The Hunt For Self: Episode 7

The Hunt For Self: Episode 7

† Johnny Styles †
A few years ago...

In shit hole called NLWF

I failed

Perhaps for the first time in my long career, I lost a match that I was expected to win. Let’s make no mistake about that fact either: I was expected to beat Shadow Demon that night. As it happened though, fate intervened and I’m now staring down the barrel at my shot at redemption.

It’s a strange situation for me to find myself in. I almost feel like I’m in some kind of alien environment; I’ve never felt the need to prove anything to anybody. All of that all changed, though, so long ago when SD pinned my shoulders to the mat for that three count.

One.

Two.

Three.

I’ve never experienced a more destructive three seconds in my lifetime. In that short space of time, I became disorientated, confused and struggled to cling onto the very fibres that hold my existence together. It was almost like an out of body encounter; my career flashed before my eyes. Every vital pin fall that I claimed on route to establishing myself as the top professional in the industry flickered in front of my face. Faces that I’d not gazed on at for years appeared in my head, all wearing the same vacant expression across their faces: shell shocked to the core.

It was a true ‘holy fuck!’ moment and one that has certainly left its mark on me.

Last week at Battle Grounds, Shadow Demon trotted down to the ring and grew a pair of balls, for the first time SD got the drop on good ol' SBK...

A feat that almost never happens

Now, we all know that I’ve never been short on confidence, but what we all witnessed at Battle Grounds was the amalgamation of arrogance, stupidity and delusions of grandeur rolled together and personified by one single human being. It seems to me that Shadow has been jerking himself off ever since he picked up that victory over me and his ego trip has degenerated to the point where he actually believes that he is better than me.

Ask around, SD: the consensus of the general public is that I’m still king shit around here. Sure, you've gotten a little better but you still can’t match me word for word or blow for blow...

And deep down you know that.

You see, when you dropped me with a bitch move and stole my spot as the official, it was plain to see for everyone that you’ve blown your load. You came up with a career best performance to topple me ALMOST THREE YEARS AGO and you’re not going to be able to repeat it. Meanwhile, I’ve swept through you, Timmy and the current champion James Shark and am only gaining steam on the comeback trail. My best is yet to come.

And deep down you know that.

Here’s the deal though, Shadow. This time I’m going to up the tempo a bit. I’m taking the gloves off and I’m not going to hide behind any layer of bullshit; this time you’re going to come up short. You perennially set yourself up as the good guy and make me out to be the villain. That’s cool. I don’t mind the label...

It’s better than hiding behind some bullshit Batman label that’s been rehashed a million times, right?

The fact is, though, I am the villain in this story. Unlike the fairy tale land that you dwell in though, I’ve got a good grip on reality and realise that just because you’re cleaner than an Angel’s asshole doesn’t mean you’re going to walk away with the spoils in this one. Nice guys finish last, my friend. I’m willing to go balls to the wall in an attempt to reclaim my honour at the biggest stage this company has to offer, Why? because, Shadow, our story isn’t over...

And I’ll be damned if I’m not the one writing the final chapter.



- The Hunt for Self: VII -
Writer's Block...

..:: Dropping his pen to the floor in a dejected huff, the writer stared at the total sum of his creative powers with narrow eyes and a penetrative glare. The words stared back at him with vacant expressions: they were lifeless and lacked that certain ‘zing’ that every writer aspires to capture. As he continued to look on at the spluttering of black ink on the page, he lost all sense of what the words actually were; the lines seemed to swirl and merge into one giant chaotic mess with no beginning and no end. ::..

..:: A stale smell wafted around the barren refuge that he had come to call his study. He knew what it was; he’d tasted that same odour on several occasions before, but it had never been so fragrant. ::..

- The Author -
“He’s back”

..:: Whispered the writer as he turned around and looked over his shoulder anxiously. Of course, no one was there, but he knew as much. Still, he knew he wasn’t completely alone; the invisible menace that continually plagued all of those within the pen wielding trade hung over the room ominously and prevented him from reaching for the pen on the floor... ::..

..:: Writer’s fucking block. ::..

..:: For years, he had carved the tale of Johnny Styles into the pages in front of him, detailing his every movement and experiencing all the highs and lows. Now though, he sat paralysed as he struggled to bring the story to a close: he knew that the end was nigh for the character, but he simply couldn’t bring himself to finally kill off the one creation that had brought him so much joy. As the years had passed by, Johnny Styles had grown to be just as much of a family member as his own mother. The writer and Styles were intrinsically entwined... ::..

..:: But then, the same could be said of Shadow Demon ::..

..:: Whilst the writer had not moulded Shadow himself, he still felt an attachment to the one other character that he’d watched grow as the sands of time had flittered away. At times, the writer considered Shadow Demon to be somewhat of a two dimensional figure; a little too drab and self righteous for his own good. He knew though that the world had a place for such creations though... ::..

..:: Even if it was boring to watch his evolution at times. ::..

- The Author -
“I’ve got to finish this chapter”

..:: Shrieked the writer, maddened by his inability to complete his life’s work and tell the one of the final chapters in the life of Johnny Styles. His hair had faded to a wispy, white colour and very much resembled a distressed piece of cotton wool bobbing around on his head. Insanity had taken its toll on the man... ::..

..:: After all, how could it not? He’d documented the life of this character for almost a decade and, whilst there was certainly an element of love to his obsession, Johnny Styles was now much like a waning step mother in desperate need of a care home to him. ::..

..:: The character needed to be shelved and permanently. ::..

- The Author -
“Ok, so he is terminally ill now”

..:: Nodded the writer defiantly as he tried to fight back the tears in his eyes. ::..

- The Author -
“I’ve committed to it now. There is no turning back. Johnny Styles must die.”

..:: Suddenly, a moment of epiphany washed over him. ::..

- The Author -
“Wait”

..:: He wobbled ::..

- The Author -
“He can’t go out like this.”

..:: SBK crushing defeat at the hands of Shadow had stained the reputation that he’d spent his entire constructing. One more challenge beckoned. One crowning moment of glory that would surpass all the others... ::..

..:: For so long, Johnny Styles had been used to simply staying at the top. Winning wrestling matches was nothing more than an exercise in consolidation, but this was different. This wasn't about consolidation... ::..

..:: This was about redemption. ::..

..:: Bending down and picking up his pen, the writer nodded with a newfound sense of purpose. He’d spent the majority of his years documenting the life of an immortal; a man that, at the peak of his powers, could not be touched. The evolution of the character, though, had brought frailty and, arguably, an element that was distinctly... human to the table. The once powerful God of wrestling had been transformed into nothing more than a mere mortal. The mystique surrounding Johnny’s name vanished with Shadow’s victory... ::..

..:: But that simply served to make the finale that little bit more interesting. ::..

- The Author -
“I guess there’s life in the old dog yet”

..:: Chortled the writer as he began to pencil in the final chapter of the Johnny Styles story.

- The Author -
“Let’s see what you’ve got left, Champ.”

..:: The pages in front of him sparked into life once more, revived with a newfound determination and goal in life. The challenge that glared at Johnny Styles with intent was a simple one, but it would also prove to be the most testing one of his career... ::..

..:: Reclaim your fucking throne. ::..



The Hunt for Self: VII
Same Ol' Story

You know as the years have gone by, I’d have thought you’d have progressed a bit further, Shadow. You spout off the same stuff that you’ve always trotted out; you try to define yourself as some kind of fantasy character that always gets his man. Against all the odds, Shadow prevails against the forces of evil...

Roll the credits and hit the music. You’re a fucking hero, SD. We get it. We got it a long time ago.

You know, back in the day when I gave you advice, way back when you were still green around the edges, I tried to teach you the basics of this game. I told you that you’ve got to keep your audience guessing at all times; it’s all about being original. However, as we face off once again, I can’t help but think the fact that you’ve not faced anyone of real quality for a while has drained you of any real creativity. You really think you beat me at From the Ashes?

Please, kid. I’m just getting warmed up.

We both know that once the ring rust is finally shaken off, you’re in for a big problem. You may be on top around here at the moment, but along the way you evolved into something a little bit more sinister. Something a little bit more arrogant...

But you learned from the best, kiddo.

The thing is, I’ve never had to hide behind some superhero masquerade, Shadow. I’ve always been myself. You, on the other hand, constantly find definition from someone else: your early career was defined by running around like some fucking circus act. Hell wasn't you once Havoc's right hand man?

And now, struggling to find any inspiration in this current lifeless rut that IWF finds itself in, you have become that very man that you sought to surpass. Can’t you see what I’m getting at?

You don’t have a personality, Shadow. You’re like a blood sucking leech that borrows from those that are close to you.

I’m going to correct all this Final Destination-type bullshit starting this week and ending at From The Ashes by restoring the natural order. Some things simply weren’t meant to be, SD... and you having an un-avenged victory over me falls into that category. It’s not just the matter of reclaiming a win though, Shadow, and you know that. This is about taking back what’s rightfully mine...

My fucking honour.

I could care less about VVR standing behind me or you play toy that'll be holding your cock at Battle Grounds. I could care less about every other simpleton in this match. I could care less about the state of my health. I’m going to return things to status quo by eradicating your victory over me and if any of these other morons choose to get in my way...

Well, then, they’re just shit out of luck.

Wrong place. Wrong time.

This is just destiny playing out... and some people better bring a helmet.

Those same people well be the two guys that are hanging onto our coat tails in some sort of attempt to justify this being a tag-team match. Of course, the problem is that everyone knows that this match serves only as a platform for us to go at it once more before are final showdown: in my eyes, this just boils down to you and me again...

And I know that you’re thinking exactly the same.

They can’t exactly expect the likes of VVR and Libby to push us in this match. Here are two guys that are so green that they would actually find themselves camouflaged walking across a football field: the guys are rank amateur rookies that are only in this match as IWF tries to spice up the main event scene with a few new faces. The old guard still reigns supreme around these parts and I’m sure that you two are going to be as much use as pantyhose to a prostitute in this match.

Although I bet Libby, would probably welcome a pair of pantyhose given the fact that nothing resembling a dick could ever possibly crawl out of his pants. I've seen your type before Libby, trolling around backstage, pretending to be The Fonz but if you’re going to wear a leather jacket and slick your hair up... you better be able to back it up.

That’s where you have always fallen short though, Libby

The phrase ‘delusions of grandeur’ was probably coined by you. You are the absolute personification of it. Yes, we know you’ve been a champion and, yes, we know you like to think you’re a big shot around these parts... but you’re not. Far from it. IWF has encountered several power shifts over the past few months whereby dominant champions would retire from the fold paving the way for pretenders to the throne to enjoy a brief stint of glory. You fall directly into this category...

In fact, you define it.

I know you’re a sensitive guy, Libby, and your blood is probably boiling at the fact that I’ve just basically mocked everything you’ve ever done here, but sometimes the truth is a bitch...

You have never been on that top tier here and so long as the likes of myself and Shadow are active, you never fucking will. It’s no wonder you tried to dance around just looking for something to do... Deep down, in your heart of hearts, you know that you simply don’t have what it takes and you must cry yourself to sleep at night over this given the amount of dick waving you did about being a champion

You’re an afterthought in this match, just like VVR is. That must be a bitter pill to swallow for a stubborn bastard like yourself too.

The difference is, though, that VVR fully accepts the fact that he is always going to play second fiddle while I’m in play. Were just two guys looking to remove two thrones from are side. I respect the fact that he actually understand the chain of command around here. Libby, you, on the other hand, seem to hide behind the lie that you’re actually worth shit.

You're fucking not.

No one would care if you never wrestled again after Battle Grounds... and that’s a distinct possibility when I think about the fun I’m going to have tearing you a new asshole.

You're fucking not.

This is your final destination.

Once all the riff raff has been dealt with though, it’s going to boil down to SBK vs. Shadow part six. Anytime we step through the ropes, the entire wrestling community comes to a standstill to see how the latest chapter in the never ending war between two of the industry’s titans will play out. SD knows this. I know this. This time though, I’m not going to stand here and make a bunch of promises about how this is going to end...

But I will make one promise: this will definitely fucking end.

My thick skinned, pig headed ego won’t allow Shadow to have the last laugh in this story. It just simply wasn’t meant to be. Fate has penned another encounter for the pair of us in order to serve as a proving ground for my finest hour...

But at 'From the Ashes' will be the night that I reclaim my honour, my throne and my life’s work.

As badly as you want to see me cowering in a heap once again, Shadow, I can tell you that I want it a thousand times more. I have never been as determined to wipe that shit eating grin off your face as I am in this moment. The adrenaline glands are already beginning to work overtime at the mere thought of planting my fist between your eyes.

I’m stepping into this make-shift tag match as a man with a renewed purpose in life. This is about proving that wherever you go in life, whatever you do and whatever follows Battle Grounds..

You will always be remembered as my bitch.

Were on the road to are final chapter.

To our last dance...