Jay "Hot" Stuff [vs.] Dean Vandal [vs.] Daniel Psycho [Ref] JHalc

Look At That Vandal Thinking His Hot Going Psycho But He Better Be Fearful Of JHalc

Dead heat, humid air, fields of cactus…my surroundings we’re simply to put it, disgusting. I hated Mexico everything about it was awful. However this was home. It’s where our story begins. The story of a kid that was long forgotten by those that once loved him only to triumph and overcome. Take a walk with me on this journey.


Sunday morning, a day of worship for most but for me it was a day of listening to a nun go on and on about things I wasn’t sure I even believed in. Sitting there barely understanding much of anything. I guess you could say even at the youngest of ages I never did well with authority.

Leaning over my chair and staring out the window of the classroom I could see nothing but dirt and adobe houses. The same shit for miles. Yet somehow I could just manage to stare off into the sun and get lost. Get lost in my thoughts and dreams.

Dreaming of one day becoming a professional wrestler, that’s what my ultimate dream had always been. I would sneak into the arenas sitting under the stands watching these men in masks that looked like super heroes battling villains as people booed and cheered for their favorites and least favorites. It was all so magical and impressionable to a young kid looking to find his place.

I always thought that I too could wear a mask and be someone different someone that the people cheered for and I would run to the ring and save the day. Be the hero. Those were childhood dreams and far from reality.

“DEAN!”

The nun’s ruler came crashing down on my desk as I jumped and turned my head quickly to face her. I was scared shitless of these penguins. Honestly they were evil bitches for the most part. I never understood how servants of God could be so full of hate. Guess that’s why I’m an atheist, that on top of a whole different can of worms.

Shaking her finger at me I simply placed my cheek against my right palm looking off into space once again. All I wanted was to be a wrestler. Religion didn’t interest me, neither did school, nor did the arts…at least out here.

I was an American kid born and raised in Mexico, you tell me how fucked up that situation sounds and I’ll tell you you’re right. You know I wasn’t like the other “white” kids living on ranches with tons of money. I grew up in a dumpy foster care system surrounded by carless pieces or shit.

I was hardly ever there except to sleep late at night, most of the time I spent running around the streets doing stupid stuff getting into trouble with the other outcasts. If a sign said “Do Not Enter” we’d enter, if an abandoned building had broken windows we’d throw rocks through the remaining windows, and just other stupid kid shit.

No matter how often I’d run around having fun and sneaking around places with my few friends that I had it never took away from my dream.

Every night when I’d lay my head down to sleep I’d dream of myself being called out to the ring, in Spanish which was weird…but still made perfect sense…I’d walk out with a black luchador mask covering my face and I would be the anti-hero. The man that stood up for the individuals in the world, the ones without families or anything to latch onto I could be their leader. Surely a cult following wasn’t far fetched. I just needed to put that mask on and walk out to the ring; the rest would take care of itself. Well that’s what I thought when I was young. Reality would prove to be something totally different.



“Este próximo encuentro está previsto para una caída. Presentamos el primer Anti-Héroe!!!!!”

The sound of the announcer’s voice bellowed through the small sea of Cowboy hats and flannels. Standing behind the curtain bouncing on the balls of my feet once my name is called chills shoot up and down my spine. It’s time to debut my moment has come. All that I’ve been waiting for and that time is right here and RIGHT now.

I rip the curtain open looking through the sharply cut holes in my mask. A sinister grin on my face as I survey the area, soon enough I realize this just wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. A few claps people more worried about the butter on their corn melting too fast or not covering it with enough chili powder. Fuck.

Needless to say I tucked my chin to my chest and walked towards the ring. I could see a husky Mexican tugging the ropes pulling his tights up and over his belly button. I would make this guy my bitch. Leaping over the top rope I rushed towards him and the bell sounded. I was all over him like white on rice. Clubbing his back with blow after blow. Everything was working out just nicely.

Just as I thought I had everything under control my opponent did some kind of trickery bending and folding his body around. Suddenly he rolled me up and my shoulders were pinned against the mat. The referee dropped down and counted to three. That was it; it was all over just like that. I got taken advantage of. He pulled something on me I had seen but never had done to me. The flaws of a rookie were completely obvious in my abilities.

The fans laughed and pointed at me. Completely and utterly embarrassed I rushed into the back pushing and shoving people out of my way. I was pissed. Only sixteen years old I didn’t know how else to react. I didn’t appreciate what the moment would teach me, eventually I would…but right then and there at that very moment I didn’t understand it.

Sitting in the back on a bench with it’s padding guts busted out, a few pieces of duct tape holding it all in. This place sucked. The feeling at had at the moment sucked just as hard. Removing the wrist tape I couldn’t even look up from the ground. I could even feel my eyes start to swell but I told myself fuck that, crying is for pussies.

With my head still looking down I noticed a pair of wrestling boots, just the tips of them standing in front of me. I looked up and a grown man probably in his thirties stood in front of me with a smile on his face chomping on an apple with chili powder. Fuck was up with all the chili powder? Shit was gross.

“You know what-chu pro'lem is?”

Shrugging my shoulders I continued to remove my boots paying no mind to this guy standing in front of my trying to chastise me. He didn’t know me who was he to judge me in the first place. I shook my head and cracked a smirk. He grabbed my face with his hand and suddenly it got real.

“See that’s it hombre, you’ve got too mas attitude. You will never make it like dat.”

It didn’t matter what he said to me. This guy was stuck here wrestling in this dump at his age, why would I listen to him. It wasn’t like he had some blue print for success and if he did it was obvious that it was faulty…massively faulty.

“You know I’ll be honest with you, yeah I’ve got a lot of attitude. I could give a shit what you think about me, what they think about, what anyone in this shitty little country thinks about me. I’m doing this for one reason and one reason only, to be the fucking best wrestler that’s ever graced a ring. Some people talk about it, some people dream about it however me…I’m going to BE about it. I’m going to make it to the states one day. When I do you can bet your ass my face will blow up faster than your toilet after drinking the brown water here. Now do me a favor get the fuck out of my face before I make you…”

Puffing out my chest at the man he was twice my size but I didn’t care. It wasn’t about that. This was my pride on the line. This was some guy thinking he was better than I was when he couldn’t be any further away from the truth. Fuck him. Better yet fuck me, he reached back with his large fist and swung it with brute force. It sent me crashing backwards into the lockers. The punch nearly shattered my breastplate causing me to crumble and clutch my chest. Holy fuck this dude hit like a Mack Truck.

“Next time you’ll keep your mouth closed right gringo? I said RIGHT!?”

Nodding my head I still struggled to breathe feeling as if I could vomit from the punch. It wasn’t the first time I opened my mouth to someone bigger than me only to get hit or beat up. Living on the streets raised me to be tough. I didn’t take shit from anyone. My biggest fear in this world was that I’d remain nobody and continue to go unnoticed. I was afraid of dying and never being remembered. I think deep down a big part of me just wanted to prove to my parents they made a mistake by abandoning me.

As the wrestler walked away from me I gave him the finger to his back. In a few years I’d be able to take him. I was 16 years old taking punches from a grown ass man. Sitting there on my ass I started thinking of the moment that I’d get bigger and stronger. Needless to say I was a dreamer. Nothing was ever good enough. NOTHING. The dream wouldn’t be complete until I was headlining pay per views in the good ol’ U-S of A. Little did I know that the time would come sooner rather than later.



“You know throughout the years in my meaningless life I’ve had to furiously claw and scratch my way to even break through the first layer of skin. Yet no matter what I did and no matter how hard I did it people tended to not believe in me. I’ve always had my share of doubters. Be it from the place I was forced to call him or from the mouths of those that signed me early in my career to train. Sometimes the best teacher is you. I’ve learned everything I’ve ever needed to on my own, by myself and I’ve never once needed another person’s opinion or thoughts to jade my own.”

“Individualism makes the world go around. Surely you’ve got those that’ll look you in the eyes and tell you that you should be one way and think one way but it’s up to you to look back at them and say hey…fuck you. I think you’re shit is stupid. I think that the music you listen to has no substance, I think that haircut makes you look like a gay sailor, I think those lip injections make you look like a retarded fish, I think you smoke weed because you need excuses for your fuck ups, I think you drink because you’re too afraid of dealing with the real world…Stop following the morons of the world. It’s almost comical really, the blind leading the blind…”

“I’ve looked around at the talent within this company, I’ve seen what there is to offer and then I wonder what the hell I’m even doing in the developmental territory. I’m too big for this. Big fish small pond. If they want to doubt me and continue keeping me down then so be it. Sure I don’t look like Alexander Remington with the slick suit and fancy ride. I sure as hell don’t have the height of someone like Stygian, a guy that likes to call himself Superman despite the fact that Superman works more than once a year.”

“While some people don’t like my style or my rudeness or my brash attitude it doesn’t change the fact that once I walk into the ring and the moment that bell sounds you will all be witnesses to the next big deal in professional wrestling…Dean Vandal. I’m not about stupid corny gimmicks doing a little two-step to get over, or calling people buttheads giving wedgies to the dorks in the back and I don’t need to walk out to the ring rubbing myself down with baby oil thrusting my hips like an asshole…”

“This is as real as it gets, I’m as real as it gets…just a bad motherfucker with all the talent in the world and not a fuck to give. I’ve done everything on my own and it’ll continue to go that way. I’m a lone wolf and I’m eyeing all of these sheep. The thirst is growing and I’m about to sink my teeth in.”

“The Underground, a perfect place when I truly think about it for someone like myself. I mean I’ve seen the way things go down on Battlegrounds…all of the bullshit and people running around flapping their jaws about shit they have no clue about. Not to mention the constant changing of champions and championships. Look at the place! Battlegrounds is a mess, their leader a former drug abuser…yeah I’d surely trust him will a multi-million dollar company. It’ll probably wind up going up his nose.”

“Guess I belong to the Underground, a place where individualists are welcome with open arms. Management can keep me down because of my style and my attitude I could give a fuck. When nobody can keep my name out of their mouths and I prove that my talent cannot be denied it’ll force your hands. Once the hand is force I will get my chance. When I get that chance I will become IWF Champion.”

“My in ring talent is insurmountable learn it, live it, REALIZE it. Not only am I the best athlete in this company but I’m the best WRESTLER in this company.”

“Put me in a triple threat with two other clowns that couldn’t lace my boots and watch me work circles around them. I’m not just a guy with a big mouth that likes to tell you this or say I’m going to do that. It’s probably a big reason why most of these people around here hate me to begin with. I talk a lot of shit but I back it up.”

“Jason Miles, that’s how I will refer to you because simply calling you Jay Hot Stuff is out of the question. First and foremost I’d like to congratulate you on being my least favorite superstar in the Underground. So you’re a former champion that’s fallen from grace. Look at you now. At least you were given the opportunity to succeed and it was your fault you failed. Obviously you couldn’t handle it in the big time. You couldn’t handle the pressure to perform. What makes you think you can beat someone like me? Who knows though right? Every dog has his day and hey maybe tomorrow will be your day…I doubt it but keep on wishing, shoot for the stars. Maybe this new gimmick you’ve adapted will get you over and I’m just a fool for thinking otherwise. Somehow though I have a feeling these fans will eat you alive and call you on every bit of bullshit you’re trying to sell. If the fans don’t see through the act, then well as suspected they’re just as fucking stupid as you are.”

“Daniel Psycho…DP…the man with a million nicknames. Too bad not a single one of them are original or in the least bit scary. Some how I wonder if you’ll even show up for the match. I mean I don’t know you but there’s just something about you that screams no show. Like you just don’t show up. I digress. You see it takes more than some heavy music and some silly Black Metal costume to get into my head. The world doesn’t have monsters, only men. When I see you I see nothing more than a man. Whatever you claim to be with the mysterious bullshit you don’t frighten me. I’m not standing here shaking in my boots. I’m a man, you’re a man and when we stand toe to toe I will make you BLEED like a man. See nothing pisses me off more than a guy that refuses to put his cards on the table. You see me, you know what I am you know what I’m capable of. I shoot straight and I don’t put up a front. I’m telling you right now that I’m going to kick in your skull and shatter your teeth with my knee. Understand that there’s no bullshit with what I’m saying. It’s fact not fiction.”

“JHalc, whatever the FUCK that means. Wait, hold on for a moment…are we serious? JHALC…you know what that’s it I’m done this is over with. I do not see it necessary to talk about someone named JHalc. I don’t know what that is; I don’t even care to know. I’m sure it stands for something completely not clever.”

“You know what…FUCK it. This guys another guy that couldn’t handle it when he got his shot. Finding that he’s struggling to reinvent himself. Not at my expense, he won’t use me to get over. He needs to do his job and just referee the match. If he decides to get cute and try to screw me out of this match then you can bet I won’t hesitate to absolutely DESTROY you. I’m not afraid to get DQed from punching out a referee that oversteps his bounds. Keep that in mind.”

“You see all the members of the Underground pay close attention to the reason why I’ve been placed in the main event. I’ve trained across the globe for this moment. There will be no shock at the end of the night when they raise my hand in the air victoriously. I’ve worked my ass off and I won’t be denied. Fuck the doubters and fuck those in the back already talking shit just because I made them look stupid on Twitter. I tell it how it is and the truth hurts. What else hurts is when I knee you in the face and then take your pride with a three count.”

“To the roster I say this, Dean Vandal is here to offend you…I hit the nerves and break the bones. Step into the ring against me and I’ll show you why I’m the future of this entire business. You’ve already started to hear about me and this promo just dropped. The world is buzzing and Dean Vandal is about to make his debut. The anticipation is retarded. Let’s start the show because when that music hits a new star will be born.”

“Without even having have had a match yet I’m already the most talked about member of the Underground. Who is that Dean Vandal I hear in the back. What’s his deal? Who is he? Where did he come from? Well I’m IWF’s newest and hottest commodity. Get used to hearing my name. Especially with the words YOU’RE WINNER in front of it. I’m Dean Vandal, nice to meet ya…now fuck off”