“Oh it’s you….”

He looks up at me, through his thick black framed glasses and smirks. His name is Thomas Goldblum. He and I have never met personally, but I know of him because he has a history with my father. Thomas is a journalist, not for the Rolling Stone, but for some small-time magazine in New York. He used to post shit about my father and I can admit that most of it, if not all of it, was true. It was just that no one could really prove it.

Thomas Goldblum: “Yes, James it is me. You’ve grown so much since the last time I saw you. But something tells me your moral code hasn’t grown. In fact, I feel pretty certain that it has been on the downward spiral the older you’ve gotten.”

It is now my time to smirk. I remove my blue tooth as I begin to slowly make my way into my office, moving closer to Thomas as he is sitting just a few inches away from my desk. I reach my desk and I place my blue tooth head set down on the table, before taking a seat.

James Evans: “You do know what they say about assuming, don’t you?”

Thomas Goldblum: “I’m not sure I do, James. Enlighten me…”

James Evans: “If you assume too much, it ends up making an ass out of you and me. But I am pretty certain you’re already an asshole. I can just tell by your smugness and from the stories I heard from my father. I can tell why no one particularly likes you, Thomas. I have never met you. I’ve only seen your face on magazines and I can already tell that I don’t like you.”

Thomas Goldblum: “That is all fine and dandy, James. I didn’t get into this business to be well liked. I got into this business to expose pieces of garbage like you and your father for what you truly are. You are scum. You are nothing more than criminal. The world needs to know these things. I want to be the messenger.”

I let out a chuckle and smack my desk in a mocking manner.

James Evans: “Yeah it is all coming back to me. You went around saying that my father was involved in high criminal activity, trying to expose him as someone who dabbled in drug running and human trafficking just to shit all over his good name. Yet no one believed you. Sure, you had some guys with suits and badges jump on your bandwagon, but in the end, it was nothing more than a waste of time.”

I maintain my smirk, but in the back of my skull, I am thinking about my run-in with the FBI just a short time ago. I haven’t even gotten started and I already have them watching me. But I guess in this world, you have to have heroes if you have villains. It is just the way the world works. And then you have shit heels like Goldblum who just want to stay relevant. I smirk to myself, taking my focus off of Goldblum for just a few seconds, telling myself my last two thoughts reminded me of Merrick Wiseman and Tommy Valentine, in no particular order.

Thomas Goldblum: “People are scared of the truth, James. New York City is very thankful for your father and the contributions made to the city from this company, especially after 9/11. But that doesn’t give him the right to be the scum that he is....excuse me….that he was.”

James Evans: “You amuse me, Thomas. I mean, you really, really do. You could be quite the comedian.”

Thomas looks at me, confused.

Thomas Goldblum: “What in the hell are you talking about, James? I mean, do you even know? Your father was full of shit, but at least the things he said made some sort of sense.”

I smirk again before responding.

James Evans: “You said the word talking. And that is something my father used to. He used to talk. And I remember growing up how he would talk about quite a few people who were trying to throw dirt all over the Evans name. He did mention you. And he told me a lot of things in regards to you. Would you like to know what those things were, Thomas? Or would you prefer the cliff notes?”

The confusion remains in Thomas’ eyes.

Thomas Goldblum: “I have no idea what you’re talking about, James and I certainly wouldn’t trust anything that your father….”

I cut him off, my smirk remaining.

James Evans: “You tried to get my dad to bring you in a drug deal because you were on hard times. You knew that my father was a man of power and that he knew people. So what did my dad do? He helped you out. He introduced you to some of those people and what happened? You failed. You ended up getting caught. This ruined your dream at working for a place like the Rolling Stone, which is why you’ve worked at the same shitty paper for the last fifteen years. My father set you up to fail and you bit down, hook, line and sinker. My dad did what you asked. He introduced you to people. You did the rest. My father had no other connection to it. And you have spent the last fifteen years trying to bury my father, my family name, and this company yet just as you did before, you have failed. “

Thomas’ eyes grow wide with anger and frustration. He shoots up from his seat and begins to point his finger at me, as if he is a teacher trying to scold the student.

Thomas Goldblum: “Your father was a criminal. Your family name is well known in the criminal fraternity and this company generates profit off of criminal activity, James. I am going to watch your father’s legacy, your family name and this company burn. I will be there to stomp on the ashes.”

I lean back in my chair and I begin to clap.

James Evans: “And the truth finally comes out, Thomas. That was quite the moving speech my friend. I mean, I was literally moved. It hit me in the chest. But I needed to hear it, Thomas. Every last word. I wasn’t sure why you were here today but now I do. I have listened to you go on and on and on about my father and this make believe criminal activity he was involved in. It all tells me what sort of person that you are. You are straight up fucking delusional.”

Thomas goes to speak….

Thomas Goldblum: “I am not…”

….I cut him off again.

James Evans: “And if you don’t get the fuck out of my office, I will call security and have them remove you. It is your call but I am only going to give you a few seconds to think about it. Be sure you make the best possible decision. My security team isn’t very friendly. Just a fair warning.”

Thomas goes to speak again, but he stops himself as he sees me pick up my phone. He closes his eyes and takes in a deep breath, pressing his hand to his chest. He then exhales and opens his eyes, locking them with mine. He grabs his notepad and pen that he left on his chair before speaking.

Thomas Goldblum: “This isn’t over, James. I know the truth. I know who and what you really are. I will expose you and your family for everything that it truly is. I will piss over everything that you and your family have pretended to be.”

James Evans: “Is that so? That is real cute, Thomas. So are you going to walk out on your own accord or do I need to place the call to security? I am trying to be reasonable here, Thomas. I am trying to be a nice guy by giving you options. Don’t force me to choose for you. It just wouldn’t be fair.”

Thomas Goldblum: “Go fuck yourself, James. Like I said, this isn’t over. Not by a long shot. You can take that as a threat or however the fuck you want, but it’s not over.”

James Evans: “I can’t wait. I love games, but right now, I am not in the playing mood so get the fuck out of my office…out of my building, Thomas. This is the last time I’m going to say it.”

Thomas slowly backs away, our eyes locked. His back hits my office door. He slowly opens it and before he steps out, he speaks once more.

Thomas Goldblum: “You’ll be seeing me soon, James. Real soon. Mark my words.”

I roll my eyes. Persistence is something that I can admire but not in this case. This is just fucking annoying.

James Evans: “Yeah, I will be sure to do that, Thomas. Enjoy the rest of your day fuckwad.”

He steps out of my office and I can hear him bad mouthing me for a little bit, before his voice is heard no more. Once he is gone, I release a sigh of relief. I slowly spin around in my chair, until I am looking at the city outside and the sun as it slowly gets consumed by a few clouds. In this instance, I feel like the sun, with the FBI and Goldblum representing the clouds. They are all trying to consume me and drown me out, but it won’t happen. Like the sun, I will shine through. I will always be around and I will not allow myself to die out.

I do tell myself that I am going to have to step it up a notch, as I did lie to Thomas. I do not have a security team. Even the guys I have with me at the SCW shows aren’t exactly security. They are typically dumbasses I meet the night before and I ask if they would like to make some quick money. I tell them that they get to be on TV and that they get to fight people. These dumbasses are typically college kids too so they are always gullible. I sure as shit was when I was a college kid. They eat it up and jump on board quick. After they take all of the beatings, I pay them then send them on their merry way. But something tells me that I am going to have to hire professionals, some real heavy hitters. I know that I could dip out in the New York crime scene but then that would be too obvious. I need faces no one has ever really seen, faces that would be hard to track.

I pull out my second phone; place the battery in it, turning it on. Once it turns on, I go through my contacts and I press on the one that says “Uncle”. I place it to my ear and listen to it ring. A few rings into it, a voice comes on.


James Evans: “Hey Uncle, it’s your favorite nephew. I was wondering if we could meet up soon. I have a favor to ask.”

Uncle: “Hello, nephew. Long time, no hear. It has been awhile. When do you need to meet?”

James Evans: “As soon as possible in all honesty.”

There is a pause. I hear a sound. It sounds like papers flipping. A few moments, later Uncle is talking again.

Uncle: “I will send someone for you in a day or two…”

And before I can say anything, the line goes dead.


“Uncle Armand….long time no see….”

Being a professional wrestler, I have gotten used to traveling around the world, so going to Spain to see my “uncle” Armand is no big deal. Wrestling is one of the perfect covers for someone such as myself who is involved with the criminal underworld. I was twelve when I first met Armand. I had traveled with my father and when I was introduced to Armand, he told me to always remember that he would be around to look out for me, that all I had to do was call upon him and he would be there. I called and he sent some of his men to pick me up in his private jet, something that he doctored up to make it look like a jet that could skate across the skies every single day of the week, no questions asked.

The words escape my mouth as I step outside of his palace, seeing him sitting at a table by the pool, eating breakfast while there are some exotic women swimming in his pool. He looks up at me and smiles before we shake hands and he offers me a seat.

Armand: “I never thought I’d see the day that you’d be coming here alone, but here you are.”

James Evans: “Well, my father passed away and he has left everything to me. I figured it would be best to maintain his contacts especially in a time of need.”

Armand nods.

Armand: “A time of need? What do you mean? Are you in some kind of trouble, James?”

I nod.

James Evans: “I haven’t even started anything in terms of the company and I’ve already got the FBI breathing down my neck. I have some journalist who has a hard on for me because of his past with my father. I’ve been in the office for a few days and I’m already making enemies.”

Armand sips some coffee. One of his maids asks if I want some and I nod. She pours me a cup and I take a sip or two, hoping that it will relieve the small amount of stress I feel that I am under.

Armand: “Well the good thing about having enemies James is that you also have friends in places most people wouldn’t expect. Your father and I had a very good relationship. We had trust and loyalty. He watched my back and I watched his. Our business was very strong and if you are here to establish a business relationship with me then that would be the best start. I’m not just going to help you out without getting something in return. That is how this works.”

I nod, despite feeling a little in over my head. I tell myself to remain calm, that I need to be cool and collect. I have dealt with shady small-time criminals in America, but Armand, from what my father told me, is an entirely different breed. Seeing him as a child is much different than seeing him now, especially now that I am coming to him for help, stepping into the role my father once held.

James Evans: “I figured as much but I’ll be honest, I didn’t expect the business end to spring up so soon. I am here empty handed, Armand.”

Armand cuts me off.

Armand: “That is one of the biggest things I have learned in this business, in this life to be exact. You never know what to expect. And because you are empty handed, normally I would slap the hell out of you but since this is the first time, you need to make sure it is the last. Do we understand one another on that?”

James Evans: “Yes.”

Armand: “Good.”

I take a sip of my coffee, still asking for that relief to wash over me. When he mentioned slapping the hell out of me, I will be honest. My butthole puckered up some. We remain at the table, in silence. He eats his breakfast while watching the women swim around in the pool, splashing one another playfully. I feel anxious, as I want to get this over as soon as possible. I put my coffee down, let out a sigh, and begin to speak.

James Evans: “Well now that we understand one another, Armand, let me ask you a question. What do I need to do for you?”

Armand slowly looks away from the women and looks at me. His wild black hair with blonde highlights, and his black trim wide framed Ray Ban sunglasses drip underneath his eyes, hanging onto the bridge of his nose do not mask the smirk on his face. I feel he is laughing at me which doesn’t sit well with yours truly, but I do not let it show, reminding myself of where I am. I am in his house.

Armand: “I don’t think we are ready to have that sort of conversation, James. I don’t know if I can trust you. Hell, I don’t even know what sort of man you are. I knew what sort of man your father was just by looking at him. When I look at you, I don’t know what it is that I see.”

The feeling of being offended grows worse as the words escape his mouth. They hit me like a ton of bricks.

James Evans: “But I need protection, Armand. That is why I’m here.”

Armand laughs.

Armand: “James, my friend, little nephew…who do you need protection from? The FBI? DEA? Journalists? I hate to break it to you, but when you’re in this business, or any other type of business, you are always going to make enemies when you’re climbing to the top. I am surprised you never heard your father say that. He is the one who told me all those years ago.”

I sigh.

James Evans: “I am sure he did tell me, but back then I didn’t listen to a lot of what he had to say. But I am here, Armand. Is there something that I have to do in order for you to help me? If there is then say the word or stop wasting my time. I came here for a reason. If you’re not going to help me out then I have no issue with going elsewhere.”

Armand chuckles then before I have time to blink, he pulls out a gun and points it at my face. I slide back in my chair, but I don’t show any sign of fear. My father always told me to never show fear of any kind. To always remain calm or at least appear to be calm. I’ve had guns in my face before as well as having them slammed against my skull. You’d think I would be used to this sort of thing, but I am not sure it is something that one can really get used to.

Armand: “Where are you going to go you arrogant punk? Hmmm? You want to come into my home and disrespect me? If you weren’t your father’s son then I would put a bullet in your head as if you were anybody else, James. Don’t ever forget that. But to answer your question…yes, you do have to do something for me. Like I said, I don’t know what kind of man you are. I can tell you’re cocky and brash, but that doesn’t mean shit to me. There is a difference between pretending to own the world and actually own the world. Right now you are pretending. I need to know that you’re not pretending. I need to know that you have what it takes to own the world.”

I stare at him, maintaining my look of calmness, as the man is already insulting my manhood. I tell myself that I could be the normal James Evans and talk shit to the man and end up with a bullet in my head, or I can speak calmly. I swallow my pride and go with option B.

James Evans: “What do you want me to do?”

Armand chuckles again and pulls the gun away from my face. I do not release a sigh of relief. I just breathe normally and calmly, adjusting my shirt collar and keeping my eyes locked with Armand’s, as he responds.

Armand: “I am going to need to take someone’s life, James. And I don’t mean you have to go out looking for some random yo-yo. I have a rat problem, James and I need to take care of it. I’d like you to take care of it for me.”

I shake my head.

James Evans: “There is no way in Hell I am going to kill someone for you, Armand. I wouldn’t do that for anyone. The only way I would take another man’s life is if he is trying to take mine.”

I blink and the gun is back at my head, cocked, locked, loaded and ready to go.

Armand: “You won’t? What if you have a gun to the back of your head? Would you do it then?”

I smirk, feeling my father’s arrogance coming out of me. It is an Evans quality that none of us have ever been able to control or keep under wraps. It typically rears its ugly head in times such as these. If I go out with a bang, no pun intended, then I guess I should take the time to thank my father.

…Thanks Dad!!!

James Evans: “Now, Armand this is the second time you’ve put a gun to my head. The first time I can admit that I crossed a line. But this is fucking ridiculous now. I don’t care to cross a line. I will do it as many times as I want….”

Yeah fuck being calm. I have played that game before in life and in the SCW. I have allowed others to walk over me and they have ended up getting opportunities well before me. Kennedy Street…Reagan Street…Kelcey Wallace….ALL OF THEM…received a world title shot and I have been wrestling for the SCW off and on since 2010. And I am not about to go out like a bitch, in the ring or dealing with Armand. I will go out fighting. Yes, my father always told me to stay calm but he also said that every man reaches the point where he has had enough. I have a short fuse so it wasn’t going to take long. I tell myself that I probably should have realized that going in.

I tell myself that they don’t have a Morning After pill for being a sarcastic prick.

James Evans: “I suggest you get that gun out of my face, Armand. I know that you’re rich and powerful, but so am I. We have that in common, but we have some differences. Would you like to know the number one difference?”

Armand smirks, as we keep our eyes locked.

Armand: “Go on, James enlighten me.”

I smirk as well, before continuing to speak.

James Evans: “My father was Charles Evans. You know what that means. You and I could have had a friendly chat. You could have given me what I ask for but instead, you try to throw your weight around and make it seem like I am nothing more than some chump, some dog lost and wandering around, wondering where in the hell to turn next. But that isn’t me, Armand. You want me to kill someone? You keep pointing that gun at me then one of us will die. You can kill me but then you will have to face the consequences for your actions. The Evans name is much more powerful than yours. We both know that. And I’m sure you know that there are certain people who know where I’m at. So if anything happens to me, then they are going to come here first. Something tells me that you don’t want that sort of trouble. Am I wrong Armand?”

Armand glares at me, the gun still pointed at my face. After a few moments, he releases a sigh and pulls the gun back, before lowering it and letting it rest on the table. We lock eyes once more. I can tell he is agitated. I get the feeling that he knows that I am in control. If he doesn’t know, then he needs to allow realization to set in. I tell myself the quicker he does this, the better for both of us.

Armand: “You know, I guess I was wrong. I know what kind of man you are.”

I tilt my head back, curiosity coursing throughout my body.

James Evans: “And what kind of man am I?”

Armand runs his hands over his face. The agitation remains and realization appears to be in the beginning stages of setting in. This pleases me very much so.

Armand: “You’re a snake, James. You are a sneaky, slithering fucking snake. You came in here, looking like you were out of place and uncomfortable. Then you turn around and bite me. I have no problem working with you but that is only out of respect for your father. I do have a problem working with you because like the venom in a snake’s fangs, you are more than likely fucking poison.”

I begin to laugh and I even slap my knee. People coming at me like they are strong and bad ass, only for me to cripple them, bringing them back down to Earth, letting them know their place when compared to me just gives me a feeling that I can’t quite describe.

James Evans: “I appreciate the compliment. Now that you know what sort of man you are dealing with, Armand, when can I expect this protection I’ve been asking you for since I got here? I am a busy man so I am always on the go. I will need this protection as soon as possible. And I don’t just mean with the FBI and any other fucking law enforcement agency…I am talking about in all aspects of my life. I have enemies all over the place, so I need to make sure I have eyes in the back of my head if you catch my drift.”

Armand: “Depends on what you want exactly?”

James Evans: “Someone who will watch my back. Someone who isn’t afraid to go to war for me and with me. In fact, I need a few people like that. Do you think you can manage that?”

Armand lights up a cigar. He angrily tosses the lighter back down on the table then looks over at the girls in the pool who had just recently started swimming again due to the interaction Armand and I had with the handgun.

Armand: “Yes I can manage that. You will have everything you need in a few days.”

I stand up with a smirk on my face and my hand extended out. Armand and I lock eyes once more as we shake hands. I can tell by the look in his eyes that he feels defeated. I want to tell him that he needs to get used to it, but I decide not to pour salt into the wound. The handshake ends and I nod my head in Armand’s direction before turning and walking towards the gate, when Armand stops me.

Armand: “Hey James…”

I slowly turn, not knowing what to expect. At first, I figure he has the gun pointed at me but then I tell myself that he isn’t that stupid, but then again, I made him look bad in his own home so maybe he just doesn’t give a shit. But when I turn, I just see him sitting down, staring at me.

James Evans: “Armand?”

He takes a puff of his cigar before responding.

Armand: “Father or no father, do not make an enemy of me….”

I let his words sink in and bounce back and forth in my brain before calmly replying.

James Evans: “Friend of my father or not, don’t make an enemy of me either….”

I nod in Armand’s direction before continuing on my way out. I like being in control. No one is ever going to walk over me. My father had his rules and I have taken his advice for the most part, but I know that it is time for me to live by my own set of rules, to be my own man, to carve my own path in this world. And I plan on doing just that. If I have to dodge the bullets of the FBI then so be it. If I have to deal with people Thomas Goldblum then I will. If I have to put someone as well connected as Armand then so be it. I am ready to take on any and all takers. My name is James Evans. This is my world. You all just get to live here, wandering around like the insects you are.

I have been ridiculed. I have been spit on. I have been pistol whipped. I have lost loved ones due to the choices I have made. I have turned my back on the family who tried to make amends, the children that were of my blood, my love. I should feel bad for some of those choices, but in the end, I see it but one way and that is they had it coming, either based upon their actions in the past, or what could have happened later on in the future. I do not play well with others.

If you don’t believe me…

…Ask Jake Starr….

…Ask Armand…

…Hell ask my father, Charles Evans…

Oh yeah…he’s dead…I can’t believe I let that slip my mind, especially since I’m the one who put the hit out on him…


- - - - - SHOOT - - - - -


Rise to Greatness is coming ladies and germs and trust me, I am more than ready. I have had a few hiccups in the road, but that hasn’t slowed me down at all. I am still locked, loaded and ready to go. It is a fatal four way match that I have found myself involved in. The build up to this match has had quite the interesting dynamic. It started with Jake Starr and myself talking in a car. I was ready to get the fuck out of there to be honest. After hearing him go on and on and on and on about himself and how he felt he deserved this and that, I was ready to Kurt Cobain myself. Seriously, every single time I tried to talk he would interrupt me so he could go back to talking about himself. Oh the humanity here ladies and germs. I am sure you can understand why I had the shit beat out of him. After years upon years of hearing this man consistently toot his own horn, spewing the same shit just in different ways and different tones of voice, I felt that someone needed to step up and fight for the right to end his fucking life or at least his career.

I haven’t succeeded thus far. I would have weeks ago had it not been for those meddling kids Merrick Wiseman and Tommy Valentine. Oh well, Rise to Greatness is another day at the office and I plan on making the most of each and every opportunity that comes my way, such as curb stomping Jake Starr’s head into the concrete floor a few good times. Or kicking Merrick Wiseman in his twat. Or punching Valentine in the throat before crushing his windpipe as well as his dreams of a main event resurgence. Oh the possibilities are absolutely endless and that very thought intrigues the hell out of me. Just as the nature of this match and all of the history surrounding it. Merrick Wiseman and Starr have quite the history. Merrick ended Starr’s reign as United States Champion. That reign didn’t last long, but hey Merrick made it to the dance and showed that he can get it done in the ring when it counts. I just don’t like Merrick which should be evident based on what has happened between the two of us since the Best of the Best tournament. Like I said not too long ago, but Merrick you have brought this upon yourself. You shouldn’t have stuck your nose into my business, but that seems to be the main thing you’re good at. You are good in the ring, but being nosey and just popping up in places you don’t belong has become your niche.

For example, Autumn and Christy….

I know you are looking to dish out justice at every turn, but who is going to bring you to justice for being such a fucking stalker? I mean, you are spying on women like a total creeper. I am sure that is against the law. And yeah, I am sure Oleks gave you permission to be the Watchman of the SCW and all of that jazz, but we all know that our beloved boss has lost touch with this business, as well as lost touch with sanity.

For all the good you’ve done or tried to do, you are nothing more than a rental cop in terms of delivering your own brand of justice. You are the Paul Blart of the SCW. I am sure you will take comfort in that statement as there is always a happy ending in those movies. But this isn’t a movie and there won’t be a happy ending, at least not for you.

The only happy ending we will be hearing is, “Here is your winner….JAMES EVANS!!!!”

Would the world consider that as arrogance? That is all fine and dandy. You can call it what you wish, but the thing of the matter is this. I give a damn about this match. I know everyone will talk about how I will more than likely be leaving soon, riding off into the sunset with my tail tucked between my legs. The same song and dance, ladies and germs, the same song and dance. I am not leaving. It ain’t over until the fat lady sings. I am coming to the show to prove a point. I don’t care that people wish to bring up my past. Go for it. I can do the same thing if need be. Tommy Valentine and I have fought in the ring three times. He has pinned me twice and he even took a championship from me. I was pretty butt hurt about that last one and I hate him more than I hate Jake Starr, which is really saying something, because I have never liked Starr. But if they were both on fire, I would at least consider pissing on Starr to put him out. Valentine, not so much.

Oh yeah, Tommy we are going to dance once again on the biggest stage of them all. But this isn’t 2012. I was on my way out. I didn’t give a shit. That isn’t an excuse. It is just the damn truth. I care about this match. I care about making you regret answering the call when the Underground beckoned you. I care about making you regret running out and hitting me with the Griever’s Bane right before I planned to do what Jake Starr’s mother should have done years ago and end him.

Like Merrick, you have stuck your nose in my business. Well, Sunday night at Rise to Greatness in front of all of your screaming fans, I am going to beat you. You will not stick your nose into my business again. You will not stop me. You want to reach the top of the mountain again but how can you do that with broken legs? Yeah I am not exactly sure what I am going to do other than just fuck you up. You have beaten me and you have won championships, performed in main events, done all of these things that I have never had the chance to do, but Sunday that gets nipped in the butt. You can have your accomplishments, but the past is the past and it is time that you stay there. Your run is over. You just don’t know it yet.

Don’t worry, Tommy Boy, I will lead the way by beating you into oblivion.

And speaking of you Tommy, it reminds me of something I mentioned earlier. History. You and Jake Starr have a history. You were members of the Brotherhood, but we all know that. Jake stopped caring about you as soon as the World title came into play. But do you care now, Jake? Do you care about this match despite a championship not being on the line? I know that you fought hard and valiantly to regain the Adrenaline Championship for a third time just a few weeks ago, but you came up short against Big Red.

But you are still standing. You have fought the best in this company and you’ve beaten them or they have beaten you. Yet even through the losses and the beatings, you are still standing. Even after I have had my “henchmen” as they are described, beat you down, you still show up the next week or later on in the show. You get knocked down but you get up again. But does that mean you care? No. It just means that you are stingy with the spotlight that you have held since two thousand and nine. You have held championships. You have faced heartbreakers, men who preached about violent enlightenment. You have faced a rising phoenix, the greatest female wrestler in the world. You have faced renegades and one of the most innovative wrestlers in the world. You have beaten Aces and Goddesses. You have even overcame God and the Devil, and overcame Heroes of time. You have even beaten me on two occasions in singles competition.

You are one of the very best in the history of this company as well as this industry, but I don’t like you. In fact, I hate you. I cannot stand you. And no, I am not telling you this to hurt your feelings so keep your elementary insults to yourself. Save your breath, because Sunday night you’re going to need it. You will go down in the history books as one of the very best, Jake, but the fact of the matter is that you have to go down. You need to go down.

As I said with Tommy Boy, your run is over. Your time in the main event spotlight is up.

This is now my world, Jake. I don’t care about what you have done in this sport. I don’t care about why you think you deserve this and that. I don’t care about anything you’re going to say leading up to this match because it is going to be the same sort of rant you always spew. I am just going to have to shut you up on the biggest stage of them all, as you will continue a your streak at Rise to Greatness, adding another loss to your record.

A loss at the hands of yours truly….

….James Evans….