Alexander Remington [vs.] Parker Wayde [vs.] Axle Vengeance

And finally, in the main event of the evening, the increasingly paranoid IWF Champ Alexander Remington prepares himself to face two men who are hungry to win championship gold when he steps into the ring with The Empire's Chosen One Axle Vengeance and Parker Wayde!

http://siw-alexremington.webs.com/Remington79.htm

Here's my first rp for the week. As a note, pay attention to the dates prior to each segment. There is a very distinct reason why I'm skipping around this week from the present to the future to the past, etc. It'll all tie in to the second rp as well. Not very confusing since there's really only going to be three days covered in the span of these two rps, but just sayin'; pay attention to the dates.

Anyways, as always, I'll post the unformatted text below, but the official version is the linked one. Text is just for those whose computers suck and to ensure no major edits are done (I'll never add or delete text; I think I may have changed a word or two in the span of my existence here for spelling issues; etc.)

I hope you guys enjoy! This roleplay has the James Shark seal of approval...dogg.

*Note* Autoplay of music has been turned off. If you like music playing while you read, scroll to the bottom and start the youtube vid.

____________________________

____________________________________
"Empires won by conquest have always fallen either by revolt within or by defeat by a rival."
~John Boyd Orr~
____________________________________

Prologue
Within The Mind

The scales were turning in favor of those who opposed the force of the Empire, causing them to scramble for ideas on how to battle the resistance. Without a title to their name, they were forced to resort to their original thug-like tactics, waving their banner high in the sky as they claimed each assault to be a moral victory for themselves. But everyone knew the truth. Everyone could see that their power and their influence were weakening. We were doing something that Bad Company had failed to achieve. We weren't a team, nor were we a collective group - personally, I didn't give a damn what the rest of the IWF roster did with the Empire. My focus was simple and focused on one purpose.

Keeping the highest championship in the land.

With every passing week, I was forced to keep one eye ahead of me and one behind, knowing that any moment, they would try their best to take me out of commission and, by default, give Axle Vengeance a greater opportunity to remove that which I worked so hard to obtain from my waist. Take Alexander Remington out of Rising Monarchy, and Axle would only have to do battle with Parker Wayde in order to change the guard, so to speak. But I knew that as long as the IWF title was mine to claim, the Empire would never truly have the power it needed to enact real change in the Insurgency. The darkness may still cloud the Insurgency, but if anything, I was able to be that beacon of light that would bring hope to the resistance.

But it wouldn't be easy; no, Corey Casey would still abuse his power in order to make my life a living hell, justifying it to himself and to the world as revenge for my supposed treacherous ways. He is bitter that I willingly walked away from the Empire, choosing my own path to immortality rather than the one laid out for me by Corey Casey himself. And he will stop at nothing to see that glorious championship taken away from me and wrapped around the waist of his new flavor of the month in Axle Vengeance.

Axle Vengeance. Amazing how cyclical this profession is.

Were it any other man, I would simply desire to retain this championship for my own glory and for the safekeeping of power in my own hand from the Empire and from Corey Casey. But Axle Vengeance added another element to the equation. I could not possibly allow him to ever get one over on me. I couldn't imagine an Insurgency in which Axle Vengeance was its figurehead. Its cornerstone. Its face. I respected the wrestler, but the man not as much. Axle Vengeance lacked the spine in order to be the face of a company. He lacked the resolve to carry the weight of an entire organization upon his back. And it was only a matter of time, I felt, before he caved in once more to his addictions and walked away yet again. Axle Vengeance wasn't reliable; he was the exact opposite of that in fact.

A company with Axle Vengeance as its champion was doomed from the very beginning. He spoke a big game, but because of his selfishness and because of his lifestyle, he would never be fitting of the prestige that such a championship required. I could never allow Axle Vengeance to be the Insurgency's champion simply for the fact that I cared about the good of the Insurgency and I knew what would happen if he were to rise to the throne. And that's another reason why, at Rising Monarchy, I had to remain Insurgency's king.

So I've weathered the blows and I've overcome the trials and the tribulations pressed upon me by the Empire, because I know that in the end, it will all be worth the struggle. I overcame the hellacious structure of the Double Cage Horror match, leaving a path of destruction in its wake as I reminded Jack Savage of his rightful place on the IWF hierarchy. I reminded him that he was nothing more than a curtain-jerker - a guy who speaks as though he is in the company with the greats of the sport, but what he fails to grasp is the reality that while he is in our company, it is as our jester and not as a fellow king.

Perhaps, though, my concern should not be with the Empire at all. Perhaps the sharpest knife will be delivered at the hands of a man who I have considered my greatest friend. With each passing week, it seems as though Griffin Hawkins draws nearer to cashing in the briefcase he acquired months ago, and knowing the man as I do, he is looking for the best opportunity to do so against me. I have watched as he would continuously run into the ring in the name of having my back against the assault of the Empire, but how coincidental it was that his briefcase was always in hand. And he tells me that it is all just happenstance, but I can't help but wonder if he is just withholding cashing in once he sees that I am in good enough health to recover, choosing to wait for the one moment in which I can hardly stand. And when the Double Cage Horror had reached its conclusion, it was he that tried to pin me, but I was able to escape with my championship in hand. I feel betrayed, and though he may give all the excuses in the world about why it all was happening this way, I felt as though my ability to trust was weakening.

So while my battle may be with Parker Wayde and with Axle Vengeance at Rising Monarchy, perhaps it is Griffin Hawkins that I should fear the most.

_______________________________________

January 23, 2013
Boston, Massachusetts
On Camera

TD Garden - home of the Boston Celtics and stage for Rising Monarchy. I was none too excited to hear the news about IWF's return to Boston, knowing that the fans there were never too receptive to me any time I graced their presence. A lifelong avid Lakers fan and native of Los Angeles, no matter whether I fought for or against the will of the people, their hatred for me never quenched; on the contrary, it continued to intensify. Oftentimes I could not even walk the streets of Boston without a security team following me everywhere I would go - I often feel in other cities that I could handle a stray crazed fan who was starving for attention that would run up to me in the night, but Boston, it was another city altogether.

Rabid, passionate people.

Consequently, it was in Boston where I won my first world championship many years ago, but at the time, I was very much against the people, so their boos did not waver me in the least. Nor would they this time, however, it would be a strange feeling indeed after getting quite used to the positive attention and the overwhelming support from the people that I now gave me all for in the middle of the ring week in and week out. Truthfully, I didn't know what to expect on Sunday night, but I knew without a doubt that I would not be given a warm welcoming.

Add to that the fact that Corey Casey was a native Bostonian and revered by the masses and I could see a hell storm, so to speak, approaching. On this night, it wouldn't be those of us who were fighting for the good of the people that would be admired and revered. No, I could foresee a scenario where the Empire were the ones getting high praise, all because of Corey Casey's connection with this city. And thus, I knew that I was all on my own for Rising Monarchy. I wouldn't be able to feed off the energy of the people. I wouldn't have them in my corner. It would be an ideal versus an Empire, and in this case, I could not let the Empire walk away from Rising Monarchy with the highest prize in the land.

I walked through the empty corridors of the TD Garden backstage area late in the evening. Save for a few stagehands finishing up with the preparations for the arena, there was nearly a sound heard throughout. Most of the talent and crew had gone to their respective hotels, or for the more daring of souls, they would go out and enjoy whatever resemblance of a nightlife that they could find. They would join the locals in singing 'Sweet Caroline' in the streets; they would talk about how 'wicked' fah Big Papi hit it years ago above the Green Monster. They would even conveniently dismiss the notion that Paul Pierce faked an injury versus my Lakers in order to motivate his team that was diminishing in intensity throughout the series. No, that never happened. Those Los Angeles boys are just jealous, they would say in their retarded sounding accent.

Hey, I can hate on Boston fans since they hate on me. The rest of you, I love.

That being said, though I would never admit it aloud to those who could listen, I quite admired this place - these sacred grounds. Almost admired them as much as the glorious Staples Center in all its magnificence and beauty. It was one of the few places I would actually arrive at early just to take it all in; the history and the legacy of this place always sent shivers down my spine. I turned down another corridor and walked through the curtain; almost all the lights off in the place except for a few spotlights here or there so that the late crew could continue preparations for Rising Monarchy. I slowly walked down the ramp toward the ring and climbed inside, looking around this place as I imagined the roar of the crowd as Corey Casey would lead his representative in Axle Vengeance to the ring, and the chorus of boos that would accompany my arrival and that of Parker's. I pictured the trash and various debris that would be thrown into the ring as I held my championship high in the air after securing another victory against the Empire and Parker Wayde. I could see it all clearly in my mind.

And yet, I was conflicted.

"You know, it's funny how every city in the world would chant my name and revere me as the legend that I have become over the years," I started somberly, looking up at the ceiling as I noticed the championship banners which hung from the rafters; the retired jerseys on the other side of former Celtic greats. "But this place is different. Boston is a place that I could never call my home. I would think that people who have witnessed firsthand and even have rubbed shoulders with some of the all-time greats in sports history would recognize and revere a legend such as myself, but I suppose that you'd rather look at Corey Casey, and just because his mother happened to spread her legs and pop her baby boy out in this location, you admire him as your wrestling-inspired god. Oh no, excuse me while I decide not to pander to any of you. Whether I am for or against the people, I will never fight for a parasitic bunch of leeches like you."

So sometimes in the course of human history, one must make difficult decisions. This one wasn't so difficult. I would never get the approval of Boston, no matter what lengths I would go to appease them, so at some point in the past, I simply stopped trying. We were just too different to ever be one with each other. I smiled as I leaned against the ropes before me, staring at one of the cameras recording every word I had to say.

"What? You don't like that I pander to you like every other good guy in this company? You don't like that I don't bow to your whims like everyone else? I don't give a fuck. Boston, I've come to this city for one reason and one reason alone, and that's to defend this championship from getting into the hands of Axle Vengeance - a man by the way that you'll cheer for simply because Corey Casey has given his seal of approval, but a man that is just as much a Los Angeles native as I am - or Parker Wayde. I didn't come for you to buy my T-shirts, and frankly, I don't care if you chant my name or curse it because right now, my focus isn't on pleasing a group of men and women who have gone out of their way to treat me with disrespect from day one. You don't want to give me the respect I deserve - the respect that I've earned - then I won't give you the same. Oh, I'll fight for all those people back home and everyone else around the world. But for me to come out here and represent a fan-base who actually pretends that Tom Brady is the best quarterback ever; that Paul Pierce is worth two shits anymore; that have the audacity to believe that Corey Casey is to be respected and admired - I'll pass, thank you very much."

I scowled as I made my point, standing upright as I straightened my suit, placing my IWF championship firmly against my shoulder as I stared directly at the camera; never losing my focus for a single second. I hated these people, and I knew in turn that they hated me. And I was perfectly alright with that.

"Yet, I bet you people would rise to your feet and chant Stygian's name if his music hit and he happened to return from his supposed retirement to grace your presence. I bet you'd eat it right up. Stygian, the man who is sitting back at home in Colorado, pretending his life is over now that his girls were decimated by one fat bastard instead of being the man that Lilith and Lilah would always ask and expect him to be. They'd want him to fight to earn their honor back, and they'd want him to get his revenge so that the lasting memory of Stygian would not be that of a man without a spine like it is now, but rather that of a man who wouldn't let a guy like Death Angel to waltz into the Insurgency and remove by force his wife and...whatever the fuck Lilah is. Stygian, wherever you are, I hope you're listening. I may respect who you were, but what you've become, it disgusts me. At any moment, you could walk through that curtain, and I'd give you a shot at my championship. And at least then, when you lost, you wouldn't go down as a coward, but simply as a man that couldn't beat the best this industry has ever had to offer. At least then you could hold your head high, fly back to Colorado, and play yet again whatever version of family man you're doing now with your cripple wife that you use so conveniently as an excuse now. At least you could look yourself in the mirror then." I shook my head with regret and almost a sense of disgust, rolling my eyes as I continued, referring back to the Boston fans. "You'd cheer that coward; you'd cheer that hypocrite, and yet when the World Champion walks through that curtain," I said as I pointed toward the top of the stage, "you'll curse my name simply because Corey Casey tells you to. You're sheep. You're pawns. You're puppets. And you know what, Corey Casey doesn't give a damn about any of you any more than I do, but you'll follow his sermon as though it were gospel, because you truly believe "In Corey We Trust."

I slowly backed away from the ropes, looking around the arena yet again as I let out a sigh, realizing the burden which I had overtaken was becoming quite strenuous. Was I up to the task of continuously overcoming these obstacles which were set before me? Was I really the champion that I built myself up to be? With every passing week with me as the Insurgency's champion, the road was becoming more and more perilous. I was facing impossible odds, so it would be well within reason for me to throw my hands in the air and give up; to walk away knowing that I accomplished so much in my career. But that wasn't what I was about. I wasn't about backing down and running from a fight. And if these people wouldn't respect me for everything that I sacrificed and gave to this industry year in and year out, then why would I ever pay them similar respects?

"But this Sunday night, it isn't about how many times you chant or curse my name. It isn't even about Corey Casey returning to his hometown. It's about me defending this championship against Parker Wayde and Axle Vengeance. It's about keeping this championship from the less-deserving. It's about beating Axle Vengeance within an inch of his life once more in my career, and it's about making Parker Wayde a mockery like I did at New Year's Evil. Parker, the truth of the matter is, this match shouldn't even involve you at all. Oh sure, by a technicality, you do reserve the right to a rematch for this title, but you are the only one in the world who actually believes that you are deserving of such an opportunity. After what happened in December, do you really expect any of us to believe that Sunday night will be any different? At New Year's Evil, I not only beat you, but I decimated you. I played with you like you were scraps of fucking meat thrown into the lion's den. I had Corey Casey and Axle Vengeance on one side of the ring as your insurance policy, and even they wouldn't lift a finger to help you because they knew that even if they were to get involved, they couldn't help the disappointment that you have been."

I never believed Parker Wayde to deserve this opportunity, and it only ruined the idea of Axle Vengeance and I having our rematch from several years ago. He was an unnecessary third wheel, and it would only be a tiresome burden to carry.

"It was no surprise to me that just a few days ago, you interrupted my conversation on social media with Stygian to say that he should watch as we 'fight it out after we kick the Empire's ass.' After being the key word in this whole story. Parker," I shook my head to the contrary, "I'm not interested in fighting the Empire with you. I'm not interested in us taking out Axle Vengeance so that we can have our proper rematch. I'm not interested in us doing anything together on Sunday night. You, you're just as much the problem as Axle Vengeance or Corey Casey. I understand - I really do - why you would want to try to let bygones temporarily be bygones so that we could beat the numbers game before squaring off yet again, and I understand why you would want me to conveniently forget that over the last month and a half, you have tried to not only end my career once, but twice now. You want me to put aside the fact that you whipped my back like I were nothing but a cheap mule, and to forget that my back looked like a freshly plowed field afterwards. You want me to just lose the memory of not being able to put on a fucking shirt for weeks because of the pain the material coming in contact with my deep welts would cause. And then a couple of weeks ago, you tried to do it again. Maybe it is a flaw of mine, Parker, but Alexander Remington is a vengeful man. If Death Angel had done to a loved one what he did to Stygian's girls, I sure as fuck wouldn't be sitting at home eating Cheetos and watching stupid nerdy Dr. Who reruns; I'd be fighting back. I'd take my barbed wire bat, and I'd beat that fat fuck within an inch of his life until he were begging for my mercy, and then I wouldn't give it to him."

"You are the Empire to me, Parker Wayde. Because in the moment that you could have told Corey Casey no, you nodded your head in the affirmative and you carried out his assault on me. And don't give me the whole, "Well Corey Casey was my boss and I couldn't say no," shtick anymore, because you know what Parker, I did exactly that. I told him no when he asked me to stab Griffin Hawkins in the back, and yes, I fought you off and I turned my back on the Empire, but it was only when Corey Casey asked me to go against my morals. I know I don't have many, but I know of a surety that blood is supposed to be thicker than water, and Griffin Hawkins is like a brother to me. Even if he's waving his briefcase in the air every time he's coming around me; even if he's always seemingly around after I've endured a tough battle. Even if he could cash in on me and..."

I quickly stopped myself, shaking my head as I dismissed the notion from my mind. Griffin Hawkins wouldn't really cash in his briefcase on me, would he? He had given me his word, and in the past, his word had been sacred, but could it be that after all this time, he saw his opportunity and he was just waiting for the right moment to cash it in on me? No, he wouldn't do that...would he?

"That's beside the point. I gave one stipulation to Corey Casey when he wooed me away from the failing UECW and into the Insurgency and ultimately into the Empire. Griffin Hawkins was off-limits. And you and the rest of the dogs that followed behind Corey couldn't even keep that one simple request. Not only that, but you all expected me to join in on it. That just because Corey Casey decided in his ultimate wisdom," I said with an obvious sarcastic tone to my voice, "that if he paired me with Griffin Hawkins against you two that I would suddenly change my mind all along about my lifelong pal and assault him along with you two."

"Choices, Parker. Choices are what will ultimately lead to your demise here in the Insurgency. Choices will lead you back to curtain-jerking and wrestling in all your other promotions on the side for that one last glimpse at glory. You could have made the choice to follow my example and turn your back on the ideals of the Empire, but because you had them in your back pocket, your greed consumed you and you were ultimately unable to make the right career path. Two roads diverged in a wood and such..."

"I ultimately chose the one less travelled by - I chose a path of which I knew there was no coming back from. I knew the moment I decided to walk away from Corey Casey and the Empire, I would have all the forces of the IWF world gunning directly against me, and there was no one around that could or would help me in my cause. Chuck Matthews? He's off living his life probably on some foreign island, sipping on margaritas as he enjoys the retired life, living on IWF's dime without contributing a fucking thing to its cause. I had nobody, and I knew that before I made that decision. But it was the right thing to do, and for once in my God-damn life, I decided that it was time that I made some right choices for once. And you know what Parker. Despite everything that's come against me from the Empire - despite each and every week having those wolves surrounding the ring every time I am set to compete; despite the assaults; despite being booked in a Double Cage Horror match one week before Rising Monarchy..."

"I regret nothing."

Once again, I returned to the ropes I was originally perched against, leaning on them once more as I pointed at the camera, speaking directly to Parker still as I continued my points.

"You had that opportunity the night that Corey Casey asked you to take me out of commission, and in his mind, to take away my career; my livelihood. You can't tell me that people can't say no to the influence of Corey Casey because I'm living fucking proof that you can. You know the problem I have with you, Parker? It's that you had to be forced to make the decision to leave the Empire; that your mind was so clouded with the greatness that the Empire temporarily afforded you that you were unwilling and unable to make the tough sacrifices required in order to become a great champion. Beating Stygian? That didn't make you a great champion - despite all the justifications that you can throw toward that fateful night, you did not beat Stygian. The Empire did. A great champion doesn't need to have the owner in his back pocket. A great champion would turn his back on ideals and principles that would go against his beliefs, and he would fight against those who opposed those ideals. But you, you were a coward. You knew that you could never become a champion in this company without the assistance of the head honcho, and so you continued to get on your hands and your knees and you continued to suck off Corey Casey much like Jack Savage and the rest of his circle-jerk buddies in the Empire are doing now."

"The cycle will continue. The Empire will continue to grow, and the Empire will continue to have a bunch of yes-men that will follow Corey Casey to the ends of the earth, or until the point in which he no longer has use for any of them anymore. We, we were just a spoke in a wheel that will continue to turn. The Empire's not going away; the Empire's not going to be disbanded. There will always be those who want another leg up in this business. You think Eric Steel joined the Empire because he likes Corey Casey? Fuck that, he joined because he had just suffered a humiliating defeat to Ashe Corvin when it mattered most, and he felt the momentum he once had slipping from his fingertips. There will always be those who follow that career path, because frankly, it's easier to join your boss at the hip and have a career guided by the man who has the power to promote someone to superstardom at the snap of his fingertips. But I am a champion, Parker Wayde. I'm not a champion because of this belt..."

In simply a show of symbolism and not in a sign of disrespect for what the championship meant, I tossed the title over my shoulder as it landed outside of the ring, slapping against the mats outside of it as I straightened my suit jacket once more. I peered back at the camera with an indignant look on my face, continuing to make my point not just to Parker Wayde, but to the masses who inevitably would be watching me, even at this late hour.

"I'm a champion not because of that belt, but because of the legacy that I have created over the years; the fact that I don't need the assistance of everyone else in order to make myself great. Were I to become champion while still in the Empire, I would have inevitably created a great story for myself that many would be telling over the years, but a great champion, I would never have become. It would always be - "Look at what Alexander Remington accomplished while Corey Casey stood by his side." My legacy would be one in one with Corey Casey, and I refused to let that happen to me. I didn't need his guiding hand to become champion; I punched that son of a bitch in the face and I won this title without his help and in direct defiance to everything he would throw against me. I don't hate you, Parker, because you believe yourself to be the best or that you talk in your stupid third-person all the time as though you actually are important enough to do so. Hell, I can even get over the idea that you tried to end my career on multiple occasions because you were scared to actually fight me like a man, knowing that all your talent in the world on your best night wouldn't even be good enough to beat me on my worst." I shook my head to the negative, for these were not the reasons why I hated one of the two men who would be challenging me for my title at Rising Monarchy. "No, Parker, I hate you because you tried to pretend as though your pitiful excuse of a championship victory meant anything just because the name of Stygian was associated with it. I hate you because of all the lies and the justifications that you spew to try to convince everyone that it was legitimate. I hate you because in having the audacity to call yourself a champion, you spit in the faces of those of us who are actually worthy of being called as such."

"Parker, on Sunday night, I'm not interested in fighting off the Empire by your side, because to me, you are everything that the Empire embodies. To me, you haven't changed. Just because you have a few people chanting your name now doesn't make you a good man. You proved that just a couple of weeks ago upon your return. I don't like you; I don't respect you, and I know you don't give a flying fuck about those two things, but the truth of the matter is Parker, you'll never be a champion to me nor to the men and women that you are now suddenly catering to. They all see right through your lies and your hypocrisy, Parker. They all see that you are just trying to get a few people to like you after being embarrassingly kicked out of the Empire. You're not fooling anyone Parker, for in the day that Corey Casey changes his mind and asks you back into the Empire, you would come running like the lap dog that you are, wanting nothing more than to eat the crumbs from the master's table. You're pathetic Parker, and at Rising Monarchy, I'm going to once again reveal that very fact to the entire world."

"And when that time is over with, and I'm holding my championship against my shoulder yet again, you can tell your grandkids that you once wrestled the greatest fucking wrestler of all time, but your days of rubbing shoulders with those of us in this esteemed category of wrestling icons will come to a crashing halt after I beat you yet again and remove all legitimacy from the Parker brand. And when that happens, don't cry to me with excuses; don't complain to the rest of the world about how Alexander Remington crushed your dreams yet again of being an actual legitimate champion."

"The truth of the matter is, you were never one all along."

With disgust I shook my head, taking a brief respite from my talk as I walked outside of the ring and grabbed my championship belt, slipping into the ring again and draping it over my shoulder, taking a moment to gaze upon it and admire its beauty. It was precious to me; something I had worked so hard to obtain - a life's journey culminated in one single night. And yet, I knew that I had so much more to accomplish with my time here in the Insurgency. Though I would never say it out loud, I had already determined that this place would be the last ever company to see Alexander Remington wrestle within its ring, but that wasn't to say that my time in this company was anywhere close to drawing to an end. I had gazed upon the horizon of companies near and far, and none of them intrigued me quite like this place. And even with the snake that was in charge of this place, it still was better than any other company I had ever been in; furthermore, it was better than any that I could potentially go to. I had already told my agent to return no calls and to simply inform those who did inquire of my services that I would no longer be interested in considering any offers from their various promotions.

The Insurgency was my home, and I'd never depart from it until the day my career would come to a close.

I closed my eyes, breathing in a deep breath as I turned my attention to one of my more heated rivals in Axle Vengeance. He and I had quite the long history, and yet, I regretted that this match of such epic proportions would be interrupted by someone like Parker Wayde. Nevertheless, I treasured the opportunity to defeat Axle Vengeance once more, as I would express in my following statements.

"Axle Vengeance, it's been a long time..."

To be continued...

_________________________________

January 26, 2013
Boston, Massachusetts
Off Camera

A day after my initial tirade, I had settled in a small out of the way hotel room, unannounced or unnoticed by the public as I arrived through the cloak of darkness; an IWF security team escorting me to the premisis so that I could avoid the rabid Bostonian fanbase and not be bothered by the masses. Ordinarily, I would not mind if a few fans knew where I was staying, for most of them were respectful and polite toward me - only on a few instances have I had strangers knocking on my door at all hours of the night just to get a glimpse at me as I opened the door with a weary exasperated look on my face, hoping to either get a quick embarassment photograph to show their friends or to get an autograph. But these people would not be so kind, and thus I was forced to stay a touch out of the way and not draw any attention to myself in hopes of getting some much needed peace and quiet for the week while I would prepare.

It was about two in the morning when I arrived at the hotel, dropping my bags on the floor as I hadn't any desire to even change into my night clothes, stripping away the suit which I had been wearing, resigning to simply a t-shirt and a pair of gray boxer shorts as I collapsed on the bed, flipping off the light as the only thing that gave the room any light was that of the moon shining in through my fourth-floor bedroom. Even though this place wasn't to my usual standard, it wasn't exactly a Motel Six either - it was still nice enough to wow the common folk, but to me it felt like a dump. I just wanted to get some rest, defend my championship on Sunday night, and then leave as quickly as I arrived initially. There would be no tourism or sight-seeing for me on this leg of the Insurgency's tour.

I had just closed my eyes and had begun to fall asleep, however, when I heard a familiar ring coming from my pant pocket, rolling my eyes and letting out a sigh as I glanced to the floor where I could see the glow of the face of my phone. Groaning, I sat up on the rather uncomfortable bed, leaning over as I dug through my pockets, grabbing my phone as I looked at who was calling - an unknown number. Shrugging my shoulders, I answered the phone, holding it to my ear.

"This better be good..."

I listened to the frantic voice on the other end of the line, not recognizing the voice at first as he spoke to me. Everything was in a rush; his words jumbling close together, but I was able to piece them together carefully as I finally recognized who it was on the other end. I scowled as I almost considered hanging up the phone, not even wanting to speak to this man, but figuring it to be fairly rude, I accommodated him for the moment.

"You know, you're lucky that I don't hang up this phone right now. You're calling me at all hours of the night, sounding like you've just seen a ghost with the speed and tone of your voice, and you want me to actually listen to what you have to say now? Well this is a change. I didn't think you cared what anyone thought of your idiotic ideas, and now you want me to just sit here, nod my head, and pretend as though I give a damn what you're saying? Why don't you give me one damn reason why..."

He quickly interrupted me, giving me the very answer to the question I was beginning to ask of him. My eyebrows raised as he peaked my interest, suddenly not feeling so weary from my travels and from such a long evening, listening attentively now as he explained his purpose for the call. And even though the hour was inconvenient, I was beginning to understand why it was so urgent that he got in touch with me.

"So you say this is taking place on Sunday night? It's unavoidable, eh? What proof do you have of this accusation?"

Again he answered my questions with clear and concise answers, nodding my head slowly as I took in everything he had to say; every explanation he had to give. I didn't want to trust these words, but something about his tone led me to believe that this threat could quite possibly be credible, and given certain circumstances which had arisen in my professional life, it was suddenly all piecing together.

"And let's say I were to believe you - and I'm not giving you that concession just yet - exactly what do you have in mind to combat this from taking place? For once, you now have my attention, so this better be good, or yet again, I'm just going to end this call and act like none of this ever happened."

He detailed for me a fairly elaborate plan, telling me how certain things had been developing for quite some time - it amazed me just how much the various random circumstances were more than mere coincidence. And it all began to make sense. Every action; every reaction. Why couldn't I put this together myself? And then, the endgame he detailed to me even more consisely than the beginning.

"You're asking me to do something very difficult and something that I don't fully agree with. You're asking me to go against my word, and you're asking something of me that I'm not quite sure I can give to you. Though..."

I sighed, bowing my head as I closed my eyes for a moment, thinking of all the arrangements that had been made on my behalf by this certain individual, opening my eyes once more as I continued to speak to the one on the other line.

"We may have always had our disagreements in the past, and at times, I haven't liked you in the least, but I've always considered you to be a man of your word as well. It is for that reason alone that I almost trust you that what you say is going to take place on Sunday night is in fact a foregone conclusion, and I won't allow that to happen, no matter how dire the circumstances surrounding your plan. You're asking me to make a very difficult choice, and I'm not sure that I'm going to be able to live with myself after it is done, but I don't see any other option but yours..."

I sighed as I slowly leaned over, carefully unzipping my gym bag, my eyes gazing down upon the beautiful gold masterpiece that was the Insurgency championship. I loved it more than anything else in my life at the moment, and if I were to ever lose it, it would tear me apart. It had been so long since I had received an opportunity for a world title reign, and now that I had it in my possession, I never wished to let go of it.

"And you know the repercussions of our actions, right? I mean, it's not exactly going to be a popular action for us to take. There are those that I do care for that will turn their back on me and feel that I betrayed them, and no matter what I say or do, they will never believe me. They'll never be able to look me in the eye again. I'm sorry...I'm just not sure I can do this..."

I was trying to talk myself out of doing what was proposed to me, for I truly did care about those who would be affected by my actions. But in the back of my mind, I knew his words to be true. He continued to explain why it was important for us to go this route, but his words might as well have been a teacher from Charlie Brown, for I knew that all the explanations in the world would never make me truly think this decision to be right. Nevertheless...

"I'll do it," I said coldly, looking up at the mirror in front of me, not believing what I had just said, trying to find that good piece of me that would stop me from making such a rash decision. "But I'm not sure if it's the right thing to do. I'll see you on Sunday."

I ended the call, placing my phone upon the nightstand beside the bed as I glanced once more at the championship that was resting comfortably in my bag. With one last look at myself in the mirror, I laid my head down on the pillow, but throughout the night, I couldn't catch an ounce of sleep, conflicted with the decision which I had just made.

____________________________

January 23, 2013
Boston, Massachusetts
On Camera

"Axle Vengeance, it's been a long time..."

I breathed a deep breath as I uttered his name, for this was the rival that peaked my interest in this particular match. Ever since that night in which I retired Axle, I had always felt empty for whatever reason, as though perhaps that victory was tainted or that others had placed an asterisk on it for all of their conceived reasoning. Surely a man without a huge victory to his name couldn't storm onto UECW's Havok and beat the man that not only called himself the motherfucking greatest, but who, in reality, at the time, was everything that his moniker described, and possibly even more.

"And you know, ever since I beat you on that fateful night in UECW and ended your career in that company, I've heard all the excuses out there both from your camp and from all those fans of HFF over the years about why my victory against you is meaningless." I shook my head with disgust, feeling highly disrespected by those who would downplay such an achievement on my résumé. "Ace Static himself amazingly came back from the supposed afterlife and shouted from the rooftops that you weren't on your game that night; that I basically beat a cripple and a drug-induced shell of the man that you once were, and therefore, I could never be held in high esteem for what I accomplished on that night. And maybe he's right. Maybe you weren't the Axle Vengeance of old on that night. Maybe when I stepped onto that stage and challenged you to that three tiered cage match, and I goaded you into putting your career on the line, you were already halfway out the door anyway. But this disrespect you've shown me over the years is sickening, and before your time is through here, Alex Dillinger, I promise you that you are going to respect me. You are going to admire my work. You are going to tell each and every person watching around the world that Alexander Remington, in fact, is the best damn wrestler you've ever witnessed."

I cracked my first smile of the evening as I glanced at the championship in all its beauty, patting it with my fingertips multiple times as I turned my attention back to the camera before me.

"I gave you the chance back in UECW, after I beat you that night, to even salvage your career. We would recreate Hollywood's Fucking Finest, and we would be better than any version that Ace Static or Damien Drake would spew out, as though they ever were relevant to the name. And you shook my hand, and you agreed to my proposal, only to spit in my face and walk out of the company the very next week. Disrespect - it's all you've shown me from the very beginning. And what I find hilarious is that people revere you as a god; they look on you as the greatest thing since sliced bread without even caring how you shit on this industry time and time again with your ridiculous lifestyle and your poor choices. At least Parker Wayde made his foolish choices for the purpose of furthering his career, but you - no, you Axle, you went much further than any of that. You didn't do it to further your legacy in the wrestling industry - you did it so that you could purely get a temporary high and live the life of a Hollywood star. You let the fame and the fortune get to your head, and in the process, you spit in the faces of all of us who bust our asses week in and week out to make something of ourselves in the middle of this squared circle."

I loathed this man and everything he stood for. To me, it didn't even matter that he was now waving the banner of the Empire - if he were simply on his own, the message would sound exactly the same. Axle Vengeance wasn't a man I respected. Axle Vengeance wasn't even a man I pitied. Axle Vengeance was a man I despised - for everything he was, and now for everything that he has become.

"Truth is, I don't hate you because of your name. I don't hate you for your brand. I don't hate you because you continue to believe that Ace Static is more than simply leeching off of your success; a man who only made it big because he would spew a couple of controversial slurs and a few hipster kids would act like he was the shit because he could suddenly call Vincent Palmer a more offensive term for negro or that he would call someone he didn't like a variation of a British cigarette. He certainly didn't make it because of his talent in the ring - you were always the one that carried Hollywood's Fucking Finest on your back, and for that I commend you, for I would never wish to carry that kind of a worthless burden on my back. And here you are, doing it yet again, and for that, I guess, I commend you," I said, sarcastically clapping my hands together. "But for all of that, I don't hate you. I hate you because of the potential that you wasted. I hate you because while you were out living the high life, guys like me were building this business on our hard work and on our blood, sweat, and tears. I hate you because every time you would return to a company like UECW, we all hoped and prayed that this time would be different, but in the back of our minds, it would only be a matter of weeks before we received notice that you were going back on company-sponsored rehab, or that you were cut because you were locked in prison for yet another heinous crime. And you and your posse, you thought it cool - the higher you got and the more drunk you became; the more prison sentences that you acquired, you acted as though it made you more hard and more badass than you ever were. But me, I never bought into your bullshit. I never gave in to the lies. I knew that you would always fail to live up to the hype, and when push came to shove, the 'motherfucking' greatest that you proclaimed yourself to be time and time again was only compensation to make up for your obvious shortcomings."

"And I expect nothing different this time around."

I scoffed at the notion of Axle Vengeance ever actually resurrecting his career, for he was a failure in this business. I didn't give a damn about his past success - the last few years of his career proved everything I had ever stated about this train wreck of an individual.

"And you wonder why your former girlfriend went off and fucked other men behind your back," I said coldly without changing the tone in my voice all too much, scowling at the camera as I began to make things even more personal. "She couldn't stand to look at you at night. Oh sure, she'd go through the motions, faking orgasm after orgasm as she pretended to give a damn about you; as she would try to build you up and pretend as though you were quite the family man, but she always knew that when you didn't come home at night, she would almost be expecting a phone call from you, pleading with her to bail you out of jail time after time. I don't pity you in the least for what your girl did to you Axle - I applaud her for her actions. She did the right thing. She left you. She realized that a tiger never changes his stripes and that you would always remain the failure of a human being that you've always proven yourself to be."

"I just can't wait to find out just who was fucking her raw behind your back. Whose name she was moaning in place of yours. Who fathered that kid that you thought for so long was your own. I hope for your sake it is someone that isn't close to you. I hope for your sanity that it wasn't one of your best friends. I imagine that would cause you to yet again spiral downward into a world of depression and despair, and it'll only be a matter of time before we receive another corporate email, this time from Corey Casey himself, telling us that you've failed everyone yet again. Only this time, there won't be a way back. There won't be a Chelle Fury in your corner, welcoming you back with open arms and open legs. There won't be a Mike Nelson that will sell out to you just for a few more ticket and merchandise sales. This time, no company in the world will dare to touch the pariah that is Axle Vengeance. It'll be over for you just like that," I said with a snap of my fingers, cracking a smile as I chuckled a bit at the possibility.

"On Sunday night, I'm going to beat you within a fucking inch of your life yet again, and this time, I'm going to get you to admit that I'm the best in this business. I'm going to shove a microphone in your fucking face, and I won't let you leave Boston until you admit to those people in the TD Garden arena and to those watching around the world that you were bested by a better man. I won't pretend to not have my vices Axle; I enjoy a good drink from time to time, but I would never let it interfere with business. I am bigger than this company itself, but I would never shit on those beneath me simply for a temporary high or a couple extra dollars in my pocket. You see, Axle, unlike you, I respect and love this industry that built Alexander Remington. I'd die in the middle of this ring for the good of this industry. It is my life; it is my passion; it is my endless desire. This championship is merely a culmination of everything I've done in my career, and I won't let it slip from my fingers."

"I promised a couple of weeks ago that I would be Insurgency's champion for the duration of 2013, and I meant that not as a bold prediction or a boastful remark, but I meant every word of what I said. I will not lose this championship for one year's time. I don't care who steps into the ring with me; I will beat them, I will crush their hopes and their dreams, and I will make everyone realize just how good I am in this ring. I welcome the challenges - I welcome the return of Ethan Cage; I welcome Steel Angel to finally get his shot at this title, but all of them will fall by the wayside. Ryan Apollos, I will correct the mistake I made long ago by allowing you to actually beat me in an IWF ring - I will take your disrespect toward the wrestling industry by barely ever giving it a mention, and I will beat the fuck out of you simply for that. Do you people get the point yet? Alexander Remington is professional wrestling. Alexander Remington is the greatest champion the Insurgency has ever had to offer. Bring on Chuck Matthews and his silly retirement tour that I've heard rumors of. Bring on Brandon McDonald and his 'impressive' three championship defenses, and I'll kick his teeth in too. Bring back Stygian, and I will prove that I'm better than him too. Call those abroad in other companies, and I'll beat their best too. I'm scared of no one; I'm intimidated by no man or woman alive, and no force that comes against me will ever prevail."

"I'm Alexander Remington, and Axle," I cracked a smile, winking at the camera before me, "I am the motherfucking greatest."

With a slide of a hand across my throat, the camera crew got the message to stop recording what I had to say. Yet again I had a look around this great arena, knowing that this is certainly a place where legacies were established, and on Sunday night, I would have a great opportunity to further mine against two former champions, even if Parker Wayde's recent reign was nothing more than a fluke. As the lights began to fade late into the night in the arena, I exited the ring and made my way back up the stage, glancing over my shoulder once more at the ring in which everything would culminate at Rising Monarchy. Yet again I could sense the cheers and the boos; the trash flying into the ring as I held my hand high in victory and was handed the championship after a successful title defense. And through it all, I knew that I would have to go through much adversity in order to see that come to fruition, but there was no doubt in my mind that I would overcome anything that Corey Casey and the Empire would throw my way. After all, I had done so quite well the last couple of months, and the trend would only continue from there.

I slipped through the curtain and began to make my way back toward my locker room, wishing to grab my things before heading back to a secluded hotel room under the cloud of darkness just on the outskirts of Boston. Now even fewer members of the staff could be seen as most of the preparations were in order. Turning down another corridor, however, I could see two men in black ring-crew polo shirts huddled around a small television monitor, looking quite interested in what was being televised. I tried to pay them no attention as I passed them, but suddenly one of them uttered a name which caused me to stop immediately from walking where I was going.

"Can you believe that Jaci Sovereign..."

"What did you just say," I interrogated the heavy-set one of the two. He looked at me as though he had seen a ghost, stammering through his words as he sensed a certain anger coming from me from the tone that I was presenting. He sat upright in his chair, looking as though he were about to piss his pants.

"What the fuck did you just say," I repeated, more irate that the man didn't answer me the first time around.

"J...J...Jaci Sovereign, Mr. Remington. They just reported on...on...on TMZ that she's in negotiations with..."

I lowered my head as I stared at the ground, scowling to myself as it was confirmed that her name was the one I indeed had heard coming from him a moment ago. The ex. The one who wrote the tear-stained letter months ago in order to break up with me. The one that hadn't reached out to me or spoken a word to me since. The one that broke my heart and left it in pieces without even having the decency to say it to me in person. The one I had loved.

"Say it," I replied coldly as the man had stopped mid-sentence, wanting him to continue with what he was saying. "Who is she in negotiations with," I said, as though I didn't know the truth, but in the back of my mind, I knew exactly what words would escape his lips next. He breathed a deep breath, swallowing a mound of his own spittle as he spoke the words I didn't want to hear.

"She's in negotiations with this company, sir. She's in talks with Insurgency Wrestling..."

"Very well," I said with a calm cool voice, trying to collect myself as I closed my eyes, soaking it all in. "Thank you for the information," I said equally as calm, but my breathing began to be faster; my heart beginning to race like it hadn't in quite some time. I opened my eyes, staring at the television set as it replayed the information yet again, growling to myself as I suddenly lunged forward, grabbing the television set and ripping it from its outlet, sending it flying into the air and smashing against the nearby wall.

"Mr. Remington, calm down..." he implored with me, standing to his feet as the skinny fellow ran away down the hallway. The fat fellow tried to turn and walk away himself, but before he could, I grabbed him by the collar, turning him around and grasping him within my arms, quickly falling backwards to the floor as I Cashflowed him like I had done with many of my victims in the ring before. I stood to my feet, growling to myself again as I stared at the obese fuck lying in the middle of the hallway, shaking my head with disgust as I stormed down the hallway and entered my locker room, slamming the door behind me as hard as I could as I kept to myself for the rest of the night.

End.

Guys...I'm about to write the best roleplay of all time. Are you ready? No, I said...ARE YOU READY!. Then, for the few that actually read my roleplays, and for the other few who pretend to, but then ask me questions about my storylines weeks and months later, LEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEET'S GET READY TO...beat Parker.

[20:13:45] Alexander Remington : [20:13:10] Alexander Remington : Cliffnotes: Alexander Remington shut Parker the fuck up.

End roleplay 2.

Present Day
Location: New York City, New York
“Hatching a Plan”

Heading down a long stretch of a hallway passing by jersey after jersey of professional athletes. One after the other the camera follows deeper and deeper. Coming upon a door at the end of the hall the door slowly swings open. As the camera focuses in on a round cherry wood table three men sat there. One man with a mammoth frame puffed on a cigar cracking his knuckles wearing a black wife beater and dark blue jeans his muscles were bulging as his eyes looked focused. The next man with blonde locks had a black slim fit leather jacket covering his tattooed body and a pair of charcoal grey skinny jeans. The blonde haired man ran his hands through his hair sipping on a glass containing a white Russian. The third man sat at the table texting on his iPhone 5 with his tattooed hands moving a million miles an hour. He appeared focused on something filling out his black v-neck and torn dark blue skinny jeans. The group was assembled for a grand scheme. HFF was back to its old ways. A meeting of the minds was taking place at the 40/40 Club in the back room. With connections within the music industry Axle Vengeance had a lot of access and his arms could reach heights unattainable of your average citizen. Yes that was me Axle Vengeance typing away on my cell gathering my thoughts.

“What’s the plan?”

As Damien Drake leaned forward blowing an “O” of smoke from his mouth he let the remaining smoke seep from his nostrils like a raging bull. His muscles were jacked and he looked beyond intimidating. I sat my phone down on the table and let out a short sigh.

“Look I’m not exactly sure how to go about this, the guy is practically untouchable. An entourage consistently surrounds him so it wouldn’t be just a fuckin snatch and grab job like Jacob. We have to be cautious. I’ve been trying to talk to my connections figuring out a way to get inside. See if one of his suits has empty pockets that need to be filled or something. FUCK! I don’t know but I’d love it if one of you two had ideas.”

Chuckling Ace looked over towards me and leaned back in his chair kicking his feet up on the round table. With his hands clasped behind his head chewing on a toothpick Ace had a smug look on his face as usual.

“Don’t get all uppity Lexi. We’ll figure it out and get it done. Shit takes time. We’re in New York now so ya I’d like to get it done now but if it doesn’t happen then it doesn’t happen.”

“If it DOESN’T happen?”

“I know exactly what we can do…”

Breaking the tension in the room Damien spoke up his deep voice booming with added bass. Holding his cigar out in front of his face he rotated it in between his thumb and index finger not taking his eyes off of the burning paper.

“Well speak up Dames I’m all ears.”

“I’ve got a guy, he’s Russian and he’s crazy. I think you’ve met his father before. You know the guy you gave the nose job to.”

“Ivan Romanov? The fuckin little midget Psychiatrist?”

“Yup, his son ironically named Ivan Romanov the third or I think he’s actually just going by Ivan Roman nowadays. Anyways the Commie fuck is a crazy son of a bitch and I can vouch for him. He’s been doing time in a Georgian prison.”

“If he’s doing time how the fuck can he help us? That’s nice that you have friends other than us Dames but that was a waste of time…FAIL.”

“Nice try shit lips. At least I had an idea.”

“Oh man EVERYONE listen up! Damien Drake had a thought…headache yet Dames?”

Rubbing my temples with my hands softly Damien pounded the table before pointing at Ace. Damien took a deep inhale of his cigar proceeding to blow the smoke in Ace’s face.

“Dames what can we do to get him out? If we did get him out how could he help us?”

“The fucks over there are even more corrupt then over here but we all know that. We can easily pay to get his ass out of prison. He can do the job for us. I mean either one of us would be stopped before we got within fifty feet of the guy. Ivan wouldn’t be recognized and he’s crazy enough to pull something like this off.”

“I like where your heads at. So this Ivan character how much are we looking at to get him out?”

“I dunno Ace how much did it cost when your Dad got his mail order wife out of prison?”

“Fuck you.”

“Find out the details and let me know what it’s going to take. I won’t spare any expense.”

“It might just take a plane ride down there…”

“Fuck that, we’ve got too much shit going on here to do that. I’ve got Parker Wayde in a match, you and Ace have got this new dude Desmond Young to worry about.”

“Worry about?”

“Exactly what the fuck do you mean Lexi?”

“Not worry about…wait why the FUCK am I explaining? You know what I mean. Look I want focus and precision. No more of this clown around BULLSHIT. Those days are done. When we got sloppy things fell apart. Not this time. This time around HFF will decimate and NOTHING will come between us.”

“Well said…”

"Oh and Brady Bunch I've got a plan already but enough about that shit I wanna go get some pussy."

Holding up my glass of whiskey we all clanked our glasses together letting out a “here, here” before downing our drinks. Things would be set into motion. I needed to get this Ivan character out of prison and go forward with our plan.

“You know what I find ironic? The colors red, white and blue are supposed to represent freedom until they’re flashing behind you.”

“Hahahaha, dumbass. Are we done talking here?”

“Yeah I’m good.”

“Alright let’s go bury our faces in titties!”

“FUCK YES! FINALLY!”


Present Day
Location: New York City, New York
“VIP at the Club”

Looking around the club HFF was on the prowl. All bullshit and games aside we were looking to party and live the lifestyle. I didn’t do drugs anymore but I did drink my ass off. Things were coming full circle for us. Myself I had become more focused on the prize. The main goal of returning to dominance was on my mind. Ace and Damien were out on the dance floor looking for bitches to bring back to VIP. As I sat back in the black leather booth like the fucking KING that I am the music was pounding and I overheard Damien Drake talking to a sexy little Asian, he must’ve had the Asian fever ever since being over in Japan.

“Wow, I have to admit…you’re the most beautiful, funny, and sweetest girl I’ve ever met.”

“You just wanna fuck me.”

“And you’re smart too!”

With a disgusted look on her face she tried to slap him until Damien put his hand on her face shoving her away from him all the while laughing and gloating. I couldn’t help but laugh to myself as well. Damien was a fucking character and never gave a fuck. Looking further through the crowd I noticed Ace had two girls dancing up on him. He looked like he was getting Backstreet Boy pussy out there. It was amusing. Damien trudged back towards me stepping over the velvet rope like he does to get in the ring.

“What are you doing over here?”

“Well it’s 11:12 I’m about to make a few bitches dreams come true.”

Damien bellowed out a laugh as he stood there surveying the crowd while I continued to text on my phone. I didn’t feel like partying too much really. My mind was elsewhere. I was focused on Parker and focused on trying to find out who fucked me over with Ashley. Those were my priorities. Axle Vengeance wasn’t about getting completely fucked up and obliterated anymore. Someday I’d be able to get there again but mentally I just couldn’t. Truth be told I was talking to a friend of mine in Russia that was giving me feedback on this Ivan Roman character. Ace and Damien wanted to party and I wasn’t about to ruin anything at all. Suddenly this girl comes running up yelling out something in the distance but Dames and I couldn’t quite make out what she was saying until she got closer to us.

“MARSHALL! Hey Marshall!”

I looked at Dames and held back from cracking up. Who the fuck was this dumbass chick running up? She looked good but she was calling him Marshall. He looked pissed.

“Who the fuck…”

“O-M-G Marshy-poo!”

Damien looked back at me and back at her. His eyes locked with the bouncer and the bouncer turned his back to Damien. Within the blink of an eye he cracked back and rocked that bitch with a vicious right hook. She dropped and fell right out of her heels. Her skirt hiked up flashing her panties to the world. I just started busting up, dying of laughter. Fuck why didn’t I have the video camera on my cell rolling…it would’ve been gold.

“Damn bro.”

“Fuck that twat. She called me Marshy-poo. Besides I think that’s the bitch that gave me VD.”

Leave it Dames to make my stomach hurt from busting up the dude was always hilarious. Almost as funny as watching Parker Wayde try and spit game on twitter…get out in the real world pussy.

“Hey Dames I’m gonna head out bro, I’ll catch up with you guys later ya?”

“Alright man I’ll hit you up tomorrow, later.”

“Peace out.”

Heading through the crowd I threw two fingers up at Ace and he nodded giving me a cocky grin looking down at the girls dancing on him and back to me once again. Ace mouthed the words “I’m gonna smash” I shook my head laughing as I exited the club. Outside the club the lights were bright and the line to get in was long.

The walk to the hotel wasn’t too bad at this time of night. Almost perfect time for a stroll enjoying a cigarette. New York reminded me a lot of home except the nightlife pounded hard until the morning. Heading down the street placing foot after foot I could see the hotel off in the distance roughly five or six blocks away.

My head was starting to hurt. There was too much thinking going on. Things just were starting to get crazy. I had become the monster I once was again. As weird as it was I knew my actions weren’t morally right and that I should let everything go…I just didn’t give a fuck anymore. Looking at all the lights walking through crowds of people moving much too slow for my pace everything was getting blurry. Holding my temples the tension was almost unbearable. It felt as though my brain could just burst out of my skull and pour out of my ears.

“FUCK! This is ridiculous. Why is my head hurting so damn bad?”

Asking myself the question aloud I just decided to lean against a closed building for a second. My head was killing me and I could hardly even move my feet. Everything was out of control. I was spiraling down without breaks. Suddenly I felt something smash into the back of my skull. Half cognizant my body was being drug through the alley. Hearing the sounds of a door sliding open they tossed me inside the back of the cargo van before speeding off. Those were the last things I could remember.



Present Day
Location: Undisclosed, New York City, New York
“What Goes Around Comes Around”

The taste of blood filled my mouth as I spit on the floor. A wet obviously sweat filled bandana covered my eyes. The sounds of chains dragging on the floor could be heard. I was in a bad spot here. Whipping through the win the chains lashed across my back as my spine felt it could snap at any moment.

“FUUUUUUCK YOU! Is that all you've got?”

They murmured amongst each other while I hung with my wrists clasped together hung up from the ceiling like a slave. Aggression in their voices was obvious. Another vicious swing of the chain ripped my flesh and caused me to wince in pain. Fuck that I wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction.

“You can’t hurt me…my body won’t BREAKDOWN for you!”

Tapping something against the concrete floor it sounded almost like a wooden bat of sorts. With a swing that would rival the likes of Barry Bonds juiced up times ten the captures swung for the fences cracking me in the ribs. Immediately I spit up blood and the wind escaped my completely.

“AHHH YOU FUCKS! FUCK YOU! I’LL KILL EACH AND EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU PATHETIC FUCKS!”

Anger was racing through my veins I could just envision myself breaking these chains and driving their skulls into the pavement with my fists. They wouldn’t get away with this. Fuck them I’m Axle Vengeance not some pawn in someone’s game. You cannot physically keep me down nor could you ever mentally break me. They had better kill me or else I would return.

“COME ON! Hit me again. HIT ME!”

From the other side came another thundering blow from the Louisville Slugger that was punishing my midsection. Both sides now matching in the throbbing pain I couldn’t help but begin to chuckle and then that chuckle turned into a laugh of hysteria.

“HA-HA... HA-HAHAHA HAHA! AHAHAHAHA! HAHAHAHAHA!”

My laughter echoed and bellowed through the night. Someone’s hand lightly grazed over my shoulder before they leaned closer to my ear whispering to me softly.

“It’ll all be over soon, don’t worry. Next time in the next life you’ll learn not to fuck with someone that possess a much greater power than you could ever imagine. A power that brought you here tonight and a power that has it’s hand around your throat…the next move…the next move is we twist that hand and put an end to your pathetic existence. You should thank us Alex. The nightmares will end now. You can go on with yo…”


What sounded like gunshots screamed loudly and the man’s voice was cutoff immediately. The bullets seemingly whizzed by my head. It was true what they said when surrounded by darkness and plagued by blindness your other senses become heightened. People were running around I could hear footsteps all over the room.


Fuck I didn’t know what was going on. Was I next in line to be executed? My mind was going a million miles an hour. I felt someone breathing close to me their breath was hitting my face and they had been panting. Reaching up and unlatching me my body fell limp.

“Yo man get up we gotta go.”

His voice sounded like it trailed off. Man was I fucked up; the only thing that had kept me going was adrenaline. It was almost as though my body had overdosed on adrenaline. Collapsing after the rush was only natural. Feeling the bandana being removed from my face I squinted and bat my eyes trying to regain my vision. I saw a young black kid tatted up from head to toe trying to help me to my feet.

“Look man we gotta dip like right now right now!”

The urgency in his tone got me to garner up enough strength to rise to my feet. With every aching bone in my body we trudged through the warehouse exiting through the fire escape. With one arm over this kid’s shoulders I was grateful for him.


Present Day
Location: Bronx, New York
“Knee Deep in the Slums”

Riding in the backseat with my legs extended across the entire backseat of this beat up ’92 Buick Century. The shitty suspension caused the car to bounce on the jacked up streets. Every bump sent pain through my whole body. Coughing I was becoming much more alert. Looking around the landscape I was definitely far from home…let alone my hotel room. At least I didn’t have to go out like that. I owed this kid but I still didn’t fuckin trust him. I could feel my mouth still with blood in it as I spit on the carpet-covered floorboard.

“Ey EY! Come on, why you spittin in my car B?”

“Look as good of a place as any.”

“Ungrateful…asshole.”

As he talked under his breath I heard him and he should consider himself lucky that I wasn’t in the condition to grab his skull and smash it on the steering wheel repeatedly until I saw nothing but red. Rolling through the slums of New York all I could see was fuckin nasty looking projects and drug dens. Maybe this kid was taking me to get taken out or I was going to have to open the pocket book up and pay for this “service” I just received. Either was I wasn’t thrilled about this at all. Injured and not fully prepared to defend myself I was vulnerable.

“Where are we going?”

“Some place safe don’t worry bout it.”

“What do you mean don’t worry, where the fuck are we?”

“Welcome to the Bronx B…muthafuckin HOME sweet HOME.”

Never having been to the Bronx before let alone this side of the Bronx I was sure I didn’t want to spend anytime here that was unnecessary. This place looked shady and was a complete dump. Passing through the streets as night had just started to completely blanket New York there were people selling needles and nasty disease-ridden bitches turning tricks.

Pulling into a back lot area another young black kid ran over to the gate unlocking it and prying it open with his glove covered hands. The fence grinded and screeched along the railing from the rust and weathered damage it had endured over the years.

“We here…”


Sitting up the place looked like a drug den but in the form of some sort of compound if you will. Shady characters patrolled the outsides as the young driver nodded to a few of them giving them the what’s up. He parked the Buick behind the building where a few cars were already parked. Things were still sketchy for me. Hobbling out of the car I followed behind the kid refusing his help up the stairs as we passed by their “ghetto” security guards.

“What is this place?”

“Somewhere you’ll be safe. The guinea muthafuckas that were putting a beatin on you won’t find you here.”

“I need to get a hold of a couple of friends of mine.”

“Ace and Damien?”

“Yeah but how’d you…”

“How’d I know?”

“Yeah…”

“Long story short Ace hired me on to help you out. Crazy mofucka said you had a problem wit some congress tight ass suit and tie mofucka. So naturally I was like yee we can handle it, it’s no big deal. When I went lookin for yo ass I found you gettin beat on and shit.”

“Just my luck.”

The kid scoffed as we kept walking up the stairs floor by floor getting closer and closer to the top of this high riser. Something about this didn’t feel right. My guard was definitely up ready for anything to go down. However I didn’t want him to think I didn’t trust him. It was time to play along and get a feel for things.

“So what’s your name kid?”

“Names Cam or you can call me Ca$h makes no difference to me doe man.”

“Thanks for the help back there Ca$h, they were probably getting ready to finish me off before you showed up.”

“Yee Ace hit me up when you three was at the club doin it up. I decided to roll through and introduce myself to you and iron out the details. Guess he knew you’d be needin some help. I showed up a lil late doe I guess seein as how you was already gone.”

“How’d you know how to find me?”

“Soon as I got to the club Ace said you just bounced. When I walked outside I seen you gettin taken. So I decided to trail behind and follow them. Next thing you know I was bustin in and taken those fools out.”

“Simple enough?”

“Ey shit was not simple, my heart was damn near ready to pop out my chest.”

Ca$h laughed as we entered the door on the 8th floor. Walking through the row of shady characters a pair of white colored doors with golden handles looked to be our destination. Two guys with AK-47’s stood guard at the doors, they let us through when they saw Ca$h approach. Walking in behind Ca$h the room looked surprisingly nice. One bulked up black dude was shooting pool and didn’t take his eyes off of me. The second guy was a Latino in his mid to late thirties leaning against a desk with his hands in his pockets. Both of which looked like criminals and both of which looked like they wanted me to bow before them.

“So my boy Ca$h here says he got you out of a fix.”

The Latin man spoke at me. His eyeballs sized me up and realized quickly I was in no condition to try and start some bullshit. He motioned with his hand for me to have a seat so I obliged.

“Yeah he helped me out what the fuck am I still doing here?”

“You seem like you don’t understand the concept of gratitude. So my boy helps you and SAVES your life. Yet you come in here acting disrespectful in MY HOUSE!? Some balls on you Jack!”

“Bottom line I don’t show respect to anyone that doesn’t deserve it. I don’t know who the fuck you are and YOU didn’t save ME. The kid saved me. All I see in front of me right now is some greasy Spic with a big fuckin mouth. I’ve got balls? You’ve got the balls coming at me like with that tone.”

Challenging him with my verbal onslaught the yoked up dude playing pool sat his stick down and stared directly at me holding his fist with his other hand doing his best cliché intimidator pose.

“What you want some too over there? I’ll knock your other fucking tooth out, give you a reason to have two fucking gold front teeth!”

With his hand he waved off the impending assault causing the black dude to drop his hands. It was obvious this Latino underground big wig was running everything. He was the head of this little operation.

“You know something…I like you, you got como se dice?...SPIRIT yeah spirit.”

“Wanna tell me who you are then?”

Chuckling a bit the Latino gave me a bit of the “you don’t really know who the fuck I am” look and body language. Like I should know who this small time fuck really is. I didn’t care but names were always extremely important forms of information. He definitely knew me so I needed to know him.

“Insulting again! Don’t know me, man that’s strike two.”

“Enough with the bullshit, if that was a strike I definitely knocked it out of the park foul. I don’t know you and I’m sure there are tons just like you…you aren’t BIG time and you certainly don’t act it. Look at this fuckin place!”

“Say one more thing…ONE MORE INSULT MARICON AND I’LL PUT A BULLET BETWEEN YOUR PINCHE EYES PUTO!”

“THEN DO IT!”

Standing up from my chair I walked up face to face with this fake ass gangster. Pushing his forehead with mine I begged him to take a swing at me. I was literally daring him to put me out of my misery. As I forced the issue the young buff kid rushed over to get involved only to get stopped by the hand once again. The Latino leader smiled and chewed on a piece of Juicy Fruit or chicklet whatever the fuck the wetbacks sell...chomping away eye to eye with me.

“Calm down D-Day, we can handle this like gentlemen right?”

Nodding to his decision to act like gentlemen I stepped back. Surely I wasn’t too stupid to start trying to fight this guy with all the security he had around him. I wouldn’t make it out alive. The trick was pushing my luck to the point of gaining the upper hand and commanding the respect I deserve. Besides on this night my tolerance was at it's lowest point.

“Yeah we can do this like gentlemen, so who the fuck are you?”

“My name is Vinnie Ramirez you can say I run shit in this here fine city. The muscle bound lookin pitbull that was ready to rip your throat out…his name is Dru D-Day Jones and I’m sure you already know my other associate Cam Ca$h Jackson. So now you know us. Enough of the bullshit let’s get down to business. You see I only see it fit that we be compensated for our troubles. I know you I’ve seen you on TV and I know you’ve got money.”

“Money? You want money? Here…”

Pulling out a few hundred-dollar bills I crumpled them up and tossed them right in his face. A total sign of disrespect, naturally someone as pea brained as this grease ball he'd become enraged and react. Looking into his eyes with a grin on my face and just like that his face started glowing red. He got his money and he was too small time for someone like me...deep down he knew he couldn't touch me.

“Get this punk bitch outta my sight Ca$h.”

“Yo you sure we’re done?”

“Did I fuckin stutter?”

Snapping his fingers with authority he was obviously pissed off at the way I talked down to him and treated him. He didn’t get to try and intimidate me. I didn’t ask for their help. More importantly I didn’t want it. These guys were a joke. I owed something to one kid and one kid only. The fake tough guy act might work on somebody not named Axle Vengeance. I've been through too much and seen too much in my life to let this break me down. Ca$h and I left the building as he escorted me off their compound.


Present Day
Location: New York City, New York
“Friendship Through Loyalty”

We were back at my hotel room where I laid on my bed with a couple packs of ice strapped by bandages on both ribs. My head was pounding but it didn’t outweigh the soreness and pain from the beating I received. Looking to the right Ca$h sat there on the phone chatting it up Ace was coming out of the bathroom washing his hands and Damien was looking out of the window to the left.

“Fuck man how long was out for?”

“Long enough David Cassidy.”

“I owe you one Ace of Bass.”

“Eh don’t mention it. You know we gotta have each other’s back regardless.”

“Regardless?”

“Leave me alone I’m buzzed.”

Dames turned his attention away from the streets and his lip turned up at the sight of Ca$h talking away on the phone.

“Anyone wanna tell this spade to keep quiet I can’t think.”

“You couldn’t even think if you tried, mofuckin retard ova here. Fuck you want short bus? I’m handlin business nah mean?”

“The only thing I KNOW is that I could beat you to death with my fucking pinky!”

“Ya Ya Ya enough talkin Sasquatch...Harry and the Hendersons mofucka ova here.”

The bickering was something I had expected. Needless to say I was ready to snap but needed to keep my cool. It wasn’t that Damien didn’t like black people he hated ignorance and people that maybe weren’t as ignorant as they acted. He never really liked people he didn’t know well either. That was just Damien’s attitude. Harsh and brutally honest with you either you were his close friend or an enemy…the lines were that clear-cut with him. With the threatening tone coming from Ca$h’s mouth Damien huffed and puffed looking unpleased clinching his fists, all I could invision was a blood bath and Ca$h's chances were pretty slim. Time to break it up...

“HEY! Enough fucking bullshit arguing and trying to act like the big dog in the yard. Damien, Ca$h may be some punk kid he’s a lot like we were when we were younger. He saved my life so I owe him. He's getting his opportunity and that's it. Ca$h hang up the fucking phone.”

Doing as he was told Ca$h shut his phone down looking back over towards me with his arms crossed in front of him like a pissed off teenager. Jesus Christ just when I had thought I avoided fatherhood all together.

“Someone came and swooped me up and did a number on me as you are all aware now. I have an idea in my mind as to who did it. They struck before we could; it was my biggest fear coming to New York without a plan. Now Ace obviously Ca$h here can handle business with a gun but can he get the job done? Something like kidnapping Jacob is going to require perfection."

“Ca$h why don’t you tell Peter Brady over here what you’re capable of.”

“Look man I can get it done, even though you think we small time…nah man Vinnie runs guns and drugs for the entire Bronx...I'm talkin the WHOLE mofuckin thing. You know that bank on the news that got hit in Manhattan? That was us. Never got caught, some said it was the cleanest bank job they’d ever seen or heard about. Now you tell me why I can’t do somethin like snatchin up a fat white dude wit a suit and tie?”

Resume added up nicely and it impressed me to say the least. I’ve never been easily impressed but this kid was like a criminal prodigy if one ever did exist. He’d be the one, he’d be the one to get the job done and get me the intelligence I needed. Fuck it we've had worse ideas and worse plans before. Besides what was I going to do just wait around?

“Alright kid I’ll trust you with the job, how much are we talking?”

“Free…”

“Free always comes with a catch...”

“Almost free, I wanna get outta this fuckin drug and gun running bullshit. I’m tired of gettin shot at on the regular over peanuts. Vinnie doesn’t really got my back…maybe if it was wet I’d have the chance wit him you feel me? But my complexion puts me low man on the totem pole no matter how good I am. See the way he treats my nigga D-Day? Like a FUCKING...SLAVE. No joke though.”

“Run with us huh? So you want to run with the big boys do you? What makes you think I’ll just say yes?”

“I saved your life and I know you don’t forget some shit like that. Not a man like you that is.”

“I’ll show you a thing or two we’ll see if you can hang. First things first though I want the answers from Jacob that’ll be your first test so to say. Complete it and we’ll talk more kid. I’m rooting for you, prove your worth.”

“Man I been provin myself since I popped outta my moms nah mean? Everyday is a grind and everyday I hustle till my hands are cracked and my feet are covered in calluses. I want outta the projects not to rule em.”

“I got you kid, go handle it.”

Everything was set in motion and everything would soon be found out. I’d find who was in on the deceptive little plan with Ashley. Things would be figured out and I could move on from my life. The closure was something I yearned for. Soon enough the weight of the world would be off of my shoulders. Someone would suffer the wrath and pain my heart and soul had suffered at the hands of this ungrateful bitch. Ca$h had a mission and would have to prove his worth. In my mind he had already taken a HUGE step in that direction, I would forever be grateful for what he did for me. There’s no denying when someone saves your life you’re connected to him or her for as long as you both shall live…a certain marriage of sorts if you will...no homo.



Present Day
Location: Central Park, New York
"SpiTTin VeNoM"

Sitting on a park bench staring out onto the water I had suffered a defeat by the hands of Parker Wayde. I’ve been a workhorse the last few months, an absolute MONSTER. Never taking a break and night in and night out putting on a show for the world. My body hadn’t been this severely beaten since I had first burst onto the scene. I was getting older and needed to realize that. I needed to realize that my body wasn’t what it once was. Who in their right mind would compete in a WAR where anything goes against Brandon Macdonald and fight the very next night in a match and never once take a moment to rest even so much as having a street fight with a well rested and seemingly rejuvenated Parker Wayde? No one in his or her right mind would fight like I fought. NO ONE. I’ve proven my worth and proven my ability that on any night Axle Vengeance is still the MOTHER FUCKING GREATEST. There was never an argument for that. Everything I had done and the shadow that follows me around covering those that attempt to step in the ring with a persona like myself. A character built from vengeance and hatred, a character that has been the greatest, is still the greatest and will always be the greatest.

“Alexander Remington, the time has come. Everyone has counted the days until we meet. The internet has been buzzing and the world is talking. Vengeance versus Remington II…”

Casually sparking up a cigarette my arms hung over the back of the park bench leaning back in a cool calm demeanor. Like a man forcing a grin masking his pain I looked into the camera.

“I’ve heard it all people talking about how I’ve lost a step and that the ring rust is too much for me to overcome. My focus isn’t there they say. Just a couple of the more popular reasons I’ve heard for you being able to beat me. Truth be told I am unfocused and my body isn’t the same as it once was. Over 200 matches by the age of 30 will do that to you. It’s no excuse. I’m not the type of guy to beg for sympathy and ask for handouts. Not me, not I. No I don’t play the games. Remington is good at playing games his nose has flies buzzing around it from the smell of shit…fuckin brown noser. You see Remington you consistently paint yourself as this sort of underdog and underappreciated wrestler. However from everything I’ve seen everyone literally has your balls touching their tonsils. Don’t act like a victim you pathetic fuck. Stand up for yourself enough of the woe is me. You know why you’ll never be as good as me Remington? You fail to see the bigger picture. Like the young bull running down to fuck a cow while I stroll through and fuck em all. I know my time will come and patience is a true virtue.”

“Remington you can shout at the top of the mountain about being able to refuse Corey Casey all you want but you and I know the truth. You and I know exactly what’s going on here. Acting as some sort of martyr to these simpletons. Fuck you. Each and every passing day I lose more and more respect for you. What should’ve been a matchup of respect and honor has turned to hatred. Since I’ve gotten out of prison I hated you day-by-day and hour-by-hour that continuously ticked away giving me time to evaluate my career. Why I ever agreed to put my career on the line I’ll never know. Maybe it was the mental state I had been in after going on bender after bender. Maybe it was the adrenaline and just trying to live in the moment. I had no business in that match and I probably could’ve made a mortal mistake. The slip of a foot, the chain links sliding from my hands…one false move and it would’ve been not only my career I lost that night but my life. Yet here I am, I stand here before you as a man that’s taken more than his share of punishment over the years and a man that’s been counted down more than anyone else I’ve ever known yet this man…this man continues to fight and will never GIVE up.”

Standing up I just couldn't sit still. My body was heating up tempatures rising and a sort of anxiety was building. I was excited I guess. Excited for the moment of glory that was bound to ensue. Excited for the chance at VENGEANCE. More importantly EXCITED to KILL Alexander Remington. My pace was furious back and forth in front of the camera not losing focus.

“It’s not in my nature to throw in the towel, so no matter how much I lose along the way and no matter how much people try and rough me up before or after the match I’m gonna keep coming…I’m gonna keep going and going until you and I can have our business laid to rest. It’s not about the championship; if I wanted it I could’ve taken it. This is about you and I Remington and nothing more. Parker Wayde is just a third party that doesn’t belong in this fight.”

“Parker Wayde delivered by far the worst promo I had ever seen delivered against me last week. Fuckin joke. Don’t worry Parker I’ll make sure when the dust has settled that at the end of the night you’re career will be finished. Allow me to hand you your walking papers at Rising Monarchy. I’ve never been one to forget thus the hype behind Remington and I stepping into that ring. Because Parker let’s face it…no one cares about you. No one would even shed a tear if your face was plastered on the news announcing your death. No fucks would be given. The headlines have been all about Remington and I, you may have gotten the fluke victory over me the other night but TRUST me when I say this week I’m not too busy and this week I do give a fuck what the outcome is. I do give a fuck about BREAKING you in half and I do give a FUCK about DESTROYING Alexander Remington restoring my LIVELIHOOD!”

Taking a long drag from my cigarette I brushed the hair out of my face as the wind was beginning to kick up pretty ferociously. I was growing tired of the games and everything that had led up to this moment. The moment that I would decimate Remington proving my point to the world and the moment that Parker Wayde would be forced to step away from the beating he received.

“Remington the moment has been long overdue. I’ve heard the false claims pour from your mouth and I plan to make you eat those words. You retired me twice? Bet you assumed I’d overlook that one, yes you did retire a broken and drug riddled Axle Vengeance ONCE but you never retired me TWICE. Hell this is the first time I’ve graced a wrestling ring since the night that changed my life forever. So sure pad your resume and continue to pander to the crowd begging for acceptance. Truth be told Remi while they have your cock jammed firmly down their throats crying out for more of your seed…when Rising Monarchy comes to a conclusion you’ll be revealed as the coward you truly are, a man that cannot stand to be without the spotlight shining brightly upon himself. Remington no matter the picture you’ve painted for everyone over the last few months you can paint stripes on an alley cat but it doesn’t make him a tiger. You, ya I’d put you in the PUSSY category.”

Chuckling to myself it was the truth. Remington was a pussy he always had been. Let’s face it he got me when I was on a binger and it vaulted his career into another stratosphere. Yes Remington we all know if you would just come out and say you owe your career to me things would be a lot easier...a las I'll have to beat his stubborn self to a bloody pulp.

“Calling me out for everything I ever did for UECW and how I carried that company on my BACK! Mike Nelson was forever grateful for everything I did for them…UECW would’ve been NOTHING without me. Even if you could’ve even attempted to make a name there for yourself you’d never be as big as I was. Hell the point was proven when you retired me from UECW. You still couldn’t make a name for yourself, you were always just the guy that retired Axle. Bet that one eats you up inside doesn’t it? Is that the reason why you chastise me for having a standing relationship with Chelle Fury and Michael Nelson? Is it not what I’ve seen you doing? Waiting for the proper moment and proper power play? Fuck you Remington…hypocrite. I ask this of you though Remington. What have you done for IWF? What is your role here besides showing up? You bring nothing ELSE to the table NOTHING. Acting high and mighty like someone gives a fuck. You can fool those around us but I know the truth. I see the grand scheme of things, the bigger picture that I’ve been talking about these past few weeks. The unveiling will be grand and I count the moments. The look of shock the look of disgust…YOU WILL BE EXPOSED!”

“I’ll never stop fighting and I’ll always be true to myself. I am who I am no matter if you love me or HATE me you cannot help but FEAR me. It’s the unknown territory that strikes fear in my opponent’s hearts. That thought of which Axle Vengeance will they be facing? The focused point to prove carrying the weight of the world on his shoulder Axle Vengeance or the I don’t give a fuck I’ve got more important shit to do Axle Vengeance. Make no mistake this Axle Vengeance is focused and this Axle Vengeance WILL walk out with his point proven at Rising Monarchy. Parker Wayde will be laid to rest and Alexander Remington will be nothing more than an after thought for these stupid fans and pathetic marks around the world.”

“Axle Vengeance will forever be a LEGEND in this business. Alexander Remington I will make you be forgotten. Your title reign will no long exist and neither will the win you hold over my head. Everything happens for a reason. Come Rising Monarchy the games are over. Oz will step from behind the curtain. Roads they wind and the winds they change. My path leads me to Rising Monarchy and my DESTINY is to prove the doubters wrong. Hate me. Boo me. Call me a sinner. Call me the Devil. Nothing can faze me when I’m going straight for the jugular. Fuck Alexander Remington, Fuck Parker Wayde, Fuck the fans, Fuck Chuck Matthews, Fuck Brandon Macdonald, Fuck James Shark, Fuck Stygian and FUCK what anyone has to say or thinks of me. I know who I am and I’m far superior to each and EVERY aforementioned man. I’ve never given up on my career. Even though it was taken from me at Rising Monarchy I take that shit BACK. Rebuilding Rome all within a match. One single match for me to become whole again. One single match to END it all.”

Crouching down in front of the camera puffing the end of my cigarette blowing the smoke out into the lens. Quickly I chucked the cigarette off to the side grabbing the camera bringing it closer to my face my breath fogging the lens up.

“Remington you’ve talked far ENOUGH…fucking blow hard. JESUS, give you a microphone and you make Ben Stein seem witty and entertaining. I’m tired of hearing you rant and rave like you’re someone worthy. FUCK you. The time to talk is over. Give it all you've got or risk losing everything you've worked for. I'm your achilles let's see if you can overcome my onslaught. Oh the blood, oh the blood, oh the massacre..."

Fuck Remington this shit was over before it began. I'm bringing the fight let's see how long you can pretend. Fake ass champion. He's blood would be shed. Not a sight for the weak...Remi would soon be dead.