[Dax Beckett]

 


What You Need To Know About Daxton Oliver Beckett…


In case you haven't heard, I am my own person. I don't let others influence my decisions. I think for myself, and I do for myself.  I’m not a fucking sheep, and I don’t conform.  I don’t tame myself down in order to become some kind of cookie cutter human being.  Normal isn’t in my vocabulary, and it hasn’t been since I was a teenager.  I love being me, and I don’t care how self-centered that sounds.  Daxton Oliver Beckett is all I know how to be.  If you don’t like it, then please, stop reading right now.  It doesn’t get any better from here on out, I promise you that, asshole.  I’m not afraid to speak my mind, and I do it very well, bruh.

With that said… Is it any surprise that I have never once had a healthy relationship?  I mean like a totally, normal, well functioning relationship. Well unless you count my Japanese husband who I didn't even know I was married to until I tried to come back to the United States. I just thought it was Japanese custom for roommates to share the same bed. Fuck, did I feel like a jackass…

Anyway, my healthiest relationship was with a dude who I was never once intimate with (to my knowledge).  I can't be surprised that this thing with Celeste burned like a candle made of dynamite. The burn was quick, and went out with a bang. So this is how it goes in the business, I'm told. I guess that's why they call it the blues.  So I'm single and ready to mingle.

But then, Daxton Oliver Beckett doesn't give up so easily. If I gave up so quickly, I never would have made it to the six sided circle of Sin City Wrestling. I never would have been so determined to succeed that I whipped my body into shape. I would have shaved off my signature beard because people told me that it was stupid. I would have never decorated my temple in the way that I did. I never would have traveled the world in my trusty old Volkswagen van. If I gave up on things just because I was worried about what others thought, I wouldn't be me.

But, Daxton Oliver Beckett doesn't beg. I am not a lap dog that you can push away, and then pull back when you need somebody. I'm a fucking human being. I might be a man, but that doesn't make me emotionless. I have feelings, and a need to feel honored and respected. I don't have that right now. I've been pushed away for the last fucking time. I should not be held accountable for things that other guys have done. While it might sound heartless, that's not my problem. It's not my fault, and it's not fair to me. I won't do it. I can't.

Does that mean that I'm done?  I don't know, maybe? Maybe not? Things have to change if I'm gonna stick around for this, because I refuse to settle for less than what I deserve. I mean, she’s an amazing girl, who is awesome in the fuck zone.  Like, stellar bruh.  She’s got a great personality, and she’s not afraid to be who she is.  She’s under a lot of pressure right now, and I’ve tried to be as understanding as I can be.  Fuck, I’ve had to deal with these Bad Boy shit heads, so I get being harassed and made to look like a fool because of gang attacks.  Seriously, I fucking get it.  But what I don’t get, is why would you choose the one time that you need someone to push them away?  I seriously think that is one of the things that made us closer in my eyes.  We stuck together, and I defended her.  But now she decided to push me away from her.  Here, have a look at this...



********************************December 18th, 2016********************************

So, Climax Control is over, and Celeste and I are sitting in the medic tent being seen by the doctor.  She won’t even look at me, and I feel like a goddamn failure of a man.  I couldn’t protect her.  I let my ego get the better of me, and I ran in there to take down Giani Di Luca and Mickey Carroll, while not thinking about the four women taking on Celeste.  I actually had Giani and Mickey, until I saw Celeste struggling.  I should have had her stay back, and found a different time to strike when they weren’t rolling six deep.  Luckily, I took most of the burn damage, which wasn’t really all that bad.  A little bit of Neosporin, a couple bandages, and a lollipop was all I got.  But none of that was as bad as the cold shoulder I was getting.  The doctor let us know that we were good to go, but I wasn’t paying attention.  Celeste stood up from the bench, and walked out of the room.  Like I always do, I followed after her like some kind of puppy dog.  The doctor gave me some kind of wound care packet, but I was more concerned about Celeste.  I followed after her, only to find her walking into the Bombshell Locker Room.  She goes to slam the door behind her, but I don’t let it, blocking it by barging through it.  I figured most of the Bombshells had gone home already, but there were still a couple.  I heard a shrieking from the shower stall, and Alexis Edwards has her arm wrapped around Celeste.  She turns to me and snarls at me.

Alexis:  Uh, hey idiot!  This is the Bombshell Locker Room…

Celeste:  Well he is a big pussy, so he does have a right to be in here.

Alexis starts to laugh at my expense, until she realizes that Celeste is being serious.  My mouth hangs open, as I try my hardest not to tell her to fuck right off with that mess coming from her mouth.  Still, I care about her, so I don’t say a word.  I walk toward them as Alexis seems pretty stunned.

Celeste:  The tampon dispensers are right over there, so why don’t you plug that bloody gaping hole?

Alexis:  Do I even want to ask?  Probably not, but what’s going on?

Me:  Celeste, will you stop with this?  I wasn’t fucking thinking, and I’m sorry about that.

Celeste laughs as she turns to look at me.  There we go, some kind of progress, right?  Well, she walks up to me and she slaps me across the face.  I suck in my bottom lip, because now I’m shaking with anger.  I turn away from her for a second as my fists shake at my side.  Alexis steps in between us as she tries to calm Celeste down.  Celeste reaches around Alexis and goes to slap me again until I grip onto her wrist.  I throw it away as I glare right down at her.

Me:  Momma didn’t raise no bitch.  Don’t you dare disrespect me like that!

Celeste:  So now he wants to talk about disrespect?  How about sucking face with SCW’s resident man stealer, Delia Darling?  Like I didn’t find out about that, because the bitch sent me a tape of it to rub in my face!  Or, was it maybe the way you threw my safety to the side to go after two guys with weapons and like fifty pounds on you?

Me:  Like I would have done ANY of that shit if it wasn’t to protect YOUR honor, Celeste!  I told you what she did to me, so don’t act like I was hiding shit from you.  All I do is try to be a better person for you, and all you do is bust my fucking balls!

Alexis holds Celeste back as she tries to take another swipe at me.  I admit, I am kind of being a dick at this point because I laugh at her, taunting her to come at me harder.  My arms are out at my side, and I got that cocky grin on my face to hide the fact that I’m really hurt by what she’s doing.  It’s a pride thing.

Alexis:  C, come on!  Just chill out.  Dax, would you please leave so that I can try to help calm her down?  This isn’t the time to be talking to each other.

Celeste:  No, it’s a perfect fucking time.  He is an idiot, though, so I don’t know how much of what I’m saying will actually stick.  His bitch mom must have dropped him on his head one too many times, because he’s borderline retarded!

Flipping tables time, bitch!  I turn to my right to see a makeup table, and I turn it over on it’s side.  I point right at her, and if she was a dude, she would be out cold for that.  Alexis walks up to me and shoves me back a step.

Me:  Don’t you ever talk about my mother like that, when you got the fucking motherload of mommy and daddy issues, you fucking psychotic witch bitch!

Alexis:  Dax, get the hell out of here already!

Celeste:  Yeah, go back to your Japanese husband, you nutty fucking fruitcake!  Leave me alone, and stay out of my business.

Me:  It’s a little late for that.  You got your ass kicked by the Mean Girls so bad that I had to step in, and now I’m knee deep in your bullshit, C.

Someone grabs onto me from behind, pulling me through the door, or trying to at least.  I’m fucking hyped, bruh.  This person holds onto my waist, and I ram my elbow into their chin to turn around to see who it is, and my fists are up.  I see red hair, and I’m ready to start swinging.

Tim:  Come on, Dax.  Let’s get you out of here, man.  This isn’t the place to be right now.

Alexis:  Thank you, babe.  Neither one of them wants to be rational enough to explain what’s going on right now.

Me:  You want rational?  You won’t get that from her.  She’s literally insane, bruh.

Tim wraps his arms around my waist and drags me out of the locker room.  Alexis slams the door behind me and locks it.  I slam my fist into the steel door, leaving a dent in it.  I don’t care that I might have screwed up my hand.  I pace back and forth, rolling my shoulders around as I shake my head.  She got me all fucked up right now.

Tim:  I don’t know what her problem is right now, but you can’t take it personal.  I’ve seen her do a lot of messed up things when she’s under pressure.  She was just starting to do good things here since leaving The Nobodies, and then Delia pulled the shit she did, turning her into a joke.  You have to understand how crappy that has to feel, right?

Me:  Timbo, you ever been electrocuted before?  It feels pretty crappy if I’m being totally honest with you.  Knowing that you failed the person that you love is worse than that.  Having a girl you care about trying to take your manhood away from you sucks, but knowing that she is doing it because she’s in pain because of your mistake?  It’s the worst feeling in the world.  But I’m not gonna let anyone slap me and disrespect me like that.  I don’t care how shitty they feel, you don’t treat someone that you love like that.  I don’t care if we ain’t there with the love shit yet, but it’s definitely not the way it should start off.

Tim nods his head as he hears me out.  I figured he would be a lot more up her ass on this one, but he seems to understand where I’m coming from.  I shake my head as I try to work off some of this adrenaline that’s pumping through my veins.  I’m ready to let someone have it right about now, but I try to keep my cool.

Tim:  I think she knows you care about her a lot.  Just give her some time to cool off.  She’s stressing about all of this stuff with Delia and Mean Girls.  Can you blame her?  I mean, she’s not going about it the best way, but you have to understand that she’s not in the right frame of mind right now.

Me:  But you don’t attack the person who is going to battle for you every time we set foot on Climax Control.  You just don’t do that.  She’s a cool chick, but that doesn’t mean that I gotta put up with this.  I already get mess from everyone for being up her ass like I am, but I ignore it because I do care about her.  But this kind of shit?  I’m not putting up with this.

Tim:  I tell you what.  Why don’t I put you up in a hotel around here so that you can give her the time that she needs to see what she’s doing.  Or go back to Anaheim to see the family for the holidays.  Just let her cool off, and I’ll try to talk to her.  Just don’t give up on her so easy.

I nod my head, but I gotta admit that I’m feeling pretty skeptical of this whole thing right now.  Tim pats me on the back as I start to walk to the Men’s Locker Room.  He stays with me while I get my things together, and even though we don’t talk, I can tell that I’m not part of this fucked up family of former Nobody’s.  He helps me find a decent place to stay locally, as I start the waiting game.  Days upon days of waiting for things to calm down, and honestly waiting for some sort of apology.  I don’t get it, and that’s when I start to realize that I’m gonna be spending another Christmas alone… and I’m actually okay with it.


********************************December 24th, 2016********************************


I figure it would be a good idea to take the negativity of the last week, and turn it into an opportunity to do something positive.  The last three days, I’ve been volunteering at the Las Vegas Rescue Mission.  My super sweet beard helped me land a gig playing Santa for homeless children.  Well, it wasn’t a gig as much as it was the best experience of my entire life.  I got to hand out gifts to kids who are staying in the shelter with their parents.  Some of these kids didn’t even think they would get to meet Santa, much less write letters of their demands for not being spoiled brats.  They were some of the coolest kids I ever met.  I knew I did a good thing by giving them hope of a better future.

Then, I spent every night volunteering at the soup kitchen.  I met some dude named Rocco who streams all SCW events on his phone.  He said I was a badass motherfucker, and he was surprised that I was spending my holidays surrounded by the lower end of society.  His words, not mine.  Not to get all preachy, but I told him that’s exactly what Christ did.  He fed the hungry, and gave hope to the hopeless.  It’s only right that I spend the season doing good deeds for my fellow man.  It’s not about getting gifts.  It’s about doing kind things for others.  He didn’t agree, but I’m pretty sure he was on some other shit at the time.  I took a couple pictures with him, and I sat down with a bowl of soup on my break.  We had a couple cigarettes, and I think he made my day.  All of the shit from Sunday was in the back of my mind, but it wasn’t what I was focused on.  I was doing right by my fellow man, and I knew I was putting out some positive energy into the universe.

I was hoping that the night would never end, because that would mean that I would go back to my hotel room and heat up a Steakums on the stove, and stare at my Charlie Brown replica tree while listening to fifty different versions on “Santa Baby” and “Last Christmas” until I passed out from Captain Morgan’s and egg nog.  But, all good things must come to an end.  Tomorrow, I would be right back at it.  I help close down the kitchen and wrap up all of the food.  Of course, I sneak a Thermos of soup in my bag before giving high fives to the guys and girls that I have become close with through my work.  I put my bag over my shoulders and walk out of the door.  On my way out, I hand the Thermos off to Rocco, even though he’s passed out in the alleyway.  I would try to wake him up, but he’s out cold, but there’s still a pulse, so it’s all good.  I walk over to my van as I open up the door, throwing my bag in the back.  As I close the door, I turn to see Tim leaning against my van, wearing a Santa hat, and a candy cane between his teeth.  I nearly jump out of my fur lined jacket before giving him a playful shove.

Me:  You scared me, bruh.

Tim:  Obviously… Hey, when I suggested that you stay in town, I figured you would want to relax and enjoy yourself.

Me:  You know me too well.  That’s exactly what I did.

Tim:  Okay?  You do realize that it’s Christmas Eve, right?  You could still go back to Anaheim to be with your family…

I shrug my shoulders as I light up a cigarette.  Tim joins me with one, as I get the light for him.  I take a second deep drag before nodding my head at him.

Me:  My family isn’t exactly the celebrating Christmas type.  Plus, it’s been so long that I really doubt they wanna see me, anyway.  I like doing right by people.  If I was in their shoes, I would want people to act like they cared instead of staring at me like some kind of disease.  So I celebrated with those who need it.

Tim:  I get that, but wouldn’t you like to celebrate with people who want to be around you, instead of going back to your hotel room and eating Steakums?

Damn, he really does know me too well.  I laugh, because that’s exactly what the plan was, and for a second, I almost think this kid could be a mind reader.  I shrug my shoulders as I close the sliding door to my van, and I turn to face Tim.

Me:  Who wants to spend Christmas Eve with a douchebag like me?  Celeste is the only person that I could think of, and she hates my guts.  Plus, even if she didn’t, she doesn’t celebrate Christmas.  Believe me, I went over all of the options in my head, and the Charlie Brown tree barely wants to see my sorry ass.

For a second, I swore Tim turned and looked right at my ass, like, not even trying to hide it.  He shrugs his shoulders and I slightly close one eye, letting him know how awkward the situation really is.  He cracks up laughing and pats my shoulder, shaking his head.

Tim:  It definitely is one sorry ass… I mean, you aren’t as big of a tool as you seem, so don’t be so down on yourself.  People like you more than you realize.

Me:  I know I was married to a man at one point, but I don’t swing that way.

Tim:  Dude, learn to take a joke.  I know Celeste is kind of having some issues right now, but she’s not going to have them forever.  As long as you treat her right, you will always have a friend in me and my family.  I guess what I’m trying to say is that you are welcome to come over and spend Christmas with my family tonight.  We have a whole 36 hour celebration with my little brother and sisters.  It’s actually a lot of fun.

Me:  I don’t know, man.  I hate to just crash your family party like some kind of charity case.  I can just go home and watch The Grinch Who Stole Christmas and drink Captain Morgan with a splash of eggnog.  It’s all good, bruh.

Tim stares at me, folding his arms across his chest as he taps his foot.  He’s clearly annoyed.  I sigh and eventually give in as I get in my van and follow him to his family’s home.  I walked inside, and I felt like I stuck out like a sore dong in an Amy Marshall production.  I’m sitting there in a dark khaki colored jacket over a Brawny Man flannel shirt, and some worn jeans with work boots and a skull cap over my head.  Everyone else looks like they stepped out of a Christmas catalogue, and the house is decorated to match.  The only person that isn’t dressed to the nines is some homeless dude in a Vans Warped Tour t-shirt, checkered canvas shoes, and shaggy hair.  I guess he figured he would size me up, circling around me like a shark who smells blood.

Jamie:  What a douchebag…

Me:  I’ve been hearing that a lot.

Spike:  It must be like looking into a mirror, Jamie…

Spike Staggs… THE Spike Staggs… walks up to me and shakes my hand.  I’m kinda star struck, because this dude was one of the most respected American wrestlers in Japan.  It was this guy who inspired me to come back to the US to continue on with my wrestling career.  I’m geeking the fuck out while trying not to fall over like an eager fan girl as I probably shake his hand a little too long.

Spike:  I’m just kidding.  Welcome to my home.  Please make yourself comfortable.  Jamie already has.

Jamie:  Hey, you dared me to try to eat every cocktail sausage, and I did!  You can’t blame me for that…

Spike:  This is my brother, Jamie.  He’s… special.

Jamie:  Your mom’s special!

Spike doesn’t laugh, but it was kind of funny.  I give Jamie a high five as he walks over toward the horderve station (Yeah, fancy shit, right?) and taps a small raven haired girl on the shoulder as he leans down to whisper to her.

Jamie:  Do you dare me to eat every meatball in this place?

Me:  It’s an honor to spend Christmas with your family.  I’m just kind of confused why I was even invited though.  I respect the hell out of your family, but…

Spike:  Honestly?  I see a lot of potential in you.  You can do things at your size, that not even I can do, and I started out doing what you do.

Me:  Bruh!  I studied every one of your moves when I was over in Japan.  My husb… er, trainer, said that you were the greatest thing he had ever seen in the US. “Seiyō no besuto” or Best in the West.  He also called you “Unzari peishīinparētā”, but I never did learn what that meant.  I assume it’s good, though, because he spoke very highly of you.

Spike looks away from me for a second, seeming pretty uncomfortable as he tries to find his way back to the conversation at hand.  He clears his throat as he scratches the back of his neck, returning to look at me with a smile on his face.

Spike:  I see a lot of myself in you, Dax.  You march to the beat of your own drum.  You don’t take shit from anyone.  You could honestly be the biggest thing since Spike Staggs.  You just have one thing standing in your way.

Me:  I know, I know… my attitude, or the old “You’re the only one standing in your way…” That’s a bit cliche, man…

Spike:  No.  Your attitude will take you very far.  I was talking about Giani Di Luca and Mickey Carroll.  You can’t expect to move past them with just one of you.  Giani might not be the best champion there ever was, but he did a lot of big things during his time.  And Mickey doesn’t care what happens to him.  He looks at a fight as a good time.  Neither one is going to make it easy.  My suggestion would be to find someone who hates them just as much as you do.  Someone who is going to help you plow through them so that you can move on to bigger and better things.

Me:  But, who is going to want to do that?  Yeah, they are a couple of assholes who nobody likes, but who is actually going to stand up to them.  How can I trust them?  Are you saying that you would help me?

Spike stares at me, and I can tell that he wants to smile, but he keeps it hidden.  He slowly shakes his head from side to side, which causes me to sigh.  How cool would that have been to work with my biggest idol?

Spike:  Just like I’ve helped train Giani, as a monster that I’m responsible for, I have made a lot of connections in my time.  I’ve worked some with Mickey, but I’ve worked extensively with many people who would love the opportunity to stand up and put those two in their place.  I could call around and find a thousand people who would want to kick their skulls in.  I’d be willing to help you get on the right track, and trust me when I say that you can’t go wrong with my endorsement.

Me:  I fought long and hard to get into SCW, and while I appreciate the offer, I feel like I gotta find my own way in this business.  But, I’m not gonna say no to a little connection with someone to help get these fuck heads off my back.  Call it your contribution to the Daxton Oliver Beckett cause. When I join you in the Hall of Fame, I’ll give you a special shout out.

Spike:  I would gladly do that for you.  I look forward to seeing you do these great things.  I don’t just stick my neck out on the line for anybody, but I believe in you, kid.

Spike pats me on the back before returning to the holiday party.  I can’t help but clench my fist and ram my elbow down in celebration… or kicking my leg into the air… or punching the air.  I was on cloud nine after that, and there was no way I was going to mess this up.  I had to prove to my idol that I deserved my spot on the SCW roster, and hopefully soon, among the names of the greatest to ever step foot inside of an SCW ring.  It all starts here, and it all starts now…


********************************December 31st, 2016********************************

The year is quickly coming to an end, and there is little time left to leave an impression on Sin City Wrestling.  There are just a few things that I can think of, but it doesn’t seem to matter right now.  I’m sitting outside on the Las Vegas Strip, acting like a baller in my blue suit jacket and pants, with my Chuck Taylors on tight, and my hair slicked back.  I got a cigarette in one hand, and a button clicky thingy in the other as I am ready to give my final words, all while the large crowds walk by, staring at me in the process.  I shrug it off because I’m ready to get down to business.

Me:  Hello Sin City Wrestling, and welcome to the Daxton Oliver Beckett Mash Em Up hour… no, the Daxton Oliver Beckett Fuck Shit Up segment…  No matter what you call it, this is where I’m going to speak the truth, and I don’t care how raw, or how dirty the punches are.  There is only one way Dax Beckett serves it, and that’s straight up on the fucking rocks.

I nod my head, because they know it’s true.  Twitter has spoken, and that’s what gives me mad respect in SCW.  They come to expect it from me, and I’m not one to disappoint.

Me:  So, I did what I said I was going to do at High Stakes Six, and I took down the cocky Calvin Harris, the man with the reputation as big as his head.  Of course, I didn’t knock it down that much, but I got something to hold over him.  Then, everyone thought D.O.B. was gonna get his ass handed to him by the Reverend of Psychology or whatever, Chris Shipman.  Yeah, that didn’t fucking happen.  Not only did I put on the most talked about match of the Christmas show, but I won it.  Of course, Chris didn’t show up to work, but I made sure we looked good.  It’s what I do.  I’m SCW’s own Dolph.  I can’t help it.

Arrogant?  Uh, yeah it is…

Me:  So, I ended 2016 in style, and I stepped over two people to prove that I’m as good as I say I am.  Two people that don’t deserve to be on this roster, the second one even more than the first one.  If I didn’t know any better, I’d say the latter must be sucking the right dick around here, and the first one is just a fucking dick.  But, in about three hours, that’s going to be in the past.  We’re looking forward to 2017, and it’s going to be my year.  But, everyone is saying that I’ve got the biggest test of my short career in front of me.  I call it a pop quiz, like my fists popping his face.  Jeremiah Hardin is SCW’s biggest disappointment.  He has so much potential.  He was considered for the Heavyweight title on a couple of occasions.  He had a few good runs with various titles in SCW.  His uncle came along for the ride, and they had a good run at the tag division.  But then, when all seemed the most promising, this dude just up and leaves.  Gone.  Vanishes.

I pause, giving the three people watching this on scwrestling.net the opportunity to understand just what I mean by being totally silent.  When I say I pause, I mean I give a solid twenty seconds of silence, leaving them waiting for me to do something great, just like Jay Hardon.

Me:  Guess what.  This isn’t going to be the sequel to greatness.  The audience isn’t waiting for you to make your triumphant return this time, Jer.  The fact of the matter is that they don’t give a shit about you.  They barely give a shit about me, and I’m on a roll here.  Think of this as the straight to DVD Magic Mike XXXL… nobody knew it was coming, because nobody cares.  Half the people forgot about you, Hardon.  They probably wouldn’t even realize that you were a returning star if the wonderful hype masters at SCWrestling.net hadn’t reminded them that you were here before, because they don’t want the fans to remember your famous disappearing acts.

I spin around, letting my suit jacket fan out as I pretend to shrink into it.  Fear not, as I pop right back out for the adoring fan to see my face once more.  I laugh, because it’s fucking funny… right?  Right…

Me:  Look, I’m going to level with you.  I desperately wanted my place on the SCW roster.  I proved time and time again that I want to be here.  What have you done with your contract?  You’ve wiped your fucking ass with it, Jerry.  Not once, but twice.  You are one of the reasons I had to beg to get an interview, let alone show up and pester the bosses into signing me for three months.  It’s people like you that fucking piss me off.  I have to fight to get noticed, but you?  You show up whenever you want, and do as you please.  You get opportunities handed to you instead of having to claw your way to them.  It’s bullshit, and it makes you not appreciate what you have.  On paper, you should be rolling right over me.  But, on paper, Calvin Harris should have rolled right over me.  On paper, Chris Shipman should have rolled right over me.

I shake my head to let the viewers know that it didn’t happen that way.  I would hope that they would know it, but chances are, they went to the bathroom during my matches.

Me:  But do you know what?  I kicked both of their asses, just like I’m going to kick yours, Big Tiger.  But, I’m glad that they are putting these impossible opponents in front of me.  I’m happy that they aren’t making this easy on me, because I’m going to appreciate it that much more.  I don’t have to rely on who I know, or who I blow.  I only have to rely on my skills, and knowing that one day, people will notice me, and maybe I’ll get ten views that aren’t from my mom.  I can dream, can’t I?  The fact of the matter is that I’m going to make it on my own, and people are going to respect me for it.  They aren’t going to forget about me as soon as I stop appearing on the screen.  They will remember me, and what I’ve done.  Ah, who am I kidding?  They’ll forget, but at least I can say that I didn’t have to rely on a name to make an impact on this company.  At least I can take pride in the work I’ve done.  You don’t have that, and you never will, because you are without honor.  You fail the fans, and you fail yourself.  You’re a fucking failure.  It’s disgusting.  As long as SCW keeps lining up the trash, I’m going to keep taking it out.  I won’t apologize for it, because it needs to be done.  This trend is going to get old soon enough, and eventually I’m going to rise above all of this.  However, that’s not going to happen until I take out the Bad Boys, who fall right in the same category as you do, J-Har.  Soon enough, I’m going to get a challenge that takes me to my limits.  Soon enough I’m going to meet someone who actually elevates me, but that time is not this Monday, January the second.  No, it is not you who is going to take me to the next level of my SCW career.  Oh, no.  Sorry.  2017 will bring great things for me, but it’s just business as usual for me.  You’re nothing special, and you never will be.  Just like your match against the greasy meatball, Giani Di Luca, you’re going to fall short, and you’re going to humiliate yourself.  I’m going to roll right over you just like I did with Harris and Shipman.  You will just be another notch in my belt, and nothing more.  Let that sink in, and decide if you want to try to build something for yourself, or if you just want to cut to the chase and disappear again.  You have until Monday…

I wink at the camera in a cocky sort of way, because I know that Hardin will take that to heart if he even cares about his career.  I just hope that he actually shows up, because Daxton Oliver Beckett always shows up to work.  I’m looking for a fight, and that fight takes place on Monday...