of him, the door being pushed open.
Gerard felt his stomach tighten a bit but he steeled his reserve and walked towards the car. As he crouched to get into the cab of limo, he noticed it was pitch black. That’s when a massive arm slid around his neck and pulled him in. Gerard struggled against the grasp, pulling at the arm and trying to wriggle free. Gerry felt something else trying to grab at his legs so he kicked wildly into the darkness. He felt his knee connect with something that prompted a grunt of pain so he flailed his legs in that direction, trying to move his face enough to bite the arm choking him out. That’s when another hand holding a gun slammed the grip into the back of his head. His mind went as dark as the limo’s cab.
#LOLGerryWins
I’m waiting to see all the internet nerds start Tweeting this shit every week. Well, so long as Elon doesn’t kill the company. I haven’t seen anyone buy something pretty good and turn it into a dumpster fire this fast since the Trump administration.
Oops. My agent told me not to get political in this because to quote him, “conservatives buy merch, too.” Like, it’s my money, you know? But I digress. Last week I did what I always do, and that’s win. Everyone's favorite “all most was” CJ Phoenix and I went to war last week. We beat the hell out of each other, I still have bruises. Yet again, I showed CJ that when everything is fair and honest, I don’t lose.
I’ve been showing that this entire year. No matter who they set up, I knock every single one of them down. Legends, psychopaths, world-class athletes. I’ve left them all broken and battered at my feet, burned to ash inside the white-hot spotlight where I reside. I stand at the precipice of the Wrestler of the Year finals where I could cap off a legendary year by undisputedly becoming Wrestler of the Year. But one man stands in my way. An obstacle that looms large like a dragon at the end of a fairytale.
Downfall. It is amazing that we haven’t crossed paths yet. For the first time ever, we face off. Before we get started, I have to tell you, I’m a big fan of your work over these past few months. You sent that grinning idiot Bacchus packing and I’m pretty sure you retired Corey Black. You even made Kidsgrove make that stupid face he does. You know the one where the vein in his head bulges out? All are great things in my book. Reminded me of the old Downfall.
I’ve followed your career from afar. I always keep tabs on the ones making noise. You were one selfish, self-serving, son of a bitch. You took what you wanted and didn’t let anyone stand in your way. It was admirable. That’s why I was shocked when I signed here and saw the watered-down version of yourself you were giving to these people. Changing your ways to make yourself more palatable for these people. You finally saw the light but it’s too little, too late.
Gerard gave a low groan as his eyes opened but quickly shut them as they were greeted by harsh fluorescent lights. His head felt like someone had split it open with an axe. Gerard tried to move but his arms and legs were bound. He opened his eyes slowly, letting them get focused and used to the light. He seemed to be in a meat packing plant as cow’s carcasses hung from steel hooks. He tried to move again but realized he was bound to a wooden chair. He tried to struggle again.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
Gerard looked up to see a younger man of Japanese descent casually leaning against a pillar off to the side. His long, dark, hair hung down, covering one side of his face. He was dressed in an oversized, white suit, his hands in his pockets. A toothpick stuck out of one side of his mouth. He seemed rather bored with this whole thing.
“You can’t untie these knots, my friend. Dano over there was a boy scout in a past life.”
Gerry turned to look where the man was, seeing two large men standing behind him with their massive arms crossed. One was overly tan with long blonde hair starting to turn white. The other was coal-skinned and looked chiseled from a mountain. Both men wore a black masks with a red demon’s mouth across the bottom of their faces.
“Well, I guess I met Khole and Kourtney in the limo,” He turns back to the bored man, “So you must be Kim.” He gave Gerard a smirk and stood up, taking two strides to stand in front of Gerard. He bent over to look Gerry in the eye.
“I heard you were supposed to be funny. That, not so much,” He kept his smirk on, “But I’ll give you a pass because Aubery hit you really hard I heard.” This got a grunt from the mountain of a man. The bored one stood up straight and sighed, sliding his hands back into his pockets. He pulls one back out with Gerard’s phone, scrolling through it.
“Hey! Stop looking through my phone!”
This fall on deaf ears as the bored man keeps looking through it, making a few impressed faces.
"You have Megan Fox’s SnapChat? Hmm, impressive.”
“If you think that’s impressive, you should see the nudes she sends me. Almost as impressive as the ones your mother sends me.”
The man shoots Gerard a smirk but the massive Aubrey steps over and drives a fist the size of the Rock of Gibraltar into Gerry’s jaw. His head lurches sideways, grimacing, blood trickling down a freshly split lip.
“I’ll admit, I like a good verbal jesting but my friends here,” he gestures to his accomplices, “don’t like when their boss is disrespected.”
Gerry stares a hole into the man before spitting blood at him, the glob landing at the bored man’s feet. Dano steps over this time but is waved off with a half effort of a hand. He sighs, looking down at Gerard
“I don’t wanna be here any more than you do, Mister Angelo. I had a date tonight with this Columbian girl from… you know what? That’s not important. When one of the big bosses calls and tells you, you need to take care of some business, you do it. No questions.”
He puts a foot up on the chair, between Gerard’s legs. He leans down to look him in the eye again.
“I’ma make this brief. The Brotherhood does not like when people poke around where they are not supposed to be,” The “poke” is emphasized by jabbing a finger into Gerry’s chest, “The Ronin take our business very seriously.” He pulled the toothpick out of his mouth.
“You sniffing around could get a lot of people hurt. I hear you’re very close with your brother. Would be a shame if something happened to him. Or your father’s wife. She’s pregnant with your new half-sibling,” he leans real close to Gerry whispering, “Or child.” He leans back up and Gerard stares at him, bloody mouth hanging in shock.
“We know everything about you. Like we know about that pretty blonde you’re in love with. I believe she lives in Milan currently.”
Gerard's look turned to one of anger as he mentions her. The man smirks, returning the toothpick to his mouth.
“One by one, we will take everyone that you love. So stop fucking with us,” He says in a tone completely different from before, “ Stay in your lane, Mister Angelo.” He pushes his heel on the chair and straightens his legs, sending Gerard hard down onto his back. Gerry groans as the bored man straightens his suit jacket, looking down at him.
“I won’t be as pleasant if we need to have another talk,” he says before snapping his fingers, leading his two goons out of the packing plant.
Two-thousand twenty-two should’ve been the year of Downfall. You won last year's WOTY, were in the world's hottest tag team and pinned Dandy for the World title. At the beginning of the year, you stood at the very summit of this business. Double champ and looking primed for a dominant run throughout the bulk of the year.
Then you fumbled the bag. You can blame it on Regan, Jill, Dandy, Bacchus, or Corey Black himself, but in reality, you’re the one that took the step that led to you slipping from the mountaintop. Whether it was having your attention split between two divisions or not having the same killer instinct, you had a chance to take Dandy out and you let the cockroach come back to the nest. Couldn’t even make it out of January as the champ. Tsk, tsk.
And then you set the record for the longest-reining tag champions of all time alongside Dion. You put down every tag team to stand against you with banger after banger. Then came Evolution. Set to defend those titles against almost everyone that has been a bane to your existence here in ADub. A chance to shut up every single critic at one time. Downfall primed for another triumphant moment, showing what happened with the World title was nothing but a minor setback.
You lost again. Your record reign ended in an instant by two legitimately awful people. It had to burn you up. I know that’s what started the old gears turning in that demented head of yours, waking up the beast.
While you were struggling with your demons, I was out here proving that I’m the best wrestler in the world. I debuted on the same show you won the World title on. Since then I’ve torn through seventy-five percent of the roster. I won the United States championship in less than three months. Right after, I won the World title. I took Dandy out of the picture. You couldn’t. I came in and took the spot that you seemed destined to fill in less time than it took for you to get to that point. When this company needed me because people they call “pillars” here like Corey Black, Lissie Hope, and Spencer Adams are off doing whatever, I put this place on my fucking back like Atlas.
You feel the same way, I’m sure. We are very similar despite a few, key, differences. We both entered this business young. We both joined because of our fathers. We both became massive stars in our own right outside of the ADub umbrella. We paid our dues on the road, fighting in bingo halls, dreaming of getting somewhere with a TV deal. Traveled the world to hone our craft. Japan, Mexico, the UK. If they set up a ring, you’d wrestle, right?
One key difference between us, I took the chance to get more famous. When Hollywood came knocking, I took the opportunity. Don’t try to paint me like Sam Kidsgrove. I’m not an actor that had a pre-mid-life crisis and said I want to be a wrestler one day. No, I paid my fucking dues. Driving from show to show on the mere chance that a promotor would book you. Being one of six professional wrestlers stuffed into a sedan, driving a hundred miles to the next town in a blizzard. Spilling my blood, sweat, and tears into that canvas for years. I lived for that and I have not one single regret.
I took the Hollywood gigs for a reason. You can fire off it’s about my ego, about my fame and money. Well, you’re goddamn right. You take the perks when you can get ‘em. I took it to help wrestling. To get every set of eyes possible on this great sport we love. And I’m a damn good actor.
Just like I’m a damn good wrestler.
You might just be my greatest opponent yet, Downfall. You’ve held a litany of championships here and in other places. You might already be a Hall of Famer here. And after what you did to Mister Deathproof last week, you might just be the most vicious man in the business.
You have to ask yourself right now, though, will that be enough? Will it be enough to do what no one has been able to do for months and defeat me? ‘Cause I’ve been on fucking fire. I’ve beaten a laundry list of people the fat fuck on commentary puts over as future Hall of Famers. I’ve spent more days in Action Wrestling holding a championship than not.
I’m sure you’re saying to yourself, “because you never faced me.” While that might be true, you’ve never faced me either. I’m the best in the business for a reason. I hold the most prestigious prize in the game for a reason. I’m in the final four for a reason. I’ll do anything to win this match, Downfall. Like I’ve said before, I’m fighting for history. I’m fighting for legacy.
Gerard stares up at the lights, his mind going millions of miles a minute. Was this the end of his search? The end of his quest for justice? It ends here in a meat packing plant, intimidated like it was a mob movie? Gerard struggled against the ropes, the fibers digging into his wrists. He did have more movent than before, though, and he looked down to see one of the arms had splintered. Gerry moved his wrist, rubbing the ropes against the jagged piece of wood. After some time he managed to free his arm and untied himself. He exited the plant and started to walk down the road, the sun starting to rise over the horizon. He would have called an Uber but he wanted time to reflect on tonight's events.
He couldn’t go to the police. That was pointless. He couldn’t talk to Sean or anyone about this. Deon would have him institutionalized. Jonathan would knock seven shades of shit out of him for getting mixed up in this. No. He needed advice from the one person that knew him best.
He needed to go to Milan.
What are you fighting for though? All four of us left have something to fight for, something fueling us through this grueling trial. Spencer is fighting for his legacy. Wanting to prove he’s the best in the history of this company. Kidsgrove is fueled by hate. Hatred of me, hatred of what people perceive him as. But what about you? Are you fighting for history as well? The first-ever back-to-back winner of this tournament? To get another crack at the World title strapped around my perfectly sculpted waist?
That has to be it. Well, now at least. I remember you telling Alice you want Black in the finals. You wanted to face him and exact your pound of flesh. I’m paraphrasing of course but last week you went out of your way to make sure Corey got eliminated. Hmmm. Is “The Beast Unleashed” afraid of Corey Black?
Of course not, right? I’m sure you’ll use your big book of SAT words to explain how you proved Corey Black wasn’t the man you said he was because he couldn’t get back up from twenty pounds of steel being driven into his skull. Here’s something else I did that you couldn’t. I was in a match with Black, and I won that match.
Are you sensing a theme here? I got rid of Dandy from the main event, didn’t lose to Black when it mattered and managed to hold the World title past my first defense. I do things on the regular that you can’t do.
And you think you can beat me? I’m battle-tested. Since I won the World title back in July I’ve been getting the best from every person that’s stood across the ring from me. Every match has been like a game seven. And every time I come out the winner.
You know why you won’t beat me though. Not because of a lack of skill or drive. No, you have both in spades. It’s because you’re a hothead. You stew at every single quip and insult slung your way. Bacchus got to you because of a few mean Tweets and you ended his ADub tenure. Black gave you the old, “what have you ever done” and you tried to kill him. One might say I should be afraid but I could pull one thread out in the ring and you’ll fall to pieces.
And if you think about swinging that crowbar at me and caving in my skull, well, I’ll tell you what I’ve told everyone else gunning for me and my spot.
You better not miss, because I won’t.
I’m not Alice Gemini and I’m not Teo Blaze. I’m Gerard fuckin’ Angelo. I’m the World Heavyweight Champion. You might be my greatest test yet but I’m damn sure going to be yours. They said this was the weak side of the bracket right? As if John Thomas knows anything about lacing up a pair of fucking boots. I say this is the best side, because it led me to you, Downfall. Fate brought us together for a reason. I wouldn’t have it any other way. If I’m going to call myself the best in the business, I need to beat the best in the business. I need to send the defending Wrestler of the Year back to brood about that Hardcore title and wanting to make Jackson Pollock paintings with Corey’s blood.
Bring your absolute best with you on Monday. I want the real Downfall. I want the Purveyor of Anarchy. I want the beast. I don’t want to leave any doubt when I win Wrestler of the Year. Because I will stop at nothing to win this match. I hope you’re ready to catch another body, Downfall. Because you’re gonna have to put me six feet deep to stop me.
Bring your proverbs, Downfall. Tell me a story. Show me why a god should be afraid of the man wielding the Godkiller. Because when I look at you, I see a man who is already broken. I just have to apply a little pressure and you will shatter.
We close out the go-home show of Clash in the main event. And I’ll give you a little spoiler of what the end is going to be. It’s not going to be Downfall standing tall, punching a ticket to a second consecutive final. No.
It’s gonna be a Hollywood Ending. Just like so many before it.