Buenos Aires, Argentina
September 21, 2015
There are defining moments in every person's life. Moment's where you are either a world champion or you are a coward. Moment's where you are either a man, or a pansy controlled like a puppet...
Or you make the mistake of putting your hands on another man's wife.
When Sean Jackson first arrived in Sin City on February 16th 2014 in Long Beach, California completely interrupting everything to start the show, little did he know that nineteen months later outside of the ring in Buenos Aires, someone would be stupid enough to put their grubby fingers around his wife's neck. But not only that, someone even dumber to invoke his name where the world heavyweight title was concerned.
But that will be addressed soon enough.
It was all racing through his mind like a blur. One moment he had the entire world in his hands, with Despayre standing before him, horror etched all over his face. The Mental Rapist found himself with one hand on Angel's head and the other on his arm, the intoxicating feeling of total power sweeping over him as the fibers began stretching to their limits. It wasn't like he was really going to do it, after all, there was a little girl in the United Kingdom who would have appreciated the lovely trinket.
But then the next moment saw his own world crashing down with Synn's hands around Pamela's neck, thus ending the advantage.
If only Synn knew the monster he just awoke. If only he knew.
September 21, 2015
Hilton Buenos Aires
Outside balcony
From where he was standing, Sean Jackson was looking outward over the river and into the city of Buenos Aires. He should have been in high spirits, the recipient of a masterful plan that was weeks in the planning. Instead...
Jackson: I know what you are thinking Synn....
He still has that vision in his head, of Synn's hands around Pamela's throat. Sean is trying desperately to keep his composure, but the sound of his wife's screaming still echo in his ears.
Jackson: That by threatening my wife, you have in some way saved Despayre from a certain catastrophe. But Synn, to think that way means only one thing...
He shifts uncomfortably in place, both hands securely on the railing as a deep breath is forthcoming.
Jackson: You don't really know me.
The Mental Rapist braces, his arms completely rigid. His heart rate beginning to pick up, a sudden urge to yank the railing right from the concrete.
Jackson: Because Synn, before I was only interested in the bear to complete two missions. First I was going to secure a match with Despy for the Internet Championship, and secondly I was going to give him to Simon's daughter Matty...
After all, he did make a promise to the little girl and what does a man become if he doesn't keep his word?
Jackson: To show her that I meant what I said, that I was going to give her daddy back to her...
But now things have changed, Sean Jackson has changed.
Jackson: But now the little bitch can take a backseat because I have a new interest, a new target if you will. For you see Synn, I was content with just using the bear for what I wanted...
His eyes narrow and his nostrils flare.
Jackson: But now we go an eye for an eye. You dared to put your hands on my Pamela, and now it is time for turn about being fair play. Matter of fact Synn, it reminds me of a story that I once heard about the Old Man and Death.
With a slight smile, Sean Jackson turns his back to the city and totally to the camera.
Jackson: If you will indulge me, the story goes like this. An old man who traveled a long way, carrying a huge bundle of sticks, found himself so tired that he threw them down and called upon Death to take him from the misery. Upon the arrival of Death, the old man saw the error of his ways and asked for help to pick up the bundle of sticks....
Now maybe Synn would get the jist of it or maybe he wouldn't. But by the time he was finished, Sean Jackson was going to make damn sure Synn understood the error of his ways.
Jackson: So what do you think Death did Synn?
The image of Pamela was still scorched in his mind. The thought of seeing the hands of that bastard around her throat made him want to hurt someone. Someone like his own flesh and blood, yeah that was the ticket.
Jackson: Or better yet, what do you think I will do to Despayre the next time I see him? maybe it will be in the dressing room, or maybe he will be walking across the parking lot. But one thing you can be assured of, I will treat him the same way Death treated the old man...
Sean shakes his head.
Jackson: And no, Death didn't spare the old man and I sure as hell won't spare Despayre. Just as I won't spare the dumbest man on the face of the planet in Lord Raab.
To the Mental Rapist, Raab was nothing more than an immature, self-absorbed, superficial idiot who didn't know to leave well enough alone. Whatever he was trying to do, whomever he was attempting to impress, did nothing more than capture the attention of a man who didn't even consider him a blip on the radar. But if it was his intention on capturing Sean Jackson's attention...
Then it was mission accomplished.
Jackson: Raab, I know you aren't a rocket scientist. But don't you know it is never a good idea to poke a hornet's nest? don't you know that it is always better to keep your mouth shut and let the world wonder, rather than to open it and remove all doubt?
Last night Sean Jackson was kind of willing to let the words of Lord Raab slide, but after the actions of Synn, the former world heavyweight champion was now on a mission to make an example of this Pop-Warner version of a Sean Jackson wannabee.
Jackson: How did you word that again?
Sean brings his hand up to his chin, tapping it several times with his index finger.
Jackson: Oh yeah, it went something like...as long as you are champion, I won't get another championship shot.
Even though he nods his head several times, Sean can definitely beg to differ because of one man. That being Mark Ward.
Jackson: Well Raab, let me enlighten you on how business is conducted in my world. I am reminded of another story, about a prophet who made his living telling the future of those crossing his path. Well one day a person ran up to him, giving the bad news that someone had slipped into his home and stole every earthly possession he held dear.
Sean could imagine what was running through the mind of Raab right now. Here was Lord Raab, with the world heavyweight title in his possession, with the rest of Monstrimal backing him up and the Mental Rapist wasn't scared, not concerned in the slightest...and why should he be? the Monstrimals were where they are because of Mark Ward. Yes, the same Mark Ward who opened up the vault and gave a shit ton of money to get Sean Jackson in Sin City Wrestling.
Jackson: Moral of the story Raab? don't make predictions for others when you can't even predict your own future. For who knows, this Sunday in Asuncion, Paraguay could be the worst night of your life.
Leave it to the former world champion to not pull punches. In his mind, he was telling the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. As far as he was concerned, Raab had the championship because of Christian Underwood and would be an easy target in his first title defense. Which is why Sean was only too willing to degrade him in this manner.
Jackson: You could be left in the middle of the ring, a recipient of a fractured skull. Or maybe a broken neck after being dropped with the Hook em Horns driver...
He now imagined Raab laid up in a hospital bed, tubes running out of his nose, his mouth, with a brace around his neck. There was also a small group of people around the bed, saying prayers and hoping for a speedy recovery. Absent in the image is that world heavyweight championship that rightfully belongs to the number one star in SCW....
The Mental Rapist Sean Jackson.
Jackson: All because you had to invoke my name in order to make yourself bigger than you actually were. Well Raab, I hope the publicity stunt was worth it. I hope it truly was, because by the time I am finished, you will never be the same physically or emotionally. I am going to make an example of you champ, to show the entire world what happens when you don't leave sleeping dogs alone.
Okay so maybe it seemed like the right thing to do at the time. Maybe it was the erotic feeling of winning the world championship, coupled with the electricity from the fans. Whatever the case, maybe Raab was now reconsidering the stunt and hoping it would just go away....
But due to the actions of Synn, hell would freeze over before Sean would let this slide by. No, an opening now presented itself and he would be crazy not to exploit it.
Jackson: So now it boils down to one thing Raab. To be, or not to be, that is the question I am asking you. In other words, are you a champion or are you a coward?
He now points an accusing finger at the camera, but the message is squarely aimed at the man who claims to be world champion.
Jackson: Are you going to be known as the coward who ran from his only competition...
That finger now finds its way pointing back towards himself.
Jackson: Or are you going to solidify yourself as a legitimate champion by not being afraid of anything? I mean, you claim to be this big bad monster who isn't afraid of anyone. But before you can even get the belt strapped around your waist, you are looking for ways to avoid the true monster in professional wrestling...
A smirk starts to wiggle its way free. Yeah, that is the ticket...keep hitting the champ mentally.
Jackson: And that is because you are fragile, both mentally and physically. You see me as the only true threat to that championship and will do anything you can NOT to put it on the line against me. So I guess when I get you in the ring this Sunday, I will have to beat you so soundly, so convincingly, so thoroughly that Christian will have no choice but to make you defend it against me...
There's nothing like challenging someone's manhood. They will either respond to prove you wrong, or to prove you right.
Jackson: And believe me Raab, you would be surprised to what lengths I would go for that world heavyweight title. Look what I was willing to do for the daughter of Simon Jones? in order to prove my sincerity about giving her daddy back to her, I was willing to take Angel from Despayre....
Okay, so maybe that's a lie. But the little girl is nothing but a baby and wouldn't know the truth if you slapped her with it.
Jackson: And give him to her as a gift.
Now comes that million dollar smile.
Jackson: But since you wanted to shoot your mouth off in front of thousands of people last week in Buenos Aires and millions of people world-wide....
The smile disappears and is replaced with dead seriousness.
Jackson: I now have to make sure you pay for that sin, and pay for it dearly.
Hearing the sliding door open, Sean looks over to see Pamela stepping out onto the balcony. She is wearing a pink t-shirt and black warm ups with her hair in a pony tail. It is easy to see that she didn't sleep well last night.
Jackson: Everything alright?
Slowly nodding her head, she walks up to him and stares deep into his eyes.
Pamela: I'm alright, just still a bit shook up.
He goes to say something, but she stops him by placing a finger to his lips.
Pamela: And before you say anything, it wasn't your fault. No one saw him reacting like that, especially me. I should have just stayed in the back and not put myself in that situation.
Now he was getting upset again, all the pain from that moment beginning to flow back to the surface. How dare anyone put their hands on his wife?
Pamela: It will be alright, I promise.
His face now beet red, Sean is fighting back the anger. Gritting his teeth hard, he places both hands on her shoulders and fully extends his arms. With Pamela now at arms length, Sean storms away and enters back into the top floor suite. He doesn't even hesitate as shoulders are bumped with Marshall Owens who was trying to step out onto the balcony himself.
Marshall: Whoa...
Sean doesn't even acknowledge the bump, he just keeps going. Confused, Marshall looks to Pamela.
Marshall: Is he alright?
Pamela smiles while turning to face the camera.
Pamela: He has never been better.
Asuncion, Paraguay
September 24, 2015
Inside a hotel room
Still in a bad mood, Sean sits in front of the camera, his focus lacking. Anger has swept over him, but for the time being, the reason for the lacking focus is un-touchable. However there is a substitute who isn't....
Jackson: I'm coming for you Raab.
The Mental Rapist is now contemplating the death of Raab's career.
Jackson: I blame what happened to Pamela on you. For your part in Christian stealing my world title from me, I will now take it out on you.
Sean closes his eyes momentarily, obviously perturbed at what has gone done over the past several months. Maybe that is the reason Synn went to such drastic measures, because Sean had gotten soft. Something he planned on changing.
Jackson: Maybe you don't understand what you truly are, maybe you just aren't aware of the evil forces biting at your shadow. Well Raab, the blindness is going to be your downfall because I plan on correcting the mistake....
His eyes open. Cold, calculating.
Jackson: Your mistake.
Just like yesterday in Buenos Aires, the Mental Rapist isn't even trying to hide his dis-taste. Like so many others, he completely understands how everyone has arrived at this moment in time.
Jackson: Yes Raab, your mistake. How juvenile to think the future of that championship will be decided by you?
Sean breathes in and out, his face a slight shade of red. So far he has kept his cool, kept his composure, but bubbling just under the surface is an eruption waiting to happen.
Jackson: General Custer thought he could decide the future of the Sioux Indians in the Black Mountains....
Everyone knows how that turned out.
Jackson: Napoleon Bonaparte thought he could decide the future of Europe at Waterloo...
A smirk begins to form.
Jackson: And I won't even bring up Adolph Hitler....
Thanks Sean, we appreciate that.
Jackson: And they all failed. They failed because they weren't as good as they portrayed themselves to be. Which is the reason you will fail Raab, because once I destroy you this Sunday at Climax Control....
The smirk disappears, replaced by a look normally reserved for a shark in blood infested waters.
Jackson: The powers that be will have no choice but to feed you to me. To feed this monster awakened by Synn, in order to save their precious Despayre from complete annihilation....
It would make things very interesting. Who would Christian Underwood rather serve up? Despayre or Raab?
Jackson: There will be nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. So who do you think it will be Raab? who will the Powers serve up to me in order to prevent bloodshed?
From behind, Pamela enters the room with a scarf purposely covering her neck. As the former world champion turns to see her, it doesn't take long before he turns back to the camera, a look of pure hatred on his face. His breathing gets harder, his face redder....
And a slow methodical smile begins to form on Pamela's face.
Jackson: Come on Raab, the answer to that question is so obvious. You were nothing more than a stop gap, a means of control for a championship that belongs to no one but me. You may claim to be a monster, to be an animal that everyone should fear. But Raab, what have you done in this business to be feared?
The question has merit in the mind of the Mental Rapist.
Jackson: Have you put down Jamie Dean? or Drake Green? have you targeted the small child of Simon Jones? or almost ripped Angel from limb to limb?
He shakes his head no.
Jackson: Of course you haven't, which is what separates the pretenders from me. You made the mistake by invoking my name which is wrestling blasphemy, and now you must pay...
Slowly he stands.
Jackson: In blood.
fin.
