“Forward yesterday…

Makes me wanna stay…

May 11th, 2016

“Are you alright,” Kismet asks me as I stand in my locker room, not too long after watching David Miller get beaten by Jake Starr. I dislike Starr as well as Greg Cherry who was out with the Social Misfit, but I don’t have any reason to watch them. David Miller on the other hand, I have an issue with him and yes, I have my reasons. I am irritated, but not with Miller because I know that there will be a time when he and I cross paths. That will be the time I handle and dismantle him. What I just finished watching is what is bothering me.

“I don’t know if I’m mad or something more,” I say, releasing a sigh as I stare at the television set, “I shouldn’t let this bother me, but it does. It makes me sick but I really shouldn’t be surprised. It seems that even after all this time, nothing has really changed when it comes to Ace Marshall,” Just saying his name gives me cause to grit my teeth.

“Well, you know what you need to do, James. I can understand why you’re upset and you have every right to be pissed off,” Kismet responds. I sense her words are trying to comfort me, but also motivate me to do something that I have wanted to do for a little over half of a decade.

“How do you think I should go about it, Kismet?” I say as I turn away from the TV and catch my reflection in the mirror. I stare into my eyes. They are close to lifeless. I stare down at my fists and see that they are clenched tightly. My veins rippling through the skin.

She walks over to me, standing behind me, her eyes peeking up over my shoulder as she says, “He invited you to that party a few months back, so he probably believes you two are friends, somewhat at least. Why not invite him out for a few drinks or food or something. And when he does that then do what you feel what is necessary. You don’t need to let the likes of Ace Marshall divert you from your own goals.”

I crack my neck as I clench my fist tighter to where my knuckles pop, “Ace Marshall has always diverted me from my goals, Kismet. I took him in a few years ago after helping get him out of jail. I put him first when he has never given a shit about me at all. He has mocked me and he has taken advantage of me. He has looked down upon me and made me feel like I have never been worth his time.”

I can see her shaking her head, “You are so much better than him, James. Don’t let the memories of your bogus friendship take you out at the knees. I am sure he has never felt bad for anything he’s done to you. And now, I am sure he has forgotten all about you. Unless he needs someone to insult. James, it is time for you to shut him up for good.”

I nod, my eyes still cold and lifeless, “Yes, Kismet. You’re absolutely right. I think I know how I am going to do this too.”

I grab a quick shower, just to get the filth off of me. The filth is the disgust I feel towards myself. I went out and did commentary. I had to sit near those clowns Sharper and Knots. People call them one of the best broadcast teams in the business, but these days that isn’t saying much, especially when take a look at the wrestling industry as a whole. Sitting next to them, talking about Jake Starr and David Miller, just all of it made me nauseous. After I finish my shower, I get dressed and step outside of the locker room, Kismet not too far behind as I pull my cell phone. I find Ace’s number then press the phone to my ear. It rings a few times and then I hear, “Uh…hello?”

I smirk, “Ace…it’s James.”

He replies, spewing one lie after another, “Oh yeah I knew that. Something happened to my phone and wiped out a few of my contacts. I guess you weren’t one of the lucky survivors.”

Kismet whispers, “He’s lying to you. We both know he deleted you.”

I nod and smirk at her, letting her know that I know. I then revert my attention back to Ace, “That’s fine, man. Technology right? I mean we are in 2016 and stuff still doesn’t work the way it should.”

“Yeah…” Ace replies before following that up with an awkward silence, before continuing, “So what’s up man?”

“Well, I’m calling to see if you’d like to hang out soon. I know you’re busy most of the time, but I’d like to hang out like we used to. I figured we could celebrate you becoming number one contender to the SCW Championship. So what do you say?”

There is another awkward silence. It makes me hate him even more. If I were a piece of ass, he would gladly take him up on his offer. If I was a constant sarcastic prick or bitch like Cassidy Carter, he would just at the chance to hang out. I then heard a sigh followed by, “Sure man. Just tell me when.”

I turn around and face Kismet, her smirk matching mine, as I reply, “Alright I’m glad you’re cool with it. How about Friday night?”

“Well, I don’t know how that’ll work. I will be in Houston, so maybe we will have to wait on hanging out, man.”

I go to reply, getting ready to tell him that I could fly to Houston but that would just sound desperate. I calm myself, “How about next week before Breakdown? I’d say afterwards, but I am sure you’d have plenty to celebrate if you manage to beat Casey again.”

Another sigh, “Sure man. We will work something out. Cool?”


“Alright man, well I am going to get off here,” He says, clearly annoyed by the length of the conversation. This delights me to say the least. Bringing him misery fulfills me in a way.

“Sounds good, Ace. Take care, champ…”

I take the phone from my ear and smirk as I nod my head, feeling giddy I guess you could say. I would be able to serve myself some justice for all of the crimes Ace has committed against mine. I place my phone in my bag and go to start walking down the hallway towards the exit, but a voice stops me, “How are you feeling?”

I stop in my tracks and roll my eyes, “Kismet, can we not…” I turn around to find that it is not Kismet standing behind me, but Amy Chastaine much to my surprise. She and I have been chatting ever so often on Twitter, which I absolutely loathe anymore, but talking to her makes me appreciate the world a little bit, “Oh hey…Didn’t expect to see you.”

She shrugs, her blue eyes highlighting her gorgeous smile, “Yeah I didn’t expect to still be here either, especially with how things went down during my match tonight.”

I nod my head, trying to seem like I understand, or care. I can understand getting jumped as it would piss me off, but her situation, I don’t really care about for some reason. I find this funny because we are supposed to be friends. I guess hanging around Ace Marshall off and on through the years has rubbed off on me a little bit, “Yeah I’m sorry to hear that. I saw what happened. I’m glad you’re alright. I mean, you are okay, right?”

Amy shrugs once more, “Yeah. It’s nothing that I can’t handle. I’ve been through worse.”

I smirk, “Oh yeah I’m sure. I’ve been in the ring with you. I know that you are as tough as they come. I mean, you were World Champion for a reason. You even made Regan your bitch a few times in the process. Not many people can claim that. I doubt David Helms could even say that.”

She and I share a laugh, but I hear Kismet, “Don’t be stupid, James. She is not a friend. She is an enemy. She doesn’t care for you as I do.”

Amy nods, “Watch it, you'll feed the ego that everyone says I apparently have.”

I look around for a moment, “In this business, everyone has an ego. That is the nature of the beast. When I leave, I always wonder if it will change by the time I get back. Now that I’m back, I can see that nothing has truly changed. At least, not for the better.”

“Speaking of being back, you didn't tell me you were coming back at Supreme Saturday. I'm glad you decided to. I’m sorry we haven’t really had a chance to talk much other than the internet. Life has been hectic for me in and out of the ring.”

I crack a small grin, “I didn’t tell anyone I was coming back. I didn’t do much, but thanks. And I can understand that. Life always seems to be hectic for me. And I’ve seen how things have been going for you on Twitter,” I reach out and place my hand on her shoulder, “I’m here for you if you need me, Amy. Don’t ever forget that. Don’t even hesitate to give me a call or send me a DM…” Saying DM makes me want to vomit. The way the world and its inhabitants are so balls deep into their phones or computers sickens me. If it’s not that it’s the skinny jeans. It’s those fools who have one side of their head shaved with the rest of their hair combed to the other side. Lip piercings. Those little nose rings that make those who wear them look like a goddamn bull.

Amy takes a step back which breaks me from my internal thought process, which I do not like, especially when I am on a mental tangent. I stare at her, my gaze cold, “I appreciate that James, I really do. It’s good to know I have friends.”

My lips purse into a small grin, a part of me wanting to tell her that we are more than just friends. At least that is what I want. I want to ravage her six ways from Sunday. My grin widens as the image of me behind her thrusting while yanking back on her hair and the sound of screaming in pleasure as well as agony enters my mind, “Hey…what are friends for?” I say with a desperate laugh.

“So when are you going to step back into the ring?” She asks, seeming like she is trying to avoid any silence.

I look her up and down slowly, appreciating every curve before losing myself in her eyes for a few brief moments, “Looks like I am going to be back at Taking Hold of the Flame.”

She smiles, and nods a bit knowingly, “Thought I saw your name on the list. Just thought you might step back in before. Gotta say I'm looking forward to the Flame. I can't sit back and wait to be given that rematch, I need to go out there and take the opportunity for myself.”

And then I hear Kismet, “See what I mean? She doesn’t care for you. She is not even your friend. She just wants to butter you up so when the time comes, she can take you out. Be smarter than that, James. I know you’re smarter than that. You will have to take her out before she can do the same to you. Don’t let her leave you devastated, James. You don’t deserve that. After all…you’ve tried being there for her.”

I look at Amy and nod. A part of me knowing that Kismet is more than likely right. At Taking Hold of the Flame, it is going to survival of the fittest and the smartest, just as I have said in the past. There are no friends when that bell rings. That is the philosophy of the professional wrestling industry. You can be friends but once you find yourself staring across the ring at your best friend, all bets are off and the gloves are thrown the wayside. Just like one’s friendship. I nod and force a grin, “Yeah, I am sure you would be stoked to do so. It would be nice to finally win the event and even compete for the World title in a one on one match for the first time in my career.”

“I'm sure you'll get there one day.”

Kismet speaks, her voice filled with frustration, “He will get there you stupid bitch. You need to stay out of the way or get mowed down.”

I place my hand on Amy’s shoulder once more and take a step or two closer, “Hey…want to go out for a drink now? We can hang out. Talk. I feel like it would be a fun time,” The words escape my mouth with Kismet’s words echoing in my mind. I tell myself that I could take her out and do something similar to what I plan on doing to Ace. I just won’t go as far.

Amy takes a step back, letting my hand fall to my side, “I was actually on my way to meet another friend. And in all honesty James, I'm not sure going out for a drink is a good idea for either of us. We both have issues, you know? It's really not a road I want to go down again, and I don't want to see you do that, either.”

I glance down at my fallen hand and I can see it slightly shaking. I feel so utterly disrespected and disgusted with her but I mask it, “Hey, hey I understand. I just figured we could finally hang out and talk like two adults. If you’re not cool with it, if you’re not okay with it, I will leave it be.”

"It's not that, at all. I know we've been meaning to and timing keeps getting in the way. I just already had plans. I'm sorry. Maybe next week after the show."

"Yeah. Maybe."

I try not to let the coldness show in my voice. I think she might have sensed it, though, because she gives me an odd look. We then stand around for a few moments before she finally speaks, “Well.. I should get going, my other friend is waiting. I'm glad I ran into you though, we'll talk more later. And there's always text or DM." She gives me a weak smile, that to me seems a bit patronizing. "Have a good night, okay?.”

A part of me wants to grab Amy by the hair and bash her head into the brick wall but Kismet intervenes, “Not yet, James. You can make your move when the time is right.”

I smile and nod, “You too…” I sense no sincerity in my voice as I speak the words. I know that I have come off cold. I crave Amy and yet she denies me, so she deserves nothing less than that. I tell myself that I will taste it, either by her lips or her blood. Either way, my appetite will be satisfied I tell myself as I watch her walk away.

Kismet walks up beside me, “She is not important right now, James. What is more important is Ace and knocking him down a peg or two. Do you understand?”

I grind my teeth while clenching my fists once more, as I say, “Yes. Yes I do.”

- - - - - - - - - - -

May 14th, 2016


I wake up on the couch in my living room. Kelly and Keira are standing beside me, both staring down at me. I look at my watch and realize that it is a little after 11 P.M. I sit up and rub my eyes, “Yes my little angels?”

Keira sleepily rubs her eye, as she says in a pouty voice, “We want you to tell us a bedtime story.”

Kelly pipes in as well, “Yeah daddy, we can’t sleep.”

I let out a sigh and nod my head, “Alright ladies, lead the way,” I then get off of the couch and let them each grab one of the fingers on my hands as they lead me down the hallway towards their bedroom. Once inside, they both climb into their little beds and I kneel down in between them, “So you guys want a story huh? What kind of story? Should it be funny or should it be scary?”

Keira quickly replies, “Not scary. I don’t want to have nightmares, daddy.”

I nod my head, “Of course, of course. We wouldn’t want that now would we? Alright, let’s see. Let’s try a funny one. How about that?”

Kelly then says, “Yeah daddy. Tell a funny one like Uncle Ace…”

And then the sickness from the pit of my stomach rises up through my throat, burning every inch of the way, burning the inside of my mouth. I look down at my hands and I can see them trembling. I clasp them together to try to calm the shakiness. I feel like the entire room around is shaking. I look around and I see the walls cracking along the trim, the drywall splitting. I see the girls’ beds shaking and rocking back and forth. I watch as the walls crumble, taking part of the roof with them. The girls are screaming and begging me to help them but I don’t. I just sit back and watch as they are slowly pulled through the black hole where the wall used to be.

And I hear Kismet say, “Don’t worry about them. They don’t deserve you as a father. You need to focus on Ace and remember that he has taken from you. He has taken opportunities as well as your children. Hearing them call him Uncle Ace almost made me sick.”

I do not say anything. I just continue to shake while the walls are slowly pieced back together. The trembling finally dies down and I am still sitting here fuming, when I hear, “Daddy…are you okay?”

I lift my head and I see Kelly and Keira, my beautiful daughters, staring at me, with their blankets pulled up to their eyes, as if they are frightened. I let out a sigh, “Yes of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Kelly replies, a bit of a shudder in her voice, “Be-because you were shaking, daddy…”

I smirk as I lean forward, pressing my hand against her cheek, gently caressing it, “You’re fine baby girl. Don’t you worry, honey. Daddy was just thinking.”

Keira speaks from underneath the blanket, “What were you thinking about?”

I softly chuckle a little bit, unable to ignore the fact that I am getting enjoyment from their fear, “Just how much I love you. I was shaking because I was feeling all kinds of things. Does that make sense?”

Kelly speaks, “Did you feel good things?”

I nod, “Yes, Kelly,” I lie, “All good things.”

Silence falls over me and my daughters. Kismet whispers in my ear, “Why don’t you just ask them? You know you want to. I don’t think you need to but I know that it’s killing you to know. You are telling yourself that you need to hear them say it out loud.”

I close my eyes and nod because she’s right. I open my eyes and look at my daughters, “So you really like…Uncle…Ace, huh?”

This question brings them out from under the covers as they both sit up in their beds, big smiles on their faces which make me sick as Keira shouts, “Oh we love Uncle Ace.”

Kelly then butts in, “He is so funny, daddy.”

And then Keira asks, “Do you like Uncle Ace, Daddy?”

Kismet chimes in, “Yeah daddy…do you like Uncle Ace? You did this to yourself, James. You knew how they felt. You didn’t need to hear that.”

I turn and look behind me where only I see Kismet, “Yes I did.”

Keira asks, “Who are you talking to Daddy?”

I turn back and face the girls, “I was talking to you guys. Once upon a time, I used to like Uncle Ace. He and I were pretty good friends, but then things changed. Now, I don’t get along with Uncle Ace.”

Kelly asks, “Why, Daddy?”

Keira follows up with, “Yeah Daddy why?”

I sigh and stand up, staring down at my children, “That is a story for another time little ladies. Maybe when you are much older,” I say before leaning over and kissing them both on their foreheads. I step out of their, closing the door behind me. I walk into the living room then cross over and step into my bedroom where I close the door behind me. As soon as the door closes, Kismet appears behind me as I stare at my reflection in the mirror, “I can’t fucking believe it.”

Kismet steps forward a little bit, as I stare at my glaring eyes, “James, you knew they were going to say that. Like I said, you didn’t need to hear them say it.”

I reply, my voice a little louder than normal, “And as I told you…Yes I did. I needed to hear it. How hard is that to understand?”

“Why did you need to hear it?”

I turn away from the mirror and sit down on the edge of the bed. Kismet sits down behind me and wraps her arms around my neck, resting her face against my shoulder, “Because I was having doubts about doing what I wanted to do to Ace. I needed to know how my children felt about him. And now I know.”

She asks, “How does it make you feel, James?”

My hands grip the end of the mattress, “It fucking pisses me off. It makes me sick. It is eating away at me like a goddamn cancer, Kismet.”

“So are you going to be able to do what you need to do?”

I move away from her and the bed, standing up once more, “I don’t know. No matter how much it eats at me, they love that fucker. Everyone loves that son of a bitch. Katelyn loves him and treats him with nothing but respect. Yet he treated like a fucking object. She even cheated on me with him. And he is praised because he is good with my kids, yet I am chastised because I left them. Katelyn didn’t tell me about them until right around the time they were born and then kept them from me. And Ace is a good role model? Oh fuck him. He abandoned his kid because he didn’t think his child was manly enough. He tried to get his kid to sell drugs for him. Everyone ignores that because Ace is….”

Kismet cuts me off, “Because he’s Ace…”

I lower my head and nod, “Yes…yes that is exactly why.”

“Then I don’t think you need any more of a reason to do what you should do. What you should have done a long time ago. He has taken everything from you in the SCW, but most importantly, he has taken the love and respect of your children. You are always the bad guy when you are much better than he is, James. You don’t speak up and stand up for yourself.”

I slowly nod my head again, because she speaks truth, “You’re right. I’ve never been able to truly convey my feelings through words. I always get my words twisted.”

Kismet climbs off of the bed and steps closer to me, placing her arms around my neck. We lock eyes as she says, “Then don’t speak. Let your actions speak for you. I mean as they always say…”

I speak the words with her, “Actions speak louder than words…” She nods then places her head against my chest. I run my fingers through her hair, feeling safe, as she is my Kismet, my destiny. She is the only one who cares for me.

She is my motivation.

She has become my everything.

- - - - - - - - - - -

How far would you go in order to achieve everything you ever wanted?

This is a question I’ve been asking myself for a very long time. I’ve spent a large portion of my career asking myself questions when it comes to standing within the land of the Supreme. The answers have never been that clear to me, especially when I asked myself…

Where do I go from here?

I have scraped by at the bottom of the barrel for a very long time. I have floundered and flourished on the mid-card level of the so called ladder of success. While dwelling in that realm I asked where I’d go from there. But now I know. I will rise. I will move up. To top is where I go. Where I belong. Where I have always belonged.

So back to the original question. How far would I go in order to achieve everything I have ever wanted. Everything I have ever wanted outside of the ring, I can easily grasp. Inside of the ring, that is an entirely different issue. I have been passed over and overlooked for years. The universe and the locker room have heard this tale a thousand times so there is no real need to get into it. The only thing that needs to be known is that I will go farther than the rest.

I will not spew words about a bloodbath. I am not Red Rayne. Any blood that I shed will not be from the rafters or some sort of “mist.” I will tear flesh by driving my knuckles against bone, splitting skin. These so called “superstars” talk and they talk well. Their words and diatribes are full of power, passion, and belief. I am not. I keep my words to myself anymore. I stay lost in my head, because the mind is one’s most powerful weapon.

It is mine. And the mind is a terrible thing to waste. I am not about to waste any of it.

If this were put into words, people would be like Alexis Quinne on Twitter, questioning how long I was going to stay. All of that is for the birds. It is nothing more than nonsense. I am in a real battle right now, as my personality continues to create and recreate personality traits, further unraveling the mystery of who I am.

I am a fighter. A killer. A monster. This isn’t chatter or water cooler talk. This is much more than that. I sit in silence, thinking these thoughts, feeling this darkness drawing me into the pitch black of the world around me. The darkness devouring me mind, body, and soul, filling me from the outside in, opening my eyes to who I am and who I need to be in order to succeed.

And succeed I will.

- - - - - - - - - - -

May 19th, 2016

SALUTE restaurant

Hartford, Connecticut

“Looks like you had a rough night, Ace…”

Ace and I find ourselves at a table at a nearly empty restaurant in the heart of Hartford, Connecticut not even twenty four hours removed from Breakdown. After my comment, he chuckles a bit and shakes his head, “Yeah I am usually the rough one, but sometimes, the night can be a bitch.”

I grab my glass and take a sip of my bourbon, “You were always good at putting yourself into some sticky situation.”

Ace takes a sip of his beer, which he told me to make sure he only has one, then wipes his bottom lip and says, “Yeah you’re right, but I always manage to get out of them. I am sure I’ll get out of this one too. I just haven’t quite figured that part out yet. But what about you? You seemed happy to find out the old mentor made his triumphant return.”

I gulp down some more bourbon and shake my head with a smile forming on my face, “That is putting it lightly. Chad is Chad. If I have to actually break him in half this time then I will. I have no issue in finishing what I started.”

He raises his bottle in a “toasting” manner and nods before looking around the restaurant. He then returns his gaze to mine, “This place is pretty dead. Reminds me of what happens when Eli D’Angelo is giving a sermon. I really feel the fans.”

I chuckle a little bit myself, “Yeah I bet so. Glad I haven’t had any run-ins with that tool. Drinking and sleeping with beautiful are praise worthy compared to what he does for fun which is probably banging horses.”

I notice as Ace cracks a grin, but I also notice how he rolls his eyes a little bit. My smile fades upon seeing this. I quickly imagine grabbing him by his hair and jabbing a fork into his eye. Kismet comes into view and shakes her head, “No. Not yet, James. The time isn’t right. Wait a little bit longer,” My smile returns as she winks at me.

Ace then speaks, “So entering a number three, huh? You ready for that?”

I finish off my bourbon before responding, “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

Ace looks at me then shrugs, “I guess because you haven’t had the best track record in the rumbles, even when you’re one of the last few guys in there. Number three is a long way to go and you got the horse fucker as well as the red Devil she bitch in there with you from the beginning.”

I lean back in my chair and shake my head, before locking eyes with the man I once considered a friend, “I get the feeling that you’re selling me short, Ace. Would I be correct in that assumption?”

Ace leans forward in his seat, “I’m not selling you short, James. I’m just stating facts. Stop makings things out to be something they’re not. Jesus man…” Ace leans back and lets out a sigh, “I’m going to go drain the old hog man,” I think watch as he gets up and walks away, heading towards the bathroom. I see Kismet come into view again, giving me the thumbs up. I nod, pulling out the vile from my pocket. I then dump the contents into Ace’s beer bottle and I wait. He emerges from the bathroom a few minutes later, returning to his seat. He looks at his phone then up at me, “Alright man, I am going to have to get going here, man. It’s been real and it’s been fun, but it hasn’t been real fun.”

I smirk and nod my head, “I understand, Ace. You have to go. You’re Mr. Popular. You have to be everywhere. I noticed that at your party a few months ago.”

“Yeah, what can I say?”

I put my hand up and shake my head, “You don’t have to say anything. But at least finish your beer man. It’s my treat.”

He looks at it hesitantly, which makes me want to grab him by the hair, forcing his head back and shoving the bottle into his ever-running mouth while the beer and sedative concoction run down his throat, but he shrugs, “Yeah. That would be alcohol abuse and after tonight, I don’t think I could live with myself if I leave any behind,” I watch as he grabs the bottle and quickly chugs everything down. He brings the bottom from his lips and lets out a sigh, “I can see why I don’t drink like I used to. This stuff can taste worse than Foxx’s dildo,” He makes a disgusted face while a smile forms on mine.

“You really are clever, Ace. I wouldn’t have gone after her in that manner, especially for Kennedy. But then again, I did stand her up. But thankfully she had you to swoop in and save the day.”

He shrugs, “Well that’s what makes you…you and what makes me….Ace…”

I watch as he runs his hands over his face. His eyes look to be getting heavy, so I snap my fingers near his face to get him to wake up, “What else makes you…you, Ace? I mean, I went right after Rachel Foxx. Yet you go out and buy her a gag gift…literally…and bring up her drug past. I find that funny. I mean, it’s not like you have any room to talk, Ace. At least she never flushed her career down the drain, ya know?”

Ace throws his arms up in the air, “Who cares man? I am here to entertain. I am here to be one of the best and make up for lost time. To succeed where I allowed myself…(yawns) allowed myself to fail. Holy hell…that was a fucking Bud Light. I shouldn’t be this tired. I am not that much of a bitch. I can still hang with the best of them if…if I…(yawns) If I choose to…”

With that, his eyes roll into the back of his head and his face takes a nose dive towards the table, but I catch it in the palm of my head, to make sure that he doesn’t cause a scene, which wouldn’t be out of character for the Ace Marshall that I know. I let his head rest gently on the table. I lean back for a few moments and just stare at him. I chuckle a bit, until Kismet kneels down beside me, as she asks, “What’s so funny?”

I laugh a little bit more, before shaking my head and shrugging my shoulders, “It’s funny to me that I have wanted to shut him up for so long and now that I get the chance to do it and it’s away from the wrestling ring, away from all of the cameras. It was easy to do it this way. Inside of the wrestling world right now, he’s a giant. But out here, he’s just a man that can easily be broken.”

“So,” Kismet asks as she slowly walks around the table, glaring down at Ace, “Are you going to kill him?”

My smile fades and the laughter dies, “I don’t know. It would be too easy to do so right now. A part of me wants to. I’d love to take from him as he has taken from me. To rid him of life so he no longer has the opportunity to steal from me again…that would be beyond words. But to let him live, to meet him in a match at Rise to Greatness, to embarrass him on the biggest stage of them all, in front of those cameras…in front of all those people, that would be far more than just perfection. That would be death to him in a way, as he would not be the center of attention. All eyes would be on me…”

“I think you should kill him, James…”

I lock eyes with Kismet, “I’m thinking about it…”

And then I hear, “Sir…”

I look over and I see our waitress standing just a few feet away. She looks at Ace, a pinch of concern on her face, before she looks at me, “Is everything alright?”

I force a grin and another chuckle to ease her mind, “Oh yes. He’s a big talker this one,” I say, pointing at Ace, “But he can’t back it up when it comes to drinking. He’s what you’d call a lightweight.”

We share a laugh, before she says, “Would there be anything else?”

My smile fades once more, as I have much more planned for Ace and I, “Just the check please.”

- - - - - - - - - - -

A Few Hours Later

W I N I V A N Hotel

Hartford, Connecticut

“Wakey, wakey” I say, smacking Ace a few times. He jerks his head back and forth. He looks at me and jerks back as well. He then looks around at his surroundings. We are back in my cottage at the Winivan. He tries to move, but can’t. I watch as the puzzled look appears on his face. He then looks down and sees that I have tied him to a chair, “Seriously, stop Ace. If you start struggling or trying to break free, the knots will only tighten. I don’t want your circulation to get all fucked up. I need you wide awake and fully alert for this. Oh, and please don’t scream or anything. That’d be really annoying and it’d make me have to speed up this process a little bit.”

He glares at me, “Fuck you. I’m not going to scream. I ain’t no bitch. So why don’t you tell me what the fuck you’re doing, James. I figured you’d be more into making soft and sweet love instead of bondage. Katelyn never mentioned you being into this sort of thing, but then again, when she was around me, she never mentioned you.”

He lets out a sarcastic laugh. I join in, sarcastically of course, before walking up and driving my fist into Ace’s jaw. I take a few steps back and exhale, “Man that felt good. I’ve been wanting to do that for awhile if you haven’t noticed. But yeah, keep running your mouth. It is truly what you’re good at. And to answer your question, Ace…I’m doing something I’ve wanted to do for a long, long time.”

Ace shakes his head, blinking his eyes a bit, before turning and facing me, “You want to blow me so you can get a taste of what excellence truly is. I understand, James. But this is not the way to do it.”

I slug him again, fighting the urge to continue doing it until I hear his skull crack, “Always with the jokes. I want you to know that this is very serious, Ace. This isn’t going to end well for you.”

Ace grins and laughs bit more, “You know I can’t take you serious, James. You say one thing then do another. That’s the way it has always been with you. Hitting me isn’t going to change that. Raping me might because it would give our friendship a whole new meaning.”

And then I unload on him, punching repeatedly with everything that I have. I punch him until my arms grow tired and then I step back. His face his red with blood oozing from the various splits in his skin. I don’t want to stop but I hear Kismet as she says, “That’s enough for now, James. Tell him all the things you’ve wanted to say to him. Let him know how you feel. Make sure he hears you then you can finish him off if you want to.”

I run my hand through my hair, ignoring the blood, as I nod my head. I grab a chair and pull it close to Ace, who is shaking off the physical abuse he just endured and then our eyes meet, “I want to talk to you, Ace. I will tell you why you are here but first I need to make sure your mouth is shut so you don’t interrupt me,” I say before going into the bag I have placed in the room. I pull out a gag and despite fighting me, I force it into Ace’s mouth, before leaning back and continuing to speak, “Now that we have that out of the way…You’re here because I hate you, Ace Marshall. I hate you with every fiber of my being and I have hated you ever since you and I were in the Chosen.”

I smirk and shake my head, “It has always been about you, Ace and I have never gotten that. I have never quite figured it out. I’ve gone over and over it in my head. Is it that Ace is just that damn good? Does he go into Mr. D’s office and give him the best head of his feeble life? Or is it just luck that seems to be on Ace’s side, where he always manages to come in at the right time? Now, I know that you are good when it comes to stepping in between those ropes. I’ve been your tag team partner. And you’ve been on the best roll of your career since your return. And now you’re stepping into the ring, competing for the SCW World Championship…”

“And I am fine with that, Ace. It is just that it seems like the powers that be have a hard on for you. You can come and go as you please, just as I have, yet you come back and you’re placed on a fucking pedestal like you are the Second Coming of Christ. I come back, and I am brushed off. People wait to see if I’m leaving. Hell, when you first arrived in the SCW, it didn’t take long until you were in a match for the SCW Championship. The powers that be just let you do it. I know that I could voice my opinion and then I’d be told that times have changed. People are having to work harder. But Ace, I’m not an idiot. Times haven’t changed when it comes to you. You have always been given the world, no matter how many times you came to work drunk or high. No matter how many times you skipped out on matches or cutting promos. I’ve never come to work fucked up. I have never skipped out on anything. Yet, my hard work is nothing more than shit to be flushed down the pipe to everyone,” I get up from my seat and get right in Ace’s face, pressing my nose against his nose as I glare at him, “DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT THAT IS LIKE? DO YOU?!?! DO YOU?!?!?”

He just looks at me, glaring. I grab him by the face and think about how nice it is to be in control, to be able to do whatever I want to him, knowing that there is nothing he can do. I shove his face back before returning to my seat, “No, you don’t, Ace. You have no idea and you probably never will. You have what I’d call a once in a lifetime opportunity in a few weeks to not only compete for the SCW World title, but to get to main event Rise to Greatness. You, because you are you, will be able to get opportunities like this for as long as you’re around. Me, I doubt I would ever get a chance to do so. And that brings me to Taking Hold of the Flame…”

I let out a sigh as I stand up and begin to pace back and forth in front of Ace, “Taking Hold of the Flame is a pretty big event, Ace. I am not sure if you’ve ever actually competed in one. I am sure the opportunity was there, but as the powers that be have done with me and my talent, you pissed all over it. We’ve seen legends grow from the event. Legends such as CHBK, may he rest in pieces. Legends such as Jason Zero, even though no one really cares for him anymore. But we’ve seen guys like you and I…guys like Hodges and Exeter rise to greatness after winning the event. They eventually shit all over their potential. And we’ve had to sit through the dark and boring time period where names like Shilo, Kelcey, and Rayvn have won it. I want it to be different this time, Ace. Unlike you and them, getting the chance to main event the biggest show of the year doesn’t really fall on my radar. Everyone is talking about Red Rayne and the rest of the usual suspects who have infected SCW programming for the last few years. And hell, even you’ve become a part of the problem recently. All of you make me sick, Ace and that is why I have to do what I am going to do. I am going to gut you, Ace and then I will put you on display at Breakdown. I won’t say a word. I will pretend to be heart broken, but deep down, I will know that a message has been sent. I am coming after all of the piss ants who have been gift wrapped and delivered to the main event. The SCW will have no…”

Just then a knock comes at the door. I look at Ace who stares back at me, condemning me, making me hate him even more, “Don’t make a fucking noise,” I then get up and walk out of one room, going into the living room and through the kitchen before opening the front door to the cottage, finding a hotel clerk standing on the other side, looking concerned, “Yes?”

He peers into the cottage then back at me, “Sorry Mr. Evans, we had a complaint about screaming and yelling. We wanted to make sure everything was alright.”

I match his concerned look, “Oh? I’m sorry, but everything is alright here. I may have had the TV up too loud or something. I apologize.”

He nods, “It’s quite alright. We just wanted to be sure. Have a nice day and enjoy the rest of your stay, sir.”

I nod as well before closing the door behind me. I turned around and stormed back into the room, only to find it completely empty. No chair, no rope, and most importantly no Ace. I look around before shaking my head and sitting on the floor. I place my face in my hands and shake my head some more. I lift my head when I feel a hand on my shoulder. I look up and see Kismet, who I ask, “Am I losing my mind, Kismet? This whole time I saw Ace and I was talking to him. It’s all in my head…”

She shakes her head, “No James. You’re just preparing yourself.”

I look at her, puzzled, “Preparing for what?”

"What it is that you have to do, James."

"Which is?"

She replies, her words as cold as her demeanor, "Destroy them. Destroy them all."

- - - - - - - - - - -

“I see a red door, and I want it painted black…

…No colors anymore, I want them to turn black.”

May 26th, 2016

Taking Hold of the Flame banquet

I sit in my rental car, unsure of where I really am. It’s night time and plastered on the side of this building, I see the SCW logo as well as the Taking Hold of the Flame advertisement. I see the faces.

Red Rayne.

Reagan Street.

Eli D’Angelo

The list goes on and on, yet I don’t see mine. Once again, forgotten amongst the so called “stars” roaming the land of Supreme. I shake my head, telling myself that I shouldn’t be surprised. I’m not. I don’t even feel angry about being left off of the marquee poster. I just feel like destroying them all. I feel it in the most casual way. Like I could see myself shrugging my shoulders and calmly stating that I would love to take a knife to Red Rayne’s throat, or a gun to David Miller’s head.

I chuckle at the thought.

“Paint it Black” by the Stones is coming through the radio station and it makes me want to do just that. Put black spots where the faces were at one point. At one point? I chuckle again as I reach into the backseat, grabbing my gym bag and pulling it up front. I unzip and my hands reach in, gripping it. I then pull it out of the bag and stare at it in amazement for a few moments. It’s an Uzi that I paid cash for from a local thug in New York. I bought it two days before the go home edition of Breakdown. I was planning on doing it there, but I decided against it. I feel like the very definition of lethal, like I am close to going postal or snapping. I don’t know how far I am going to go. I have stated and thought to myself that I am willing to go farther than anyone in the SCW. If I do that, I have a feeling that I will sink lower than lower, finding myself in the mud, the blood, and the guts all in the honor of glory.

I will go to Hell and kick the Devil’s ass out of my way because he truly has nothing on me. I close my eyes and picture it all going down. Walking in there, seeing all of them. All of them that I detest. All of them that I hate. All of them that I wish to destroy. I see them sitting there in their various groups, and cliques, chatting with their partners, friends and family, retired legends, doing what they normally do which is ignore me. I see myself sitting down at a table by myself, watching them, wishing them to choke on their drinks, on their food, hell on the very air that we have to share.

And just when I have had enough, I flip the table over, wielding my weapon of choice. I see them looking at me, some with looks of concern, some with looks of indifference. I took one final look at them before taking aim and squeezing the trigger. I can hear my wild laughter over the sound of the shooting and the screaming.

I see myself taking great pleasure in all of the chaos and death I am creating.

I open my eyes then stare down at the gun for a few more moments before looking over at the building, releasing a sigh.

“What are you waiting for?” I look in the rearview mirror and I see Kismet sitting in the backseat, looking confused and disappointed, “You bought the damn gun. Now is your time to make a mark. Just slip on your mask, go in there and wreak havoc. Scare the piss out of them. Injure a few of them. Hurt the SCW in a way that they will more than likely never recover from.”

I go to answer but before the words can come out, another voice can be heard. It is not mine nor is it Kismet’s. I look to my right and I see my father sitting there, casually lighting up a cigarette, “You can tell him what he needs to do or should do all night long, but my son James here…” He pauses, taking a drag off of his cig, “He’s a stubborn little bastard. He gets it honest. James takes after his mother.”

I glare at my father, “Don’t bring up my mother. I am like you. You heard voices too. You can just add it up to another thing you did to fuck my life up,” I then turn and face Kismet, “I want to Kismet. I do. But if I am going to beat them, to destroy them, I would rather do it in the ring. I would rather everyone be at full strength. Otherwise, I won’t feel complete. I won’t feel accomplished. And to me, that is much more important.”

Another voice chimes in, coming from the backseat. I look the right of Kismet and I see my grandmother, glaring at me, scolding me through the lenses of her glasses, her arms crossed, “Look at you, James. You can see things a bit clearer for once. You want to feel accomplished, but you know that if you do what you are going to do, what these two…” She pauses, pointing an angry finger at my father and my Kismet, before returning her attention to me, “If you do what they want then you will not get that feeling. Besides, let’s be honest, if you go in there, shoot up the place then you will more than likely end up in jail, missing out on the opportunity to show that you are as ever bit as good as others claim to be.”

My father speaks up before I get a chance to speak, “But what’s wrong with taking the easy way out? Let me tell you. Absolutely nothing! I cut as many corners as I could. I don’t see why you wouldn’t do the same, James.”

Kismet speaks, “Yeah I know that you had issues with your father, but I have to say that I agree with him, James. We both want the best for you and sometimes to get what you want…no, no…to get what you DESERVE, you have to do things you normally wouldn’t do.”

I hear my grandmother’s laughter as I look away from Kismet and focus on her, “You want what’s best for him? Don’t make me laugh. James, do not listen to either of them. They are steering you down the wrong path. You can’t do what they want. You need to look inside of yourself and do what you feel is best for you.”

Smoke is blown in my face as I turn and face my father once again, “Because James doesn’t know what is best for him. He has no idea what he’s doing. The only time he enjoys himself is when he is hurting someone or doping up. He wants to give into that darkness inside of him, but just as he has always been, he’s a coward when it comes to giving into his true self. Deep down mother, James is a cold hearted sadistic son of a bitch. He is afraid of what he is capable of. It’s pretty amusing for me.”

I glare at him, grabbing the cigarette from him and squeezing it in my palm, any pain I should feel is not there, “And what’s so funny about it, Dad? I know that there is a darkness inside of me. Kismet has been pulling it out of me little by little, and I have seen it. It scares me, but it also intrigues me. The constant back and forth I have going on inside of my head is driving me crazy. I am losing my mind and you find it amusing?”

He throws his head back and laughs, “Yes, yes I do my dear boy. I love watching you struggle. I’ve been telling you for ages it seems that you just need to GIVE IN. Give in, James. That is all you have to do. It’s not that fucking difficult.”

Kismet pipes up, “I have been telling him the same thing the last few weeks. He let’s me in, then he pushes me away.”

My father slaps me on the chest, “James has an attachment disorder. And of course, he blames me for that. He has daddy issues. He says that I was never there for him.”

I press my head against the steering wheel, wishing I could do something to end all of it, “You were never there. And when you were…”

Kismet cuts me off, “James, it doesn’t matter now. It is all about you. You need to be here, in this moment. Don’t try and run away from this. You said I was your everything not too long ago. I have been here for you when no one else has. You need to focus on that and stop losing sight of everything.”

I close my eyes, trying to tune them out. I tell myself to focus on Taking Hold of the Flame. I tell myself that I am going to win. But the more I think about it, the more I want to carry out my plan. I see the faces, laughing at me, pointing their fingers at me while I stare up at them from the floor. All of them laughing at me. The crowd joining in, providing a chorus of heckling. I see myself staring at them, feeling my body shake in anger. And then I see my grandmother step out from the crowd. She storms up to me and slaps me across the face.

And I am back in the car, my grandmother voice gently hits my ear, “James, you are a good person and a good man. I know that you have a good heart son. Just focus in on my voice. Remember how I used to rock you to sleep when you had nightmares? Just think back to when you were a boy, James. You were at my house and you would wake up and run into my arms, telling me that you had a bad dream. I would hold you and rock you in my arms, softly singing to you. You would look at me and smile, looking like all was right in the world again. That is all you need to do. If things seem like they are going bad, just close your eyes and picture that. Imagine me singing to you. Let it calm you the way it used to calm you.”

I reply, “I wish it was that simple, grandma. I really do. I am not the same as I used to be. Things have gotten worse for me as time has gone on. My mind has hit rock bottom and then proceeded to sink even lower. I don’t think there is any way to change that.”

I say this, acknowledging the fact that my impulses to go out and hurt others, especially those in the SCW have gotten a lot worse since this time last year. I would rarely see myself strangling one of my opponents. Not like I do now. When I close my eyes, I am strangling Kelcey Wallace before snapping her perfect neck. I am dragging the blade of a knife down the back of Reagan Helms while she screams and begs for me to stop. I see myself fucking Kennedy Street before growing bored and proceeding to beat her face in with my bare hands. I see myself lining up David Miller, AJ Helms, Tommy Valentine, Vixen Cain, Merrick Wiseman and so many more in front of empty graves I have forced them to dig for themselves. They are standing there, challenging me to remove the ropes binding their hands and feet. With each challenge, I put a bullet into their skulls and watch their lifeless bodies fall into the graves. I see all of this and I know that there is something wrong with this, but then there is also the part of me that loves it and wishes it to be a reality.

I want to tell Dr. Vaughn to lock me the fuck up and throw away the key. I also want to see how long I can let it ride. I fear that if I were to actually attack someone and maim them then I would thoroughly enjoy it. I’m afraid that I would feel a sense of happiness.

My grandmother speaks, “Remember what the doctor said, James.”

My father responds, “Don’t pay attention to that quack, James. There is no need. He’s not helped you before, so I don’t believe he’ll start now.”

Kismet speaks as well, “Yeah, just remember that he is trying to keep you and me apart. You need me. Remember that I said to you and you agreed to it.”

I press my face into my hands, and begin to shake my head from side to side, hoping that the voices will go away as my mind wanders to a few days before, at my last visit with Dr. Vaughn.

- - - - - - - - - - -

May 23rd, 2016

New York City, New York

“So, James how are you feeling?” Dr. Vaughn asks, as I lie down on his couch, staring up at the tiny fragment of light shining on the ceiling of his office. He has it dimly, saying he is going to try a different approach with my therapy.

Kismet is highly pissed that I am here. I told her that I had to go in order to keep up appearances, but she also knows that there is a part of me that wants help, that wants to gain control. A part of me that wants the voices to go away.

Kismet says, “Tell him that you’re feeling good. Tell him that you don’t see the point in coming back.”

I close my eyes and let out a deep breath, “I don’t know Dr. Vaughn. I guess the best way to describe it is to say that I feel…torn.”

“How so?”

“You are not doing what you said you would,” Kismet angrily whispers into my ear.

Another deep breath and then I say, “My mind wants me to do bad things. Very bad things. But my heart tells me to stop. To not listen to the voices. But it’s hard.”

He scribbles a bit, “You say it’s hard. Can you elaborate on that for me, James?”

“Stop, James, please stop,” I hear Kismet plead.

I say, “The things the voices tell me to do…they are against those I work with…”

He cuts in, “You’re talking about wrestling, correct?”


He scribbles some more, “And what are the voices telling you to do?”

I shake my head, “They are telling me to do stuff that I want to do to them most of the time. They are telling me to hurt them very badly. To maim them, torture them, and sometimes…to even kill them.”

I look over and see Kismet shaking her head. She looks up at me, anger in her eyes, “I can’t believe you just told him that.”

I hear Dr. Vaughn say, “So you say that you want to do the things the voices are telling you to do. You want to maim and possibly kill those who work with? Why is that, James? Is there a specific reason as to why you think you’d want to do that?”

Kismet chimes in again, the anger is lingering in her voice, “How could you be so stupid?”

I shrug my shoulders, “To be honest, doc…there are things about them that I cannot stand. They always seem to be things better than me. When they win, they look better, or stronger I should say, than I ever do when I win a match. They talk better than me. They always manage to get their points across in a better manner than I could ever imagine doing. They are presented better than I am.”

“And you are jealous of them coming off as better than you?”


I put my hand up as if telling her to calm down. She rolls her eyes and turns away from me in a furious manner. I then look over at Vaughn before replying, “I guess you could say that. I mean, that makes sense. But I don’t think I should be jealous to the point where I want to cripple them or worse…kill them. I mean that’s just not fucking normal.”

Vaughn closes his notepad then locks eyes with me, “You’re right James that isn’t normal. But you’re suffering from some pretty severe stuff. And that is why I want to try something with you. But only if you are okay with it. And if you are, it is something that I want to record,” He says, pointing over to a camcorder in the corner of his office. I stare at it for a few moments, feeling uneasy about it, before our eyes meet once more, “So, James do you think you’d be okay with that?”

Before I can even speak, I hear Kismet’s voice, “No, James you are not okay with this. I am not okay with this. We don’t need to do this. He is trying to trick us. Don’t believe him, James. He is only out to hurt you and make you look crazy. You don’t deserve that James. Say no. Say no…please say no…”

“Yes…yes I’m okay with it…”

Vaughn stands up and locks his office door then dims the lights bit more before grabbing an old pocket watch out of his desk drawer. He then looks at me, “James, I am going to hypnotize you and when I do, I am going to talk to all of the voices you are hearing. But only if they’ll talk to me.”

I look up at him, feeling uncertain, “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

Vaughn shrugs, “I don’t know James, but I want to help you. We have tried things before in the past. This is a radical next step, but from what you’re telling me, it is a necessary step.”

I nod, “Okay…I trust you…”

Kismet says, “No James…don’t say that. Don’t you dare trust him…”

I think to myself, only where Kismet can hear me and I say that I am sorry, as Vaughn begins to talk to me, counting down from ten…

10, 9, 8, 7, 6…he tells me that I am getting very sleepy. Very very…sleepy…

Kismet tells me that I am hurting her. That I am breaking her heart.


I tell her I’m sorry. I tell her that I swear to God I am so…


- - - - - - - - - - -

May 26th, 2016

Taking Hold of the Flame banquet

I come back to reality and I look in the backseat at my grandmother, concern in her eyes. Kismet appears angry, and sad as tears rolls down her cheeks. I glance at my father, as he shakes his head, puffing away on his cigarette. I then look back at my grandmother, “I remember…what he said…”

She smiles, “That’s good. Just remember what he said. Tell me what he said.”

I smile as well, “He…he told me that he would help me.”

I feel her hand as it grazes my face, “That’s good James and I know that he will…”

She goes to speak, but I cut her off by grabbing her hand and glaring at her, “But he hasn’t, Grandma. He hasn’t fucking helped me at all. No one helps me. No one does a goddamn thing for me. Those fuckers in that building…they all make me fun of me and make me out to be some piece of shit. And where have you been when all of that has been happening? You haven’t been around to help me. You never truly were. And Dad…Kismet, they have been here all along, giving me advice, telling me to not worry about them. That I can punish them. That I can hurt them. That I can make them pay. I can make all of them fucking pay.”

I shove her hand away from me as I continue to glare at her. She looks at Kismet who has a smile on her face, and then she looks at my dad who seems to be nodding in approval. She then turns and we lock eyes with me once more, “James, I am sorry. For everything. I wanted to help you. I wanted to be there for you, but you never let me in. And now, I can’t help you. You are too far gone, James. I cannot save you. I hope to God…”

I cut her off once again, “God? You bringing up God? If God is real then why the big man upstairs allowing me to hear voices? Why is he torturing me with all of this? Why can’t I just be normal? Why can’t I just live a peaceful, happy life? Because your God is a joke. He is such a fucking joke that he allows my “cousin” to walk around, claiming to be God. His claims, just as your beliefs were, are delusions. God wants to come after me…heh, well…” I pause for a moment and grab the gun, pointing it at my grandmother, “I can fix him. I can blow him away and send him to whatever Heaven or Hell is truly out there.”

My grandmother’s eye fill with sadness as she lowers her head and shakes it for a few moments, before looking back up at me, “James, you don’t mean that. I know there is good in you. I know there is. I’ve seen it. I saw it when you were a little boy…”

I point the gun at her, “That part of me is dead, Grandma. It’s been dead for a very long time. It’s been walking around like you and Dad…walking around like a ghost. It’s time that I bury it once and for all. Along with you…” I say, squeezing the trigger. The gun clicks and I watch as my grandmother’s head explodes. I blink, hearing my rapid breathing. I look and she has gone. I then turn to my father, “And you…I have told you and I have told you to leave me be…”

My father puts out his cigarette and shakes his head, “I don’t think you have the balls James. If you did then you would have done it a long time ago.”

I press the gun to his head, “You know…I am beyond fucking sick of you putting me down. You and everyone else in this fucking world, bad mouthing me on television, bad mouthing me on social media, bad mouthing me to my fucking face…” I cock the gun, “You represent the world Dad and everything that I fucking hate. Just as grandmother represented everything that I was clinging to, everything that made me fucking soft. I have had enough of it all. I am tired of drowning in it…And I’m tired…” I lock my eyes on his, as I smirk, speaking once more to him before pulling the trigger, “Of you…”

I close my eyes as I fire the shot. I let out a sigh of relief before opening my eyes, seeing that my father is no longer around. I then turn and look at Kismet, who fakes a smile at me, but a look of concern in her eyes, “James…it’s me…Kismet…your everything remember?”

I press the gun against her head as well, “Of course I remember. You’ve only brought it up I don’t know how many fucking times. How many times do you feel that you need to say it?”

She looks up at the barrel of the gun then down at me, “I guess as many times as I need to until you understand it.”

I shake my head at her, “Don’t get cocky, Kismet.”

She goes to speak, but I cut her off, “What are you going to say? That you only want what is best for me? That you’re trying to help me? I am sick of everyone telling me that yet never actually proving it or actually showing it. They are only telling me what they want me to do. You’re the voice telling me that I need to go into the banquet and shoot people. You’re the voice that finds joy in it for me. I know that now…it’s all becoming oh so clear, Kismet.”

She throws her hands up in the air, “What do you want, James? What do you want? I have only been telling you what you’ve been thinking in the back of your mind…the part of you try to ignore. But your dad was right. There is a darkness in you. You said it yourself. Sooner or later, no matter how much you ignore it, it is going to come out. I am here to ease you into it. I’ve been pushy, I know and I’m sorry.”

“Oh you’re sorry? You want to ease me into it? What is wrong with just letting it happen naturally?”

Kismet replies, “Because you keep fighting it. You fear it when there is no need to fear who you really are.”

I grab her by the hair and press my forehead against hers, “So you know who I really am, huh? Why don’t I know who I really am? Tell me that! Since you seem to know everything else about me…tell me why?!?!?”

She closes her eyes and shakes her head, causing me to shout, “TELL ME!!! TELL ME NOW!!!”

She softly says, “Because you have never forgiven yourself for what you did…for what you did to me…”

My grip on the gun loosens and I lower it away. I look down from Kismet, trying to make sense of things, trying to understand what she meant with what she said, but I can’t. I look back up at her, “What the hell do you mean by that? What do you mean? What did I do to you?”

Kismet just stares at me, “You really don’t remember me do you?”

I point the gun back at her face, “No…No I don’t. You have told me over and over again that I know who you are….but I don’t. If I do know you, I don’t remember it. Tell me…tell me who you are,” I shout, hearing my own voice break little by little. I drop the gun and press my face into my hands.

“Are you sure you want me to tell you?”

I nod my head, trying my best to keep myself together, but I can tell that things are slipping. My mind, my body…feels like my soul is evacuating as well.

I feel her fingers slide through my hair as her words enter my ears, “We were friends, James. We grew up together. We would play together every single afternoon. I always enjoyed coming to your big house and eating snacks with you that your mother prepared. We would always play hide and seek. We would also play with your Batman action figures. But my favorite part was going to the waterfall in the woods behind your house, where we would build forts and pretend to be a married couple.”

As her words echo in my ears, my mind begins to conjure up memories and everything begins to play out like a movie, going right along with her narration. I see us as she says, running around my old house, sitting at the kitchen table eating freshly baked cookies that my mother had just pulled out of the oven. I see us playing Batman, with me wearing my mom’s blue housecoat and me pretending to save her from the bad guys. And then I see us standing on a few logs draped across a waterfall. We both take turns walking back and forth it, going ever so slowly at first, but building up confidence to pick up speed each time we’d race across.

“We were always happy when we were together, James…but then we got a little older and things started to change for the both of us. You wanted me to really be yours. You didn’t want to pretend anymore. I didn’t like that…” Her words bring tears to my eyes. I ask her to stop but she doesn’t, insisting that I listen because I need to know the truth, “One day James, we went to our little home away from home as we called it…well that’s what I called it. You called it out escape. You asked me to be yours again and I told you know. You got mad…”

She continues as it plays. I see myself, at a young age, I can’t remember how old I was, but I see myself walking to the middle of one of the logs, standing there. I can tell by the expression on my face that I am mad at the world. I then see Kismet walk out there after me. She tells me she was pleading with me to forgive her, to not be mad at her. She tells me that she told me she loved me no matter what and that when I turned around and…

“You pushed me, James. I fell. I grabbed onto part of the log. I looked up at you as you looked down at me and I asked you to help me. But you didn’t. All you did was stare. Before I lost my grip, you finally spoke…”

She utters the words as I remember it all. I say them with her, “You’ll never love anyone else…”

And then she fell.

All I did was watch.

She died that day.

The little boy in me died that day too.

- - - - - - - - - - -

"There's blood on our hands...

"...In this perfect madness."

I haven’t been around in a long time, so you haven’t heard me speak in awhile. Leading up to Retribution I sat down in front of this camera and I spoke about my chances in the Shot of the Adrenaline tournament. I made it to the finals, but didn’t fare so well. After that I disappeared from the SCW scene.

People have claimed it was because I lost to Selena Frost. Far from it. I challenged her to another round shortly after on Twitter.

People claimed that I left because I was frustrated and fed up. Far from it. I left because I had a death in the family. But I know how people are. They like to talk, talk, talk. And that is all I have heard since I came back to the SCW. Leading up to the Taking Hold of the Flame battle royal, I have heard so many stake claim to winning it, claiming that no one else stands a chance. I’ve heard people claim that they are perfect and perfection will reign supreme Sunday night. Perfection is just a concept and concepts or ideals eventually fade out.

I’ve heard certain individuals claim that thirty nine other superstars will suffer their wrath and they have threatened a blood bath. I can’t help but chuckle at this either because it’s not like we, as wrestlers, haven’t shed blood before. We have all bled, so a so called blood bath is just something to brush off. The Good Commissioner above has been telling a certain Hell-Cat to be angry this Sunday. Who hasn’t been angry heading into this event? I know I have so it’s old news. We are going to be told that at the end of the night will belong once again to a very Bad, Bad Girl. We are going to be told that at the end of the night a beautiful blonde girl will win it and the rest of us can be totally jealous.

New faces will emerge who will have the advantage of being new, therefore none of us will know what we are dealing with. But there are those of us who’ve been doing this awhile who will adapt to these new faces and school them in a quite a few ways. Old faces from a different era of SCW will step foot into the ring as well, staking their claim, hoping to recapture an ounce of their former glory. We will be welcomed to the show. We will be not so entertained by a blood faced jester. The hero the fans all need and deserve will grace us with his presence. We will be told to bow down to the form of a sexy, flawless, Diva yet we all see her flaws. She looks like the skin of her face is being pulled back, not to mention those dolphin teeth.

It is very hard for me to not shout “Flipper” at times, but I digress.

And there are those who are promoting honor and doing their best to fight the good fight, to fight against the Monarchies of this company, to rob the Money in the Bank. I wish I could join in that fight because honor is something that no longer exists in this industry. It died out just like a lengthy male presence in the main event World title scene. People will always have attitudes and egos. It is almost mandatory anymore. This whole fight for honor is admirable yes, but it is foolish. Nothing will ever change. Nothing will get better. The SCW thought things were fine when New Eden and all that lost the war, but when one empire falls, another rises in its place. That is the way things are.

You can’t step up and fight against the Devil, or even step up to God, but there have been many devils to step in between those ropes. Sunday I will find myself staring across a beautiful Devil with red hair and a seductive figure. I guess it is true that the Devil comes in many forms, with many different names. The Devil used to be named Damian Angel. Times have changed. One fell and another rose up to take the mantle. God has had many names as well in Chad Evans and Cid Turner. Empires rise, faces rise and all good things come to an end. Everything burns. Everything falls. And I have been the guy, fighting for honor, trying to be honorable, but I am perceptive to my surroundings. It is one of my strengths. I see things for what they really are. The wrestling industry is corrupt. If you don’t believe me, if you need further proof, then look no further than the lovely host of this Sunday’s Taking Hold of the Flame event…the SCW.

That is truth. You can…BELIEVE IT…heh, heh, heh…

The SCW wants to have honor, law and order, but just like perfection these are nothing more than ideals and concepts that will fade out, no matter how “awesome” or “heroic” they seem at first but then they put a man who has been more corrupt than most in a position of power, to keep things in order. You can’t have a man who is a mess of a human being run things. He doesn’t believe in law and order. He doesn’t believe in honor. He enjoyed cracking a woman in the head with a steel chair. He has claimed to kill the career of Ashley Cherry.

This proves my point of this whole idea of honor to be nothing short of foolish.

I spat in the face of that idea just a few days ago at Breakdown. I went out, cutting off the victory celebration of the Honor Society, getting in the face of a certain would-be “Assassin”. I spat in his face and made my way towards the back. The wannabe sheriff, the so called God of this industry came out. He believes that he can control me as well as anyone else in the back. If they want to do something, they will eventually do it, no matter how many times you say no. He thinks putting me in this thing at number three bothers me. It doesn’t.

God’s ideals are just as false as the rest floating out there in the land of Supreme.

Putting me in at number three may diminish my chances of winning this thing and that is fine. One will rise and that same one will fall, allowing someone else to rise up in their place. But in saying that, I will be able to do something else in the process.

You can label me a villain.

You can call me the bad guy.

You can chalk me up to a dream killer too if need be. I may go down, but I am going to take quite a few with me. I will let you get close to the flame, and shove you into it so I can watch your hopes and dreams burn. I will then piss all over them and the remaining ashes.

I am not perfect. I am not a bad, bad boy. I am not leading you to a slaughter. I am just a man, stepping into the ring, preparing to fight to survive. To fight for my life.

I am going to make sure those who cross my path have to do the same.