OOC: Guys I’m so sorry especially gi. I’m not going to have a long explanation. I’m in the fire company, we had a call at 10:30ish and I didn’t get home until a few minutes ago. I’m so sorry to Drake and Thatcher as well. I promise this shit won’t happen again like I said I’m so sorry and I hope you guys can forgive me. But the least I can do is post this. Again I’m sorry guys.
Backstory.
February 3rd 2012
Jericho laid on the hard wooden floor his body anguishing in pain as he looked up at the titled cross that hovered above him. The temple was decrepit, dust and cobwebs filled it’s ever corner and crevasse. His hands were outstretched as if he was reaching towards the cross looking for death, but he wasn’t. He laid there lacking the will or determination to even die.
It had been a place of great joy and acceptance. Where people had learned about their lord and savior, where children had laughed, played, and prayed. It was once a place of great faith, now it was Jericho’s. The pitiful mountain of disappointment, that laid motionless on the ground below.
Hero, Legend, King- all words that people have used to describe him. He was a former six time world champion, he’d done everything a wrestler could. But now, he was stagnate, looking for a ray of hope, looking for an escape. The King was now a beggar, pleading for scraps.
The sound of a rusty hinge creaking open ,sent chills down his spine. His mind raced trying to figure out who it could be finally settling on the thought it was most likely a thief after the ancient relics that still lined the old temples walls.
However, something still didn’t seem right. Even if it was simply a robber what would then do once they found him laying helplessly on the floor? His hands trembled in fear as his heart raced rapidly. He attempted to scurry away but he didn’t have the strength nor desire to fight exhaustion and pain he was experiencing.
The sound of footsteps cut through the silence, lining the aisle that led to the broken Jericho. He lifted his head, turning it as to see who was coming. His eyes focused forward but could only catch a glimpse of a pain of alligator skin shoes. Still confused he raised his head to see who the intruder was, but before he could a familiar voice filled the air.
“I thought you were pathetic when I took you off the streets as a child. This is just depressing.”
The rough and edgy voice of his adopted father pierce through the silence. James Magnum, the former sixteen time world champion was standing above him. The man had yet to reach forty but cancer had ripped through his body making him look much older than anyone could imagine.
Anyone else would’ve been acceptable, but Magnum was the last soul that Jericho wanted to see. He was the only man that could break him, and now he stood over him, even with cancer he seemed to tower over his fallen son.
“There was a time I worried about others catching up to my legacy, especially you. Being my son and all, I always worried one day you’d have the goods to surpass me.”
Jericho struggled to talk, his eyes filled with surrender glanced up into his fathers. Imploring with all his heart for him to disappear. He wouldn’t though, the more Jericho’s eyes seemed to beg for an end, the more steadfast Magnum seemed to become.
“I used to think with your natural ability and all the things that I’d taught you, that you could take advantage of the lessons. That you’d wait for the right opportunity, find a big organization to call home, and become an even greater star than me.
But now.”
James chuckled at the thought of Jericho surpassing him
“You couldn’t surpass me no matter what happens. Your ego, your pride, and your foolishness have lead you into an uncontrollable downward spiral. You ruined your marriages, your professional career, and every big moment in your life. Now people won’t even have the audacity to mention your name in the same sentence as mine.
The veins in his forehead protruded outward as his face turned a dark crimson. His fingernails clawed against the wooden floor belong. Using an ancient gold cross, he slowly pulled himself to his feet, staring at his father.
“You’re a failure Jericho, you can’t succeed . No matter how hard you try, you’ll always come up a little bit short.”
“Scared of me dad?”
Scared of what? A guy that can’t keep a job, a guy that’s never been in a company for more than a year and has always left on bad terms. I heard you were contemplating retirement.
Jericho looked away not wanting his father to see how right he was. He didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.
“You had a big farewell planned but what really happened was that you chickened out. You realized that no one gave a shit whether you retired or not. So you changed your mind”
“Shut the hell up!”
“What changed your mind? Do you actually think that you can make it somewhere? Do you think something was going to change? Or is it the fact that your life at home sucks. The fact you have a son that hates you, an ex-wife that can’t stand you, and that you’ve ruined every meaningful relationship you’ve ever had.”
“That’s enough”
“Enough what? Truth?”
With all the strength Jericho had he tossed the golden cross against the wall with a vicious wail that cut through the air.
“I’m going to surpass you, I’m going to do things you could only imagine.
“What do you think you’re going to do, Jeri”
“I’m going to take wrestling world will crumble in these hands. I’ll build something so big, so sinister that God himself will tremble at the mention of my name. I’m going to make everyone bow before me, I swear to you that I’ll own the wrestling world as you know it.”
“More pathetic threats, it’s almost sad watching what you’ve become. You should’ve gone with the instict to retire, then you could’ve left with a shred of dignity, but now?”
The old man started coughing uncontrollably. The cancer that was eating away his body had taken it’s tool. These conversations had always tired him but now with the cancer they’d become down right exhausting.
“You won’t even leave yourself that”
Jericho paused for a moment before walking over to his father. He looked up at him feeling almost as if he were a child again. Looking up at the man that had always been his idol, his hero, but also his greatest nemesis.
“Couldn’t help yourself, could you dad? You have so little time left, yet you come here and find me only to demean me. To tell me that I’m nothing yet again. It’s in your nature, the hate you hold within your heart for me is unreal. Why don’t you go die old man?
Magnum’s head dropped realizing that it wouldn’t be long before he did just that.
“You’re nothing without me Jericho. You’ve always been James Magnum’s son, and once that’s gone, once I’m gone. You’ll lose everything that’s important to you. You’ll be an afterthought, floating around, hoping for a moment that’ll never come. You won’t have a glorious rise to the top, and you’ll never change the wrestling industry. And like always you’ll be nothing but a disappointment to me Jeri.”
As Magnum turned he slowly sauntered towards the door almost stumbling a few times.
“Dad, I’m going to do it. I’m going to become one of the greatest names in wrestling history. I’m going to make you proud.”
Turning his head James looked back with a bitter snarl. The hatred in his eyes was too intense to ignore, he shook his head before giving an answer in a deep bellowing growl.
“Jericho, the only thing you’ve done for me in this life is been a joke. You’ve been the one thing I could always laugh at. The most depressing part about you Jericho, is that people actually believe in you. They think you can become something. Luckily for me, I never did.”
As James exited Jericho head hit the alter as he began to cry. It was the last time his father would ever be out of the hospital with Jericho murmuring the words “you’re wrong” in the background.
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The moonlight fell down onto the gate that was swinging by it’s disjointed hinges. It creaked loudly before, it was pushed to the side with ease. The rust on the gate literally falling to the ground below in a crumple mass. As he entered the cemetery Jericho walked across a series of tombstones, letting his hand run across them all. Passing by them they almost seemed unimportant, no names on the stones, no record of their past, no story to tell.
And even if there was a story, it wouldn’t matter to begin with. The past is just a pipeline to where you are now. It’s meaningless once you get to your objective. Jericho leaned back against one of the larger stones and lit a cigarette. He inhaled for a moment then waited, a moment later smoke flowed from his nostrils.
There’s an expectation of what’s supposed to happen here. A feeling of what should and shouldn’t occur. We get in the ring and we fight, and then praise is given out. In the form of blowjobs and worship. It’s what so many wrestlers live for.
It’s that’s showtime life style that so many of you live for. The this is your life moment, that’s capture in front of the world, just so you can be praised by the masses. I’ve done that, I’m never returning to it. My return to wrestling isn’t about glory or praise, it’s simply to remind you all of what I’m capable of doing. I’ve conquered that world. I’ve been the outlaw who has all the girls and gold. Now I’m moving on. I prefer to take my opponents head on. To drive them to the brink of insanity, to push them straight into my fire. Their rage only furthers my discontent, my hatred of everything this business has warped into. My goal is simple, turn their dreams into nightmares. To slowly take their hopes and dreams and turn them into dust. But you Drake Green you live for the attention, to be the showman, even going as far as to call yourself Showtime.
You live for that moment in the sun, their praise lifts you up. Your undefeated record makes you whole. It’s the only thing that makes you whole. In truth, you’re everything I hate about this business. You’re a repackage, reassembled form of the same shit that comes through these parts every year. You’re everything that’s wrong with this business, instead of pioneering in this business you conform. You think that if you do the same thing as everyone else, that somehow that’ll lead you towards greatness, and that you’ll be remembered as one of the greatest. But in truth you couldn’t be more wrong.
I’ve watched this business forever, and the things that are always remembered are the changes. You can only do the same thing for so long before it finally stagnates, and something else takes it’s place. People who succeed by following the crowd end up falling apart once something new comes along. They fall apart because they don’t know how to lead. Once you experience defeat there is no where for you to go Drake. You’re can’t change, you can’t be renewed, all you know how to do is repeat the same tired routine you always perform.
Taking a deep drag of the cigarette Jericho tapped his hand off one of the unmarked graves as a hot ash fell to the ground below.
I’m the leader of a new generation, a pioneer, some would even say a fucking God. But even your partner realizes that. Don’t you Thatcher Rex? And while I am happy that you found my performance against you in the King of the Deathmatches tournament admirable, your kindness won’t be able to save you.
My hatred for you is almost equal to what is for Drake. Not because of your lack of creativity or inability to challenge yourself. You make excuses for every defeat, for every mistake you make. You take no responsibility for your own failures.
Giani beat you in the middle of the ring, and you did everything you could to blame anyone else for that outcome. You couldn’t accept that what you’d done in the past cost you that match in the present. Then at King of the deathmatches you did the same thing. Blaming others for your failures. Not seeing that if you were the reason for the losses.
You can’t take responsibility, meaning you haven’t earned the right to call yourself a champion. You’re unworthy of the title you hold because Giani is the rightful champion, and while you brag of being the longest reigning most successful roulette champion, just know that you don’t deserve that title. That there’s a man who defeated you in the ring, who showed the world that he’s better than you.
And while you defeated me at King of the deathmatch, I assure you, that you won’t see the same Jericho Hill you saw that night. That performance was one of the worst of my career, and yet you told me how formidable I was, and how you respected me afterwards.
I hate to think of the words you’ll use after myself and Giani decimate you and your partner, although I’m sure you’ll find a reason to blame it on someone else instead of your inability to get the job done. It’s how you work.
And while you’ll be busy making up reasons that you lost, and Drakes doing everything in his power to make sure he doesn’t get his shoulders pinned to the mat. We’ll be busy working as a team to destroy you. We’ll be sacrificing for each other for the good of the team, and for each other.
Jericho let his cigarette fall to the ground as he turned around looking at the graves with a smirk. Placing his hand on the stone, he bows his head.
On the bright side the Thatcher, the demise of what’s left of your career, and the end of Drakes’ undefeated streak won’t be an event to be mourned. Because while most funerals are filled with grief and anguish, you’re will be a celebration of the greatest partnership in SCW history.
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