Post by 𝗖𝗢𝗥𝗘𝗬 𝗕𝗟𝗔𝗖𝗞 on Nov 26, 2020 13:10:22 GMT -5
The subtle beeps and bops of a doctor’s office ring through the darkness as we open up to Corey Black sitting alone in a sterile white room. He looks around, his dark hair and hoodie a stark contrast to the surroundings. Soon the door swings open, a nurse enters fully masked. She shines a light in Corey’s eyes. Asks him to stand up and lift one leg. Then the other. She writes some checkmarks on her clipboard.
“Alright Mr. Black, you scan came back alright, there’s just a little concern going forward with your line of work and your.. aptitude of punishing yourself.”
Corey sits down and laughs, nodding at the statement.
“Oh, also this was left at the front desk for you!”
The nurse reaches into her pocket and pulls out a folder piece of paper. She hands it to Corey, who looks puzzled.
“Stick around so I can send in the doctor on call to check you out of here and give you the thumbs up!”
She exits the room, leaving Corey in the pure white abyss holding this note. The paper is just as white as the room, and as he slowly opens it, the red ink that is written on it jumps out like a shitty 80s 3D movie.
“WE ARE NOT THROUGH
- W”
No movement. No emotion. Nothing at all, Corey sits and looks down at the note and nods solemnly. Slowly he folds it up, placing it in his own pocket and looking at the door. A distant look in his eye, Corey goes and opens the door, leaving the office and walking right out of the hospital to his car.
“The Jotuns once tried to claim this land for their own. Large, unruly beasts burst through the Bifrost and marched down the Rainbow Bridge.”
It’s a cold winter night in the cliffside village, a massive roaring fire sends a soft glow of orange and a nice radiant heat to those who surround it. The old man in the gray cloak stands before those in attendance, huddled up with cloaks and blankets of their own. A light snowfall begins as he talks.
“Frost Giants, as they were called. Deceivers, working in secret with one of the Aesir to gain access to these hallowed grounds. Their only goal in life was to destroy that which was created. Uncontrollable monsters from beyond the golden gates. They challenged the Aesir Champion, Thor, and were quickly dispatched. As such, the king of the giants, known as Laufey, devised a plan to infiltrate the ranks of the Aesir. The Gods were none the wiser as Loki, the trickster, took one thousand buckets of silver in exchange for access to Asgard. In the ensuing battle, a chunk of Asgard was broken off and fell from the realm to Midgard, landing in this exact spot. This island we call home.
But in one instance, the Jotuns and the Gods worked together as one. A threat bigger than the both of them loomed over the nine. That is our story tonight. When the Vanir rebelled against those that gave them a place to live, it was the Aesir and the Jotuns who came together and fought for their homelands. The Vanir wanted all the Nine, they demanded the same quality of life as the Aesir, even though they didn’t rule any land outside their own walls. The Vanir were repelled by the Jotuns and Aesir alike, but the blood was never done being spilled.”
The old man raises his hands up and then quickly throws dust at the fire, turning it a brilliant blue color. Snow begins falling more heavily, wind picking up even.
“The mighty frostfall! Behold in the glory of our Aesir clashing with the Jotuns!”
Everyone in attendance kneels down and claps over their head once, before standing and nearly running back to their homes. The fire dies out quickly from all the snow encapsulating the wood that once burned. Now remaining just smouldering planks and ash. But one person remains. Covered by a black cloak and black mask across the bottom half of his face, Corey Black stands among the crowd that has since dispersed. Snow falling delicately on his clothing, he peers up at the sky. Then, slowly, he turns and walks away from the meeting grounds toward his castle on the cliffside. By the time he arrives, the snow is knee deep. He marches through the front gate and up to his front door but stops. Corey once again looks up to the sky, snow falling but the clouds part ways just enough to see the stars behind them for a few moments.
In through the front door and into the castle landing, the grand staircase in front of him, dining hall to his left. Corey goes up the steps, but he’s met in the hallway by the tall blonde.
“Geez you look cold. What was tonight’s story?”
Corey removes the hood from his head and the mask from his face. He exhales sharply.
“The Jotuns and the Aesir working together to dispatch the Vanir.”
She smiles.
“How’s your head?”
“I’m cleared by the village doctor, that counts for more than any other Action Wrestling can account for. Graham doing okay?”
“He isn’t thrilled with the idea of staying here for too long but he seems to be getting along well.”
“That is to be expected.”
Corey’s words trail off a little bit, he peers out the window at the sea, ice forming at the beach where the water meets land. Taylor notices.
“What’s on your mind, champ? Need to talk? I kinda need to talk but you clearly have something stirring up there..”
“I - maybe. I don’t know.”
She takes his hand and leads him into the master bedroom, sitting on the side of the bed.
“Spill.”
A deep breath from Corey, he stares at the ground as he speaks.
“I’m not a fool. I know Walter is the enemy and I know how it looks on the outside looking in. Philidor wasn’t eliminated, they were barely phased by the match at XIII. I should have known going in, that worm will grow two heads if you chop one off. “
She stops him.
“This isn’t about Philidor.”
A deep breath in, Corey removes the note from his pocket and unfolds it. She puts her hand on his back.
“You wanted this war.”
Corey looks out his window at the falling snow.
“After calling him out for months and months.. it is now I who has the target on my back. I’m on the defense, I am the one that has to go out there and show the world that I deserve my championship. I beat Shaw. I beat Kidsgrove. And then I was bested by Howard Black. A man I showed no respect toward. Discounted him as a never was, and here we are, I am no longer in the running for Wrestler of the Year when, in fact, I have done more this year than anyone ever thought possible.
I don’t respect Walter, the person. The man behind the Leash. I respect what the savage can do inside the ring. I am very aware of the skillset he possesses and yet, he now knows mine. He knows I don’t need the choke, the Burning Hammer is enough to fell the Jotun.
He has marked me for death, now. He is going to come at me with everything he has. He and his rage after learning his heir is not his own. An unfortunate situation for a normal person, a catastrophe for a mongrel. I shudder to think what is going to happen to those around him. Everything he knew is now ripped away. Everything. And a man who has nothing is dangerous, especially when his claw is aiming for my belly. But this is no man, this is a mongrel. On a warpath to regain a sense of what his life was leading to. What it was supposed tobe.
The Action Wrestling World Championship leaving his waist was the beginning. I don’t see a note in Wesley’s hand. He prevented Walter from being Monster of the Year for the second year running, yet it is I who draws his ire. It’s the title. A trinket, he says, yet this trinket is held above all. Above Wrestler of the Year. Above Monster of the Year. Above Father of the Year, apparently, unless we’re giving that title to Roger Peyton, Jr.”
“Corey you.. you don’t mean that.”
He looks to his right where she sits, into her blue eyes.
“I do. I do mean it. It’s a blessing that the child isn’t his, he isn’t man enough to be a father. It takes more to be given the title of father than it does to be champion. Believe me, I didn’t have one. I watched as my friends in school all learned how to work on cars, how to shave, went to the movies and had a positive male influence. I was robbed of that. Walter thought he was ready to sire an heir and that, too, was ripped from his grasp. He’s a caged animal and should be treated as such. Behind bars for the rest of his miserable existence. Yet here we are, he’s on the loose and he’s coming after what I have built, not him. I have built this stage we all perform on. I laid the groundwork, sowed the soil, stacked the bricks and I have been the ONLY constant of the last TWENTY YEARS.
Yes, I was willing to work with him to defeat Philidor but Taylor, you know as well as I do that I didn’t once think that things would be different. It’s a miracle the show that night ended before he put Frank and I in a hospital bed right next to Graham, I fully expected a forthcoming battle with him, not The Following. I know him as well or better than he knows himself. So yeah, the Gods and the Giant were one for a night but as soon as that bell rang at the end of the match, everything went back to the way it was. A mind in a body that claims to be a man evolved, for once, chasing someone above him. Someone that stood toe to toe and called his shot.
People out there are claiming that I exposed Walter, I showed the world what it took to beat him. I wasn’t the first. I wasn’t even the last. But I’ll forever and always be the best. When I got into that ring with the mongrel he gave me everything he had. He hoisted me in the air and drove me down on my head and I fucking laughed in his face. That is what it means to be man evolved. To want something so much that a move that has put countless others down for the count wasn’t even enough to keep me on the mat for a second. He gave me two more, it wasn’t enough.
Because I fucking wanted it, Taylor.
And that scares me. Literally shakes me to my core. I’ve never seen such red before in my life. Everything he did to us, it ran through my head over and over. Kaiju, Nikki, XIII, the attacks - all of it. Like a reel that never ended, I almost left my body entirely and was controlling like a puppet from above. I didn’t feel anything, I wasn’t thinking, I was just doing.
Because I wanted to put down the mongrel.
And I did it. I succeeded but in that success bred ire. Just as what has happened every other time someone has out wrestled the animal. Walter isn’t a wrestler, he cannot get defeated and show respect as I have for Howard Black. His mind is one track, kill kill and kill or be killed. I embarrassed the beast and took his trinket. Took his trophy that he lauded over the heads of so many to lure them to the slaughter.
The World Title isn’t an accomplishment for him, it’s bait meant to draw in more people so he can inflict more damage and somehow that makes his life better, making people suffer as he has. Like a fuckin’ glass of warm milk at bed time to get to sleep better, the blood he spills coats his dreams and gives his life meaning, Gives him the control for once.
That lifeform almost bore another life. A life he was going to lead in his own image, a sociopath passing the knowledge on to another. The sickness, more like it.”
Taylor grabs Corey’s hand again, holding it tight.
“What’s the endgame here, Corey? Are you bound to fight him forever?”
Corey stands up, placing his hands on Taylor’s face as she stands.
“The endgame is eradicating him from the sport I hold closer than anything else in this world. The sport I care about more than life itself. I am not the judge and jury but believe me, I can be his executioner. I can exile him from the ring, remove the outlet of rage he has and Etta will have no choice but to keep him caged up lest she be accused along with him.”
Taylor pulls Corey back down, sitting on the bed once again. She turns to him, folding her legs together.
“I realize our lives are busy, we’re both in the public eye and our careers demand so much out of us but sometimes, sometimes you have to stand up and say no. You're nothing like him. You two are total opposites.”
“I wish it were that simple. I can shout from the rooftops that I have already done this, I have proven my mettle against Walter and I no longer wish to fight him. Where you can say that to a producer, I cannot. Not in professional wrestling. Here, men hold their pride above all. In this instance, it isn’t even pride, it is burning desire. A fire within his belly that will not be put out until he drinks of my blood. A lesser man would exclaim rule, yet I shall not. Not yet. Not until I see the man on his knee before me and he asks me to show him mercy, something he has never done. A word he knows nothing about.
And when he asks, no, pleads for me not to destroy him I’ll close my eyes and relish every split second I have as I drive my weapon deep into his wretched cranium. A being such as that deserves no mercy.
Mercy is a bullet between the fucking eyes, justice is a noose around a neck, salvation is my elbow through a skull.”
Taylor leans forward and places her head on Corey’s shoulder.
“Fear not, it’ll all be over soon. Whether he comes for me and succeeds or he comes and I repel, this saga has an ending. Just as all do. I feel it, the air is thick with the tension. I have Walter at my heels, I have Carter Shaw at my heels and countless more dying to get their hands on the very best in the business. The Action Wrestling World Heavyweight Champion. I will not lose this belt anytime soon. Especially to Walter, its weight is lost on him.
He doesn’t have what it takes to be a World Champion, I’ve said it for a year now. He can win the belt, anybody can, but to be labeled as THE guy. The top of the food chain and every other food chain out there - it takes a certain quality. An understanding that this isn’t just something you do on the side. You aren’t an actor first, pro wrestler second. A mental institution candidate, and a World Champion. Father and World Champion are two titles that now elude the mongrel, two titles he has not once deserved nor earned.
I have given everything for this from the second I stepped through the ropes. My time was supposed to end, but I had one last task to complete. A message to the next crop - your time isn’t a given, it is earned. Jaice Wilds believed his time was owed and I ripped it from his grasp. Walter believed his time was destiny and I fucking took it from him. When the hourglass sand expires and I have done all that I can do, twenty years from now the world will not look back fondly on Jaice nor Walter. They will be background characters, Jaice played by Sam Kidsgrove looking for any gig he can get, in my trilogy of blockbuster biopics. Bit players in a greater career that could very well go for as long as there is breath in my lungs.
The reformation of the Man Made Gods, MY CREATION, was the beginning. The Hardcore Title bore validation to the claims, the Tag Title run was a fun feather but this Taylor, this World Title is my whole story. For every soul that stands up to me and says I should have been done two years ago, I shove this belt in their sorry face.
For every mongrel that decides to desecrate the sport, I shove this title in THEIR face.
I am not afraid of Walter coming for me. I welcome it. The note was handed to me and I didn’t know what to think. Now I realize it didn’t matter who it was, the person that took the title from Walter would have been in my position.
The difference between me and everyone else? I have what it takes to put him down again. NO need of the Creeping Death, no need of Nikki Venus and her harbinger ways, just a man that WANTS IT.
I WELCOME the chase, I ACCEPT the fate I have given myself in conquering the Jotun. A hulking monster that recently was at my side, a venture that seems fruitless now but the fruit was not Philidor.
The succulent taste came from Walter himself knowing deep down that it was I that he needed. That dragon looks more and more like a rodent, scampering across my floor instead of roaring freely in the sky.
And it will be I who slays Fafnir once again. The story goes that after being bested by the hero the dragon would return once again looking for his gold. This time in the shape of a timid mouse. He’d sneak into the hero’s house to get close to the gold but as he crept closer and closer, behind the hero's back, the mouse would become more and more aware that the hero was his demise. Like Ragnarok itself, Fafnir’s mind clouded itself mere inches from the gold and he froze. He knew if he took the gold back, the hero would lop his head clean off his shoulders. He knew if he didn’t, the hero would still do it.
This is Walter’s fate. Head rolling across the floor as I hold the World Championship high.
The King.
Of All.
Wrestlers.
AND MONGRELS.”
“Alright Mr. Black, you scan came back alright, there’s just a little concern going forward with your line of work and your.. aptitude of punishing yourself.”
Corey sits down and laughs, nodding at the statement.
“Oh, also this was left at the front desk for you!”
The nurse reaches into her pocket and pulls out a folder piece of paper. She hands it to Corey, who looks puzzled.
“Stick around so I can send in the doctor on call to check you out of here and give you the thumbs up!”
She exits the room, leaving Corey in the pure white abyss holding this note. The paper is just as white as the room, and as he slowly opens it, the red ink that is written on it jumps out like a shitty 80s 3D movie.
“WE ARE NOT THROUGH
- W”
No movement. No emotion. Nothing at all, Corey sits and looks down at the note and nods solemnly. Slowly he folds it up, placing it in his own pocket and looking at the door. A distant look in his eye, Corey goes and opens the door, leaving the office and walking right out of the hospital to his car.
“The Jotuns once tried to claim this land for their own. Large, unruly beasts burst through the Bifrost and marched down the Rainbow Bridge.”
It’s a cold winter night in the cliffside village, a massive roaring fire sends a soft glow of orange and a nice radiant heat to those who surround it. The old man in the gray cloak stands before those in attendance, huddled up with cloaks and blankets of their own. A light snowfall begins as he talks.
“Frost Giants, as they were called. Deceivers, working in secret with one of the Aesir to gain access to these hallowed grounds. Their only goal in life was to destroy that which was created. Uncontrollable monsters from beyond the golden gates. They challenged the Aesir Champion, Thor, and were quickly dispatched. As such, the king of the giants, known as Laufey, devised a plan to infiltrate the ranks of the Aesir. The Gods were none the wiser as Loki, the trickster, took one thousand buckets of silver in exchange for access to Asgard. In the ensuing battle, a chunk of Asgard was broken off and fell from the realm to Midgard, landing in this exact spot. This island we call home.
But in one instance, the Jotuns and the Gods worked together as one. A threat bigger than the both of them loomed over the nine. That is our story tonight. When the Vanir rebelled against those that gave them a place to live, it was the Aesir and the Jotuns who came together and fought for their homelands. The Vanir wanted all the Nine, they demanded the same quality of life as the Aesir, even though they didn’t rule any land outside their own walls. The Vanir were repelled by the Jotuns and Aesir alike, but the blood was never done being spilled.”
The old man raises his hands up and then quickly throws dust at the fire, turning it a brilliant blue color. Snow begins falling more heavily, wind picking up even.
“The mighty frostfall! Behold in the glory of our Aesir clashing with the Jotuns!”
Everyone in attendance kneels down and claps over their head once, before standing and nearly running back to their homes. The fire dies out quickly from all the snow encapsulating the wood that once burned. Now remaining just smouldering planks and ash. But one person remains. Covered by a black cloak and black mask across the bottom half of his face, Corey Black stands among the crowd that has since dispersed. Snow falling delicately on his clothing, he peers up at the sky. Then, slowly, he turns and walks away from the meeting grounds toward his castle on the cliffside. By the time he arrives, the snow is knee deep. He marches through the front gate and up to his front door but stops. Corey once again looks up to the sky, snow falling but the clouds part ways just enough to see the stars behind them for a few moments.
In through the front door and into the castle landing, the grand staircase in front of him, dining hall to his left. Corey goes up the steps, but he’s met in the hallway by the tall blonde.
“Geez you look cold. What was tonight’s story?”
Corey removes the hood from his head and the mask from his face. He exhales sharply.
“The Jotuns and the Aesir working together to dispatch the Vanir.”
She smiles.
“How’s your head?”
“I’m cleared by the village doctor, that counts for more than any other Action Wrestling can account for. Graham doing okay?”
“He isn’t thrilled with the idea of staying here for too long but he seems to be getting along well.”
“That is to be expected.”
Corey’s words trail off a little bit, he peers out the window at the sea, ice forming at the beach where the water meets land. Taylor notices.
“What’s on your mind, champ? Need to talk? I kinda need to talk but you clearly have something stirring up there..”
“I - maybe. I don’t know.”
She takes his hand and leads him into the master bedroom, sitting on the side of the bed.
“Spill.”
A deep breath from Corey, he stares at the ground as he speaks.
“I’m not a fool. I know Walter is the enemy and I know how it looks on the outside looking in. Philidor wasn’t eliminated, they were barely phased by the match at XIII. I should have known going in, that worm will grow two heads if you chop one off. “
She stops him.
“This isn’t about Philidor.”
A deep breath in, Corey removes the note from his pocket and unfolds it. She puts her hand on his back.
“You wanted this war.”
Corey looks out his window at the falling snow.
“After calling him out for months and months.. it is now I who has the target on my back. I’m on the defense, I am the one that has to go out there and show the world that I deserve my championship. I beat Shaw. I beat Kidsgrove. And then I was bested by Howard Black. A man I showed no respect toward. Discounted him as a never was, and here we are, I am no longer in the running for Wrestler of the Year when, in fact, I have done more this year than anyone ever thought possible.
I don’t respect Walter, the person. The man behind the Leash. I respect what the savage can do inside the ring. I am very aware of the skillset he possesses and yet, he now knows mine. He knows I don’t need the choke, the Burning Hammer is enough to fell the Jotun.
He has marked me for death, now. He is going to come at me with everything he has. He and his rage after learning his heir is not his own. An unfortunate situation for a normal person, a catastrophe for a mongrel. I shudder to think what is going to happen to those around him. Everything he knew is now ripped away. Everything. And a man who has nothing is dangerous, especially when his claw is aiming for my belly. But this is no man, this is a mongrel. On a warpath to regain a sense of what his life was leading to. What it was supposed tobe.
The Action Wrestling World Championship leaving his waist was the beginning. I don’t see a note in Wesley’s hand. He prevented Walter from being Monster of the Year for the second year running, yet it is I who draws his ire. It’s the title. A trinket, he says, yet this trinket is held above all. Above Wrestler of the Year. Above Monster of the Year. Above Father of the Year, apparently, unless we’re giving that title to Roger Peyton, Jr.”
“Corey you.. you don’t mean that.”
He looks to his right where she sits, into her blue eyes.
“I do. I do mean it. It’s a blessing that the child isn’t his, he isn’t man enough to be a father. It takes more to be given the title of father than it does to be champion. Believe me, I didn’t have one. I watched as my friends in school all learned how to work on cars, how to shave, went to the movies and had a positive male influence. I was robbed of that. Walter thought he was ready to sire an heir and that, too, was ripped from his grasp. He’s a caged animal and should be treated as such. Behind bars for the rest of his miserable existence. Yet here we are, he’s on the loose and he’s coming after what I have built, not him. I have built this stage we all perform on. I laid the groundwork, sowed the soil, stacked the bricks and I have been the ONLY constant of the last TWENTY YEARS.
Yes, I was willing to work with him to defeat Philidor but Taylor, you know as well as I do that I didn’t once think that things would be different. It’s a miracle the show that night ended before he put Frank and I in a hospital bed right next to Graham, I fully expected a forthcoming battle with him, not The Following. I know him as well or better than he knows himself. So yeah, the Gods and the Giant were one for a night but as soon as that bell rang at the end of the match, everything went back to the way it was. A mind in a body that claims to be a man evolved, for once, chasing someone above him. Someone that stood toe to toe and called his shot.
People out there are claiming that I exposed Walter, I showed the world what it took to beat him. I wasn’t the first. I wasn’t even the last. But I’ll forever and always be the best. When I got into that ring with the mongrel he gave me everything he had. He hoisted me in the air and drove me down on my head and I fucking laughed in his face. That is what it means to be man evolved. To want something so much that a move that has put countless others down for the count wasn’t even enough to keep me on the mat for a second. He gave me two more, it wasn’t enough.
Because I fucking wanted it, Taylor.
And that scares me. Literally shakes me to my core. I’ve never seen such red before in my life. Everything he did to us, it ran through my head over and over. Kaiju, Nikki, XIII, the attacks - all of it. Like a reel that never ended, I almost left my body entirely and was controlling like a puppet from above. I didn’t feel anything, I wasn’t thinking, I was just doing.
Because I wanted to put down the mongrel.
And I did it. I succeeded but in that success bred ire. Just as what has happened every other time someone has out wrestled the animal. Walter isn’t a wrestler, he cannot get defeated and show respect as I have for Howard Black. His mind is one track, kill kill and kill or be killed. I embarrassed the beast and took his trinket. Took his trophy that he lauded over the heads of so many to lure them to the slaughter.
The World Title isn’t an accomplishment for him, it’s bait meant to draw in more people so he can inflict more damage and somehow that makes his life better, making people suffer as he has. Like a fuckin’ glass of warm milk at bed time to get to sleep better, the blood he spills coats his dreams and gives his life meaning, Gives him the control for once.
That lifeform almost bore another life. A life he was going to lead in his own image, a sociopath passing the knowledge on to another. The sickness, more like it.”
Taylor grabs Corey’s hand again, holding it tight.
“What’s the endgame here, Corey? Are you bound to fight him forever?”
Corey stands up, placing his hands on Taylor’s face as she stands.
“The endgame is eradicating him from the sport I hold closer than anything else in this world. The sport I care about more than life itself. I am not the judge and jury but believe me, I can be his executioner. I can exile him from the ring, remove the outlet of rage he has and Etta will have no choice but to keep him caged up lest she be accused along with him.”
Taylor pulls Corey back down, sitting on the bed once again. She turns to him, folding her legs together.
“I realize our lives are busy, we’re both in the public eye and our careers demand so much out of us but sometimes, sometimes you have to stand up and say no. You're nothing like him. You two are total opposites.”
“I wish it were that simple. I can shout from the rooftops that I have already done this, I have proven my mettle against Walter and I no longer wish to fight him. Where you can say that to a producer, I cannot. Not in professional wrestling. Here, men hold their pride above all. In this instance, it isn’t even pride, it is burning desire. A fire within his belly that will not be put out until he drinks of my blood. A lesser man would exclaim rule, yet I shall not. Not yet. Not until I see the man on his knee before me and he asks me to show him mercy, something he has never done. A word he knows nothing about.
And when he asks, no, pleads for me not to destroy him I’ll close my eyes and relish every split second I have as I drive my weapon deep into his wretched cranium. A being such as that deserves no mercy.
Mercy is a bullet between the fucking eyes, justice is a noose around a neck, salvation is my elbow through a skull.”
Taylor leans forward and places her head on Corey’s shoulder.
“Fear not, it’ll all be over soon. Whether he comes for me and succeeds or he comes and I repel, this saga has an ending. Just as all do. I feel it, the air is thick with the tension. I have Walter at my heels, I have Carter Shaw at my heels and countless more dying to get their hands on the very best in the business. The Action Wrestling World Heavyweight Champion. I will not lose this belt anytime soon. Especially to Walter, its weight is lost on him.
He doesn’t have what it takes to be a World Champion, I’ve said it for a year now. He can win the belt, anybody can, but to be labeled as THE guy. The top of the food chain and every other food chain out there - it takes a certain quality. An understanding that this isn’t just something you do on the side. You aren’t an actor first, pro wrestler second. A mental institution candidate, and a World Champion. Father and World Champion are two titles that now elude the mongrel, two titles he has not once deserved nor earned.
I have given everything for this from the second I stepped through the ropes. My time was supposed to end, but I had one last task to complete. A message to the next crop - your time isn’t a given, it is earned. Jaice Wilds believed his time was owed and I ripped it from his grasp. Walter believed his time was destiny and I fucking took it from him. When the hourglass sand expires and I have done all that I can do, twenty years from now the world will not look back fondly on Jaice nor Walter. They will be background characters, Jaice played by Sam Kidsgrove looking for any gig he can get, in my trilogy of blockbuster biopics. Bit players in a greater career that could very well go for as long as there is breath in my lungs.
The reformation of the Man Made Gods, MY CREATION, was the beginning. The Hardcore Title bore validation to the claims, the Tag Title run was a fun feather but this Taylor, this World Title is my whole story. For every soul that stands up to me and says I should have been done two years ago, I shove this belt in their sorry face.
For every mongrel that decides to desecrate the sport, I shove this title in THEIR face.
I am not afraid of Walter coming for me. I welcome it. The note was handed to me and I didn’t know what to think. Now I realize it didn’t matter who it was, the person that took the title from Walter would have been in my position.
The difference between me and everyone else? I have what it takes to put him down again. NO need of the Creeping Death, no need of Nikki Venus and her harbinger ways, just a man that WANTS IT.
I WELCOME the chase, I ACCEPT the fate I have given myself in conquering the Jotun. A hulking monster that recently was at my side, a venture that seems fruitless now but the fruit was not Philidor.
The succulent taste came from Walter himself knowing deep down that it was I that he needed. That dragon looks more and more like a rodent, scampering across my floor instead of roaring freely in the sky.
And it will be I who slays Fafnir once again. The story goes that after being bested by the hero the dragon would return once again looking for his gold. This time in the shape of a timid mouse. He’d sneak into the hero’s house to get close to the gold but as he crept closer and closer, behind the hero's back, the mouse would become more and more aware that the hero was his demise. Like Ragnarok itself, Fafnir’s mind clouded itself mere inches from the gold and he froze. He knew if he took the gold back, the hero would lop his head clean off his shoulders. He knew if he didn’t, the hero would still do it.
This is Walter’s fate. Head rolling across the floor as I hold the World Championship high.
The King.
Of All.
Wrestlers.
AND MONGRELS.”