“There is nothing logical to what I do. Only psychological. “
- Patient 026
=============
“Who is Patient #026?”
Current Day
Satans Kingdom, RI
Cameras: OFF
=============
Click. Click. Click. Click.
The sound of Newton’s Cradle echoed through the small dark office. The clicks of the metal balls ran through my veins causing my blood to boil. I looked down at my hands which were shackled at the wrist. Dirt covered my hands. My fingers, hands, and arms were covered in tattoos. Various phases, designs, and demons permanently inked into my skin. I stared down at my hands through my long matted black hair. Breathing deeply. I ripped my hands apart quickly, but the chains holding them together were too much for me to break out of. I laughed cynically as I whipped my head back throwing the hair out of my eyes. I looked up at the ceiling for a few seconds. My neck, like my hands and arms, was heavily tattooed as well. As a matter of fact there were very few spaces of my body that weren’t covered in ink.
“Are you still with me…?”
A voice called out breaking up my laughter. I dropped my head back down and focused at the middle aged balding man sitting across from me. He was wearing a black dress shirt, and his eyes were sitting behind a pair of black thick rimmed glasses. He clutched a black ballpoint pen in his left hand. Sitting in his right hand was a thick black notebook. Which I would assume was by now halfway filled with notes about …. Me. About my prognosis, treatment, and whatever else he could’ve possibly written about. I stared at him. Grinning through my thick black hair. My brown eyes focused on him. Licking my lips I just smiled at him. I wanted to dive across his desk and jam that pen into his jugular. I wanted to feel the thick, warm blood draining from his neck onto my hands. I wanted him to gurgle ‘Help Me’ through the blood filling his throat.
“What… does… it … look … like…”
I asked him through deep breaths. My voice was deep. Cold. Hateful. My eyes now shifting from Dr. Stromgarde back to the small silver Newton’s Cradle, and then back to the doctor. Part of my mind wanted to focus on the doctor, but the other half of my brain wouldn’t allow me to with the constant clicking back and forth.
“I’m just checking…”
He responded. Where else would I be? With these shackles and chains there wasn’t really anywhere I was going to go. Most people would be against picking a stranger up alongside the road. Let alone one wearing cuffs. I shot my glare back to Dr. Stromgarde. For now, as long as I was in control of my mind, he had my undivided attention. But we all know that can only last for so long. Eventually the darker side would take over again.
“Who am I talking to today?”
The doctor asked. Throughout our therapy sessions I had brought many different aliases to the room with me. Depending on which part of my brain was active. My legs started bouncing up and down nervously my hands twitching as well. I titled my head to the right looking into the doctor’s eyes. I was trying to read him. Trying to find out if he was generally concerned or if this was just an act. Was there a higher power forcing the doctor to work with me.
“You’re talking to me, doctor, unless you’re seeing someone else inside the room. In that case maybe you should be the one sitting on this side of the table, and wearing these shackles.”
I was never going to give him a straight answer. That wasn’t my style. If he wanted to know things about me I was going to make him put that title in front of his name to work. I’m going to give him a run for his money. Nothing was going to be easy. Not with me. Not with the way I’ve been treated.
“You know what I mean….”
Dr. Stromgarde shot back sternly. I was starting to push his buttons. I could tell by the veins poking out from the sides of his neck, and his nostrils flaring out as he breathed. I closed my eyes and cracked my neck before focusing my attention back to him.
“Today…. I’m just the guy sitting in front of you. Unsure exactly as to why…”
I said to him. For the first time my voice actually sounded defeated. When I was this mind I didn’t want to be here. I wanted to be home; wherever that might be. But other days… when I wasn’t in this state of mind it was clear as to why I was here.
“You don’t know why you’re here?”
He asked me. Furiously writing down on his notepad. He would glance up at me from time to time while writing. Trying to gauge on my movements, and different facial expressions I made. I shook my head ‘No.’
“Honestly, Doctor. I don’t…”
I told him. He nodded his head as if he understood what I was saying. But honestly how could someone understand me when I couldn’t understand myself. I leaned back in my chair a bit playing with the chains around my wrists a bit. Trying to remember why I needed to sit here with these cuffs and chains holding be back. Was I that bad of a person?
“Do you know your name?”
He asked me. I shot him a look, but as I tried to search for the words I couldn’t find them. How could I have forgotten my own name? What was going on with me right now? I dropped my head down, and brought my hands up to my face. Trying to hide myself. Trying to make sense as to what was actually going on. I pressed my fingers against my eyes, and began to rub them. Letting out a groan as I did so.
“That’s okay. Actually, it’s a step in the right direction.”
The doctor seeing my reaction quickly responded. I let my hands fall back into my lap as I lifted my head back up. I scanned the doctors desk as the clicking of the metal balls on Newton’s Cradle was still going on. My eyes locked on them switching back and forth as the balls shifted out to the right, and then out to the left. I was mesmerized by what was going on.
“Can you remember anything?”
Dr. Stromgarde asked me. I shook my head ‘No’ was it that I couldn’t remember? That I didn’t want to remember? Or that I wasn’t allowed to remember? So many questions running through my head. Would I ever get the answers to the questions I’m looking for? Or would I be another lost caused forced the live out the remainder of my days behind the walls of this asylum.
“You’re Adam Stone.”
Adam Stone? The instant Dr. Stromgarde mentioned that name all the memories came rushing back. Most of it things I didn’t currently want to remember. But ask me again in fifteen minutes and that will probably be a completely different story.
“I see…”
I responded. I wasn’t exactly thrilled to remember this, but then again I wasn’t going to hide from my past. From the things I had done in my life. From what I could remember about myself that was never my style. I was always the type of person who would attack things head on. Or well… my version of head on.
“Is that a problem?”
The doctor asked me. A look of concern coming across his face. How I answered this next question could have a huge impact on my treatment for the rest of my stay here. I needed to make sure I picked the right one otherwise I could be here for a long stay. Possibly the rest of my life. As I thought about the possible responses I took around at the large dimly lit office. Surrounded by filing cabinets, old files, and books. I could tell this room had seen quite a lot of people. Most of them not to different from me. But more importantly what I saw was the hate these walls held inside. The hate and anger of patients of the past. How many of time died here? How many of them survived I thought to myself. Maybe that was a question I didn’t want an answer to.
“No… I wouldn’t exactly say it’s a bad thing, but then again I wouldn’t call it a good thing either Doctor. It’s no secret the things I’ve done in my past. Many of them subconsciously. For me it had always been more of an act first lifestyle. Never really wondering, or worrying about the consequences. Call it how you see it doctor, but I’m indifferent to it. “
I responded. Hopefully this would be just what the doctor was looking for. He nodded his head as he looked over his notes before writing some more. I could see a look of interest on his face. This answer could have backfired, but then again there was no hiding who I was. Forgetting my past, or even trying to neglect pieces of it could prove to be the final nail inside of my coffin.
“Indifference isn’t a bad thing, Adam. But in your case it isn’t a good thing either. When we go through life, Adam, there are things we can hide from, but there are also things we need to take head on. I think over time you’ve lost the grasp of that reality. I see you doing a lot more hiding, and lurking in the shadows. For someone like you that’s going to prove to be toxic.”
He told me. Dr. Stromgarde was doing his best to try and get inside my head. He wanted to bring me back to the prominence I once had. I sat there a blank stare on my face half listening as he spoke half slipping off into Adamland.
“The shadows are good from time to time, but they can’t become a permanent fixture in your life. Otherwise these voice will never stop. If the voices don’t stop then our sessions don’t stop. Is that what you want?”
He asked me. Of course that’s not what I wanted. For as comfortable as this building made me feel sometimes it also tore me apart others. As I began to formulate a response in my head I heard a muffled screaming from off in the distance. I thought the voices were slowly starting to come back. Fearing in a few seconds I would no longer be Adam Stone my hands began to twitch nervously, and I began chewing on m bottom lip. Until I saw the doctors’ ears perk up. He had obviously heard it, too. Thank you. I thought to myself as the doctor set his notepad and pen down on the desk in front of him.
“It looks like Patient 078 is awake.”
He said to me as he stood from the chair the screams now getting louder, and longer. He pushed his glasses up onto his forehead and focused his attention back to me.
“Don’t go anywhere.”
He said with a smile as he made his way to the door, and out of the office. ‘Don’t go anywhere’ I thought to myself and let out a soft chuckle. I looked down at my hands and legs which were still shackled together. Where exactly did he think I was going to go?
=============
“Finding Patient 078”
Flashback
Almoloya de Juárez, Mexico
Cameras: OFF
=============
Heat. It was never something that ever got to me. Having grown up in Florida I was actually used to the hot weather, but I had never experienced anything as hot, and dry as it was here today in Mexico. I was clad in a pair of black sneakers, khaki cargo shorts, and a white wife beater. The parts of my body that were visible to the human eye were heavily tattooed. Various pictures. Designs, and lettering.
As I walked around the town of Almoloya de Juárez I fit in pretty well with the other inhabitants. Many of them were heavily tattooed like me. Except theirs had a bit of a different meaning than mine. Theirs were showing off their loyalties to different gangs that roam the streets of Mexico. It was safe to say as a gringo I stuck out. As I walked through the dirt streets my gaze focused on the map in my hands I could feel eyes from all around me staring a hole into me.
“The fuck…”
I said to myself as I flipped the map around a few times finally railing I had been holding it upside down for the last half hour. Spanish wasn’t my first language. As a matter of fact it wasn’t my any language. I mean I knew enough to get by from prior wrestling trips down here. Mainly for ordering food, or saying hello. But I wouldn’t be doing either of those this far south in Mexico. For me it was better to just focus on the task at hand.
Continuing down a few more streets I had finally reached my destination. The Almoloya de Juárez prison. For once in my life I would be willingly entering a correctional facility. Knowing I was free to walk out whenever I wanted. This was a difficult situation for me to get used to. The guard tower stood high above the building. I could see two guards standing up there. The guns resting on the forearms as they paced back on either side their eyes focused on the yard below.
“Looks nicer inside than out.”
I said to myself as I made my way toward the main building. Walking through different gates, and sections of chainlink fence. When I was sent down here I was told everything would be taken care of, but I didn’t realize it would be this easy to just walk inside the prison. I guess I underestimated my boss when he told me that he had pull down here. Normally it would be impossible to just walk inside of a prison, let alone one in Mexico. I approached two men with the words ‘Marina’ written in thick bold letters on the front of their vest. I handed them over the small envelope I had been sent down here with. After looking over it for a few seconds the larger of the two men shot me a look before motioning me to follow him.
Okay…”
I said as I walked behind him. His partner following behind me closely. Each of them decked out in full tactical gear. I should’ve have expected anything less. I was led down a series of corridors, and through a few locked steel doors before the man in front of me stopped outside a black door. He nodded his head motioning for me to walk inside. I gave him a look of concern before going inside the room. In the center of this room was a large stainless steel table in between two chairs. I sat down on the chair closest to the door placing my elbows on the table. Over to my left was a large mirror, obviously double-sided. As much pull as ‘the boss’ had I should’ve known this meeting was going to be watched closely.
After what had seemed like an eternity I heard the door behind me open. I heard the clanking of chains enter the room. I turned my head to see two guards walking a man into the room. He had his feet shackled together, a chain around his waist, and both his hands cuffed behind his back. His head was covered by a black hood. He stumbled slowing into the room, and over to the chair across from me. The guards pushed him down into the seat, and pulled the hood off of his head. His chin was sunken into his chest. His dirty blonde hair was long. Longer than I had ever seen it before. The guards looked at me and nodded as they headed out of the room closing the door behind them.
I sat there for a few seconds just looking at the person sitting in front of me. He still had yet to take his gaze off of his lap. I cleared my throat to get his attention, and he slowly raised his head. His face was dirty, and unshaven. Large black bags set under his eyes. He squinted his eyes for a second as he looked at me. Then it sunk in. He realized who I was. His face turned bright with rage. He shot forward and tried to get at me, but with his hands shackled behind his back he was unable to get them around my throat. I leaned back in my chair placing both of my hands up in the air. Signaling to him I was here in peace.
“Joey…. Relax.”
I said to him. Yes the person in front of me was none other than Joey Harris. About nine months ago he had been sent to this prison in Mexico, unjustly. Well, yeah I guess he had a reason to be here but I’m not going to get into that right now. His face was still bright red, and his breathing was heavy. More than anything I knew he wanted to kill me, or at least hurt me… bad. It was tough for me to say I blamed him. If the roles were reversed, and he had been the one who spent years trying to ruin my life I would want to kill him, too. I slid my chair in closer to the table, and relaxed a bit as I looked at him,
“What .. are .. you .. doing … here”
He grunted out. The anger resonating in his voice. This was a very dangerous situation. For the both of us. I wasn’t happy about being here, and he wasn’t happy I was here. If he left this building with me, and I wanted the money I was promised the two of us would need to travel together for about six thousand miles without killing one another. Talk about the road trip from hell.
“I was sent down here, by a friend.”
I told him. He leaned back in his chair and just laughed at me. I could tell he wasn’t buying the story. As a matter of fact when I got the orders I didn’t buy the story either. But after a few weeks of contemplation I decided to go with it. What’s the worst that could happen I thought to myself.
“A friend, huh? We don’t have any friends.”
He shot back at me. He was right. The two of us didn’t have any friends. Especially ones that cared about the well-being of both of us. I just shrugged my shoulders.
“Look Joey. I didn’t completely buy it at all myself in the beginning. But I was promised that this would work out to both of our benefits.”
I told him. What could someone possibly want with the both of us? Together for that matter. I shrugged my shoulders and folded my hands in front of me on the table. I looked over at him the veins were popping out of his neck. It looked as if his head was going to explode at any minute.
“Benefit? Yeah.. not buying it.”
He said. His breathing slowly starting to ease a bit.
“Yeah. Same exact thing I said when given the orders. But let’s face it. What’s the risk of taking the chance? I mean you’re sitting here stuck in a prison, and I was just sitting at home watching TV. What exactly do either one of us have to lose in this situation?”
I told him. Joey may be overwhelmed with anger right now, but he was a smart guy. As much as I didn’t want to admit that. He had a way of seeing things in a different light than me. He was one that could make sense of things when most others couldn’t. He looked around the room a bit, before looking down at the chains wrapped around his body, and then finally back at me.
“I guess you’re right. What do I have to lose.”
He said. I could tell the fact he just had to tell me I was right made him sick. He actually choked the vomit back down after he said this. I simply nodded my head.
“Exactly. If it doesn’t work out we go home, and go back to trying to kill one another. Plus when I walked in here I gave the guards the paperwork to start your release so you don’t really have any other options.”
I told him. He just rolled his eyes, and laughed. He wasn’t thrilled about this. Neither was I, but I couldn’t let him know that. I swallowed my pride.
“Yeah….. no other options.”
=============
“The jacket feels like home”
Current Day
Satans Kingdom, RI
Cameras: OFF
=============
==================
Looking back through my career I can now see why it’s been marred by such controversy. The choices I made weren’t always the smartest. Well, no I lied. In the moment they were the best possible decisions I could’ve made, and put me in the place I needed to be. But living in the moment, and focusing on the future are two completely different things. I was always the type of person who would act on the first process that came to my mind. Because I knew for that part of my career it would give me the best outcome in the shortest amount of time. Long term those decisions are what closed a lot of doors for me. I could sit here and go back through each and every decision I made trying to make more sense of them, but what is the point of living in the past? You’re never going to change it. Unfortunately for me history tends to repeat itself. Over, and over again. What can I do to ensure I didn’t continue to make the same mistakes? What can I do to ensure one final successful run in the wrestling world? There is millions of questions I could sit back and ask, but finding the right answers would be impossible. I could say “Never Again” but I’m not that stupid. When this kicks off I’m going to be in the same boat. Making the same decisions. Focusing on the same short term goals. Forget the long term you never know if you’ll be here tomorrow.
When the opportunity to get back into wrestling presented itself I put a lot of consideration into it. In the end I decided against it. I decided wrestling just wasn’t for me anymore. I had made it through a ten year career, and I was happy with the accomplishments I had made. There was enough money in my bank account to keep me going. I just couldn’t find a situation where it actually made sense for me. But you know what they say about idle hands… Sitting there inside my house in Vero Beach I started cracking. Even more so than I had ever before. After quite some time of solitude I started seeing, and hearing things, inside of my mind. Things that scared me, and things that made me sick. I would turn on the TV, and see wrestlers not up to half of my level doing the same things I had done in the industry. It made my physically sick. A few months later I saw what pushed me over the edge. I saw two superstars I had developed quite a history with living this perfect life. Living a life I knew neither of them had deserved. Joey Harris. Roxxie Roberts. Do those names sound familiar to you? Yeah. They should. Each of them gained their fame by doing some of the same things I did in my career. Focusing on themselves. No one else. As their careers rolled on, and they got older they developed a sort of connection. The same type of connection Roxxie and I had. One that I continuously pushed away because I knew in the long run she would just bring me down. Having to worry about someone else inside the ring on a nightly basis will break you. Eventually you’ll begin to care more about them than yourself. That right there is a recipe for disaster.
As I saw the drama unfolding for them weekly it was like I was being drawn into some very bad daytime television. The ‘love’ they felt for one another oozing out of their skin. I knew I needed to make a change. I couldn’t let this continue happening. It was that moment I decided I was going to do everything in my power to ruin them. Break their wills. But more importantly break Joeys neck. But why? Why did I let the relationship with Joey and Roxxie affect me so much? In that moment I would never admit it, but after my mind had walked away from Roxxie I knew my heart never left. In my mind it was sick way of saying ‘I love you.’
How could I love her? I don’t know. After all the years. After all the other relationships. Hell, I had even met Jenna Hawke. Oh, another blast from the past there. Yeah, I’m sure you all remember the name Jenna Hawke. The one girl who was able to calm me down for a brief moment in time. The woman who caused me such a lapse in judgment I actually tried to start a family with her. Adam Stone isn’t built for families. Adam Stone wasn’t made to be a father. But she put these sick thoughts into my head that I could actually do it. I was capable of raising a child. Eight months after the birth of my daughter Jenna realized just how jaded she actually was. It was then she decided to pack up, and take my daughter away from me. I think in a way she always knew she was just a stopgap in my life. There was never going to be any long term with us, but she never wanted to believe it. Six and a half years later. The only relationship I have with my daughter is through the occasional email, or phone call when Jenna sees fit. Most people would fight for their kid. Me. Nah. I’m smarter than that. I know I’m just going to cause more heartache than joy.
Task number one upon my return to the squared circle is competing in the Blast from the Past tournament. Kind of fitting name don’t you think? Adam Stone returns from what an eight year break from active competition, and right away he’s tossed into something titled “Blast from the Past.” Interesting. I’m starting to think this was all planned out long before I was told. My career ended on an awkward September night back in 2008. I remember it like it was just yesterday. Fatal Four Way to kick off the inaugural EWA Most Wanted. You could say I wasn’t fully expecting the outcome of the match. See, about five minutes into the match I suffered a broken vertebrate in my neck. Countless surgeries, and physical therapy sessions. The doctors kept on telling me my career was over, and I would never wrestle again. After months of this being drilled into my head I started to believe them. Hence the reason for the hiatus. It’s amazing how in the blink of an eye everything can end. Poof. It’s gone. Something you lived and breathed for 10 years stripped away from you in a matter of seconds. Needless to say that was a cut that never healed.
I look around the roster of SCW, and I see quite a few familiar faces. People I’ve worked with in the past. Two of them I created. JT Midas, and Caleb Houston. Yes. That’s right. You can thank me for everything you see from those two. Good, and bad. I’ve been informed over the past few months they’ve been making quite the name for themselves. Most of with their ‘antics’, I guess you could say, outside of the ring. Eventually they’ll learn. Especially when they see the faces I’m bringing with me. Or should I say have been sent here with me. Gentleman. Playtime is over. It’s time to pay the piper.
First on the list. Misty. Or ‘The Original Bombsell’ as she likes to call herself. You know a few weeks ago she was a cool, and calculated person. She had a reason for each and every action she took. Recently, or so I’ve been told she’s been suffering from some sort of amnesia. Unable to remember who she was, and everything about her life prior to a week ago. Must be nice to be able to let go of everything inside your head. Those voices that cause you to do the evil you have planned. Unfortunately for her without those voices the only thing she has is weakness. In this industry you can’t be the ‘girl next door’ type. Otherwise the industry is going to eat you alive. There is one thing I don’t completely understand. How exactly does one forget EVERYTHING? I’ve heard of head injuries causing pieces of memory loss, but everything? No. I’m not buying it. Misty, I think this is all an act. This is a way for you to get out of the downward spiral your career was stuck in. Am I right? I mean let’s face it. The tapes of your career that I was given access to didn’t really show me any star power. They showed me nothing in the way of being a superstar. Luckily for you Misty due to the rules SCW has set in place I will not be allowed to lay my hands on you during our match.
Now, where I may not be able to physically abuse you on Sunday night. Mentally is a different thing. As soon as you step into that ring on Sunday night Misty you’re entering my hell. A place like you’ve never been before. People will sit back, and tell you about the sick thoughts they have when they enter the wrestling ring. It’s all smoke and mirrors. They’re just putting on an act. They don’t live the same life they talk. They aren’t as evil as they portray themselves to be. Adam Stone on the other hand. I am that evil. If I died tomorrow it would only be a matter of time before I was up and walking again. Heaven won’t take me, and hell can’t handle me. Sunday night starts the pain. Climax Control will never be the same again. When Adam Stone steps inside of a wrestling ring I make sure no one EVER forgets the brutality they witness. Wake up Misty. It’s time to die.
For this Blast from the Past tournament SCW sees it fitting to place one male, and one female together in a tag team. My partner for this beautiful little tournament is a woman by the name of Mikah. Since, her debut in SCW she’s been on a slight tear through the divas division. A bit of a hiccup here or there, yes. But in a new promotion that’s to be expected. Was I let down when I was informed who my partner was going to be? No. There could always be worse. Have I spoken to her about anything going into Climax Control? Nope. They haven’t really allowed me much communication with the outside world since my I was admitted to this looney bin. One thing I do see in Mikah is a drive. Determination to be the best. I would assume this match means a lot more to her than it does to me. As the winning team of this schindig gets a shot at the tope titles in SCW. For someone like her that would set her career into a whole new echelon. These next few weeks could be the most defining moments of her career. Mikah, we’re not required to be friends. As a matter of fact we’re not even required to like each other over these next few weeks. The only thing we need to do is learn to co-exist. Nothing outside of that matters really. I’m not going to sit here, and beg you to work on a game plan with me. I think we already know what that game plan is anyway. Win. At all costs. You scratch my back. I scratch your. You learn to trust me. Then I learn to trust you. For the next few weeks at least. After that you get to go back to your little world, and I’ll return to mine. Until then were the A-Team. Here is your chance, Mikah, your way to prove to the rest of the world who you are. I’m not expecting you to let that slip through your fingers. I’ll see you Sunday. Hopefully your in-ring ability matches those words that come out of your mouth.
Finally on the list. Andrew Watts. A man who I have a slight bit of history with. At one time in our lives we even considered each other teammates, and friends. Things have changed since then. Not so much for you, but definitely for me. See Andrew .. when I look at you I still see the same guy I saw seven years ago. Nothing’s changed. Should I have expected any different from a bottom feeder such as yourself? Yeah. Probably not. You know it took a lot longer than I had expected, Andrew. But you and I will finally be standing on opposite sides of the ring.
Shall we get started here Andrew? Behind this rough and tough exterior you exude Watts is the same scared little boy from EWF. The same person who lets his mouth write all the checks that needs everyone else around him to cash. Andrew, don’t you think by now it would’ve got a little old always riding someone elses coat tails to the top? I mean it’s been how many years of the same thing now? Use the ‘friends’ you have around you to get right where you want to be, only to push them to the side once you’ve got there. For someone like me, or any REAL wrestler out there, those games would get tired. Quick. How can you base your whole wrestling career off of what everyone else helped you do? Where is the gratification in that? Does it get you off at night realizing you’ll always be second, and usually third, best in your own career? It looks like the same story for you this weekend at Climax Control Andrew. This weekend you have yet again another partner you can hide behind when the heat really kicks in. Just because you slap hands with her, and tag her in the ring doesn’t mean you’re going to get away from me. No. Not this time. Andrew, no matter where you run or where you hide I’m going to hunt you down. I’m going to hurt you. I will not stop until I feel that last gasping breath of air leave your lungs. Your time, as you know it, in SCW is over Andrew. Mine is only just beginning.
Andrew Watts. ‘The Comedic Genius.’ You see, you’ve always had a way with taking different parts of your opponents’ name, or tag team whatever. And creating some sort of corny pun out of it. Witty. You would think someone, like you, who’s been in the industry for so long would’ve learned a little bit more skill on the mic. Yet week, after week, it’s the same exact trash that comes out of your mouth. Poke a bit of fun at your opponent. Try to embarrass them a bit. Hurt their feelings. Whatever it is that you’re actually trying to do. I, like most others, see it quite differently Andrew. I see it as a cop out. I see it as a way to try and get a few laughs. A way to put yourself in the spotlight week in and week out. Repeating the same few slurs, and slander you used the week prior. Just with a few different words mixed in here and there. With the rest of the talent walking around SCW that may work for you. But, little boy, believe me when I tell you that it has no effect on me. Try as you will to use the same games on me. Andrew, you should know by now I’m a whole different monster than anyone you’ve ever faced off against before. Maybe that’s why you begged me to join your little crew of ‘legends’ so many years ago. All you’re going to do is trigger and evil you can’t contain.
For most people. Wrestling is about getting in the ring, and earning an honest living. For many people fighting is the only thing they know. Andrew Watts on the other hand. He uses wrestling as a dating game. Instead of doing what 80% of the rest of the population does, and pay to be on one of the various dating websites out there. Andrew Watts, gets paid to use his dating service. You’re supposed to be this big, bad, intimidating superstar. Yet every other day you’re on twitter trying to sweep another mindless female off of her feet. What exactly do you do with them Andrew? Take them back to your mothers’ basement while she’s out at bingo? Maybe if you would stop worrying every day what girl wants to ‘hop on your junk now’ and focused more on your in ring abilities you might actually be worth the air you breathe. You do a little bit of everything inside the ring right? You’re something we call an ‘ass’, see what I did there, of all trades but master of none. But I guess I can sort of see where you’re coming from. It’s the never ending ‘ugly duckling’ syndrome. You we’re probably the quite kid in school. Always picked last in gym class. A little on the ‘husky’ side. After high school you got sick of the jokes, and decided to make a change for yourself. So you go get a membership at the local gym. Then you go and spend all your time there, well because if now is any notion of your past, you didn’t have many friends. A few bottom feeders here and there, but nothing solid. No real connection. Anyways, I’m getting off track here a bit. So you lose a bit of weight. Then you decide you’re better than everyone else. Cause while all the other kids from high school were away having the time of their lives at college getting drunk, and gaining a few pounds you lost them. I get it. I really do. Seen it before, and I’m sure I’ll see it again. Maybe, if you can stop drooling over Misty for five minutes, I’ll actually get my shot to put you through the ringer. Challenge you to my own little game of Russian Roulette.
As I sit here, and look back over your match history in SCW I see another familiar aspect. See, since you stepped foot in this ring you’ve only taken matches against talent you know will be an easy win. It’s either been rookies who don’t know their ass from their elbow inside the ring, or alcoholics who have no business walking around the halls of anything but the Betty Ford Clinic. I get it though. I guess it’s a smart move. It’s a way for you to build up a little bit of momentum. Again, another crutch you lean on to get you where you want to be. Prominence. You’ve been fighting so long, and so hard to get there. Sure, you’ve held a few titles here and there. In promotion no one remembers, or have even heard of probably. Yet, when you look around. No one even knows your name. In a few years, Andrew, people may remember your face on the streets but in the long run no one will remember, or care, who Andrew Watts never became. That’s one, of many, major differences between you and I. At the end of my career when I finally walk away my name will be emblazoned in the lights of each, and every promotion I ever stepped for it. The name Adam Stone will be synonymous with pain. Glory. Hate. The list goes on, and on. See, Andrew, Heroes Never Die but Legends Are Never Forgotten. Unfortunately you’ll probably never die, but in the end I’ll be the one who’s never forgotten about. Just like the beating you’re about to receive on Sunday night.
I’ve always been a sick man, Andrew. I’ve always pushed my opponents to their breaking point, and once I find that I keep going. To me it’s not about just winning a match. It’s about completely destroying the person standing across the ring from you. I have no problem ending a career. I have no problem breaking bones like twigs. You may think you know everything about Adam Stone. But in reality, whatever that actually is, you know absolutely nothing. The things you’ve seen in the past aren’t half of what I’m capable of. I used to wrestle because it was the only thing I had going for me. No clear cut direction as to where I was going. Now, yes now, I have a mission Andrew. I have a mission to rid this industry of all that is wrong. Of all the failures. You’re only step one on the road to the end. Whatever you throw at me Andrew I’ll be ready. I have this uncanny ability to adapt inside the ring. Using anything, and everything around me to my advantage. You think you have all these ‘God Given’ abilities inside of the ring. This week I’m going to show you exactly what ability is all about. Whenever the opportunity comes knocking I’m going to do everything, and anything, to shut you down. Not only shut you down, but end you. For good.
Are you truly willing to put everything you’ve worked on these past few weeks on the line? Against a man like me? Trust me, no one is going to blame you if you decide to walk away from this match. Maybe you’re flight will get ‘delayed.’ Or something along those lines. I’m sure you’ve developed enough excuses in your life to come up with a good one of why you can’t show up this weekend. For all the times you’ve risen to the top Andrew you’ve always fallen back down to earth one more time.
The time of reckoning has come Andrew. Are you ready to meet your creator?
