Prologue:
Jack’s return to the ring was incredibly successful as he won back the SCW World Championship from Kris Ryans with O’Malley serving as the special guest referee. Despite this, Jack was victorious and is now a two-time champion. Jack obviously plans on making this reign longer than the first, and now he must deal with O’Malley in a singles match at Blaze of Glory. Jack didn’t seem overly concerned about this match, but he knew that O’Malley would still do his best to provoke him and everyone around him, and Jack decided he was just sit back and watch O’Malley do what O’Malley did. O’Malley did have every chance to disqualify Jack during the championship match, but chose not to, perhaps in an attempt to get a more favorable outcome for himself, and perhaps curry favor with Jack. But Jack wasn’t ever going to trust or believe in O’Malley or really anyone else but himself. Now with the match approaching and all the talking seemingly done, Jack prepares to defend his newly won championship and erase O’Malley from contention.
But more importantly to Jack, even then the championship win, was the return of his brother Jason, the only family, outside of Brian, he had left. But what should have been a happy reunion of two brothers, ended up being a scary sight for Jack to see his older brother had fallen on not only hard times, but there was still something else he was perhaps hiding from Jack. After passing out on Jack’s bathroom floor, Jason resisted going to the hospital, insisting he was fine, and that travel and his recent breakup was the cause of his body seemingly shutting down. Jack remained skeptical of this, and really for the first time in his family life, Jack had to take control. Be it his father or his brother, one of them always looked out for Jack, but now, Jack was forced into this role. He knew his brother wasn’t right, and as much as he had become disappointed in Jason, he was still Jack’s brother, and a part of the family.
This had also caused Jack to be rather short with potential enemies and allies alike, as his brother’s presence and condition took center stage. Jack was still planning on allinging with Sonny to get himself out of the deal with the Mexicans, who also knew about Jack’s failure to remove a woman who they deemed expendable. Jack was trying to balance of all this moving forward.
Jack needed to figure out what truly was hurting his brother, smooth over business deals, and be aware of the consenquences of those actions, all while preparing for another title defense. --
Washington Estate
Las Vegas, NV
Two weeks ago. Jack returned to his new home now carrying the World championship attached to his travel bag. He was less manic and more agitated, but it was still something to be proud of. Jack wheeled the travel bag into his room, unstrapping the championship from it and placing it on his bed. He sat next to it, and it was much like the first time he had won it. Although perhaps this time he was able to appreciate more, since it was the second time around. Last time it has slipped away, and he was going to make damn sure it didn’t happen again.
He stood up and stretched after a few precious moments with the title alone, and exited the bedroom, leaving the title where it was on the bed. He went down to the guest bedroom and knocked gently on the door. It was later in the night, so he wasn’t expected Jason to be awake, but knowing he was in there, and alive, was a good sign. After no answer, he gently opened the door, letting the light from the hallway burst into the room. A mass laid on the bed, gentle beaths indicating that Jason was there. Jason then slowly rolled over, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He could only make out Jack’s silhouette against the light, but he recognized him.
Jason: Sup, bro?
Jack: Just checking on you.
Jason simply let out a “hm.” and rolled back over. Jack thought about closing the door, but he turned back and stayed there.
Jack: Hey, you wanna see it?
Jason didn’t respond. Jack again looked into the room through the light, and saw that Jason had gone still and back to slow, steady breaths. He did a double take, wondering how in the world Jason could go back to sleep that fast. He tried to brush it off, but now Jack wasn’t going to take that and let it go. Jack entered the room and turned on the light, even that didn’t wake Jason from sleep. Jack then shook Jason to wake him up again. Jason was startled and looked around confused.
Jason: What? What’s up bro?
Jack: Did you hear what I just said?
Jason: Yeah. You were just talking to me. What’s the emergency?
Jack: We need to have a serious talk, bro. Me and you.
Jason: Yo, come on man. It’s too early in the morning for this. Let me sleep and I’ll be good.
Jack: That’s all you’ve been doing since you got here, man. Sleeping. You can’t stay awake for more than like a couple of hours.
Jason again doesn’t respond right away, and Jack watches his eyes fall and his head droop as he appears to be passing out in mid-conversation. Jack has to violently shake him to startle him again.
Jason: Come on man... let me sleep.
Jack: Seriously, bro.... what the fuck?
Jason hand waves Jack away and tries to hide his head under his covers to stop Jack from probing anymore. Jack just shakes his head and figures he is also tired, and maybe it was later, but he wasn’t going to something that Jack was going to let die easily. He had to know what was going on.
Jack eventually relented and sighed, standing up and shutting off the light and closing Jason’s door. He continues down the hallway, headed to the kitchen table where he sits down and just stares at basically nothing for a long time. Inside he is clearly torn between being angry and sad for his brother, and not really knowing which direction to take. He just pounds the table after a few moments, not even able to enjoy his world title victory. Brian eventually enters the kitchen from his room, almost blissfully unaware of everything going on in Jack’s head.
Brian: How goes it, Stick? Win that fancy title back?
Jack says nothing as Brian removes whiskey from the cupboard and sits down with two shot glasses, pouring himself one and then a second. He finger-flicks it over to Jack who stops it and stares at Brian.
Brian: You look like you could use that.
Brian turns up his shot glass, gulping it down and giving a satisfied “ahh” afterward.
Brian: What? Did you win the thing back or not?
Jack looks up at Brian and nods.
Jack: Yeah.
Brian: Well hot damn, good on you, Stick. Shit man, let’s have another one.
Brian wastes no time pouring another shot as Jack reluctantly gulps his first one down and a second one is poured instantly afterward. Jack stars at it as Brian raises his glass.
Brian: To the champ!
Jack just gulps his drink down and sighs. He motions with his head into the hallway leading towards Jason’s room.
Jack: What’s he done?
Brian turns his head.
Brian: Jason? Nothing. He’s been in the room pretty much the whole time. Only comes out to grab himself a bite to eat and goes back.
Jack: You think he may have... COVID?
Jason: Dunno. Ain’t Vets getting the vaccine right before the old folks and the rescue people?
Jack: Maybe. But there’s something wrong and we need to find out what.
Brian ponders this for a minute pouring himself another shot and gulping it down.
Brian: You may not want to know.
Jack: I NEED to know Brian. He’s the only family I got. Outside of you, anyway. But he’s fucking blood and that shit means something. I hate seeing him like this. I feel like I fucked up and I don’t know how to fix it. I need to know that my brother is okay.
Brian: Stick, that boy may be going through some shit and you ain’t gonna help by prying. I ain’t one for letting people suffer in silence, but this has to be delicate. You poke him the wrong way and we’re gonna have a huge mess on our hands.
Jack: He’s my brother. I’m not gonna let him suffer.
Brian sighs and nods as he looks back at the hallway once again before he turns back to Jack.
Brian: I’ll do what I can.
Jack nods and takes the bottle, pouring himself another shot. He quickly gulps it down and looks at Brian.
Jack: Thank you.
--
Washington Estate
Las Vegas, NV
Two weeks ago. The next morning, Jack work up around 11. He stood up, rolling out of bed as the adrenaline of the match the previous night had worn off, the groans from all the bumps and bruises he put his body through, even at 23, were noticiable as ever. He flexed his arm and rotated his arm to get the feeling and circulation going. He headed down for breakfast, even at 11, and made himself some eggs and toast. He sat and ate it, waiting for Jason to appear. Brian was already up and watching television in the living room as Jack ate.
Jack: Hey.
Brian looked back over at Jack at the table.
Jack: Is he awake?
Brian shrugged.
Brian: Haven’t seen or heard from him.
Jack sighed as he finished his food and headed into the hallway, headed towards Jason’s room. He stops at the door, contemplates knocking for a split-second and then opens it. Jason is still laying with his head under the cover as Jack shakes him to wake him up yet again. Jason is again startled as he once again looks confused and disoriented.
Jason: Sup, bro?
Jack: Wake up, it’s 11:30.
Jason: Oh. Dude, I’m tired.
Jason goes to put the covers over his head again, but this time, Jack stops him and pulls the covers back and off of Jason.
Jack: Get up. You’ve been in this bed since you got here. I told you we needed to talk.
Jason: Come on man, don’t be like that. I’m fine.
Jack: GET. UP.
Jack has to forcefully pull Jason up and out of bed, and Jason falls to the ground. Jack looks down and see’s Jason’s pale skin and his lack of muscle mass. Jack finally picks Jason up off the ground, looking into his eyes and shaking his head.
Jack: Let’s go.
Jason: Ease up, bro!
Jack more or less forces Jason to go to the kitchen, where Jack makes Jason take a seat and sits down across from him.
Jack: Now, we need to talk about what you’re doing Jason.
Jason: I ain’t doing nothing, man.
Jack: Yeah, that’s kinda the fucking problem. You’ve been sitting in your room and sleeping this entire time. You have only eaten a few times and barely even bathed. So, as a man, as my brother, you need to tell me what the fuck is going on.
Jason shrugs at Jack, but his eyes dart around the room, as if he is too embarrassed to say.
Jack: Don’t. Don’t Jason, come on bro, you need to tell me, I can help you.
Jason: I’m good, bro. I’m good.
Jack slams his fists on the table, almost shaking in anger.
Jack: DON’T GIVE ME THAT SHIT! SOMETHING IS WRONG AND I WANNA KNOW IT IS!
Jason is taken aback and finally, Brian comes in and sits down across from both of them, cup of coffee in his hand.
Brian: Let’s just take it easy before things get outta hand. Now, Solider, you know you owe it to your little brother here to be a man about your problems. You know I ain’t your father, but god damn I told him I’d look after you boys like you were my own. And quite frankly I feel like I ain’t doing that right now with you looking like a wet cat and smelling like one too. So, I think you owe it to your family to tell us about it.
Jason looks around nervously and lowers his head, sad and stumbles to get his words out.
Jason: I... I got hooked, man.
Jack clenches his fists in anger, but tries to remain calm.
Jason: You don’t understand man, I saw the shit. I saw the goddamn devil out there, bro. People dying all over the place. Walking around, surrounded when there ain’t even anybody there for fuck’s sake! The fucking people looking at me, and I have to wonder if I have to fucking shoot every single one of them to make sure I got to come home.
Jason straightens up, tears welling up in his eyes.
Jason: Those people over there, hated me. And I gave them every reason to hate me. I beat them, I sometimes kill them, I destroy their houses, I destroy their crops, I destroy their fields, I destroy their culture. Why in the hell should those people like me? And every single day, I realized that every single one of them was the enemy. After a while, I stopped thinking. My only goal was to stay alive. And I have to live with that shit. I wanted to make it go away.
Jason starts to cry, Jack puts his arm on his brother’s shoulder.
Jason: I wanted to make it go away and I took what I thought could help me make everything go away. In my sleep, I don’t see all those bad things anymore. If I’m high, If I’m feeling good, I’m good. Why can’t I feel good all the time, bro? Is that a crime? Is it wrong?!
Jack: Bro, you gotta get off that shit. Whatever it is.
Jason: I can’t man. It’s got me and I need it. I’ve been trying to fight it but god damn it I feel like shit and I don’t want to go back to those memories ever again! Fuck that. I can’t! You gotta help me!
Jason reaches out and grabs Jack by his shirt. Jack looks into Jason’s eyes and sees his pleading and sincerity. Jack pulls his brother in for a hug.
Jason: You got the connections right... you can get me some.
Jack: I can’t do that.
Jason: Come on... be a brother.
Brian: We’re going to get you some help. Some of the best help.
--
North Las Vegas VA Medical Center
Las Vegas, NV Jack had driven his brother up to the medical center and left his brother in the VA’s care. Since Jason was a vet, he was admitted and was now going through not only treatment for his PTSD, but also his now apparent drug habit. It had been a week and Jack was coming to visit again. He pulled up and got out, entering the rehab center and checking in.
Jack: I’m here to see Jason Washington.
Receptionist: I see. Let me check.
He watches as she types away at her computer. She stares back at him after a moment.
Receptionist: What is your relation to the patient?
Jack: He’s my brother.
There is a pause as the Receptionist waits and then summons one of the orderlies to bring him to Jason’s room. He checks in the room through the eye port and then slowly opens the door, allowing Jack to come in and Jason already looks 100 times better in Jack’s eyes. The two share a hug and for the first time in a long time, Jason appears to be happier.
Jack: How are you?
Jason: I’m... I’m good man. I feel a lot better.
Jack: You look a lot better too.
Jason: Well, I can’t get whacked out anymore. And really, I don’t even want to. I mean... it’s still there, but I... I don’t feel like it’s there all the time. Slowly I’m getting away from it.
Jack: That’s good man. That’s real good.
Jason: And I got people who I can talk to about that other stuff now, and it doesn’t hurt as much. It still is a pain that I don’t think I’ll ever shake, but I know I’m not alone, and... and you can’t know how much that helps with shit like this.
Jack: I know you’ve felt alone because you got away from everything. I know that and shit I don’t blame you at this point. I don’t think anyone does.
Jason: Did... did dad ever say anything about me? He never wrote to me, or answered my calls or anything.
Jack: Dad.... dad...
Jack rubs his face and sighs, putting a hand on Jason’s shoulder.
Jack: Dad was proud of you. He may not have ever said it, but he respected that you got yourself out of that place and you did something for yourself. Maybe he just liked me more because I didn’t shy away from it. But I always knew he was proud of you.
Jason: Yeah... maybe...
Jack: Look, I’m proud of you now, for doing this and accepting the help. I know we always kinda did things on our own but you know...
Jason: Yeah, I’m sorry I wigged out back there and I tried to hide it. I just... you know, you’re my brother. My kid brother, and I always looked out for you and I didn’t... I didn’t want to let you down.
Jack: Thanks, bro.
Jack sits down in the one chair in the room as Jason sits himself on the bed.
Jason: I guess this is.... catching up, isn’t it?
Jack: Yeah, it’s been a long time, bro. It’s been a long, long time.
Jason: I know, I guess it’s why I came to you in the first place. I mean, one to get help, but the other was to see my kid brother and how he made himself into a big-time wrestler.
Jack: Something like that, I guess. So, let me ask this then, since you came to me for help and you didn’t want to disappoint... That wife story, the divorce story.
Jason sighs.
Jason: Actually, that’s all true. I did get divorced, but it was months ago. She couldn’t handle me being a mess and addicted to the shit. Drinking and pills and all the PTSD. She couldn’t be around me long enough to stomach it. We... we agreed to just get away from each other. I was still trying to be bigger than my problem, you know? She’d.... she’d tell me to get help and offered to try and get me help and I wasn’t hearing it. I didn’t think I had a problem, you know?
Jack: I saw that first hand.
Jason: It just... it got to me, and I wasn’t worried about this or back home and I lost sight of things. And then you’re here and you’re the fucking champ, bro. You were the champ and I saw your face on the posters and all that, and I... I was proud. You done good, John.
Jack takes a moment to let the compliment sink in. It meant quite a bit coming from his older brother. The person he wanted to be like the most was giving him a stamp of approval.
Jack: Thanks. I really mean that.
Jason: I started watching on TV and what I remembered and when I wasn’t fucked up, I saw my bro on TV making himself a star. I couldn’t believe it at first and then bam, there you were in the flesh man, the champ and doing big things.
Jack: I’ve done some stuff, but not nearly what I wanted.
Jason: I mean, that’s what Philly does though, bro.
Jack: Yeah... Philly’s a memory now, man. A long, distant memory.
Jason: What do you mean?
Jack: After dad died, I inherited the beefs. So, I ain’t been back home in 5 years. They’re waiting for me to come back. I was part of that life with Dad, so they hold me just as responsible for all the shit that went down just as much as him.
Jason: Shit...
Jack: I’ve got to stay away from that and do my own thing. That’s why I’m doing this. I did this wrestling thing and I bought and opened the Casino for me, and to get my shit in order and to let them know, I didn’t need dad, and I’m not him.
Jason takes a moment after he gets filled in and hugs Jack tightly.
Jason: I’m sorry little brother.
Jack: Don’t be. I’m outta that and I got my own shit to take care of now. I just wanted to be sure you’re doing okay.
Jason: I promise you, I’m fine.
Jack: Alright, look, I’m gonna head out, tend to some business and then hit the gym, gotta big match coming up.
Jason: Alright, man, you go kick some ass.
The two brothers embrace again and Jack soon departs. He exits and heads off to handle his casino business. And for the first time since his brother arrived, Jack actually felt like himself again.
--
Harrah’s Hotel & Casino
Las Vegas, NV Jack now had to make amends with Sonny, and he marched up into his office, and was actually let in. Sonny was less than thrilled with Jack’s appearance in his casino. He came out of his office wearing a smoking jacket and puffing on a cigar, moving around briskly and eyeing Jack with an annoyed look.
Sonny: Well, if it ain’t the Boss.
Jack: Sonny, I just want to apologize.
Sonny: Well shit, boss, what are you apologizing to me for? You’re out here making decision for everybody aren’t you?
Jack: My head wasn’t right.
Sonny: Your head ain’t been right since you came into MY city and got into MY business, kid. Now you wanna throw weight around you ain’t got.
Jack: It wasn’t like that. I had some other stuff going on and it was on my mind. Alright. I damn near almost had the Mexicans fucking off me at the same time because my heart was doing the talking and not my head. I wasn’t with it and I just want to say I’m sorry. Okay?
Sonny: You know, normally, somebody like you, some punk, piece of shit kid, like you, talk to me that way? Maybe I cut off a finger. Maybe a fucking ball if they act stupid like that. But you... I don’t know about you yet, kid. You wanna make deals, you take ’em on and off of the table. You got a gift of gab maybe. But I don’t know.
Jack held his hands up, trying to continue to ease the situation.
Jack: I was out of line. I admit that. I do. I wasn’t thinking straight and it was just some family drama, and now that’s taken care of and I’m back to being the person who can get you what you want, instead of taking the offer off the table. It’s there. Because I got my family situation with something similar. And it has only made me realize that this deal is fucked, and these Mexicans are probably going to try and kill me in the long run.
Sonny: You wanna make the deal now?
Jack: I put the deal up to you, and it’s still there. I can get you the locations of where these people are gonna move and when. You mess up a few, you help a lot more than me out in the situation.
Sonny: And you don’t think they will figure out that it’s you?
Jack: Not right away, give it enough time, they will. But they will be so concerned with you, and the amount of attention that will be drawn on it, leaves me to break the deal off and then boom, they walk away from me, because it’s too hot. My deal’s done, you get a little payback, we set them back, they don’t know any better.
Sonny chuckles as he nods in approval.
Sonny: You got it all figured out, don’t you kid?
Jack: It’s win-win, Sonny. And after all the grief they have caused you, I figure you’d want in on this.
Sonny flicked the ashes from his cigar and studied Jack for a moment, and then nodded and stuck out his hand.
Sonny: You got a deal.
Jack: Excellent.
The two shake hands as Jack nods in approval himself.
Sonny: Don’t you dare try and fuck me on this, kid. Otherwise, I will have your balls cut off, and I’ll make you wear ‘em as earrings.
Jack: No, Sonny, you won’t regret this. I promise you.
Jack and Sonny shook hands once more before Jack left. Now, it was time to put Jack’s ultimate plan into action. He pulled out his phone and dialed.
Jack: Ms. Ana-Sofia, it’s Jack. We’re ready to host you.
--
ON CAMERA:
Click. Jack stood pacing with the SCW world championship on his shoulder, and his usual scowl now replacing the manic look, it’s a step up, but no less concerning to his opponents.
Jack: Yes, I got this championship back. I shouldn’t have lost it in the first place, but that’s old news. Yes, I dismantled Kris Ryans, and yes, I ran him out of town for the time being. I finally slayed that dragon and now I am the world champion once again. Now, I’m not concerned about that part of my past. The last little piece of old business that I need to take care of is O’Malley.
Though I do see now that Austin James Mercer just loves to keep my name and my business in his mouth. I’ve already beat his ass twice and here he is talking about who’s talented and who’s this and who’s that like anybody should give a shit what the would-be tough guy who all of a sudden is the baddest mother fucker on the planet says. Where was this six months ago? Sit the fuck down you clown.
Actually, you know what? Continue to run your mouth, but O’Malley proves each and every day that he’s an idiot by taking the bait like he’s a fucking fish. And not only that, looks like a complete idiot because he doesn’t even make sense. If you’re bad at talking shit, don’t talk shit, it’s pretty fucking straightforward, and yet, O’Malley fucking fails every single time he tries it. Especially if someone like Austin James Mercer can out-talk you. Good god. A trained monkey could do this shit better than Austin James Mercer. If you can’t keep up with looks-like-Tarzan-but-fights-like-Jane Austin Mercer, I really don’t know what hope there is for you O’Malley. You’re sad and pathetic and I almost want to feel sorry for you, but I don’t do “feeling sorry” for anybody.
O’Malley, it’s pretty sad when someone constantly runs their mouth and has zero to show for it. You have nothing outside of cashing in a briefcase and beating a paper champion to win two titles in one night. THAT is your biggest accomplishment. At one point, you had not one, but TWO titles you didn’t deserve. And you for some reason believe that this makes you worthy of anything. Like, hey, do you remember that Kerry Wood once had 30 strikeouts in a game? You know else he did? NOTHING. Are you really going to be that guy and come at me like you deserve anything? The only reason, the ONLY reason you are even getting this championship match right now, is because you walked out a few months ago, and ran your mouth, accepting my challenge. I could have said pretty much anything out there that night, but once I said whoever has the balls to come down, here you come marching down like you’ve done something other than what I just mentioned. All you have done your entire run here, is fail.
You fail over and over and over and you yet puff your chest out like you’re some kind of great champion. You, much like Alex Jones, much like Austin James Mercer, you’re just so... fake. You’re so hollow and see-thru that it’s a wonder how anybody can stand you. You’re another would-be tough guy. It must be all the Connor McGregor whiskey or something because you’ve got a lot of liquid courage running through your veins to think you have a chance in HELL of beating me this Sunday. I would admire this kind of confidence, but I can’t even call it confidence, it’s delusion. Jack takes the championship off his shoulder and looks at it for a moment, before laying it on the table, place facing upright in full view of the camera. He sits down at the table, now the title on full display.
Jack: The best you can do at this point in your life, O’Malley is to be a pest. A fly buzzing around someone’s head. That’s what you do. You come out and run your mouth, and then you proceed to make an ass out of yourself because you only know how to do the first part well. You can talk a big game, and you have yet to back up ANYTHING that would make me or anyone believe a word you say. You are a walking fish story. I bet when you were eating your corned beef and cabbage on St. Patrick’s Day you and your whole family were just sitting around bullshitting each other about how tough you all are and how you beat up this guy and that guy. I’m sure it was a whole thing and you all riverdanced the night away.
But let me explain this to you, you can have 10 4-leaf clovers up your ass and it’s not going to mean a god damn thing on Sunday. You are going to be beaten and disposed of just like everyone else that has stepped into my path. I have been able to right every wrong, save for one, against Ben Jordan, but you don’t see him chomping at the bit to have a match with me, do you? No, he’s not. Because he said it himself that I was the future, and I have made my future, the present of Sin City Wrestling. And if you, O’Malley, believe that you have a snowball’s chance in hell of beating me, you are dumber than you look.
Understand, O’Malley, I’ve already beaten you, multiple times. I’ve already handed you your ass time and time again, and it wasn’t even FOR this championship. I beat you on my road to the top. And now, you think that after just getting this championship back, and putting it where it belongs, that you, of all people, are going to waltz in and just beat me for it? Do you not understand how hard I worked for this shit? Do you not get it when I have told every single person that keeping this is the only thing that matters to me, and that I will do ANYTHING to keep it? There is no line I won’t cross, I have NO boundaries when it comes to this. If you can’t keep up in a verbal sparring session with a piece of dry toast in Austin James Mercer, then you are CLEARLY not ready to step into this arena with me. But it is kind of hilarious to see you make threats and talk all this trash with your chest puffed out, and then as soon as I responded, you stopped. You’re a real bad ass when no one’s around, aren’t you O’Malley? You are an embarrassing buffoon who has is punching well above his weight class because you are on some sort of stupid redemption arc, aren’t you? You believe in your head that winning this championship just makes your past go away, don’t you? Jack leans forward and shakes his head. He is clearly ready to lay everything out.
Jack: I’m going to lay another harsh truth at your feet O’Malley. I may be an asshole, but I’m an honest asshole. I tell you like it is, and it’s not ever going to be my fault if you can’t handle it. The truth of the matter is, is that you are not ready to be the SCW World champion. You’re not ready to handle this level of pressure. You have too many skeletons in your closet. You’ve done too many stupid, boneheaded things on live TV no less, that should really be a disqualifying factor for a lot of other things around here too. You’re a shit husband, a shit father, a shit wrestler, and well... a shit person. You are stuck in this weird phase or something where you really, really want to do right, but you also really wanna be a tough guy and a bad ass. You’re walking around here without telling people your first name like it’s some cool secret or something. And it’s really not, my dude.
Look, if you’re first name is Sheamus and your middle name is McIreland or whatever, it is what it is. You gotta fucking own it. This “O’Malley” bullshit is just that, and deep down in your heart, you know that. You must recognize that this entire shtick is silly and from the mind of a 13-year-old kid who thinks being mysterious is a substitute for having anything of value. And you, my guy, you bring ZERO to the table. You have just being Irish to your credit O’Malley. That’s it. That’s all anyone will ever really know about you, aside from moving on from your dead wife in record time and not even thinking about it for a split second when you went and got yourself remarried. That’s about it. Aside from that, you are just a dude who had all the potential in the world and thus far you have squandered it in a matter of months. If this was a different sport like football or something, you’d have been cut by now. You would be a free agent looking to catch on, on someone’s special teams. And you think that based on your past failures that all of a sudden, you’re about to just tap into your potential and unlock it and take my spot? You don’t get it, O’Malley, I am the face of this franchise. I AM the star quarterback and the reason I’m in this spot is because people like you fucked it up. You kept pussy footing around and I ran right through, straight to the top and claimed it for myself. I did that, and you? You’re sitting here bitching about it.
You want to sit here and act like you’ve been overlooked or your undervalued or underrated. The truth is, you’re overrated, O’Malley. No one is denying you have actual talent, but you, you have been nothing short of a disappointment because of that very talent. I heard someone say that you were “haunted” by your potential. That’s you to a T. What have been great expectation have been met with nothing but unacceptable fucking results. You have almost nothing to show for all the whining and complaining you do. You sound like a god damn woman with the amount that you piss and moan about title shots and everything under the sun. You might as well just start trying to win the Bombshell’s title or something, but I doubt you’d get that done either. The fact of the matter is nobody likes a whiner, nobody likes a complainer. And when that is your best attribute, it says something. I’m tired of hearing you whine and complain. You, like Alex Jones, and Austin Mercer before you, are going to have no choice, but to sit down, shut up, and show me the respect I deserve. So now, what I’m going to do very simply, son, it’s show you exactly how overrated you are. This Sunday, will be the day that you finally realize that you are completely out of your league and you have NO BUSINESS coming after this championship again, so long as I have it, Which, unfortunately for you, is going to be a long, long time.
Jack rubs his hands together, shaking his head almost in disbelief.
Jack: But, here’s a good thing for you. After I beat your ass, yet again, and I leave you laying in the middle of the ring, then, you can finally start over and get your life and everything else back in order. You will not have to worry about the duties and responsibilities it takes to be a champion at my level. You will no longer have to deal with thinking about making a speech as the champion, or lining up those personal appearances or anything close to that. No, you can concentrate on being a family man and trying not to fuck that up any more than you already have. You get to focus on finally stop trying to fill shoes that you never could. So, you know, you should be thanking me right now. I’m going to look past all the bullshit you’ve spewed, all the petty threats that you know you can’t back up and everything else you’ve been trying to present to everyone as if you were ever in the running. You think that because you got some fluke pin on Kris Ryans that it means a damn thing? I did it when it mattered the most and that’s why I’m where I am, and you are where you are.
The fact is, you were the third wheel this entire time. You were the one that didn’t belong. I was the champion, and Kris had earned a title shot. You ran out when I said title shot. You ran out with your hand out like you just expected this. I told you then to earn it. And you failed at that. Every single time. This, will just be another failure you can add to collection. SCW is better off now with me as the face of this franchise and you sitting on the bench, to be called upon for random tasks. That’s your role. There’s a reason they don’t let kickers throw passes, they don’t let outfielders pitch, and they don’t let goalies play striker. You are going to be put where you are of the best use. And that, is watching me lead this company to greatness.
You had your chance O’Malley, and you fucking blew it. SCW has given you every single opportunity you can think of, and you haven’t produced. And now, NOW, you’re going to just come through? I don’t fucking think so, brother. You’ve been a hell of a salesmen on your own ability, but let’s face it, no one is buying. Nobody believes in you. I bet if you looked your wife in the eyes right now, she’d tell you NOT to get in the ring with me. She’d tell you to think twice about this, because it’s a fucking mistake. Nobody is buying into O’Malley as SCW World champion. Not a fucking soul and it’s not like you haven’t tried. It’s not like you haven’t lobbied. It’s not like you haven’t pissed and moaned and whined and complained and bitched enough to make your voice heard. But the fact remains that no matter what you sell, if the result is shit, the product isn’t worth it. Despite all your hot air, nobody is buying what you’re selling. So, while you may be going 90 miles an hour with all this bullshit you’re spewing.... I’m about to make you pump your fucking breaks.
Because you ain’t that bad, mother fucker. Jack finally stands up and pulls the camera’s attention away from both he AND the championship, focusing it on just himself.
Jack: You are about to encounter the dude who’s a little tougher, a little meaner, a little rougher, a little stronger, a lot smarter and a hell of a lot hungrier. See, if you had wanted it as bad as your bark, you’d of bit a long time ago. You would have actually done something worth your salt in the past what 4... 5... years? But you don’t want it that bad. Because you’ve never been as hungry as me. You’ve never been in my position and you never will. You don’t know what it’s like to be fighting for your life, or worrying about who might stab you in the back next. You don’t know what it means to truly have your back against the wall. You have been having this fake bullshit drama that you want to pass off as hardship. I mean, I just got done talking about your sales skills, so obviously, it leaves a lot to be desired.
Sunday, I’m going to beat you down, and break you. And leave you with the full understanding of where you stand. You do not deserve to be in this ring with me, and I will make it painfully clear to you. I don’t need to remind you that I am capable of anything. You should know that by now. I won’t hesitate to kick you in your baby nuts, you know that. I’ve said it many times. So don’t cry and bitch about me cheating, that’s what I do. Don’t piss and moan about me taking shortcuts, you know I will. And don’t belly ache about losing, because you know you’re going to.
This is MY time, you pathetic, piece of trash. Get used to it. Jack then picks up the championship and tosses it back over his shoulder before departing.
Click.EVERYONE. SUFFERS.