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Damian Angel vs. Josh Hudson
Topic Started: Sep 10 2007, 08:15 PM (304 Views)
Kassie Khane
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Admin and Second in Command of the Nation of Moderation
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Damian Angel vs. Josh Hudson

RP Limit: 3 RP per person
Deadline: 11:59 pm EST Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Show Date: Wednesday, September 19, 2007

Good Luck Everyone!


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Damian Angel
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The Devil Himself and Member of the Nation of Moderation
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Under Attack
Part 1 of the Armageddon Saga

The voices… they have grown stronger in my mind. No longer are they confined merely by the absence of amal, no longer are they remaining silent at moments of great contemplation. They are guiding me… leading me down the path of violent obsession. Perhaps it was the intrusion of “God”, Chad Evans, that brought them out. Perhaps I was simply not focused enough to keep them at bay any longer. Regardless of why, I have to live with the facts. The facts yell at me relentlessly, pushing me to acts which, while not immediately beneficial to me, lead to greater futures. The voices are a guide, not a hindrance. It is about time they came out to play a little more often. Oh, how I have missed them.

--~~--~~--~~

NOTE: All of Damian’s speech in this portion of the RP comes from his head only. It was not external dialogue for the consumption of the public, but rather a part of his internal dialogue.

The scene rises first during Under Attack, in the midst of the match-up between Weapon and Damian Angel. For the duration of the match thus-far, Damian and Weapon had fought tooth-and-nail, inflicting pain and damage upon each other’s bodies in an effort to win a war of attrition. The referee had just been knocked over after Weapon had swatted the man off of his arms like a rag doll. Crumpled on the mat, the referee is rendered useless. Damian sees this, and then looks to Weapon, who is now heading in the direction of his precious bat. As Weapon begins to head over to the bat and Damian crawls in his direction, he is stopped by a familiar sounding voice.

Damian… now is not the time for passive acts.

Damian looks around, wondering where the voice is coming from.


Damian: Who said that? Where is the bastard?

The only bastard you need worry about right now is the one heading towards his weapon of choice. Now is not the time for compassion or charity. Now is the time for a wrath of vengeance.

Damian rises to his feet, where he notices Weapon before him with the bat. Before Weapon can act, however, Damian grabs him by the head and throws him over the top to the floor. He watches as the bat falls to the ground.

Great… now follow-up! Do not let this man get a moment’s breath.

Almost heeding the voice’s words, Damian grabs the top rope, pulling back before vaulting himself forward with a splash, taking Weapon back down again. Damian gets back up and grabs Weapon by the head again, this time throwing him head-first into the steel ringpost, splitting his head open. As blood trickles down, the voice inside begins a more excited reaction.

Fantastic! The behemoth has tasted his own blood! Do not let up!

Damian pulls Weapon up again, but is taken by surprise when he is hit with a press slam onto the floor. As Damian clutches his back in pain, Weapon looks to his bat.

He’s going for his bat. If he gets it, and you’re undefended, it will spell the end.


Damian: So what? You’re suggesting I get a weapon myself?

Precisely! There’s a chair about 10 feet behind you. If you grab it, find and opening and take the bastard’s head off!

Not to certain about the idea of the voices again, especially in this arena, Damian goes over to the unobstructed chair. Looking over to his adversary, he sees Weapon stalking Kitty Black, his follower, priestess and bound-concubine with his bat. Damian stumbles over to where Weapon is and, as soon as his opponent turns around, Damian winds up and wraps the chair around Weapon’s head, immediately taking him down. Damian throws the chair behind him as a chant of “Holy Shit” begins to emanate from the crowd.

Good! He’s down… now FINISH HIM!

But Damian was still in a daze. Unsure as to why the voices were directing him, yet unwilling to relent, Damian grabbed Weapon and pulled him up. Weapon’s body had become considerably heavier from the last time Damian pulled him up by his head, a result of dead-weighting from the chair shot. Struggling, he rolls Weapon into the ring. Weapon remains prone in his place as Damian heads to the ropes. Pulling himself onto the top, he looks back at his fallen foe.


Damian: Do I martyr him now? Or save that should he decide to retaliate even further?

Indecision? That is not becoming of you, my pet. He is battered enough as it is. He will surely think twice before perpetrating further acts of violence. I have grown weary of this man. Finish him off while you can.

Damian jumps off the top rope, connecting with a simple moonsault, remaining on top of Weapon for the pin. However, the referee remains unconscious.

What? Son of a bitch!

Damian walks over to the referee, nudging him with the toe of his boots before realizing that the he won’t be getting up any time soon. Turning back, he looks to Weapon with a murderous gleam in his eyes. Smirking, he walks over to Weapon and pulls the half-awakened man to his feet. He sends him into the ropes and, when Weapon returns, Damian goes to lift him up. However, Weapon falls through and returns with the Hammer Blow Spinebuster.

Oh, shit that hurt!


Damian: Why the fuck are you in my head now?

I’m here because you need me to be. But if you get us killed…

Weapon grabs Angel and lifts him onto his shoulders. Weapon begins to slowly head over to the ropes, climbing on.

Well, “Devil”, if you want to survive, you’re chances are running few and far between.


Damian: Stop… antagonizing… me!

Damian yields up and knees Weapon in the head, loosening the larger man’s grip. Damian slides forward, landing on his feet in the ring. Without hesitation, he grabs Weapon’s head and hits a spiked DDT.

Good! Now…


Damian: No! No more of this bullshit. Weapon started a war against me, and now I will martyr him for it. There is no more time for delay. He wanted a war… he will face the consequences.

Damian again pulls himself to the top rope and jumps off, drilling his feet into the chest of Weapon. As the man’s chest caves in beneath his feet, Damian falls back. Quickly, as if by instinct, he goes back forward for the cover, securing the 1-2-3 and the victory.

Very good, pet. Perhaps you are a worthwhile subject after all.


Damian: What are you talking about?

After your recent failings, we almost considered tearing your fate and everything you held dear away from you. But now, with this, we maintain our confidence in you.

Damian looks down at his fallen opponent. As he wipes some of Weapon’s blood off his own chest, he turns and falls out of the ring, walking to the back with Kitty Black at his side. Kitty looks at Damian and a look of interest and fear comes into her eyes.


Kitty: They’re back… aren’t they?

Damian can only help but nod as they walk behind the curtain. The scene fades.

~~--~~--~~--

Damian and Kitty storm through the door into their locker-room. Already inside are Phobos and Deimos, the Sons of War, and Valeria Cross. As soon as Damian walks through the door, closing it behind him, he drops to his knees. Looking to the ceiling, the expression on Damian’s face is one of pain, as if his head is pushing to implode upon him. Kitty drops beside him, moving to help him up, but Damian remains on his knees.

These people… they are here to help you, and yet you fail to utilize them. Why is that?


Kitty: Damian, what’s wrong?

Listen to these people? They can’t even understand what is going on inside your head. You haven’t prepared them. I had to come out and save you during your match, and now you’re going to do things my way.

Damian continued to writhe on the floor, his eyes glassing over as Valeria comes over.

And this one… this young one… what purpose does she serve if she is not prepared to serve? She could be a formidable weapon, one who will tip the scales in our favour… and yet you leave her a shell.

Damian’s head begins to twist and turn, focusing in on the different people in the room. Then, as suddenly as he entered into this spell, he regains complete composure. Placing his foot on the ground, he pushes himself up. Kitty reacts quickly to catch him, though it is unnecessary.


Damian: We have grown soft.

The four in the room with him look to him with concern and confusion. What was he saying? Were his words even his own?

Kitty: I… we don’t understand.

Damian: We have grown soft in our approach. Think about it… three months ago, I was willing to do anything… anything… to get what I wanted. To drag CHBK out of hiding and make him stand against me, I put his son in hospital. I attacked his daughter. I crippled people in his name. I went to great lengths to fulfill what needed to be done. What have I done since then? I’ve waited… I’ve sat back and waited for the opportunities to come to me. And, because of that loss of instinct, Chad Evans is the World Champion right now, and I’m left on the sidelines. NO MORE!

Yes… it’s time to take what is ours.

Damian: I am sick and tired of waiting for opportunity to pass me by so I can take hold. It is time to reach out, to grab what we can and not let go! It is time to wring our enemies by the neck, and to make our presence felt.

Kitty: You just defeated a former world champion…

Damian: That’s not good enough! There needs to be more… another step on my path to the Championship. Tonight, when Wheeler challenges Evans in the rematch, I can virtually make my own opponent.

Intriguing talk… make a winner, and make our next victim.

Damian: This is more than petty politics. This is a part of the war I have waged in SCW for over a year. With the SCW Championship around my waist, not Chad Evans’, not Jason Wheeler’s, only then will the pieces be in place to purge the sinful nature out of SCW. That is our goal… that was to be our goal all along. Somewhere along the way, we lost sight of that. Now, I move to right that.

Damian turns away from the people inside the locker-room and goes to head out the door. Kitty stops him, placing her hands on his shoulder.

Kitty: Damian… where are you going?

Damian: I am going to do something that I needed to do a long time ago. I’m putting the wheels in motion that will bring the SCW Championship to me.

Kitty: Do you need any of us with you?

Damian: No. What I do, I must do alone.

After giving his people one final look-over, Damian exits the room. The four stand around the doorway, curious as to what Damian is about to do. Valeria steps back from the group and walks over to a nearby monitor. Motioning to her company, she points out the Chad Evans/Jason Wheeler match is occurring at this moment. They move to the monitor to watch the match as our scene fades.

--~~--~~--~~

NOTE: All of Damian’s speech in this portion of the RP comes from his head only. It was not external dialogue for the consumption of the public, but rather a part of his internal dialogue.

Damian: Getting this far was easy… what do you suggest we do now?

Nothing! We just go through the curtain. No one will try to stop us…

Damian, heeding these words of advice, walks through the curtain out onto the ramp during the Jason Wheeler/Chad Evans SCW Championship match. As he steps through, the crowd begins to rise in cheers, indicating to Damian that Chad must have been in control. Chad Evans… “God”… maybe his claims were true. Most men would be crippled under the weight of that kind of ego. Evans, indeed in control at this point in time, turns to see Damian as he walks to the ring.

There’s no going back now.


Damian: I had never intended to, anyway.

Damian begins to smirk as Chad challenges him to come into the ring. Once he gets to the ring, Damian climbs onto the apron, only to be met by the referee.

Blasted officials! Let us through, you asshole!

Damian, however, takes the calmer approach, hopping down off the apron while Evans gets hit with a Blood Lust spear. Wheeler covers, but Evans kicks out at two.

What are you doing? You’re going to let Wheeler take the win?


Damian: I don’t know. Maybe I’ll be inspired later in the match.

Inspired? By these two?

Damian: It does sound unlikely, but stranger things have been known to happen.

Damian remains at ringside while Wheeler and Evans continue their exchange. In his head, he has already determined exactly how to end this match, and is ready for when his opening comes available. Meanwhile, the voice within continues scoring the combatants.

On one hand, Jason Wheeler has a long history of overcoming adversity. His past reign was his first in two years, after being consistently held back. He is a dangerous man, and if you get him on a bad day, you might not be prepared for what he is capable of. On the other hand, there is Chad Evans. Though he may not be God as he claims, he is certainly a dangerous adversary. Typically, it would not be a wise move to draw his ire. However, under these circumstances…

At that moment, Damian looks to the ring and sees an opening, as Wheeler’s arm swings back and connects with the referee’s eye. Without hesitation, Damian hops onto the apron again and grabs Chad Evans’ head. He jumps back, dropping the Champion’s throat over the top rope. As Damian backs up, he watches as Wheeler connects with another Blood Lust Spear. This time, he covers again and this time attains the one-two-three to become the champion. The crowd erupts into cheers as Damian simply smirks. He begins on his path up the ramp.

You made your choice, you realize?


Damian: Indeed I have. I’ve beaten Wheeler before… and next time I beat him, I will take the World Title from him.

What about Chad Evans? He will be livid about this.

Damian walks behind the curtain and out of the range of the cameras.


Damian: Let him be livid. When the time comes, I’ll rip his fucking head off.

The camera goes to black.

~~--~~--~~--

The scene comes on as Damian looks in the mirror. Somehow, without prior incident, Damian now has what appears to be a sword over his left eye. The top of the sword has devil horns on the hilt. He stares deeply into the mirror, as if staring at a reflection of his inner soul. His eyes, a deeper shade or red than before, tell a story of anger and fury and greed. Meanwhile, the voice within continue to counsel him.

You’re facing Josh Hudson.

Damian: Oh?

He’s good, you know? He’s a talented wrestler.

Damian: And why exactly do I care about Josh Hudson?

Why should you care? Josh Hudson is a man who has had his opportunities and, although squandered, he is hungry. He craves the top and will take any possible route to it.

Damian: And with what purpose do you figure Josh Hudson is acting? I do not care about Josh Hudson. Josh Hudson is not Jason Wheeler. Josh Hudson cannot give me the SCW World Heavyweight Championship. Josh Hudson…

Josh Hudson gives you another victory.

Damian: Yes… that is all Hudson is. He is not Jason Wheeler. He is not the SCW World Champion. He merely represents another notch on my belt of accomplishments. I hold no animosity towards him… yet, when I look at him, I will see Jason Wheeler. Perhaps I am giving him more credit than he deserves, thusly. Perhaps, by naming him as Jason Wheeler, I am taking Josh Hudson too seriously.

Is it possible to take anyone too seriously?

Damian: Oh, but it is. There are those who are simply not worth the effort… those who simply exist for the sake of existing. They are flashes in the pan… they come and go without leaving much of an imprint. But Hudson is like a stray cat who just will not go away. He may rise and fall, but he will not go away for long.

So how do you deal with a stray?

Damian: You either feed it… or let it die. I do not intend to feed this stray. This one will not only starve, but I will beat until my message is loud and clear. And, when it comes down to an end, when the world understands, I will then take my place, claim my right for the SCW Title.

Do not expect Chad Evans to avoid you on Breakdown. He will come at you with everything he can… petty revenge.

Damian: Petty, indeed. Chad Evans is of no concern to me. He lost his worth when he lost the title. For all I care, this so-called “God” can wither away into nothing. Because of me, he is now nothing. He has no purpose. I will defeat Josh Hudson on Breakdown. I will move on and defeat Jason Wheeler for the SCW Championship. And I will watch as Chad Evans fades into obscurity. That is all he is now. That is all I will let him remain.

Damian allows a sinister smirk to cross his face, which he examines deeply in the mirror.

Hudson, then Wheeler. That is our path to the top. Evans be damned.


Damian:
Yes… Evans be damned to hell. I am the Devil Himself… and I will make it so.

The camera zooms in on the reflection of the sword mark over Damian’s eye before panning over to the real mark. As the image blurs into nothing, the scene fades to black.
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Josh Hudson
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Living Legend
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Where do I go from here? That is the question racing through my mind, yet again. I am so sick of having to live with questions. Question this, and question that…nothing ever really makes sense. I am no actor. I don’t have the words to say, nor do I know where to go from scene to scene. I don’t have a storyline to follow. I am a faded star, trying to get a grasp of an identity, and find a peace of mind.

My return to the ring has been less than successful, because I have endured nothing but mixed success. I returned to the cheers of the crowd, only to garner their boos once again. I returned feuding with my archrival Greg Cherry in another losing effort, and then I joined the High Rollers once again, and the faction has faltered.

I would rather not be involved with the group, because there is no apparent reason for me to stay. Weapon has done nothing but run and hide during Breakdown, and then lose when it comes for battle. He is just like me, he has become a shell of whom he once was. I am nothing more than a lost cause nowadays. The competition in the SCW has gotten pretty stiff. My proposed match at Under Attack was cancelled because Mike Shadder decided to start no showing again, and he was then fired, leaving me with nothing, but going down to Majestic.

Yeah, I was on the Majestic supershow, Valley of Dreams and I lost to some cat named Johnny Thunder. It was a great match, because I had to carry the fucking youngster, but I made one mistake, one mishap and the match was over me. It took all I had to control my anger and make sure I didn’t blow my top and end his pathetic little existence where he stood. But now I am back, competing on Breakdown, against none other than Damian Angel.

Damian Angel has been praised as the future of the SCW, an honor I once held, along with the likes of Greg Cherry and James Toreno. We were the bridge to the future, and we were pulling out classics every single week and on every pay per view. James, fortunately has been fired, and Greg is once again getting a run at the main event, world title picture. And as for me…I am drifting into oblivion, lost in the shuffle of the clusterfuck known as the SCW.

Damian was the hottest story of the year, beginning his long running feud with the legendary CHBK, holding the Adrenaline Championship twice, and even winning the illustrious Taking Hold of the Flame battle royal, and he dropped his title shot at Rise To Greatness to get a shot at CHBK, a match that he had won and then he received his world title match at Apocalypse.

But then he faltered, like so many of us have and always do. He lost his world title match, then his Adrenaline title. He was able to rebound and he defeated my mentor, Lethal Weapon at Under Attack. He even cost Chad Evans, God, the World Championship.

He refers to himself as the Devil. Why does everyone want to the Devil, or God? Why does it have to be some sort of religious debate instead of wrestling? It has gotten to be nothing less than a fucking Saturday morning cartoon as of late. Damian is feuding with Chad Evans, a battle of God and the Devil, and then you have the SCW World Champion, Jason Wheeler, the theatrical faggot with multiple personalities. People pay to see this, a feud of Biblical proportions, a feud of tragedy and triumph, and it is built upon so the SCW can get ratings.

It is no longer about the sports side of things, its all about the entertainment.

Damian Angel has all of this going for him, and all of a sudden, I am thrown against him. What have I done? I have lost to Greg Cherry and Johnny Thunder. He and I both share a loss to Sarah Punche, and I have beaten Lenne Perez and General Lawler. WOW! He is the story of the year, the flavor of the season. Where do I fit into all of this?

That is just it, I don’t.

Oleska Drachewych made this match, because he knows that he has to further push Damian, and he can get a great match out of me. So when I step into that ring, I will be fighting a losing battle.

I have always been the go to guy, at least in my mind. Over half a dozen people have made it the SCW World title in less the amount of time it took me to win my first title in the SCW. Lethal Weapon, Greg Cherry, Brent Randall, Phoenix, Xander Valentine, Dillusion, and a few others I cant remember right now.

So why place me against the Story of the Year?

Good question.

Once again, I don’t have an answer for that. I really don’t. I am sure I wasn’t the only one to scratch my head when they heard the line up being called.

I don’t belong in this match. But what the hell can I do? I cant back out. I have to go out there and I have to carry Damian and I have to make sure he looks like championship material still, and I have to make sure that I do not win.

I am not destined to thrive in the main event, world title picture of the SCW. I am supposed to live in mid card obscurity and I am only used in main events as filler, because I am a reliable worker when I feel like being around and because I always give one hundred and ten percent, every time I go out.

So what if I beat Damian Angel?

Yeah there is no answer to that question, either because it is not going to happen. I know my place, and it is at the bottom. That is the only place for wrestlers like me. I am not very vocal. I go out and I do what is expected of me, be it just wrestling a match, or beating the shit out of another wrestler or wrestlers. It doesn’t matter. I just do it. I am a necessary evil, no matter how you look at it. But then again, I don’t really see myself as being evil. I just see myself as me. I am Josh Hudson. I am not the Devil. I am not God. I am simply a human being, put on this planet with a purpose. I don’t believe I am any sort of Messiah or messenger.

I am not Damian Angel.

I do not declare that I am the Devil.

I am not Chad Evans.

I don’t consider myself to be a God, or God period.

I am not Jason Wheeler.

I do not lie to myself and tell the world I am the Hero of Time.

I am Josh Hudson. I don’t feel the need to take the time out and come up with uncreative nicknames or try to create a gimmick, and I don’t think of ways to maintain any sort of aura around me. If I had an aura it would be that I simply do not give a fuck.

I am the Suplex Extravaganza!

I was once the Most Hated Man in the SCW!

I was at one time the King of Hollywood.

I have had so many names, but only one has ever truly stuck. And that is the name of Josh Hudson. Pure, plain and simple, Josh Hudson, nothing fancy or clever. But then again, calling yourself the Devil isn’t really all that clever now is it? Especially when you are doing nothing close to what the Devil supposedly does.

Damian doesn’t try to turn people against God or he doesn’t have demons working with him and possessing human beings. And Damian doesn’t have any sort of power over anything. No one really believes him to be truly evil other than himself. The commentators make him out to be evil and they play up his moniker of the Devil Himself, because it gets him over with the fans and that is what they get paid to say.

But everyone looks up to Damian, praising him as the future, because he goes out there and cuts his promos on television, he has his little backstage segments on television, putting himself over. He gets involved in other matches, and he was with Xander Valentine in whatever that group of Gothic rejects was called.

He made his debut and he was basically being groomed for the main event spotlight.

The SCW hasn’t seen anything like Damian, or it did, but it has been so long since they have had something like him. And the world took interest because of his mythological, supernatural like gimmick. Oh’s and ah’s were heard all across the land. He rose fast, surpassing me like so many others.

And shit like that…

Well it just pisses me off.

If there was any sort of build up for this match, it would be based on jealousy. Why jealousy, you might ask. Well, it would be because of the fact that I have been here since the year 2004 and once again, being the broken record that yours truly is, what have I truly accomplished?

NOTHING!!!

You all know the basics. I retired that Andy faggot. I beat Mr. D to get a world title shot. I headlined Apocalypse, got beaten, and left the business a little over a month later. I returned and went on a three month winning streak, peaking by winning the United States Championship! YAY for me right?

WRONG!

It has been nothing but failure after dismal failure for yours truly, trying to rank among Greg and CHBK and Jay Gold. It hasn’t worked. Why?

I am simply Josh Hudson.

I am the man that ended the undefeated streak of Xander Valentine.

Where was my big push?

Nowhere to be found, ladies and gentlemen of the jury.

Despite all of my accomplishments and my hard work, I have gotten nothing in return.

I used to blame myself for all of my misfortunes, but it is time to be honest. Oleska Drachewych is responsible. Jay Gold is responsible. Greg Cherry is responsible. There is a conspiracy against me, they all want me to remain at the bottom of the ladder. It has become my home, due to those bastards!

Why would Oley do that?

I beat his ass years ago and he is still steaming from it!

Why would Greg do that?

I don’t know, seeing how I am responsible for the creation of the superstar known as Greg Cherry.

What about Jay Gold?

Jay has never beaten me! We had a one on one match, and we competed to a draw! There was never a true winner and he is worried that he wouldn’t be the victor of such a match, if a rematch were to happen.

I am no Suplex Extravaganza!

I am no top ranking superstar. I am not a fucking king, especially not over the dump known as Hollywood.

I am number 13. I am silent and I am violent.

Fuck being the Devil.

Fuck claiming to God.

Fuck wanting to be a Hero at any time.

I could care less about the shit hole known as the SCW. I could care less that Greg or Jay will always be at the top of the card. I don’t give a shit that Jason Wheeler is the one and only six time SCW World Champion. I don’t care about Chad Evans and his moronic Gospel. I could care less about Damian Angel getting the push of a lifetime.

All I know is that I am about to go postal.

I feel as if the weight of the world is on my shoulders, crushing me. I am suffocating. It is hard to breathe, my chest hurts, it gets tighter and tighter each time thoughts of any of those bastards passes through my mind.

All I know is that I want to hurt people.

The other night, I had a dream. I walked into an arena, hosting Breakdown. I marched through the doors, carrying one bag. No security or anything was around at this point in time, and this was a good thing. I walked into my locker room, opened the bag, pulled out my semi automatic weapon. I then heard all of the athletes, all of Drachewych’s puppets praying out in the middle of the hall.

Yes, Damian Angel, the Devil Himself was there, praying.

I smiled to myself, staring in the mirror of my bathroom, staring at my wicked smile, my eyes red, then they faded to black. I cocked back my weapon, walked to my door, opened and I shoved my way through the group and I lifted my gun and I began to fire away, pumping round after sweet round, into my so called colleagues and co workers, allowing the sweet taste of revenge trickle down my throat, as I laughed triumphantly.

Yes, you could say I am troubled, but then again, I could give a shit.

As the smoke rose around me, I looked around and saw the championship belts, the so called honors of the SCW and my rage grew. I picked up the fucking Women’s Championship, tossed it into the air and blew it to bits. I grabbed the Tag Team titles and dealt those belts the same fate, and I continued with the Adrenaline and the Underground championships. I then grabbed the United States title from the chubby fingers of the egomaniacal cock smooching piece of shit known as Greg Cherry and I spit on the belt, and on him. I send a few bullets into his already fucked up face, and then destroyed his belt, along with what little bit of respect it once had.

I believe I am growing a chubby, just reliving the dream right now.

I looked around and I saw Chad Evans, Jason Wheeler and Damian Angel, bodies slumped against one another and I saw the SCW Championship. The gold plate on Jason’s waist, both straps in the hands of Damian and Chad. I looked at this scene in disgust, and I pulled out my cock and I pissed on the belt, the so called highest prize in the SCW. I then put away my cock, grabbed the belt from the prying dead hands of the faggot Jason, and I tugged the straps away from the Godless fingers of Chad and the hands of the Fallen Angel, the supposed Devil, Damian and I threw the disgraced title into the air and I put the belt out of its misery, giving it a much deserved death.

I had killed the SCW, which brings a smile to my face now, just thinking of the idea.

And then I saw Oleska Drachewych trying to crawl away from my glorious masterpiece. I smirked as I stomped away at his head, hearing him scream in pain. I grabbed him by the back of the head, lifting his face up from the floor and I looked him into his close to lifeless eyes.

“Where are you going, Oley? Are you jealous that you didn’t get to kill what you created?”

Oleska muttered his response.

“You…you…(cough) can’t kill the SCW…it lives on through the fans…”

I replied with one of my all time favorite sayings.

“Fuck the fans, Oley. You have no superstars. You have no more pets and stooges. You cannot continue with your vision of wrestling. You took away from the sport and you built it into a soap opera, a church play, a fucking joke, you turned it into a Goddamn circus freak show. You never cared for the fans. You did what you did because you are nothing more than a greedy tyrant. This was nothing more than chess. I am not a pawn, Oley. I am not a pawn.”

Oley let these words escape.

“You were never a pawn…I always appreciated…(cough)…appreciated…(cough)…you…”

His words enraged me, so I slammed his face into the concrete floor, breaking his nose and then I replied.

“You appreciated me? That is nothing more than a crock of shit! You always doubted me You always overlooked me and gave opportunities to those who made you more money. You never cared for those who put everything they had into this bullshit! The land of the supreme? It is nothing more than the land of those who suck your cock, you twisted bastard! I was never wanted. I am just like the bastard son you never cared for or even knew existed. You GAVE ME NOTHING! I asked you for help and you spoke in riddles! I hope you burn in Hell, along with this bullshit federation, along with all of the bullshit politics and the bullshit lies that make up the moniker, the name of Supreme Championship Wrestling.”

I dropped Oley to the ground, rolled him over, pointed the barrel of my weapon at his heart. I then looked at him and asked a very simple question.

“Do you believe in God?”

He nodded his head yes, and I spit at him, watching the saliva hit him in his eyes and I spoke once again.
“How can you believe in God, when the only God you know is nothing more than a sexist pig? How can you believe in God, when the only God you know is just a mere mortal. How can you believe in God, when the only God you know gets booed by the people, who will rejoice to know that he is DEAD!”

I then asked him another question.

“Do you believe in the Devil?”

Once again, Oley nodded his head yes.

“You believe in the Devil? For once, I can see that you are truly full of shit. The only Devil you know is a short, lightweight bearded bastard, who has no power, no nothing, more than a universe sized ego. You Oley are blind as a bat. You buy into the bullshit and retarded gimmicks. Enough is enough. Oley, this one is for you.”

I then squeezed the trigger, watched the brain of the “evil genius” spray upon the wall, as his zomble like body slumped to the floor. I dropped my gun to the floor, and walked back over to my greatest accomplishment and I saw my opponent for Breakdown this coming Wednesday night.

Damian Angel.

“You thought I was just an easy victory. You thought nothing more of me. You overlooked me and underestimated me like half of the roster and now look at you. I am the last man standing, Damian. The Devil Himself, huh? Spare me the jokes, it is time to get real. Damian, you will never achieve immortality. You will never have powers beyond your wildest dreams. You will never live up to your nickname.”

“You want to rise to greatness? Not on my watch, Damian.”

“Thy Kingdom Come, Damian your rise is done.”

After those words were spoken, they echoed loudly in my ears and I awoke from my enjoyable slumber. And here I am, sitting comfortably in my chair.

I don’t need your gimmicks.

“Damian, I am not going to be some stepping stone.”

I am merely me.

“You want to play the Devil? Well for this week only, I will step into Chad Evans’ place and I will play God. You will be just like Lucifer. You will be an angel high in the Heavens of the main event spotlight of the SCW, ready to break through the glass ceiling and I will learn of your plans to outdo me and I will banish you. I will punish you, Damian. And like Lucifer…you will fall…you fall down into the depths of my realm, mid card oblivion, where you will be forever tortured by the memories of your faded glory.”

“Your dreams of destroying Chad Evans and Jason Wheeler and finally winning the SCW World title, will be obliterated by the man no one gives a damn about, the man no one has ever truly given a chance, Josh Hudson. I am sick of it all. I am fucking tired of watching my accomplishments and my hard work get washed down the drain. I want redemption. I want revenge. If I cant get that, then it is time to end it all. But Damian, I will be damned if I end my own life. I will end you first, because I have to use you as an example, Damian. “

“I am not promising a reign of terror or anything. I am not making promises. I am making a guarantee, that I will not be remembered as a laughingstock. I will be remembered as a man with a broken soul, a broken heart, that finally snapped out of it and gave the world something to talk about. And it will all begin with you Damian.”

Ashes to Ashes…

You want to break my heart?

Dust to Dust…

You cant break what’s already broken…

My life is the pits…

My golden moment has already came and gone and I missed it…
Fade to Black?

Fuck you.
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