Prologue:
Who am I? I'm the very thing that haunts my own dreams, that makes my core desire a nightmare. I'm known for being entitled, the very definition of a narcissist. People will say it was my father, who gave me every material possession a person could imagine.I was handed every award possible just for my last name. A litany of awards handed of given out of fear and respect. Others will tell you it's because of the age I was born into. Where everything we do is given merit. Everytime someone takes a shit it trends worldwide, everytime a baby cries it goes viral. But the overall impact of who I became or what I've become could be simply rationalize by my numbness to the world, a complete ignorance to suffering.   I did every imaginable thing, just to feel empty. Drugs, Alcohol, and Sex, Vices that tend to keep people of this world thoughtlessly happy. Just to take away the expectations, to bury the truth. To take away the pain of my father's coddling,  my mother's total indifference, and all the women I loved that couldn't return my affections. I was beaten and raped as a child by my crazy uncle Kam. He told me how useless I was. They tell me how horrible that must've been, but merely a moment later I returned to the family table asking for seconds of mash potatoes. I suppose you can't understand me unless you know the truth. Where I once begged to be numb, I now ache just to feel. I would give anything in this world to feel pain again. To feel my heart skip from fear, or my bones rustle with anticipation, anything just to feel the hurt. There's an advantage to being empty though, there's nothing to stop you from the self-destructive behavor that would destroy you. There's no herb, drug, or trip that I haven't experienced. I took a hit of acid and thought I felt something but it was merely a hallucination. A fabrication of what one might feel in that circumstance. That's the irony in all of this. I once so badly begged for the pain to stop, now I can't feel shit, nothing at all. It's often said that pain is the worst feeling of all. But nothing compares to this eternal emptiness inside me.

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Swing Home Sweet Chariot, coming forth to carry me home, swing low sweet chariot, coming forth to carry me home. I looked over Jordan and what do I see, coming forth to carry me home a band of Angel's runnin' after me. Coming forth to carry me home.

The dusk has just settled as the nightmare appears. His face covered in white paint, with  a few stray lines of black giving definition to his face. He had a large ax in hand, swaying it from side to side with the greatest of ease. He stopped swaying the ax as he came upon a tree.  His eyes widen, biting down on his lip he enthusiastically circled the tree in a counter clockwise manner.

Hero, that's your occupation Thomas?

Jericho swung the ax over his shoulder, then started to skip around the tree merrily. After a few moments of this he leaned the back of his head against it. His eyes focused into the lens that was in front of him.

How very noble of you, and the fans they just cheer you name like your a long lost savoir. You're not only a hero, but a prototypical hero in that. A six foot five, two hundred and fifty pound man's man. You are even from Blackpool, England, even your location is utterly cliche. A man who's willing to do anything in the name of heroics. They even call you the Extreme Hero.

Jericho hoisted the ax off of his shoulder with a growl, placing it firmly into the ground with a punishing swing.

They say a hero is not judged by the words he speaks, by the nobility of his actions. That a hero is only truly a hero once he's been tested. Thus you can only be a hero when you sacrifice. When you are willing to give of yourself to make the world a better place. You have to earn the right to be called hero. But alas, I fear for you Thomas, I fear that you will never have the opportunity to become the hero you believe you are. That fate has intercepted the future you believe you desire. I will make a mockery of your arrival, I will embarrass you, and I'll do it without hesitation. My ways are not your ways. For I, am no such hero, I don't believe in your moral code, or ethics, none of that makes any sense to me.  Most people would let you ascend, to become great and then take the valiant hero out.

Jericho leaned his head forward then brought it back quickly against the tree. The sickening thud of his skull against the tree cut through the night air.

But I'm not that ambitious, I don't see the difference between slaying batman, and crippling Bruce Wayne before he ever becomes the bat. It serves the same exact purpose. The hero is still gone, and I, I find a certain freedom in that. You have a grand design which includes rising to the very top of SCW. Being cheer, and cherishing those cheers. You want to be a king, a savoir, a God. Sadly, I will end that Journey before you have the chance to take off. You see Thomas, this isn't a match. This is your legacy. You might not even see it yet, but that's the truth. Because you've anointed yourself a hero, and in your first match you take on a monster. As a hero it's your obligation to conquer me. To show the world that you are the very hero you claim to be. If you do, they shall rejoice. The fans will cheer, the other wrestlers will accept you, and you will have erupted onto the scene.

Jericho turned around, running his hand up the side of the tree. Letting the bark glide in between his fingers before pressing his face against it.

There is only one obstacle in your way, there's one minuscule thing that can't be over looked. I'm not your ordinary monster Thomas. No, I'm a monster that you can't possibly defeat, and in that; you will find your defining moment. Because while they would cheer, and worship you if you beat me. They will mock and belittle you when you don't. Every match after that your opponents will bring up me decimating you. They will talk of the time when I took your hero status and made it into a myth.

Jericho stopped himself in mid-sentence as he ran his tongue along the tree. Feeling its strong trunk, letting the ridged bark grind against his mouth. Then suddenly he took a couple of steps back admiring the tree. Placing his left hand on the tree he patted it gently.

This tree has a lot of the same traits that you have Thomas. It's a promise of safety, a beckon of hope, and most of all it's a promise.  It's stood here for hundreds of years occupying this space. A home for animals in need, a shelter from the wind and rain, even a look out for the birds above, that call to the other animals when danger appears. It's the hero of this forest . Much like you claim to be the hero of SCW. Many men would come out here and they'd take the ax. They swing it with all their might until finally, they chopped this massive tree down. Then they'd tell you how they're going to do the same to you. If that's what you're expecting, I will have to disappoint you greatly.  No, that's far too optimistic of a future for a hero such as this.

Jericho gave a sadistic smirk before taking the ax, winding up and slamming it into the tree one time. Pulling the ax from the tree Jericho admired his handy word. Watching as the sap ran down from the opening in the tree, he tossed the ax to the ground.

It bleeds, It bleeds

Jericho said in a high pitched voice jumping up and down. His sadistic smirk widened as a brightness is his eyes appeared, his whole body trembled with elation. Jericho bent down to the opening as he started to suckle on the sap that poured down the tree.  It began to run down the side of his face and smear his facepaint. He looked back at the camera, focusing once more.

One swing is all it takes to wound a giant like this. And from this one blow, decay will start, the animals will return only to realize the tree can no longer save them , and this once mighty hero will fall piece by piece to the earth.  Chopping Thomas down would simply be encouragement for others like him to appear. For other great heroes to try and take down the monster. No, the fate I have in store for you is much more devious. It's a sick fetish of mine Thomas. I want you to watch. I want you to stand their slowly rotting away as I destroy everyone else. I want the fans to chant your name as your forced watch crippled by your own fear. I want you to hear them screaming for their hero, all the while knowing that you have broken your promise. I will watch you decay, I will watch as you dash all their hopes and dreams. Until you finally admit that there's nothing you can do. Then and only then Thomas, will I allow you to die, and I myself will carry you away.

Jericho walked by the camera off screen as a familiar song echoes from distance.

Swing low sweet chariot, coming forth to carry me home.
Swing low sweet chariot, coming forth to carry me home!

----------

Jericho sat behind a burning fire, sharping a knife against a cold piece of steel. The evening was cool even causing him to shiver slightly, as we watch the coolness dissipate into the air. He ran the knife along the side of his face.

I wonder if no one got my message? It seems to me like that must be it. Was Mickey not a good enough example? Did I speak without conviction? Is it that you are too scared to get in contact with me. I swear I don't bite..... much.

As Jericho ran the knife along his face the cold caused him to jerk slightly, causing the knife to penetrate his skin.  Blood started to trickle down his face as he acted at if nothing happened, the blood slowly blending with his face paint.

I guess it could be any of those things, any one of the things I mentioned could be the case. Maybe I did it wrong, shattering Mickey's ankle might not have been enough. Perhaps I should have broken his leg, or arm, or crushed his skull. Any of those things are beyond feasible.

Jericho saw the blood dripping down onto the knife, and gave a lighthearted chuckle. Lifting the blade to his mouth he licked the blood from the steel.

Could it be that I didn't speak with enough conviction, did I not make my intentions clear? Here, let me try again.  I'm a mercenary, I want to hurt people, and I want you to pay me to hurt people. Whether you are NXT, whether you are HSI, honestly I don't care if you're the mean girls. I will do anyone's bidding. I have a very reasonable rate as well. It's not like I'm in it for the money. No, not at all, I want to hear you say you need me. I want to hear you beg.

Jericho tossed the steel to the side, immediately followed by the knife. The once sadistic smile was replaced with a eerie focus and a disturbing glare. As a high pitched yell escaped from the depths of his throat.

If I don't, it'll make me wonder, who must I destroy to get your attention. Who must I cremate to make you call me. The problem is that it won't matter then, because if I'm forced to do that. I will have already gone into business for myself. Then I chose the targets, and before you think you're above me let me assure that I'm not beheading kings. No one is safe, not Rage, not Mark Ward, not even the SCW champion Simon Jones. You will all be nothing more than targets that I will blow away with easy.

Jericho took his hand and placed it on the cut. He rubbed with feverish intensity until it opened up causing the warm liquid to flow from his body. He then smeared it all over one half of his face.

Last chance, if I don't get a call within twenty four hours. I start working for Jericho. And while you might think that my threats are ideal I assure you they are not. If you don't believe me, just ask Mickey, I'm sure he'll explain to you the depth I'll sink to just to make a point. SCW's mercenary has arrive, and he will be taking heads.

With that static flooded the screen until there was nothing but darkness
------

Six foot, Seven foot, Eight foot, bunch, daylight come and me wanna go home.

We opened with Jericho dancing in circles in a white suit with seamless black lines running down it. His arms extended as he came to an abrupt stop. A maniacal laughter bellows from within him. As the camera panned out and we saw him in the middle of an empty club. Disco lights shined down upon him as stuck his tongue out.

You are a giant of a man Horace, aren't you? Big, strong, and ancient; you might be wondering what wonderful things I have in store for you. I gave Thomas a mighty tree, to explain how I was going to destroy him with the slightest bit of effort. That must lead you to think that a mamoth man like yourself must have something truly spectacular awaiting for you. I must have conjured something great for a man of such stature. I hate to be the bearer of bad news but for you I have simple words and simple thoughts.

Jericho walked over grabbing a remote and he turned it from dim to light. The lights in the club illuminated down onto Jericho causing him to squint. He sighed heavily as his thoughts seemed to escape him.

You are not worthy of an agonizing death, you deserve something quick and painless. When I first saw you here I thought I might have company. That there might just be another monster roaming these hall. Then I listened, I listened to you speak of darkness, and the force. How very cute it was, listening to your babblings, followed by those of your loving sister.

In the blink of an eye Jericho exploided into a spirt dove stomach first onto the bar that was in the corner of the room. He swung his arms as if he were swimming in a pool, even taking deep breaths to emphasize the point.

You see darkness doesn't need a story, it doesn't need an explanation, and those who give it. Very rarely have any understanding of it at all. So let me keep my explantion of darkness short and sweet. When you walk into a room in full costume, people see a giant. A huge lumbering man who will put up a fight against any man. When I walk into a room, average looking as I may be. People scatter, they hide their children and wives, and they run for their lives only fighting as a last resort. You see men want to fight you to prove their worth, men hide from me for fear of seeing their own worthlessness.

He tuned over onto his back carefully intertwining the fingers and then resting the bad of his head on his hands. Staring up at the ceiling he continued on.

Do you wonder why I'm the odds on favorite and still no one mentions my name? It's because they hope I'm an illusion. They pray to their feeble Gods that no one mentioned my name and brought the monster back. It isn't that I was relevant, it's the pure fact no one wants to see me here. No one wants to tangle with the unspeakable. They all know the truth, and that is there is no defeating this beast.

Jericho unraveled his fingers pulling his hand down to pull out a pack of cigarettes from his coat pocket. As the camera zoomed in the fine print on the cigarette pack said Mickey on it. He pulled out a single smoke out and placed it on his chest.

There will be no supernatural occurrences in this match, no heroes to speak of , and the only force that will be felt will be a reign of elbows and knees that come crashing down onto your skull. And when that last flurry of pain comes raging down on you, I will crush your skull into the very mat you claim to dominate.  The force will be stopped, the hero slain, and the monster,

He reached down pulling a lighter from his pants pocket. He placed the cigarette in his mouth and lit it up.

Will be ready to set SCW ablaze.

With that he flicked the cigarette to the ground, and as the smoke began to rise, Jericho simply closed his eyes.  

 
Prologue:

His name is Jericho, if you know who he is; this will simply be a refresher of the beast incarnate. He wants this to be your moment, the very moment you realized that love at first sight is possible.

He’ll be your hero, the perfect mixture of Deity and mortal. A six-foot one Greek God with icy blue eyes that cut straight through you, and into your soul. A fighter, one of the best that’s ever lived. His flaws are seemingly nonexistent, his only weakness is that he cares.

Of course, he doesn’t have to care, he simply does. How much he cares varies upon the individual that steps before him and the sincerity of that person’s heart. If their heart is pure, his love seems limitless, if it isn’t, his wrath seems demonic.

Monstrously viscous, his feet damn near lethal, his holds almost inescapable, and his hands can crush skull. His abilities are limitless, his heart full of love and darkness at the same time. A walking contradiction.

Lovingly Evil, Sadistically generous, and terrifyingly awesome. He’s a white night, one of the elite amongst all professional wrestlers, yet he seems more willing to push others into the spotlight than he is to step into it himself. Enjoying the darkness, while being the light.

He’s God without the miracles. He doesn’t walk on water, or turn water into wine. He never claimed to. He gives people hope, understanding, and most importantly something to believe in. If you follow him he will bless you, saving you from your sins. If you curse him, he’ll leave you drowning in a world of despair.

Men, women, children. They all have the capabilities to become a white night. The only requirements are that you worship him, and that you kill the injustice that make residence within yourself, and in the world of professional wrestling. The very mediocrity, it thrives on.

His name is Jericho Hill, he is God, and this is his story.

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(11 years ago)

A young man sauntered into the house, he was slightly limping as he nodded towards his father. He idolized his father, the great James Magnum. The current reigning, defending world heavyweight champion. James chuckled slightly at the sight of his young son. His jeans ripped, shirt torn, and body covered in perspiration.

James: I remember my first day of training. Wasn’t the easiest was it Jericho? Either way, you’ll learn.

Walking over James gave a hug to his teenage son, a rare show of affection from a man known for his violent streak. The world renowned king of bloodshed, showing what little heart he had to offer. Jericho’s eyes lit up at the show of respect from his hero. His world revolved around James, and this was a moment he’d never forget.

Jericho: One day, I’ll be the best wrestler in the world. Just like you, and then all the hard work will have paid off right?

James was going to give one of his normal long winded, overblown, egotistical speeches when his wife walked into the room. Lauren Magnum was a stunning five foot ten brunette beauty queen. Her curves displayed nicely by her tight jeans and low cut pink blouse. Her hazel eyes stared down James then shifted to Jericho.

Lauren: Jericho, you know I don’t like this.

Jericho head immediately bowed as his shoulders slouched and eyes met the floor. He was almost ashamed to look at his stepmother. Jericho knew she had practically lost her husband to the sport of professional wrestling. Every moment was spent on wrestling. When he wasn’t on the road he was training, when he wasn’t training he was studying film of his opponents, and by the time he was done with that. He’d be back on the road. She’d be left to pick up the pieces of her life, while he was out living his. James Magnum might have been her husband and Jericho’s father, but wrestling was James’ spouse and the fans where his children. So while Jericho worshipped his father, he so often did it from hundreds even thousands of miles away. It was the last thing Lauren ever wanted, she didn’t want another woman to be put through the things she had.

James: I’ll talk to her later Jericho.

James looked at his son, who lifted his head cautiously. With a quick wink James reassured Jericho that everything would be okay. Jericho gave a slight smirk as he turned his head away, watching as his stepmother stared a hole into his father.

Jericho: Hey, I love you both but I need to run up and get a shower and get ready for school in the morning. Goodnight.

Lauren: I love you too, Goodnight Jericho.

Lauren glared at James who sighed ever so slightly.

James: Goodnight Jer.

After Jericho had showered he made his way into his room. In the complete darkness he maneuvered to his bed and fell face down onto the mattress in exhaustion. His body still aching from the beating it had taken most of the day. Just as Jericho closed his eyes he could hear Lauren and James in the next room.

James: Look it’s not that big a deal.

Lauren: No, I’ve already lost a husband to wrestling. I refuse to lose my son, I will not have him living the life you do.

Jericho could hear the irritation in her voice. He growled to himself, angry that she would even consider preventing him from achieving his dream.

James: You haven’t lost your husband. I’m here now.

Lauren: Until tomorrow morning when you pack up and leave for another three months. Even when you’re here, you aren’t here. You have to do autograph sessions or study an opponent. I don’t have a husband and Jericho’s never had a father. You won’t even tell him you love him.  

Jericho wanted to be upset at her for attacking his father, but he knew she was right. James never told his son he loved him, and he always seemed to be distant from the family as a whole. Jericho was torn, between wanting his dream, and just wanting his father.

James: Lauren, this is insane. You can’t stop me from doing what I want, and you sure as hell can’t stop Jericho. He’s a stubborn kid, if he can make it in that business you know he’s going to be in it. You’re just going to have to accept it. This is the life we have, and that’s not going to change for any of us.

There was a long pause as Jericho was left to ponder exactly what was going on between the two of them. After a few moments Laruen’s voice cut through the silence.

Lauren: Yeah, I guess so, I just have to accept what’s going on.

Jericho left out an exasperated sigh of happiness. He wasn’t happy about his father continuing to live how he did, but he was thrilled that he would have the chance to live out his dream, and one day become the greatest wrestler ever. Jericho shut his eyes and fell asleep.

James: What the hell? Put that away!

Jericho sat straight up in bed hearing his father’s screams. Groggy from the slumber he had just awoken from.

Lauren: I’m sorry James, I just can’t live like this anymore. You’ve taken everything, and now you want to take him? The only thing I have left.

James tried to speak but before he could a loud bang pierced the air sending a chill down Jericho’s spine. He shook in terror, his brain shit not totally registering what was going on. Jericho slowly got out of bed, and made his way to his parent’s room. He didn’t know what had happened, and nothing could prepare him for the horror he saw as he opened their door. Their was blood splattered all across the bedroom walls, and as he looked down he was his stepmother’s lifeless body before him.

James: Get out! Get out Jeri!

James tried to shield his son from the horrific events that had just occurred but it was too late. The damage had already been done. Jericho quickly turned away and close the door behind him before he collapsed to the ground in tears. It was an agony he’d never forget, and something he would never forgive his father for, and one of the last true glimpses into reality that Jericho would ever have.

-----------

The time has finally come, for you to bare witness to the man that dominated wrestling for years, and then went away because it just became to easy. He’s back, itching for the chance to destroy, pleading to dismember, hoping for a challenge but rarely getting it.

Icon, Legend, God, all words that have been used to describe him at one time or another, but before we begin we need to state the obvious.

I am Perfect.

So if you’re expecting to come here and see how Jericho fell in love and how he had to fight for her love in the most overdone story of all time.

I am flawless.

Or maybe the time he overcame all the odds to become world champion when no one thought he could.

I am God

He might seem stubborn at first, but in truth all he wants is righteousness. If you need relate to someone, go elsewhere. He’s nothing like you, If you want to pry into the past to find defeat, look through the history books. Ask those who watched from afar, since anyone that got to close was surely destroyed.

None of that matters now anyways, the past is gone and what matters is the here and now. Especially considering the future looks so bleak for those who oppose him.

So it’s probably a good idea to keep this purely on a professional basis, but wait there was that time, when he got into a shouting match with another person almost as insignificant as himself about the death of his father which had no relevance to the match at hand.

Wait a minute, that wasn’t him, and anyway.

I have no weakness, I am flawless, and I am God.

He’s not lying either, don’t believe? Time to introduce you to the beast, your hero, your God.

Promo Commencing.

The smell of death permeates the nostrils as the ominous scene unfolds. A decrypted old building on the outskirts of a sleepy little town. The hinges on the door creaks as the door flies open.

A harsh light seeps onto the steps from an incoming vehicle. It reveals a bloodstained path leading up the stairway. He paces back and forth across the wooden planks which crack and bow under the strain of his every move.

His eyes focus in on the camera, staring at it for a moment before quickly moving forward towards it. A forced smile quickly appears upon his face. Pulling on his long trench coat he walks out to the steps and takes a seat.

Before I continue, I have to correct you on a couple of things Drake. First and foremost if you’re going to speak publicly about me, don’t spend your whole segment lying through your teeth. I don’t’ want your spotlight or your glory. I don’t want your spotlight and glory, I live in the darkness for a reason and I’m quite fond of it.

Secondly,  I wasn’t even at Robertson Gymnasium when you so boldly claimed that I was boasting of defeating you. I didn’t brag about the victory myself and Gi had over you and Rex. In fact, the only comments I made were that I had the best tag team partner in the world, and I believe I said myself and Gi were the best tag team in the universe. The truth is there was a reason I didn’t brag about that victory.

Jericho reaches down grabbing a cigarette a lighting it before he places it against his lips and takes a puff. Shaking his head, he gives a sadistic grin.

There was nothing to brag about. It wasn’t that big a victory, myself and Gi were on the same page, we’re a better tag team than you and Rex could ever be. You boast when you have accomplished something of great worth, we did something ordinary. I don’t brag when I light up a cigarette and honestly that just might be a more impressive feat.

Lastly,

Jericho takes another puff off the cigarette as a dog comes into the picture and sits beside him. A small English puddle. His places his hand on the back of it’s neck.

I never bragged about beating you to anyone. I never claimed I pinned you in the middle of that ring. Never even claimed a victory over you, if I remember correctly. I even thought you were still undefeated afterwards. But those words apparently went unheard, and you well you did what you always do. Made up a fairy tale to make yourself feel better.

Jericho runs his hand over the dogs head and as the camera zooms, you can see his fingers going across the large bumps and bruises that cover the dog. Using his other had he takes another hit off his cigarette before exhaling.

Normally, my blood would boil over someone fabricating the truth. I’d find myself loathing the person, even wanting to take them out. But, I can’t hate you, in fact I don’t even think it’s possible. Because once the initial distain wore off. I found myself feeling something else, a much different emotion. I found myself pitying you.

All I can do is feel bad for you. You got into that ring with me and you lost. It doesn’t matter that it was your partner that got pinned or my partner that pinned him. You still lost, and in that moment you realized what you were up against. You knew I was the best, and you almost knew you had to get another chance at me.

That’s when you came out to that ring and did everything you could to irritate me. You lied about me, and you slandered my name with your lies. And you did it, just to have another opportunity to prove yourself. You wanted this match because it was eating away at you. You couldn’t stand the fact you’d been in the ring with someone that was flat out better than you.

The dog starts to whine, so Jericho puts his cigarette out and lifts it onto his lap. He kisses the wound on top of it’s head as he strokes the dog.

I’m sorry Drake. I’m sorry that you weren’t good enough to overcome your partners weaknesses. That no matter what you did that night it just wasn’t good enough. I’m sorry that you care enough to walk into that ring and lie over and over again. Just because you couldn’t deal with the fact your team lost. And I’m sorry that you aren’t important enough for me to brag about a victory over you. I’m sorry, I don’t care and I give you my deepest apologizes that you’re not good enough for someone like me to give a damn about a victory over you.

I truly feel bad for you, the fact you’ve been elsewhere and been so dominate and come here and embarrass yourself would boisterous claims that you can’t back up. I want to protect you from SCW, mainly because deep down we both know. You can’t make it here, that you’re just another guy. While elsewhere you’ve been a monster, here you’re just another piece of meat for others to gnaw on.

I wish you were better, I wish it mattered that you want this more than anything. The only bad part is that it doesn’t.  No matter how hard you try, it’ll all be in vain. And even after Into the Void I promise you I won’t brag about beating you, because a victory over you is truly meaningless.

Drake.

Jericho takes the dog and lifts him up, the pain on it’s face glaringly obvious. Jericho rocks it back and forth trying to sooth the animal.

I’m sorry.

---------------------

(February 10 2013)

The sight of James Magnum huddled underneath a buddle of blankets could be seen. IV’s and machines seeming hooked into every piece of his exposed flesh. His body had been torn apart by the cancer and the years of punishment he’d put himself through. The disease has weakened his body but not his hatred of all those opposed him. His goal to be the greatest ever and anyone that claimed he wasn’t would receive the venom he so often spewed. Jericho stood at the door knocking lightly.

Jericho: Hey dad, how’s it going?

Magnum was startled as his head snapped around looking at his son with a glare of distain. His body gingerly rolled towards the door.

James: Jericho is that you?

Jericho: Yeah, can I come in?

James: If you must.

Jericho walked through the door, bruised and battered from the match the night before. Struggling, he pushed himself towards the chair until he feel down into it with a minor thud. A groan escaped his lips as he looked over at his father.

Jericho: How are you holding up?

James gave a smirk and wink, as he puffed his chest out as much as he could, he laughed hardily as he lifted his right arm which had been wrapped with a cast.

James: I’m good except my arm hurts like a mother fucker.

Jericho’s jaw dropped, he couldn’t believe that on top of everything else that his father had found a way to break his arm. With a dissatisfied sigh Jericho looked away.

Jericho: How the hell did you break your arm in the hospital?

James: I’ll tell you how, Jack Collins.

Jericho: Okay, I don’t under-

Before Jericho could continue he was cut off short.

James: Some young whippersnapper who thought he could arm wrestle me and win.

Jericho: And he broke you arm in the arm wrestling match?

James: Of course not, I won. He thought he had me but I simply poked him in the eye and slammed his hand down on my bed pan. Right in my shit too, cocky son of a bitch said there was no way I could beat him. Well check his hand, still smells like shit. Apparently, he didn’t like that because he slammed my arm into a brick wall. But it doesn’t matter, I whipped his ass.

Jericho was in disbelief as he continued to avoid eye contact. Finally, he looked back to his father, whose eyes where full of rage.

Jericho: Dad, that’s not why I came here. I just came here to tell you how much I respected you. How I always though you were the best. My whole life as a professional wrestler I just wanted to be like you. I trained under you, learned from you, and did my best to be like you. I always wanted to grow up to be just as good as you. To have world title reigns, to expand your legacy. The fact that I know I’ll never reach that goal is just a testament to how great you were. And while I was the best in my time, I truly believe that you were probably the greatest ever. I guess in doing that I found myself, I found out that I’m not defined by title reigns but by the things I do, and the people I’m around.

James: Yeah, well I won ten dollars when I slammed his arm to the shit pan. I knew I could, I knew I’d kick his ass.

Jericho: You think it was worth it?

James: Yeah it was worth it. I embarrassed him and I got ten bucks in the process. I’m better than him, I’m better than everyone, and the fans love me.

Jericho looked around seeing the empty room. Not a card, a letter, not a single flower in the room. And no one had been there to visit besides him.

Jericho: Yeah they love you dad, anyways I got to get going. My brothers in the white nights are waiting for me.

James scoffed his disapproval.

James: Brother, no wonder you were never as good as me. You never had the heart to do what it takes. You always had to help your friends. It pathetic Jericho, no one but you cares about them. No one, and the truth is that you’ll never be good enough as long as you have to carry them. You’re soft, and that’s why you were never good enough to be the best. You never had the desire to ignore everyone else, just so you could be succeed. I’m the best ever, and I won!

Jericho nodded as he headed towards the exit.

Jericho: You won dad, you won.

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(Present Day)

As we open we see a single candle lit in the middle of a long table. Its dim light is enough to shine onto Jericho, who still has the dog , but now he’s inside on a recliner holding it in his arms. Soothing it with soft whispers it licks his hand affectionately.

The pity I hold for you is limitless Drake, there’s nothing I can say to truly express how sad I am every time your name is mention. That’s why this match is going to be so hard for me. It’s going to be difficult to do what I have to do at Into the Void. All you want is the fans affection, their love and admiration. That and to be the best, but even then you want to be the best for the fans.

Jericho leans down pressing his face up against the dog’s head with nuzzling against it.

I knew that man, the man who did everything for the fans. He gave his body, his life, and his soul to the fans. To hear the shouting and the praise, he did everything to get his name in lights. He kissed their assses just like you do. He told him they were the reason for all of this, just like you do,. He was everything you are Drake, only a lot better.

He was the most famous champion of his era, and one of the greatest wrestlers of all time. The fans cheered him everywhere he went, surrounded him even So, when I watched as he was falling away from the business I figured those same fans would still support him. But as I watch as he was literally taken away from this world I noticed something.

There were no fans, no one chanting his name, no one sent flower, not even a single card. And while we could debate whether he was the greatest of all time, you can’t deny what he did in this business, or the love those fans once had for him.

The puppy curls into a ball on Jericho’s lap, Jericho brushes the dogs head as exposing a large lump on it’s neck.

Which showed me that fans are fickle, and they live in the moment. It showed me that I needed to live for something else, which I do. I live for the White Nights, my family. Those who were cast aside and the very people those fan’s give up on. I give them hope.

It makes me think of you Drake, and what’s ahead. How one day they’ll have enough of you and you’ll be gone without thought. While you’re showtime, they still care, while you’re working your ass off, they still care. But once you’re done, they won’t.

It makes me pity you even more, it causes me to see you in a new light. It makes me realize that you need saved. Which is exactly what I’m here to do. I do however realize that you don’t want my help, and that you would never accept it.

So instead of coming to you and trying to appeal to your sense of reason, I’m going to do the human thing. At into the void, I won’t be offering you a place in The White Nights. I won’t be helping you in the ways I’ve help countless before you.

I’ll help you in a far more profound way. I’m going to end your misery before it begins. I’m going to show you that you aren’t the best in the world. I’m going to prove that you’re not even close. I’m not going to let you become a cripple old man who can’t defend himself, and I won’t let you become a delusional old fool who believes people still care.

Jericho wraps his hand around the small dogs neck and begins to squeeze.

I won’t let you think you belong, because at into the void. You’ll hear the applause stop, and showtime end. There will be no encores, no time for the world to praise you. Because I’m going to do the just thing, the humane thing. At Into the Void,

The life drains out of the dog, Jericho smiles at the camera

I end your suffering, and I end my misery. I won’t have to pity you anymore, because I’m going put you down, and your death like his will go unnoticed. Enjoy their cheers at into the void, they’ll be the last ones you hear.