Checkmate.

Guest

Chad Mason: “I spent a long time planning for this. Hours, scheming, coercing, gathering the troops…and now, I will finally have my chance.

I am going to become the IWF Champion. I am about to take my spot as the face of this company.

The only man who stands in my way…is Steel Angel.

So tell me, Steel. What is this magnificent strategy you intend to bring in order to beat me? What is this ace in the hole you have that makes you think you’ll be able to defend the IWF Championship? The Championship that, might I add, you wouldn’t even have if it weren’t for me.

Face the facts, Steel. I, just like everyone else in IWF, think that your little reign as IWF Champion was a farce. It was a joke. Your intentions were noble. You cashed in, and intended to take the belt from Shark in a match…a match which he could prepare for, and fight head on. That’s not how it went down though, was it? Would you like to hear my theory?

You were afraid. You saw my team and I take out James Shark. You saw us destroy him, beat him into the ground, put him on the shelf. And that scared you. You needed to act, and you needed to act right then and there. You were so afraid that, just like the month before, there would be some reason, some technicality that would force you to keep your briefcase just a bit longer…and watch as Shark paraded around with the IWF belt for another few weeks. Last time, Brandon forbid you to cash in due to the upcoming intercompany war. This time, what? James Shark put out with an injury, and deemed unable to compete later that night? And there you’d be, sitting there with a briefcase, and no championship reign to you name.

So you capitalized. Before they could examine Shark. Before they could tell that he was in no condition to be competing. Before he could officially be taken off the “Clear to Compete” list…you cashed in. You took that title before a technicality could prevent you from doing so…and by doing that, you took the coward’s way to the title. Exactly what you said you would never do. And do you know what I did?

I sat there, smiling as I watched you take the belt. Because I had forced you to go against what you swore to yourself. You wanted, more than anything, to be a legitimate champion. You failed.

Maybe you don’t get it, Steel. This past month wasn’t wrestling. It wasn’t Steel Angel vs. Natural Law. It was one long game of chess. A game of strategy, a battle of wits.

Unfortunately, you were too poorly equipped for the task.

Think of everything that’s happened over the course of the last month, Steel. Think of everything I’ve done, everything Natural Law has accomplished, leading up to this exact moment…leading to this match between you and me, for the IWF Championship. Natural Law beat up James Shark, the then-current IWF Champion. We left him broken enough that there was no chance of him competing later that night…And there lied your first real chance to ruin my plans. You could have waited. You could have been a good little boy, and waited until the main event, where you would receive the disappointing news: Shark was injured, and you would have to wait just a bit longer to cash in your briefcase. But no, instead, you turned on your own ideals, just as I predicted, and like the idiot you are, you took the bait. You cashed in, you took the briefcase. Now look at everything else that happened that night.

Death-Angel. Hall of Famer. Silverstone cemented his place in the IWF history books by taking him out, and putting him out of this game for a good long time.

Jason Hawk, the Full Throttle Champion, and Chuck Matthews, future hall of famer. Two men who have a nasty habit of getting into any main event they choose. Men who are former world champions. Constant threats to the title. Chuck is currently out of action with broken ribs, and Hawk was stupid enough to come back after we destroyed him in the ring.

Shark, Death-Angel, Chuck, and Hawk. Four main event players. Four icons in the business. Four men who, on several occasions, were at the top of the food chain. We took each and every one of them out, in one night.

It’s all starting to come together, isn’t it Steel? My plan is finally beginning to show. With those four men out of commission, and Corey and Stygian too occupied with each other to stand in the way, who else would be able to challenge the new IWF Champion?

Except the man responsible for taking out all other contenders.

So I got my shot, and there, Steel, was your second real opportunity to foil my plan. You could have beaten me. Defeated me, shown that I was not a worthy contender, sent me right back to the bottom of the barrell, exactly where people think I should be. Lo and behold, you fucked it up again…just as I predicted. Fact of the matter is, Steel, I am as good as I say I am. You, and everyone else, will look at my record. Look at my losing streaks. Look at my biggest failures…while I stand here and say every match I lost, every ass-kicking I took was in the name of a bigger plan…a larger picture. You think I’m lying?

Then why is it that I haven’t lost a match since I came back? Why is it that, since I tossed away this façade, that there is nobody in IWF that can stop me?

And so, I had my title match at Ragnarok. The next part of my plan had been carried out to perfection…and now, it was simply a game of stacking the odds in my favor. In this game of chess, I had already locked the King in my sights. I had sacrificed my pawns in Darren Spanos, Claude Oslo, and Ashten Cross…but in the process, I had taken out your queen. Taken out your knights. Your bishops had fallen.

Every advantage was, week by week, tipping to my favor. You disagree?

Cue your third chance to ruin my plan. The week after I beat you. Pick your poison night. I chose Robbie Hart to compete against you…and he nearly won. The man is the High Impact Champion. The king of the fucking midcard…and you barely held your own. Why? Because he is ruling over your realm. He is the champion in the division you should have never left. Fact of the matter is, Steel, that’s all you will ever be…a glorified midcard wrestler. A failure in the main event picture. But you had an opportunity. You could have picked someone in the IWF locker room to beat me. Show the world that I can be stopped. Show everyone that there is a weakness to Chad Mason, that SOMEONE can put an end to my hot streak.

You chose Crimson Skull…and Skull failed. Anyone in the locker room…fitting you chose another legend of the business. One of the most talented individuals on the IWF roster…and I beat him anyway. And so my momentum picked up. My momentum builds after three weeks of victory, of making statements…while you won a title in unconvincing fashion, lost to your new number one contender, and barely slid by the High Impact Champion.

Last week, another opportunity for you to save yourself. Fight Stygian with me as the referee. Even you aren’t that stupid to think you had a fighting chance. One of the most dominant men in the business, with a referee on his side…against the biggest joke of a champion since Jason Hawk won the Full Throttle Championship. You know what you should have done? You should have thrown the match away. Don’t fight the battle you know you can’t win. Instead, you fought…and you fought…and all the while, I sat back, watching you work. Watching your moves. Watching your style. Learning everything I could from up close. Seeing which moves you pulled off with ease…which ones you struggled with…where you slipped up…where you performed flawlessly…everything.

What did you learn from me in that match, Steel? What did you learn from me this past month. Nothing?

Checkmate.

This entire month has been me, stacking the odds in my favor, gaining every advantage I could as we head into this match. And you know something? I’ve done it perfectly. Everything that may have gone wrong, and you failed to make it happen. Every hole that may have exposed and ruined the scheme, and you managed to fill it with your predictable gullibility.

And now, there is nothing stopping me from taking your title.

You think you were clever, didn’t you? Challenging me to a steel cage match…a smart move under any other circumstances. Your logic is easy to figure out. You’re absolutely convinced that I need Natural Law in order to help me succeed. A steel cage match keeps them out, and prevents me any escape…right?

But you see…while you view the cage as a means to keep Natural Law locked out…I see it as a way to keep you locked in. You and I will be forced to fight…one on one. And you’re so convinced you’ll be able to beat me. Why? I asked you before. What is this distinct advantage that you hold over my head? What is this fatal flaw I have in my person that will cost me this match?

‘You’re Chad Mason.’

That’s what I’ve been hearing all month. Congratulations you fucking inbreds, you remember my name. And yet, you drop it as if it’s some terrible thing, as if being named Chad Mason automatically makes you a complete failure.

Hasn’t stopped me from wrecking everything put in front of me this month, has it?

And that’s exactly what you fail to realize. Not just you, Steel, but the entirety of the IWF, competitors, management, and fans alike. With every victory I pick up, with every opponent I defeat, your conviction that I’m doomed to failure looks even more ludicrous. This past month, I’ve dominated. I’ve beaten opponents that, if this happened three months ago, you would have called an upset. You would have predicted the end of time. Chad Mason, IWF Champion? Heresy! Chad Mason, defeating Crimson Skull? It’s the end of days!

And yet…I keep winning. I keep fighting. I keep making my presence known, whether you like it or not. How do you explain it? What will be your excuse? Luck? Opponents having off days?

You will do anything to convince yourself that this is all a bad dream. That this isn’t really happening, that Chad Mason isn’t actually succeeding. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but this is all too real…and I think you know that. And so you try and explain it, using any explanation you can think of that avoids the simplest solution: Chad Mason is simply better than the rest of you. He’s come up with a master plan that took him ages to carry out, and the time has finally come to put it into action. You were unprepared. You can’t get the thought through your heads that I played each and every one of you. You can’t believe that I managed to pull the rug out from underneath you, flip everything on its head, and twist it so that the only man benefiting from it all was myself.

I could sit here, backing up everything I say with little facts, anecdotes, logical arguments, anything. I could remind you that I was taught by Brenton Cyrus. Tutored by Chuck Matthews. I trained with Nick Ridicule. I learned the art of persuasion and mastery of a microphone from Ashley Matthews…four of the greatest to ever step into the ring. I trained with each of them at some point or another…of everyone in IWF, it’s entirely possible I’ve had the greatest training of anyone here…and yet, it’s still unbelievable to you that I succeed.

We’ll see exactly how long you can keep this up. How long you can pass me off as no threat. How long will my title reign run? Two months? Three? Through From The Ashes? Through the next year? At what point will you step back, examine the world around you and realize, ’Holy shit…Chad is unstoppable.’

We’re about to put that to the test, and it begins this week with the start of a great and glorious IWF Title run. While Steel sits there, telling himself over and over that he can’t lose to Chad Mason…when he consistently fails to come up with any reason why he should believe his own bullshit…I’ll be studying. I’ll be preparing. I go into this match with everything to gain, and absolutely nothing to lose. I go into this match with all the preparation in the world, while Steel comforts himself, thinking he’s got the stipulation advantage.

This week, I show the entire world exactly what I’m capable of.”