Alex Dillinger [vs.] Saint

The man with the amazing mask takes on the IWF Rebel Alex Dillinger in what is damn sure to be an incredible bout!!!!!!!!!

Saint shows up on the television set.

He sticks out his tongue. Though you wouldn't know that, because he's wearing a mask. Duh.

Saint: Nanna nanna boo boo, stick your head in doo doo.

He then disappears under a flash of lightning.

Prologue:
Flashback: Brisbane, Australia
Setting: Suncorp Stadium

I can hardly see three feet in front of me. My vision is blurred and the sound of the crowd is simply dulled out from the sound of the EMTs checking on me asking me to respond. Vaguely through a blurry scan of the eyes I can see an EMT waving his hand in front of me. Still in a state of shock I could hardly understand the severity of the situation. What had happened?

“Axle if you can hear me nod your head.”

Slowly nodding I could start to make out the words; either that or I was purely going on instinct at that point. If I’m being perfectly honest still to this point I don’t know exactly.

Flat on my back in pain and half conscious, it wasn’t how I envisioned walking away from that match. Then again what a pair of stones on me walking into a risky match lit off of whiskey taking for granted some Injun. Hair burnt, body broken…FUCK, MY, LIFE.

“We’re going to load you into the ambulance here Axle, don’t be too worried it’s all just precautionary we’ll get you an MIR at the hospital. Just relax and keep calm for now.”

Keep calm? This guy was some sort of character. I wasn’t a doctor by any means but I knew something was fucked up. I couldn’t stand on my own two feet with my own power. Why would I not be freaking out right now? I could feel my heart beat quicken. Man what if this was it. I’ve had close calls with death and that shit never really scared me. I guess with everything I’ve been through in my life I’ve become sort of numb to death. My heart had calloused over and I was just immune. However this was different. This was about my career’s life. Would it all be done and over. Ended by the hands of some halfwit talentless bulldozer (pun intended)…would I be forced to go out like that?

Looking at my palms they were starting to clam up. My body tingled and tightened up as moisture escaped my pores. I was on the fast track to the hospital with everything in jeopardy and a career in doubt. Fuck…I closed my eyes wanting to wake up.



Flashback: Los Angeles, California
Setting: The Home of Alex Dillinger

Resting up in Los Angeles at home I looked down at the boot strapped around my foot, it sucked. Good news was that my career wasn’t in jeopardy but there were chances that I could significantly lose some mobility. The world was a buzz around the question would Axle Vengeance hang it up or would he come back and just be mediocre. Maybe Vengeance would be too stubborn to know when to call it quits. I heard everything. It didn’t deter me from getting healthy. Sipping on a martini poolside enjoying some sun Preston Poppycock appeared from inside the house. Popping his head out rocking a fedora, unbuttoned linen shirt, some short board shorts and flip flops looking extra vintage. “Oi!” “Preston, grab me a beer would you?” Reaching into the cooler by the sliding glass door Preston popped the top off grabbing a couple of New Castles. Devouring the martini I quickly sat it down catching the New Castle as Preston underhand pitched it to me. There wasn’t much else for me to do besides drink. I hadn’t slowed down on the drinking after the injury. Maybe it was my way of dealing with all the uncertainty and depression.

“So mate, I’m likin the ‘aircut. Got that ‘ole GQ thing workin for ya. So I got another message from ya Dad.”

“And…..”

“You want me to continue duckin ‘im? I mean last time we talked you seemed like you wanted to meet up with ‘im. Right?”

“I just don’t feel like dealing with all that right now, catch my drift Presto? I’m in a fuckin boot and don’t need him talking about how if I wasn’t sloppy I would’ve been ok. How if I weren’t drinking I would still be in the ring. Fuck that noise.”

“I can see ‘ow that’d be a bit of a titty twista but mate you ‘appen to be a successful adult…’e doesn’t need to talk to you like some child anymore. Do you ‘onestly tink ‘e will?”

“It’s possible, it’s my pops he’s a flamboyant over dramatic douche bag alcoholic…”

“Ahem…”

I knew what the clearing of the throat was for. No need to look Preston in the eyes or give him the time of day. Yes I had become my father. Like father like son, and all the other bullshit sayings were completely and utterly true. I had become my father and hell even now my father was probably a better man than I. He had gotten sober and taken care of his shit. Sure we fought and I blew up at him at my Grandfather’s funeral…but he was right about him being better. He looked healthier which isn’t saying much considering he used to look even more like the Crypt Keeper.

“Fuck it call him back and tell him I’ll meet up with him for dinner next week.”

“JOY!”

“Preston shut the fuck up.”

“Oi I just love a ‘appy ending, a beautiful ting really.”

“PRESTON!”

“Right, I’ll make the call you well you keep up with the transformation…your ‘air is lookin a bit thin mate.”

As Preston walked away into the house I removed my black Ray Ban sunglasses looking into the lens trying to scope out my hair. He had me all self-conscious now over my new haircut and hairline. Blyss did a sick job with the hair but I would hang myself if I started going bald like my pops.

It would prove to be time to face the music. I don’t know maybe it was the drinks and meds or perhaps it was Preston being a persistent twat about it…either way I was going to meet up with my father and probably get an earful about my shortcomings. Fuck it I was over running from it.


Flashback: Los Angeles, California
Setting: Valentino’s Italian Restaurant

Sitting at the table tapping my index finger on the spotless white tablecloth I was growing impatient. He should’ve been here over an hour ago. Sitting and waiting, I was about to get up and leave as Preston Poppycock popped up out of nowhere practically giving me a heart attack. Clutching my chest I grabbed hold of Preston’s collar pulling him in closely.

“What the fuck man!”

“Oi, it’s just me.”

“When did you get here?”

“I’ve been ‘ere the ‘ole time. You didn’t see me at the bar ‘aving it off with the bartender? I tink she wants to see why they call me the Big PP, catch my drift?”

Rubbing my temples I had stopped tapping my index finger. Preston was an all around good guy and a better assistant than James Jonas was. Jonas just got loaded with me all the time. Not much help on getting anything done. Preston was always weird but I think his bubbly personality helped me in a lot of ways. He balanced everything out and someone with his energy and style was liked by many people. If it wasn't for Preston I'd be out of the job still paying child support for a child that's NOT mine. Everything would just be fucked up. That's why I was so thankful for Preston being my Assistant/Agent. He was like my British God send. “Preston, why don’t you take off for a bit and let me get this meal over with in peace.” “Sounds good mate, I’m off to see if that drink pouring lass is D-T-F…that’s what they’re saying now isn’t it?”

Shaking my head in obvious disdain I shooed Preston away as he strut towards the bar overly femme like. As my waiter appeared to refill my glass of water he asked if I was ready to order just yet. Naturally while knowing I was about to look stupid I still replied…

“I’m still waiting on someone to join me.”

It had been an hour since the waiter had first asked me. If I wasn’t so good looking surely I’d be concerned that this guy would think a woman was standing me up. Thankfully I’m one of the best looking men in the world…true facts. I nodded my head as he acknowledged my request. As he disappeared for a moment I pulled out my phone to check if I had any missed calls, I didn’t. Where the fuck was my father. He was usually late for everything, birthdays, graduation, football games, wrestling matches, baptism…

Suddenly people were standing up on their feet with their camera phones cocked and ready. As a limousine pulled up I clicked my teeth knowing it was my father. Of course he had to show up flashy and all eyes on me. Fashionably late would naturally be the first words out of his mouth when he sat down across from me.

Shaking hands signing autographs and strutting with a lifetimes worth of confidence my father smiled from ear to ear walking towards the table. Scoffing I stood up greeting him with a proper handshake and hug combo that proved to be not too awkward.

“Fashionably late…naturally.”

Anyone want to pay me now? I knew him like the back of my own hand. Keep the masturbations jokes to yourself. My father was very predictable. Yet I still couldn’t stand his behavior.

“I think I’m going to go with the Chicken Marsala and a bottle of Perrier. You didn’t order or eat already did you?”

“No, actually let me see…”

Like a smartass I looked around the table lifting up the tablecloth checking underneath it then looking under the table and finally shrugging my shoulder raising my hands palms up giving him an unsure look.

“Yup no plates. Guess not. I’m about five breadsticks and three waters deep though…better catch up.”

“Funny, funny Alex. Sarcasm is such an ugly color on you. Now signal the waiter I’d like to eat.”

Sure he would. As long as he said it was ok to eat then surely it was ok to eat now. Fuck this. I knew this was a bad idea. Waving with as much politeness as I could the waiter approached taking our orders and menus from us. As he disappeared my father pulled out his phone scanning over it. I wasn’t sure what he was checking but either way it must’ve been more important than a meal you planned with your own son. The very son that you avoided talking to for most of his adolescence and a son you had to beg to get in front of you for dinner. He begged I refused yet here I am and he’s glued to his phone…FUCK I sound like a whiney little bitch.

“So son, still sober are we?”

“Meh, I have a drink or two here and there but for the most part the bottle hasn’t been haunting my dreams. I’m good.”

“Good.”

Back to his phone again, incredible…somehow I envisioned this entire dinner going this way. A few questions to try and catch me on something that he could talk shit about and if not back to the phone to think some more before asking something else. Whatever. Once this was done I could rest easy knowing I did my part and tried.

“How’s the injury?”

“Rehab is going along they’ve told me I’m recovering quickly. Boot should be off sometime next week. Hopefully I can get back in the ring by Homecoming. I’m missing out on the World Tour but it is what it is.”

“Well going to the ring drunk and careless didn’t help your cause any.”

There it is…ding, ding, ding! He’s found his mark and hit it directly. Dead center bulls eye now I’m sure he’d drive it home.

“Storming Raven, that’s all I need to say. I didn’t look at him as a threat because to be quite honest the guy couldn’t hold my jock. He beat me drunk and it was my mistake. I beat myself. Corey Bull injured me. He took me out.”

“You wouldn’t have been in that position if you were alert and aware of your surroundings. You’re better than this Corey Bull fellow. He’s sloppy with ZERO finesse. Come on now Alex. No excuses.”

“It’s not an excuse, it’s factual information. Fuck that.”

“Well neither Corey Bull or Storming Raven are injured and you are. Looks as though you’ve lost that battle as well. Are you considering walking away from the game? I walked away healthy you should maybe consider the same.”

Unbelievable here he was sitting across from me telling me to quit. The same guy that always talked shit whenever I considered quitting. Dillingers don’t quit he’d preach until he was blue in the face. Whatever. I didn’t quit then and I sure as hell wasn’t about to quit now.

“I’m not going to QUIT. This isn’t the end for me. In fact it’s just the beginning. A fresh start was something I needed. With everything falling apart in whole The Empire fiasco I find myself with Ace and that’s it. Nothing can hold me back anymore. Those tag titles no longer act as a career anchor keeping me stuck out in the middle of the sea with no sign of a horizon anywhere.”

“No need to cut a promo at dinner. Easy killer. Now if you want to keep going and feel that’s what’s best for you then so be it. Do what makes you happy.”

I was skeptical of his optimism and kindhearted words. This was completely unusual. I had waited for the backhanded comment yet there was none.

“You serious?”

“Yup. So Alex I need to ask you why did it take so long for me to get you to sit down here with me and have dinner? I mean we talked at the funeral and things didn’t go too well but still I figured it was the booze and emotions that created an explosion.”

“Honestly?”

“Yeah, honestly.”

“Well you were a deadbeat father. Truthfully the only thing that bonds us is our bloodline. That’s it.”

He sat his phone down and looked up at me. Maybe the words had finally sunk in. Did I say what needed to be said? Was this the break through that we needed all these years?

“So that’s what it is huh? Aren’t you tired of being mad all these years because I was out making a living to support our family and happened to miss some football games or a couple birthday parties?”

“Not to mention the Dr. Jekyll Mr. Hyde syndrome you suffered through when Mom and Alice died.”

“Yeah that was called drinking heavily. I mean sure I wasn’t the same but think about what I had to deal with at the time. Put yourself in my shoes.”

“That doesn’t excuse you using me as your personal punching bag.”

His face turned practically ghost white. Guess he wasn’t expecting me to call him out on that. Truth be told, neither was I. Things started heating up and I guess I just let it out.

“PERSONAL PUNCHING BAG! ARE YOU FUC…personal punching bag are you kidding me?”

As his voice took off from zero to ten he stopped short leaning towards me as his words fell to a whisper.

“I never ONCE laid a HAND on you. Are you kidding me right now Alex. Like I know I made mistakes and we fought verbally. Hell even one night you were beyond pissed off you took off and then your Grandfather...God rest his soul, found you in the park and took you to his house to live.”

“I can’t believe you actually are going to sit there across from me face to face and LIE just flat out LIE. The cameras aren’t on. No need to put up a front. For once in your life own up to your wrong doings.”

“I will NOT admit to something I did not and would not EVER do. Cut the shit Alex. I was no Father of the year but I certainly was not like Joe Jackson or Prince’s Dad.”

“You know what, forget it. This was all a bad idea. You obviously aren’t prepared to admit your mistakes and I’m not prepared to sit through an hour of waiting for you to hear you tell me I should quit and that I imagined some sort of abuse from you. Fuck that. Take care of yourself Pops. Eat it up, this ones on me…”

Tossing down a couple hundred-dollar bills I closed up my wallet sliding it into my back pocket of my skinny khakis. Putting one black TOM in front of the other I exited the building leaving my Father behind. He had some nerve. To try and actually sell the shit that he was spitting was a joke. I’m not some kid he can con into believing his nonsense anymore. Hell I put a stop to all of that when I was sixteen. Fuck him. Time to go back home and put this all behind me. Time to focus on being great again…



Present Day: Los Angeles, California
Location: Undisclosed

Walking out onto a stage, a platform for me to stake my claim as the leader of a movement. A revolution that has been begging to be unleashed for years here in IWF, one of massive and epic proportions. The podium was setup perfectly with my DIAMOND logo etched on the front. There was no live crowd, no need to embellish or fool the people who would be watching closely from within the comfort of their own homes. People weren’t ignorant and there was no reason to treat them as such.

“It’s been a long time coming…”

My voice began to speak. Softly the words leaked from my mouth, as it had been a few weeks since I had addressed my current state in IWF and professional wrestling in general. Many had thought maybe I would quit and just retire out to pasture like Alexander Remington and others that have vacated the IWF locker room. I wasn’t about to call it quits. People could doubt and say what they wanted but I knew better than to believe the doubters. My will and determination will prevail.

“A long time since a revolution has been sparked. The time is far overdue. Here I stand before you. Not as Axle Vengeance and not as a man who was so hell bent on vengeance that he lost sight of what was truly in front of him. No I’m not that guy. I’m not someone that is so bloodthirsty he slips up and makes mistakes. I’m not a man that is afraid to fail because failure has never been an option. You see my thoughts and my outlook on life has taken a sharp turn. A drastic turn…”

“Failure can be something that is used as a foundation. A foundation to build upon, one in which all things built upon it will hold ground. Be not afraid of challenges and obstacles in life. Embrace them. Rise above. Conquer. Be FUCKING IMORTAL!”

Booming with confidence my chest puffed out and prepared to take on the World. However this time I wouldn’t be alone. This time I would be fighting with my army. My army is full of individualists, free thinkers, and hard workers. Complete with nothing but prideful, stubborn, and PASSIONATE motherfuckers that won’t stand for BULLSHIT.

“Immortality, a subject topic that when brought up perks up ears and makes people listen. Who wouldn’t want to live forever? Right? Live forever by making your mark. Live forever by standing your ground. Live forever by creating a legacy that will be remembered by those that you’ve impacted. Now STAND UP! Follow me into a new era. An era that breeds changes, let’s shock the IWF system and rock its foundation at the core.”

“Why the sudden change in tone you ask? Sure there has to be skepticism when things revolve around yours truly. However when one is pushed to the brink of breaking they’re forced to recollect. Gathering my thoughts looking at the man in the mirror I was furious. Furious about the things I had been going through and furious about the road I’ve traveled thus far. Where has it gotten me over the last few years? Fucking nowhere. I stand before each and every single member of the IWF family today. Yes that’s right, you fans are members to this IWF family. Change is coming. Change for the better.”

“Let me enlighten you all with a story…”

Brushing my shoulders off and adjusting my dark grey v-neck and black unbuttoned cardigan. I took off my Ray Bans folding them setting them down on the podium. With my eyes looking into the camera I wanted the people viewing to see the unfaltered stare.

“There once was a professional wrestler, a legend in this very business if you will…he had various matches competing across the globe earning immense amounts of money and garnering tons of respect and animosity amongst his peers. All of his hard work and determination would pay off. The championships and living in the limelight was something he had gotten used to. Then the jail sentences derailed his momentum. Spending time in and out of jail being off drugs and on drugs…the vicious cycle would practically swallow him whole. Consumed and plagued by the bottle, clouded by the drugs…it didn’t look good for our hero. Yet somehow and someway he fought through it all to return to the ring, a return to a new company that had purchased his old employer. Every sign had pointed to the typical fairytale ending. Overcoming jail time, the drugs and alcohol. Getting back to where he had belonged doing what he truly loved. Yet things just seemed to fall apart…yet again.”

Chuckling a bit I glanced down at the podium toying with my glasses before looking up once again. With the crack of a smile my pearly whites flashed at the camera and my dimple came to surface. I had to hit everyone with just another trademark smile of mine.

“It simply just FELL APART. ALL OF IT! The hard work, determination, sheer FUCKING WILL it took to get back into the ring had been for NOTHING. He was promised visions of grandeur. Offered a chance to regain the spotlight and lead a group of individuals with similar ideas and goals. It was that moment in time where what was meant to be the lead up to a happy ending was denied.”

Shrugging my shoulders there wasn’t much I could say. The happy ending was denied and it was the truth of the matter.

“DENIED! By a man he trusted, a man he confided in. The popular phrase that the man had coined “I will push you to the moon” was what he told our hero. Yet it would prove to be nothing but lies.”

“NOTHING…BUT…LIES. The hero ended up wallowing away in mediocrity. Doing the liars biding. Rather than progressing he began to digress. Losing every ounce of confidence and giving in to the ever-growing temptations of the bottle. Boozing and not caring anymore our hero began to stumble, he faltered. Slipping lower and lower once again. Did he really care at the time? No. Allowing chemicals and toxins to cloud his mind and judgment it was a way for him to deal with everything going on. It proved to be just a mask for the problems surrounding his life and career. Everything had come full circle. Except if he continued to be blinded surely next would come the drugs followed by another stint in jail.”

Brushing my hair with my right hand I sighed cracking my neck quickly repositioning myself centered at the podium. It was more than likely obvious as to what I had been talking about. Most everyone would understand the story. It was no secret to anyone the way I had felt lately and how pissed off to the core I really had become.

“You see the vicious circle started kicking into overdrive. However it’s never too late. I had a conversation with our hero. We had a long heart to heart. Every ounce of frustration had been vented. When I took a long hard look in the mirror that conversation took place.”

“Yes I am that hero, I am that man. I’ve come to the realization that I needed to get back to my roots, back to having a purpose. Without purpose I’m nothing, just a boozing piece of shit with no rhyme or reason…no future. Why would a legend like myself be so interested in a future you ask? It’s quite simple. I’ve yet to reach the highest level of my abilities. We’ve just barely begun to scratch the surface. So walk with me! Come along for the ultimate ride of a lifetime. Stand tall and let’s CHANGE this company for the better. Let’s bring back IWF to its pinnacle. I pay attention to the gossip and rumors. I know that people view IWF as a company on its last legs in desperate need of resuscitation. Talks of mediocre talent being showcased in the main event. Fans walking away from episodes of Battlegrounds only to be seemingly disappointed…NO MORE! I will bring back PRIDE and RESPECT to this company. Time to put this bitch on my back and march onwards. I’ve done it before with a company; I can most certainly do it again. I’ve said this before…”

“ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED?”

“Then ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls…let’s start a revolution.”

“COREY CASEY…I suggest you prepare yourself. You’ve made a mistake by taking my eagerness and loyalty for granted. Brushing me off to the side for a man that can no longer speak about this sport with passion. We all make mistakes Corey. We all do. Personally I’m hoping your ninety year old back gets fixed so I can show you your mistake. Get well soon Mr. Casey for your actions are the cause of this Revolution. Your saliva like sparks from a sparkler has caught flame to my fuse. It’s only a matter of time until I blow up…and…snap.”

“Axle Vengeance may be no longer but believe me when I say he’s still there deep down. Best to not wake him.”



“Our lives although the main focus to us are only fleeting parts of the larger world, we all make entrances and exits, as do the people in our life. We all are different things at different times in our lives: a man is a son, a brother, a father, a grand-father, an uncle, a friend, a boss, a laborer, a liar, a hero, a creator, a destroyer, etcetera. All of these aspects create us and we often play these 'roles' at the same time. We enter others lives to accomplish something, good or bad, and then we depart. Our lives also change as we grow and gain wisdom. What we did in our first act is not the same as in our third even though the situation maybe the same, we have changed our role is different we have more knowledge, more experience, other people in our lives.”

“This is not my first act and it is certainly not my FINAL. This is just the beginning, the rebirth…the revolution.”



Present Day: Boston, Massachusetts
Location: Marathon Bombing Site

“In the wake of tragedy I’ve returned to the light…”

Standing in a sea of flowers and remembrances of the tragic event that took place not but less then two weeks ago. Pieces of glass were still scattered about as my shoes crunched atop the crumbs. What a site, all the destruction and the air still smelt of blood. Pretty crazy what had transpired here.

“I’ll admit when I first heard the news of Homecoming changing locations I lashed out. Not realizing a bigger picture if you will. Los Angeles is MY city and naturally what a better place for me to return to the ring in front of friends and family alike. Then something terrible happened…some fuckin kids decide to play terrorist. The nation stopped and watched as two cowards tried to escape only to fail. Cowards not wanting to look into the eyes of their victims, they’d much rather scurry off and disappear into the commotion. Fuck them. The one that didn’t swallow a hallow point deserves an endless buffet of cock meat sandwiches.”

Looking around the debris and remains of the bombings a pit in my stomach began to grow deeper and deeper. Anger and hatred grew. I could vividly see everything as if it was happening right then and there. The images would be forever etched into my memory.

“Boston, a place I’ve always hated if I’m being honest. The lack of pronunciation when it comes to the letter R bothers me…the Red Sox, Bruins, Celtics, Patriots…hate em. Matt Damon, Mark Wahlberg, Dane Cook…can’t STAND EM! Speaking of those three what’s with Boston actors having these massive oversized heads? Fuckin strange. But regardless of everything I’ve ever had against Boston…despite our differences we have come together. United under a banner waving proudly that stands for justice and PRIDE.”

“I’m no longer here to just show up and prove that I’ve still got it. I’m fighting against someone named Saint. A guy that was given all the tools in the world in order to succeed yet fell short like so many others that have walked out onto an entrance ramp. He reminds me of someone…nevertheless Saint had come out and cast the first stone. Surely I chuckled at his choice words. One could interpret that in two different ways. Either he’s giving up and has no chance so felt it was necessary to act like an ass on camera. The second could be he’s trying to lure myself into a false sense of security. You know…get me as comfortable as possible only to share your true feelings with me last minute and come to Homecoming for WAR. It’s something I would consider doing if I felt inferior to someone and was too scared to talk mono y mono. Saint is more than likely a coward. I’m a balls to the wall in your face don’t give a fuck type of guy. I’m not all about cutting corners or being a passive aggressive twat. I’m a man about my shit.”

“If Saint decides to play a game with me then there will be no mistake that at Homecoming those games will not be forgotten. When the bell tolls and the dust settles its Saint and me in that ring. It’s the LEGEND versus the never was and never will be. I’m going to obliterate Saint and everyone knows it.”

“Saint has been thrown to me as a sacrificial lamb, something to keep me happy and content. You see when I made it clear that I wanted a match once medical had cleared me to return at Homecoming. It didn’t matter who it was. It didn’t matter what type of match it would be. No all that mattered was that I place both of these feet through the ropes and planted on the canvas. My desire to compete again outweighed all struggles I’ve endured before.”

Crouching down a couple candles that had been lit had blown out from the wind that began to kick up on the streets of Boston. Reaching in my pocket I removed my Zippo lighter of course with en embossed DIAMOND logo etched into it’s gun metal casing. Relighting the candles I took a deep breath before standing once more.

“The struggle I’ve had to endure has been a tough one. Going from the top to the bottom…rinse and repeat. When I got out of jail it was like man I need to turn my life around. Then that bitch Ashley fucked me over. I had no money, no income. No means of being able to survive. Just when I was ready to settle down and leave this business I got sucked right back in. Doing as I was told just to get a check. Did I ever really want to comeback and work with Corey Casey? NO! I had no intentions of doing so. But when I find myself on my couch surrounded by women and booze and drugs…it was either take the job or lose everything, even possibly myself in the process. I did what any man with his back against the wall would do. Signed the dotted line. Sold my soul for a quick buck. I do have regrets. Sure, who wouldn’t? But it’s not too late to rectify those mistakes.”

“HFF was brought in to be this force to be reckoned with. What ended up happening? Ace and I held the tag team titles. We didn’t even want them. It just sort of happened. Casey needed guys to get the belts back…no other team was capable of doing it…so we did. We won those belts and it proved to be nothing more than a way for this company to keep both Ace Static and myself down. No need for people to point out the obvious…that both Ace and myself are two of the best singles competitors in this company let alone this sport. Yet here we were beating team after team after team after team…no one was going to take the straps off of us. The longer we held those belts the longer we could go ignored, the longer we could be pushed back and held down. They fear the influence Ace and I have over the IWF universe. They don’t want people speaking out and talking about all the bullshit being fed to every superstar on a daily basis. No they most certainly don’t.”

Walking away from the remains of the bombing I strolled through the streets. The streets had become practically empty other than a handful of people still checking out the blast site. Continuing my casual stroll at a steady pace I lit up a cigarette. Truly the only addictive toxin I had yet to quit. Lighting the smoke and inhaling I blew a cloud towards the sky.

“I don’t blame them really. When people start to question things that’s when chaos occurs. HFF has always been known to stir the pot or just kick the FUCK out of the hornet’s nest. We thrive on chaos. This time around things will be different. It’s about not listening to the doubters. It’s about standing up for what you believe. I believe I’m the best wrestler in this company and I think it’s time I proved it. Every ounce of momentum I had upon joining this company was sucked away because of Corey Casey. That’s all going to change. No more bullshit. This is the time for Alex Dillinger, not Axle Vengeance to shine. I’ve broken free of my shell. No more hiding behind a pseudonym. I’m me. Alex Dillinger. Nothing more, nothing less and I’ve changed for the best. Let’s spark this revolution…”

“For those that have been told they could never amount to anything. For those that have been told they aren’t strong enough, fast enough, big enough, too fat, too dumb, or too lazy… For those that have been told they aren’t going to make it no matter how HARD they try. I fight for you. I fight to prove that no matter what those that hold the cards say about you that you can say FUCK THAT and deal yourself your own hand to go against them. Work hard and achieve all that is possible. The world is your oyster. Walk with me, follow me, let’s create some chaos and bring to birth the dawning of a new era…the era of Alex Dillinger…the era of The Revolution. I will not fail, I will not falter and I will NEVER look back from this point on. When it’s all said and done this is my life and this life is my diamond. Saint I would LOVE to hear what enlightening tales you have to tell me. I would just LOOOOVE to hear you speak about our match and how you can actually pull off the upset. Your last promo was top-notch kid. Truth is under that mask I have an idea as to what your face looks like, who you actually are. Don’t worry though I won’t say anything. That way when I beat the fuck out of you then you can throw that mask in the trash and act none the wiser. You can pretend it wasn’t you under that mask and comeback to this company on a majestic stead gallantly trotting about as the world gets handed to you on a silver platter. Me, I’ll be on the grind again earning my way to the top and protesting it all the way up. Fuck you Saint. You AINT shit. See you at Homecoming. I dare you to leave the mask. You won’t and that’s ok with me, I know the truth and you do too. I’m the mother fucking greatest. Always has been and always will be. That’s something that’ll never change. Let’s start a riot……”

Walking away from the camera crew with my back to them I continued my dusk stroll through Boston. I had chalked up a list of things to accomplish in IWF over the next few months. The first thing was beating Saint; even though it might’ve been a bit early I still put a check mark next to that. He didn’t stand a chance. Most of these people in IWF didn’t stand a chance against me. Nothing against them I’m just better. I’ve always been the best talent this company has had since I walked through the doors on day one of my contract. Granted I haven’t been treated as such a talent but it didn’t make it any less true. Come Sunday Boston would be rocking and the roof would come unglued when I walked through the crowd. My moment to stand in front of the crowd and give the people of Boston a show they so deserve to see. While Axle Vengeance would remain buried and dead inside me the newly revamped Alex Dillinger was prepared for war, prepared to start winning once again. Saint would be the first victim of my own personal revolution. After all…can’t nobody take my pride, can’t nobody hold me down, oh no I’ve got to keep on moving. Moving on towards becoming a champion once again, becoming the KING of IWF and the IWF Champion. It was destiny. I wouldn’t be denied any longer.