[T-H-E F-I-N-A-L C-O-U-N-T-D-O-W-N]


The competition for the End of the Year battle royal is heating up. Not only has James Evans entered the fray, but names such as Ace Marshall and Ducky have shown their faces, tossing their names in the hat. These are faces that James knows and knows well. He has had a few run-ins with Ducky in the past and it seems that their paths will more than likely cross at some point during the duration of the Shot of Adrenaline tournament, which James is definitely looking forward to.

Ducky has an issue with Kennedy Street. The lovely Street has garnered James’ interest and the two seem to be clicking like buttons on Ace’s phone as he posts his billionth Tweet of the week. James doesn’t like Ducky. He has never liked her. James isn’t sure why. All he knows is that he doesn’t so when the opportunity arises, he will make damn sure that he knocks her into next week. He would try to knock some screws loose but it appears the young lady is all out of hardware up top.

Speaking of having a few screws loose, James has his sights set on Ace Marshall as well. The young man who has had everything handed to him on a silver platter since he signed with the company in 2009…yes the one and only Ace Marshall. He is the same man that has pissed away every single opportunity that has been thrown his way, while James has had to scratch, claw and dig his way to any and all opportunities he has been afforded. James dislikes Ace and it has nothing to do with being bitter. James has done more than Ace has in this business. James isn’t even bitter about the fact that Ace left him and dry a few years back. James let that go.

What James does not like however is the fact that Ace can piss away everything he’s been given, yet it never matters. He comes back and Ace is given the world it seems, while James has to fight for it. Ace can crack jokes and get the crowd going by being nothing more than a jackass with a microphone, while James prefers to let his skills in the ring speak for him. Ace comes off cocky and arrogant. James knows this better than most, but James also knows that underneath it all, Ace is insecure. He needs the attention. He craves it. It is like Ace dies when he doesn’t have it.

James would love nothing more than for Ace to have to crawl and struggle up the ladder of success in the SCW. If that is what is actually happening to Ace then maybe James can have some sort of respect for him, but as of right now, James doesn’t see it.


James just sees obstacles he must overcome in order to achieve victory. In order to better himself as a professional wrestler. James wants to become one of the best in the world, if not the very best and he will do whatever he has to do in order to achieve that goal. He isn’t doing it for the fans to formulate that opinion of him. James is doing it for himself.

Each and every match he competes in, he is doing it for himself.

December 16th, 2015

Cleveland, Ohio


I watch as she makes her way down to the ring. She has no idea what she has in store for her, but then again, maybe she does I tell myself as Felicity Lansing begins to get into the ring. I look at her little gang of boys in the friend zone. She steps out and I am tired of waiting. I see her as Christy Matthews, the newly crowned SCW Adrenaline Champion and I take Felicity down with a clothesline that I put all of my weight behind. Felicity rolls around on the mat, holding her head, and all I can see is Christy, who has no reason to be in this tournament, who doesn’t deserve to be the Adrenaline Champion, even if she is an improvement over Selena Frost.

The crowd showers me in boos and I can’t help but love it. In my mind, I am punishing Felicity, just as I plan on punishing every female I step into the ring with, letting them know that this is my world and they have no business in it, unless they are competing for their rightful World title, the Women’s Championship. And yes, that includes Kennedy Street. She is hot and I would fuck her six ways from Sunday, but I still don’t like the fact that a female holds the World Heavyweight Championship. I think of this and it sends rage coursing through my veins. I look at Felicity and I see red. I see a bug so I stomp on her as hard as I can. The crowd hates it but I thoroughly enjoy it. I enjoy it so much that I grab her and drag her sorry ass to the corner before lifting her up and delivering what feels like the smack heard and felt around the entire fucking world. I step back and smile, soaking up the chorus of boos.

I’m loving it. I hear the commentators shouting as the little faggot Adam Sharper shouts, “Come on…” I want to welcome him into the ring, telling him to come on so I can make him pay for each and every time he has tried to sell me as a coward and someone who doesn’t deserve a damn thing. I hear Shawn Winters state that I have no problem in destroying Felicity. He’s right and I would have no issue telling him that we are in agreement. If Shawn were to step into the ring then I would do what I didn’t try to do back in 2011.

I let him off easy and he can thank Chad for showing up and saving his neck. I want to tell him he’s lucky, but I decide to return my attention back to Felicity, as she falls and crumples towards to the mat, yet I am not done just yet so I grab her. I grab her before delivering a back elbow that I put quite a bit of weight behind, making sure it is something that she will feel for days to follow. I watch as she goes to fall once more. I decide to help Felicity so I grab the bitch and send her ass flying across the ring. I watch as she lands and I hear the boos raining in again. She begins to move so I walk towards her, grabbing her and driving my skull into hers before dropping her like a sack of potatoes. The crowd boos me yet the fans don’t know how much that motivates me, so I show them, grabbing Felicity and delivering yet another headbutt. When she hits the mat, I press my foot down on her chest just to insult her as well as the crowd a bit more.

The ref begins the count. I hear one, so I begin to hope that she doesn’t kick out because I am not quite finished yet. I hear two, and I begin to think of removing my foot but then the poor little girl kicks out. I can’t help but shake my head. Not because I think she is stupid, even though I believe she is. I shake my head because she almost ruined my fun and I don’t like when my fun is ruined. So I grab her, lifting her onto my shoulders, and I am beginning to fill bored. I am starting to feel like I did after my match with CHBK, only for yours truly to feel a slight sting as I receive an elbow to the jaw. I like it and then she hits another, followed by another. Next thing I know, the little shit is sliding down off of my shoulders, before nailing me with what the inside experts have labeled an enziguri. It stuns me. I can’t lie about that, just as I can’t lie about the fact that I am starting to get back into the match. I feel a slight challenge coming on and folks, that is what daddy likes.

I push myself off of the mat and find the little bitch in the corner. The crowd is cheering. They are loving this. The cheers for their heroes motivates me just as much as the boos they throw my way. I run towards her and I blink, allowing her to take advantage of me, probably not in the way that she wants, but nonetheless, I run into her feet. It hurts, yes, but not as bad as what follows which is a neckbreaker. She gets the crowd solidly behind her as Felicity tries to pin me. The ref’s hands slaps the mat once. I take in a deep breath, telling myself that I can’t go out like this. The ref hits the mat a second time and I kick out pretty quick. I push myself off of the mat and I am met by a leg lariat. It knocks the wind out of me a little bit, but I don’t slow down. I push myself off of the mat and with the rush of the crowd flowing through her, Felicity hits me with a dropkick, but I say fuck that. I maintain my footing, keeping my balance as I watch her bounce off of the ropes, grabbing me. I tell myself that I’ve had enough of her bullshit. I wanted a challenge, yet all she is doing is giving me the basic crap, so I plant Felicity’s possible nice ass, I haven’t noticed, with a spine buster.

I look down at Felicity as she is barely moving, slowly stirring on the ring mat. The crowd is booing. I can’t hear it right now. I have tuned them out but I can see it in their eyes, on their faces, that they are not happy with how the tide has changed, but fuck them I say. I wanted more out of this match. I figured with Donovan Kayl, a man considered to be a legend in many circles, training her that Felicity would give me more of a fight. I haven’t had it. I look down at her but I no longer see Felicity Lansing. I see Syren. I reach down, grabbing her violently. I stare into her eyes and now I see not Felicity, not Syren but Trinity Street. I want to snap her like a twig, but I don’t. I just glare at her, as the face of Trinity is replaced by the current World Champion, Reagan Street. I feel rage pumping through my body as my temperature climbs. I feel my skin get red, as the thought of lifting Reagan Street onto my shoulders as I do Felicity enters my mind, as does the image of dropping Reagan with the Final Exam enters my mind. I make a thought into reality. I look over and I see that it is none other than Felicity that is in a crumpled heap beside me, lying motionless on the mat. I tell myself that Reagan will have her day and if it comes down to it, so will Trinity, as I hook the leg. I listen as the referee slaps his hand against the mat three straight times. I hear the bell ring for a few brief seconds, but the sound of it is drowned out by the boos of the crowd. I shove Felicity away from me as I slip out of the ring and head towards the back, feeling like I have a craving for more.

More of a challenge.

More of a fight.

I tell myself that whether I like it or not, I may have to wait for the first Breakdown of 2016 to get it. I let out a sigh, telling myself that there has to be some other way, before disappearing behind the curtain.


James Evans walked out to the ring poised and collected when he faced Felicity Lansing. He made quick work of her. He did something he normally doesn’t do and that is look ahead, looking past his present opponent. James had been eyeballing the one night tournament to crown a new number one contender to the SCW World Championship. Felicity was nothing more than a mere bump in the road. A bump that he ran over and left in his rearview mirror rather quickly. He will give the girl credit because she lasted longer in the ring that Rayvn Taylor’s first reign as SCW World Champion.

James left the ring, wondering what he had to do in order to fill something, to be fulfilled so to speak with his wrestling career in its current state. Trinity was getting a shot at the World title while James had to wait until the first full week of January to even have a match. One thing James Evans is…is impatient to a certain extent. He is impatient when he has to wait for opportunities while others get them on a pretty consistent basis, which has been well documented. James is also impatient when it comes to having to wait for the chance to compete.

That is a big reason why James has jumped at the chance to compete in the End of the Year battle royal. And the closer it gets, the more intrigued he has become. He looks at the clock, counting the minutes, the hours, as well as the days. Most people look forward to New Year’s Eve as a night to get drunk, high, or a combination of the two. They look at it as a night where they can start anew. James sees it differently. It is a night that he can make his mark. Not only in the battle royal, but in the main event world title scene. You would be a fool to think that it hasn’t crossed his mind to walk out and clobber both Trinity and Reagan with a steel chair, leaving them motionless on the mat just so he could lift the SCW World Heavyweight Championship belt high above his head, telling the world that it is an image that they will need to get used to seeing.

It is something that James knows he can look forward to if he carries it out, making his thoughts into reality. But he is also looking at the battle royal as a way to keep himself motivated, something to curb his impatience on a night where he can walk in with several individuals but leave as the winner, the sole survivor because at the end of it all, there can be only…


Home, if you can call it that, is where I’m at. Last night I was in Ohio, wrestling a mediocre opponent. I had no issue with hurting her, but I was bothered by something else. When I received a text message when I returned to my locker room. Sanders has finally contacted me and told me to stay put. He said that he has some news to share with me. I have no doubt that it is about the meeting with Mammon, but I am bothered by the fact that he sounded way more confident than usual. I don’t want him to have any sort of control in this situation.

In my eyes, it is time for yours truly to hold all of the cards. I know Sanders and I know that he can manipulate with the best of them. I also know Daniel. He can and will fold under enough pressure, which is something I have made mental notes about. I told Daniel to have the meeting take place on Christmas. I chose it for a very specific reason which I have chosen to reveal when the time comes. If the meeting does not occur when I want then I feel like I will hurt Daniel and anyone else who gets in my way. Once again, it is the coldness that is growing deep within me. I am trying to refrain but as time has gone on, with the thoughts running through my mind during my last match, I feel as if the coldness is starting to truly take over. The only warmth I am experiencing right now is the shot of Jack Daniels as it glides over my tongue and down my throat, slightly burning on the way down and then I hear a knock at the door.

I let out a sigh then wipe my lip before going to my front door. I look at the peep hole and I see Sanders standing there with Anton and Rodriguez. I let out another sigh before opening it. Sanders and I stare at one another, with a slight pause before he asks, “Well are you going to let me in or not?”

I nod at Anton and Rodriguez, who nod back, before returning my attention to Sanders as I say, “I don’t guess I really have a choice now do I?”

“You know, James? You really can be a smart motherfucker when you try. Step aside please…boys wait here,” Sanders states before stepping into my home, brushing his shoulder against mine. Just another reason I want to kill the son of a bitch. I lock eyes with Anton before I release a deep breath, closing the door behind me.

Sanders is in my kitchen taking a shot of my Jack which irritates me, because the bastard believes he owns everything and everyone, including me. I cannot wait until I let him in on the little secret that he owns nothing, especially not me. I step into the kitchen, “So what is it you wanted to see me about, Sanders? I’m pretty fucking tired so I’d like to get this over and done with as soon as possible if you don’t mind.”

Sanders chuckles, “Why are you so tired? Oh right the wrestling career…wouldn’t it be funny if those people knew what kind of person you are? A real rat…a man involved in the drug trade and other criminal activities…that would be fucking hilarious.”

I roll my eyes, “I’ll be honest, Sanders. You’ve threatened me quite over the last few months, yet nothing has ever happened, so to me, you’re rapidly becoming the little boy who cried wolf. I’m not afraid. I know you’re trying to intimidate me but it isn’t working.”

“Well, that’s really good, James. I want you to be confident. I want you to feel like you have control.”

I fight the urge to grin, because I want him to know that he has never had control despite what he may or may not think, “Confident? What does me being confident have to do with anything?”

I watch as Sanders glides by me, once again bumping his shoulder into mine as he enters the living room area and takes a seat in my recliner. He combs his shaggy hair back and adjusts his glasses, before motioning for me to sit down. To appease him and to get this thing going, I sit down on the couch directly across from him. Once I sit, our eyes lock and he speaks, “I received a call from the fat fuck you met a few weeks ago…you know…Mammon’s right hand man.”

I swallow, “Okay and what did he have to say?”

Sanders exhales with a smirk appearing on his face, “They wanted to meet once more, hoping that we can go into business together, but there’s a catch.”

I shake my head, letting out a smile laugh, “Of course there is. There’s always a fucking catch. What do they want?”

I watch as he reaches into his coat pocket, removing a pack of cigarettes. He places a smoke in between his lips then lights it. He takes a nice long drag before responding, “They want you there, James. They made sure to let me know that you are to be there for this meeting to take place. So I hope you don’t have anything planned for Christmas. If you do then you’re going to have to cancel it.”

Once again, I feel the urge to crack a grin, but I don’t. I play my role as I lean back in my seat, shaking my head once more, “Why do they want me there? And why the fuck do they want to have the meeting on Christmas? I’m sure Mammon and the rest of those fuckers have families as well.”

He takes another drag, “They want you to be there, James. They told me that they want to make an example out of you. I am not sure if that means they want to kill you or just beat the shit out of you. Either way, I tried to talk them out of it.”

“Oh, I’m sure you did. Something tells me that you more than likely agreed with them. I know you want me dead, Sanders. I’m not a fucking idiot so there’s no need to sit here and bullshit me. I’m sure they’ll have you put the bullet in my head.”

He shrugs, “You could be wrong but then again, you could also be very right. I’m not sure. I am sure that we will find out Christmas night. I know I’m not doing anything that night. I mean, I don’t have any family and from the looks of things these last few weeks, neither do you.”

He lets out a laugh, mocking me and the fact that I don’t have any family. There is a part of me that wants to attack him and beat him within an inch of his life, but I tell myself that he will get his soon enough. I tell myself to keep it cool, before exclaiming, “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Lucky me, right?”

His laughter finally stops and Sanders speaks once more, “Yeah. They need to know that there won’t be any more bullshit happening like last time. I can’t afford to have that either, James. I have no problem with watching you get beat to death. I have no problem with killing you. Unlike you, this is my livelihood. It’s just a joke to you, so that’s why I have no issue with taking your life. If something happens to you then nobody will give a shit except for a few teenage bitches in those wrestling crowds.”

I lean forward, my expression matching my tone, cold as I say, “You’re probably right but what if something happens to you? Do you have anyone that cares about you, Sanders? Someone who gives a shit about whether you live or die?”

He puts his cigarette out on my table. Smoke floats in the air between us. He blows it away before replying, “If something happens to me…well, just know that I have a backup plan. There will be someone to show up to the doors of all of those who survive. He will not stop until they are all dead. It would be better to pray to God or whoever that nothing happens to me. That’s all I can say.”

There is a slight pause between us. Then, out of nowhere, Sanders grins and slaps his knees before climbing to his feet, “Alright well James. I’m going to get out of here. I got things to do and people to see. I will see you Christmas night so be ready, alright? It’s going to be a big night. I believe we’re both going to get what we want.”

He goes to walk away and I call out after him, “I know what you want, but what do you think I want?”

He scoffs as he opens the door, “You want an ending to it all, James. I can tell by the look in your eyes that you’re tired of living. Maybe this meeting will be a blessing in disguise. You should probably consider it to be a Christmas gift.”

I do not reply. I watch as he steps outside, closing the door behind him. I remain seated, hearing car doors opening and closing, followed by the sound of the engine turning and the car speeding off. I continue to sit, slowly breathing, telling myself that Sanders is half right. I do want an end to it all, just not in the sense that he thinks. Taking his life, taking everything away from him will be a gift. It will be a gift to myself. It will be something that I will cherish for a very long, long time.


“It is the time for giving it seems. The SCW fan base showed just how much of a giving mood they are in by giving Trinity fucking Street a shot at the World title. I am a literal Scrooge about that one so fuck you SCW fans and ba humbug…”

I take a moment to collect my thoughts before refocusing my attention back to the camera lens, as I continue to speak.

“But the SCW and the powers that be decided to take it upon themselves to make for their fan base’s lack of intelligence by giving the four runner ups a chance to compete for the number one contender spot on the first Breakdown of the new year. Well gee that is great! And yes that is fucking sarcasm in my voice, ladies and gents, boys and girls of all ages. This is the circus that I find myself in. I have to worry with stepping into the ring against Amy Chastaine, Stacy Kissinger and Alexis Quinne in order to receive a shot at the World title…a shot that I have fucking deserved for years now…a shot that I have no doubt earned, yet the SCW has denied me.”

I close my eyes and take a deep breath, telling myself to remain calm, just as I had to do when Sanders was in my living room, to keep myself from killing him. I am doing this now to stop myself from going postal. I exhale then open my eyes.

“The SCW has denied me some big matches thus far in the Shot of Adrenaline tournament as well. Sure facing CHBK should be seen as monumental, but I felt he gave me a lackluster performance. Same with Felicity Lansing. I mean, I am out there, busting my ass yet my opponents come off lackluster. Then they don’t book me for a goddamn thing after that. No other tournament match…I guess because I’m not Selena Frost. Thank God for that however. I’d rather pull a Kurt Cobain in all honesty. I like to compete when the match means something to me. I have stated that before. I made that known a few months ago. I am trying to be better but the SCW still wants to shit on me in some way or another. I am going to beat them at their own game, which is why I have enrolled myself in this fucking End of the Year battle royal.”

“It is a match that I have never really cared for to be honest. The first year it came around and I was here, my eyes were glued to the TV screen as I watched David Helms win the SCW World Championship from Jake Starr. You see, I was going to face David at the first Breakdown of the new year for the Adrenaline title. Making David my focus was way more important to me than anything else. Focusing on him and studying him turned out to be the best choice that night as I went on to pin the World Champion a few weeks later. If that gets to you little AJ then please step up to the plate so I can knock you down a few pegs, letting you know that while you may have been trained by the “Best of the Best” and you may very well have a bright future in this business, it will not come at my expense. If you work hard and keep training then maybe one day you will be on my level, which is far above the next level for you, but right now just isn’t that time.”

“And that goes to all of these newcomers who want to try out the SCW. I welcome the challenge which is why I joined this fucking thing. I was bored. I needed something to do. I do not care about what happens if I win. I don’t need the fucking money because I have plenty of it. If the SCW would allow it, I would up the stakes and raise the money to one million dollars. That is just chump change to me. I don’t need a new car because I can go get one right now and I have better taste than those in charge of this company. And I am talking about people like Trenton Snow. He has apparently accomplished quite a few things in other promotions but this is the SCW. The SCW is on a whole other playing field. While I hate those who run this place, the company is head and shoulders above its competition. Snow reminds me a lot of me. He has money so he doesn’t need it. He, however, doesn’t care for wrestling which I do. The SCW has killed that love as I’ve stated but it is slowly coming back with a whole new purpose.”

“But right now, my purpose for this match is to prepare me for my upcoming match at Breakdown. I am working to keep myself ready, making sure that I am firing on all fucking cylinders when the time comes to become the number one contender. So Trenton, and the rest of the outsiders as I should say, welcome to the SCW. This is no Game of Thrones. You are chomping at the bit for a load of money because despite your skills and what you bring to the table, you just aren’t getting paid quite enough. I mean, Katelyn Buehler is or was the IWC World Champion. That should tell you how much of a toilet that place is, but then again, you get what you paid for don’t you? I hope that some of you get that reference. If not, I can enlighten you and show you all that you may be very good in the ring, but I will be working to show you that I am better. I am not here to bury you, but this is my territory. I am sick and tired of motherfuckers showing up out of nowhere and getting spots that they haven’t earned yet.”

I smirk into the camera.

“I have watched on numerous occasions as other wrestlers, who just come out of nowhere and they are pushed to the goddamn moon. Well, like I said I am sick and tired of it. You all attack the SCW like leeches. You are a poison. You’re a cancer. And in this battle royal, if I can beat you, killing your hopes and dreams of becoming someone in the SCW then you can chalk me up to being the fucking cure.”

“Then there are those who are already in the SCW, trying to prove themselves, trying to make a name for themselves. Names like Dalton Hughs. You are a big and scary bastard with a vicious mean streak. You can probably go places in this company, but by involving yourself with Ducky, you’re probably screwing yourself over. If you ask me, as someone on the outside looking in, I can see it becoming like my situation with the Chosen. I worked hard just like I am sure you work hard, but your hard work will be overshadowed by Ducky’s name value, just as it happened to me with Chad Evans and Ace Marshall. So Dalton distance yourself from that crazy bitch if you can. But you can wait until after this battle royal where I will gladly hand your ass to you if you get in my way. You present yourself as a monster, but you need to go be a monster on your own time. The battle royal is my time and my time is very valuable. I have no doubt you will hit some good shots, but something tells me that they won’t be enough. You’re the biggest one in this match therefore, as it always is, you will have everyone else going after you to get rid of you early. Just remember that.”

“Just as you, Ducky need to remember that I will be looking to put you down at some point. Not only as a favor to Kennedy Street, but for myself. You claim to be crazy and violent. I just show that I am violent. If I hurt you very, very badly then I won’t lose sleep at night. In fact, I will sleep like a baby, probably in a bed full of money…like two hundred and fifty thousand dollars in cash to be more precise…”

My smirk fades before I continue to speak.

“And speaking of the Chosen this brings me to you…Ace Marshall. You and I have a history together. You are a big reason as to why I joined this match. I know I said it was to prepare myself and that is true, but there is also the chance of getting my hands on you and paying you back for the years of bullshit headaches you caused me. I will pay you back by causing you bodily harm. But I know that you are a hell of a wrestler when you actually try. I know that you are one of the best involved in this match, so I want to test myself against you. You can mock that and be entertaining as you put it, but I will entertain myself but shutting you up for a little bit and putting you down like the dog I will see you as when the match starts.”

“You can bad mouth me on Twitter and in the ring. You can crack your jokes, but I am not here to amuse you, Ace. I am not here to make you laugh. I don’t care for Twitter. I don’t need a consistent presence on that shit. All I need is to step into the ring and show why I will be considered one of the very best to stake claim in this industry. So crack your jokes. That is what you’re good for. You let those jokes and your comedy outshine your wrestling ability, which is sad. Yes, you can get it done in the ring, but you have always liked to push wrestling aside and give into that sarcastic and annoying personality of yours. You have always had the world handed to you, Ace. And you are coming into this match, expecting the same fucking thing. You want it to all be about you. It has been off and on for the last few years even when you haven’t done shit. Well, I am not going to allow that to happen. In a few short days, I am going to let you feel on top of the world but then I am going to come out of nowhere and take it all away, paying you back for all of the times you’ve taken from me. It is time you get a taste of your own medicine, Ace.”

My smirk returns once more.

“And to the rest of you, bring your best. You’re going to need it. I am hungry and motivated. I am ready to push myself if need be. It is going to be a happy New Year for me. Sadly, I can’t say the same for you.”