For Whom the Bell Tolls (vs. Aries Reed)
Dec 26, 2015 11:30:57 GMT -5
Post by Lou on Dec 26, 2015 11:30:57 GMT -5
To say Ricky Valero couldn’t wait for 2015 to end would be the understatement of the century. Sure it had its moments, but the negatives certainly outweighed the positives. Specifically: the cold-blooded murder of his ex-wife and mother of his son by two of his childhood friends. It doesn’t matter how much of a prick you think Ricky might be, it’s tough to bounce back from something like that.
So there he sat, peering out the full-length windows from his New York City loft apartment living room to Central Park down below. The 26th of December present, the end of an unforgettable year nearly complete. Ricky was counting down the days in his head as if it would erase all he’d gone through.
But he knew better. This year would haunt him. Just as his childhood haunted him. Just as every waking minute of his life to this point haunted him.
“I could’ve been a better husband...a better father...a better person…”
Ricky had been none of those things. He had always used his upbringing as an excuse. His parents’ own bad habits were a crutch for every mistake he’d ever made.
He sighed, pressing his nose against the window and fogging up the glass with his breath. The gentle touch of a hand on his left shoulder captured him from his daze.
“Ricky...” a female voice whispers.
Ahh, Jessica Sears. One of the only people who was able to keep Ricky fighting through everything that happened this year. She eased his pain with every hardship he faced, and as a result, there is no one he considers himself more loyal to. Her calming smile and refreshing demeanor could lighten even the most difficult of moments.
“It’s okay. I’m here for you.”
Her hand became still yet comforting, her soft blue eyes trying to capture his expressions. She’s picked up on his negative aura and moved closer to check on him. She held no concerns for herself in the moment as she gently squeezed his shoulder. He wasn’t alone in his hardships. Through this entire year she’d been battling her own demons and facing different scenarios. July was the month she wanted to erase from her memories. However, it would never be as simple as deleting a file from a memory card.
Shaking her head, Jessica finally moved her hand from his shoulder to softly caress his face. “Ricky-sama…”
It was moments like that which were the reason Ricky had grown to trust Jessica so much. She always knew what to say--or do--to bring him down to Earth. She always knew how to help settle his gut and ease the pain in his chest. More importantly, her presence always had a way of shaking him out of this brooding funk he preferred not to spend his time caught up in.
“I know you’re here, and I’m really thankful for that. I don’t know where I’d be without you at this point,” he says with a smile. He meant it, too. With a decorated drug history and a penchant for abandoning wives and girlfriends for strip clubs and ring rats, Jessica somehow managed to keep him honest. With himself, his son and his girlfriend, Mayu Ito. He liked to believe he was a different person than he had been a year ago, even if much of what he’d gone through was meant to tear him back down. He was strong willed and for the first time in a long time, his personal life was in as good a shape as his professional life.
“I’m just happy to get 2015 over and done with,” he says. He turns toward her with his blue eyes meeting hers in a moment of clarity. “So much went wrong and yet...so much turned out better than I ever could’ve imagined. Having a friend like you kept me on my toes. I owe you the world for that.”
“Ricky-sama,” she mutters as her eyes travel nervously to the floor. She fiddles with her fingers as she attempts to muster a response. Before she can, however...
“Despite all I’ve achieved in my life, at least inside the ring, I have to get back in there… I know that’s crazy. I am well aware of all the risks. But everyday I’m not in that ring… everyday I’m not lacing up my boots, it eats at me. Every fiber of my being yearns to get back between those ropes. I know I look like I’m doing great and on the surface, yea I totally am. But I can’t take it anymore and sooner later, I’m going to snap.”
Jessica’s surprised by Ricky’s sudden rant. She can tell he has been chomping at the bit over this. He was burning to get back in the ring on a more permanent basis and he finally found an opportunity to do so that he believed was right for him.
“I know it probably doesn’t make any sense to you. This need to feel accepted. Idolized even. I know it’s wrong to desire these things… I guess it is… But it’s the only way I know how to live. Wrestling is the reason I have survived this long. Stepping inside the ring, the fans chanting your name. The electricity, the energy, the magic of it all. I can’t survive any other way.”
She’s quiet for a moment. The thoughts run through her mind as she tries to decipher the right way to go about all of this information Ricky just spilled out. The two had been friends for well over a year now, and no one knew him better than she did. And she knew above all else, wrestling made him happy. More so than his own son, any family he may have, his ex-wife… wrestling was and probably always will be priority No. 1… no matter how messed up that may be.
“But what about Luke?” she asks with evident concern in her voice.
“Luke?” he asks with a dumbfounded look on his face.
“Yeah, you know, Luke Jackson? My ex-boyfriend? The guy that would prefer you in a bodybag over a wrestling ring!”
Ricky laughs, shaking his head and shrugging his shoulders with not a concern in the world. She jabs him in the shoulder.
“I’m aware I have some fences to mend. He’s at the top of the list, and I’m going to do what I can so we can bury the hatchet and be friends again. There’s no reason we can’t get past everything that happened in Pride. We’re both better off now… no offense.”
He smirks knowing how that came off but not intending it as a slight at all. All three of them were happier than they had been a few months earlier after all. Ricky with Mayu, Luke with Jules and Jessica with Ryan. It’s funny how life works out sometimes.
She sighs, gently placing her right hand on his left shoulder.
“Ricky-sama, you have supported me since Day 1,” she says while making sure his eyes are focused on hers. “You have helped me through so much. You know I am always going to worry about you. The last thing I want is to see you in a wheelchair or worse, but I know how important getting into that ring is for you. I know how important it is for you to prove how great you are, even if you have already done it a million times over.
“I will always support you. You know that. If it’s going to make you happy, how could I possibly not support you in returning to the ring again, and for a company as competitive as FGA? But I don’t think my support should be your biggest concern anymore, Ricky…”
He looks at her, legitimately befuddled now.
“You have a seven-year-old son who needs you at home, Ricky. You also have a girlfriend in Mayu who adores you. What they think and what they feel is more important than my opinion. Their happiness is more important than mine.”
He cracks a slight smile and nods his head in agreement with her statement. She was right, after all. Little Richie and Mayu should be top priority in his life. Whether they were or not was another issue in itself...
.
.
.
Journal Entry #700
Back On That Horse Again
12/26/2015
I thought I was stronger. I thought maybe I could work a lighter schedule, spend more time with my son, and be the father I always pretend I’d like to be. The one Jessica thinks I can be. The one Mayu thinks I am.
But I can’t. I live to wrestle. I eat, sleep, bleed, breathe wrestling. God put me here for that very purpose and more so than any other addiction in my life, it has this unbelievable power over me that always brings me back wanting more. There’s nothing rehab, injuries, or heartwrench can change. Like Whitney on crack or Elvis on the toilet, wrestling will be the death of me.
Accepting that reality, it’s my hope that my son remembers me as the awful “man” I am. How I was never around. How I could never put the effort in to be around. I don’t need the money. I don’t need the fame. Yet an evening without the bright lights shining and my name in lights is pointless to me. I might as well be dead. It’s a sickness I’ll never overcome. I just hope it doesn’t have the lasting effects on my son I’m fairly certain it will.
Maybe I’ll get a handle on that one day. Until then, my focus shifts to the squared circle. My FGA debut and a date with the “Silver-Tongued Devil”. How appropriate. He’s younger, stronger, faster...I know I’ll have my hands full, but I have too much left to accomplish...too much left to prove. He’s playing my game now, and there’s no chance I’ll let him walk out the winner.
.
.
.
(rec)
“I’ve waited a long time for this. Longer than I ever really should have,” Ricky says as he enters our screen as he sits in a random seat a long ways up the balcony at the currently vacant Hammerstein Ballroom. His feet are propped up on the chair in front of him and a sly grin graces his face as his blue eyes meet with the camera. He’s wearing a white t-shirt with the words “FREE ODB” on the front in black lettering; on the back, the number 13 below the words Beckham in support of suspended New York Giants superstar wide receiver Odell Beckham Jr.
“For as long as I can remember, FGA has been where the top talent was,” he starts as he slouches back in his seat. “It is where the top talent performs week in and week out, putting on a show for everyone in attendance and leaving them in complete awe. If you want to claim to be the best, as the old saying goes, you have to beat the best, and the only place you can ever truly do that is right here in FGA. So when the opportunity arose for me to finally step foot in the middle of an FGA ring, you can bet the ink was dry on my contract before I even finished reading it. I have accomplished so much in 15 years inside the squared circle, but it would have all been for nothing if I didn’t take a stab at FGA as my days in wrestling boots dwindle down.
“And since I’ve signed that contract, I have been anticipating making my debut,” he continues as a smirk rises across his face and he shrugs his shoulders. “What better way to do it than in my hometown of New York City? The place that made me. The place that taught me everything I know. The place that I will always call home. I have wrestled across six continents and within hundreds of countries. I have heard my name booed and cheered inside thousands of arenas. But nothing ever compares to wrestling right here in the mecca, New York City. New Yorkers know food. They know sports. But they really know wrestling. If you suck, they will tell you suck. And if you’re good, they will make you a legend overnight. There are no better fans in the world, and I would be lying if I didn’t say I was immensely excited to make my Vertigo debut amongst a raucous sold-out crowd right here in this very building, the iconic Hammerstein Ballroom!”
He sits up in his chair now, leaning forward toward the camera with his elbows propped up on the armrests. For over a month, Valero has been counting down the days to this moment. A minor stint out of the ring was initially welcomed by him, but he had become restless. He needed to get back between the ropes. It was the only way he knew how to survive, and he couldn’t have imagined a more appropriate company to do that for than FGA at this stage in his career.
“Aries Reed, we both come here starting at the very bottom. Our past accomplishments, anything we’ve done before now is completely irrelevant. This is a clean slate to bury the past where it belongs and leave our mark here on the FGA. I have heard about your talent and what you bring the table. I have watched enough film to know that while we may be opening Vertigo in a few days, we could very well steal the show. I know I have a legitimate challenge on my hands, and I relish the opportunity to make my first impression in an undeniable fashion.
On paper, this should be a competitive matchup. The youthful natural versus the veteran technician grasping at one last run of some semblance of purpose. Sure, I’ve accomplished a lot in my 15 years between the ropes, but I refuse to accept I’m finished yet, and unfortunately for you, my rally to prove that starts with you. I won’t tear you down by citing your inexperience in comparison to myself. If we’re being honest, six years in, you should have a pretty good handle on things by now. You should be able to stick with an old dog such as myself, even if you are less technically gifted and lacking in basic ring IQ...”
He says this with a subtle smirk remaining on his face, but then he can’t help but chuckle to himself at Aries’ expense.
“Rather let me be blunt with you in why, though you may prove to be a viable initial challenge here in FGA, you will most certainly fail in your endeavor to defeat me: You’re just not that good,” he says matter-of-factly with his eyes set square on the camera in front of him. “Certainly not as good as you believe yourself to be. Sure, you boast a hell of a moveset featuring a compilation of a suplexes and holds made to wear down your opponents and leave them for dead. It’s honestly a similar moveset to what I try to teach my students at the VFC in Brooklyn… And sure, you may be a better athlete. You possess God-given talent that I could never compare to… but dammit, Aries, I’ve seen nothing about you that says when that final bell sounds and there’s an arm raised down in the middle of that very ring down there,” he says putting where the ring will be in just a few days time, “...your name is the one being the declared the victor. It’s not going to happen. I will not allow it to happen.
I have too much to fight for. I have too much to win for. I’m not like you, Aries, I have heart. I have a will within me that you could never match. It’s really easy to spew a load of nonsense even you know is nothing shy of utter bullshit. It’s another thing to back that talk up with action inside the ring and a line of W’s in the win column to support your theory. For everything that comes so easy to you, I work my ass off for and everything single I will accomplish here in FGA will be supported by the reality that, unlike you, I put the effort in to earn it. Meanwhile, you...you go ahead and bank on your laurels. Put your faith in God-given talent and expect it to do all the work for you. I know enough about you to know you’ll always talk the talk. Whether or not you’ll ever actually follow through and walk the walk remains to be seen. I have bigger plans than pretending I’m something special. I’m going to prove it.
I didn’t come here just to say I’ve been here. I seek to be the next great FGA superstar. The next individual no fan will ever forget. I intend on being where Zero McHannon is today and where Chandler Scott was just two weeks ago. The top dog. THE best in the world amongst the best in the world. I have more to fight for, because I know that any day in the ring could very well be my last. Any visit to the doctor’s from here on out could be my death knell. Sooner or later, I’m going to run out of doctors willing to declare me fit to wrestle with a long list of documented concussions already showing effects on my memory and a spine ready to crumble at any moment.”
For a moment, he pauses. His tone has become much more serious now as reality has settled in.
“There’s a wheelchair calling my name every time I step foot inside a wrestling ring, but I have yet to let that stand in my way. I have everything to lose and everything to gain. And you’re caught in the crosshairs, Aries. Like a deer in headlights… you’re roadkill. As good as dead. Your misfortune is my pleasure, and I will take joy in burying your carcass beneath my boot as I set off on this journey to once again return to the mountaintop. And I will return to the mountaintop, Aries, make no mistake about it. It will be at your expense and the expense and every poor soul who steps in my path. Failure has never been an option for me, and it never will be. Mediocrity breeds complacency in this industry, and I don’t have the time left to waste dilly-dallying around against undercard scrubs with a ladder to climb in front of me.
Aries Reed, you are merely the first of many rungs for me en route to the top of FGA. Take solace in that. If nothing else, you’ll always be a footnote in the ascension of one Ricky Valero, and for that, I wish you the best of luck. Try as you might, I think I have made my goals here in FGA quite clear and I have never had an issue achieving every goal I have set for myself in the past. I’m not going to allow you to make that any different. No one works harder than me. No one is more dedicated than I am. I will triumph. I must triumph. There is simply no other option.”
He shrugs his shoulders as he slouches back in his chair once more.
“So Aries...don’t forget to show up on Monday, and if you do, I hope you are ready for the fight of your life. I want nothing less than your A-game, 110 percent. We’re going to find out who the better man is. We’re going to get a good preview of what the future holds for FGA when you and I clash inside that ring. Cause when the lights hit and that bell sounds…”
“And believe it or not, I am ready, Aries… are you?”
So there he sat, peering out the full-length windows from his New York City loft apartment living room to Central Park down below. The 26th of December present, the end of an unforgettable year nearly complete. Ricky was counting down the days in his head as if it would erase all he’d gone through.
But he knew better. This year would haunt him. Just as his childhood haunted him. Just as every waking minute of his life to this point haunted him.
“I could’ve been a better husband...a better father...a better person…”
Ricky had been none of those things. He had always used his upbringing as an excuse. His parents’ own bad habits were a crutch for every mistake he’d ever made.
He sighed, pressing his nose against the window and fogging up the glass with his breath. The gentle touch of a hand on his left shoulder captured him from his daze.
“Ricky...” a female voice whispers.
Ahh, Jessica Sears. One of the only people who was able to keep Ricky fighting through everything that happened this year. She eased his pain with every hardship he faced, and as a result, there is no one he considers himself more loyal to. Her calming smile and refreshing demeanor could lighten even the most difficult of moments.
“It’s okay. I’m here for you.”
Her hand became still yet comforting, her soft blue eyes trying to capture his expressions. She’s picked up on his negative aura and moved closer to check on him. She held no concerns for herself in the moment as she gently squeezed his shoulder. He wasn’t alone in his hardships. Through this entire year she’d been battling her own demons and facing different scenarios. July was the month she wanted to erase from her memories. However, it would never be as simple as deleting a file from a memory card.
Shaking her head, Jessica finally moved her hand from his shoulder to softly caress his face. “Ricky-sama…”
It was moments like that which were the reason Ricky had grown to trust Jessica so much. She always knew what to say--or do--to bring him down to Earth. She always knew how to help settle his gut and ease the pain in his chest. More importantly, her presence always had a way of shaking him out of this brooding funk he preferred not to spend his time caught up in.
“I know you’re here, and I’m really thankful for that. I don’t know where I’d be without you at this point,” he says with a smile. He meant it, too. With a decorated drug history and a penchant for abandoning wives and girlfriends for strip clubs and ring rats, Jessica somehow managed to keep him honest. With himself, his son and his girlfriend, Mayu Ito. He liked to believe he was a different person than he had been a year ago, even if much of what he’d gone through was meant to tear him back down. He was strong willed and for the first time in a long time, his personal life was in as good a shape as his professional life.
“I’m just happy to get 2015 over and done with,” he says. He turns toward her with his blue eyes meeting hers in a moment of clarity. “So much went wrong and yet...so much turned out better than I ever could’ve imagined. Having a friend like you kept me on my toes. I owe you the world for that.”
“Ricky-sama,” she mutters as her eyes travel nervously to the floor. She fiddles with her fingers as she attempts to muster a response. Before she can, however...
“Despite all I’ve achieved in my life, at least inside the ring, I have to get back in there… I know that’s crazy. I am well aware of all the risks. But everyday I’m not in that ring… everyday I’m not lacing up my boots, it eats at me. Every fiber of my being yearns to get back between those ropes. I know I look like I’m doing great and on the surface, yea I totally am. But I can’t take it anymore and sooner later, I’m going to snap.”
Jessica’s surprised by Ricky’s sudden rant. She can tell he has been chomping at the bit over this. He was burning to get back in the ring on a more permanent basis and he finally found an opportunity to do so that he believed was right for him.
“I know it probably doesn’t make any sense to you. This need to feel accepted. Idolized even. I know it’s wrong to desire these things… I guess it is… But it’s the only way I know how to live. Wrestling is the reason I have survived this long. Stepping inside the ring, the fans chanting your name. The electricity, the energy, the magic of it all. I can’t survive any other way.”
She’s quiet for a moment. The thoughts run through her mind as she tries to decipher the right way to go about all of this information Ricky just spilled out. The two had been friends for well over a year now, and no one knew him better than she did. And she knew above all else, wrestling made him happy. More so than his own son, any family he may have, his ex-wife… wrestling was and probably always will be priority No. 1… no matter how messed up that may be.
“But what about Luke?” she asks with evident concern in her voice.
“Luke?” he asks with a dumbfounded look on his face.
“Yeah, you know, Luke Jackson? My ex-boyfriend? The guy that would prefer you in a bodybag over a wrestling ring!”
Ricky laughs, shaking his head and shrugging his shoulders with not a concern in the world. She jabs him in the shoulder.
“I’m aware I have some fences to mend. He’s at the top of the list, and I’m going to do what I can so we can bury the hatchet and be friends again. There’s no reason we can’t get past everything that happened in Pride. We’re both better off now… no offense.”
He smirks knowing how that came off but not intending it as a slight at all. All three of them were happier than they had been a few months earlier after all. Ricky with Mayu, Luke with Jules and Jessica with Ryan. It’s funny how life works out sometimes.
She sighs, gently placing her right hand on his left shoulder.
“Ricky-sama, you have supported me since Day 1,” she says while making sure his eyes are focused on hers. “You have helped me through so much. You know I am always going to worry about you. The last thing I want is to see you in a wheelchair or worse, but I know how important getting into that ring is for you. I know how important it is for you to prove how great you are, even if you have already done it a million times over.
“I will always support you. You know that. If it’s going to make you happy, how could I possibly not support you in returning to the ring again, and for a company as competitive as FGA? But I don’t think my support should be your biggest concern anymore, Ricky…”
He looks at her, legitimately befuddled now.
“You have a seven-year-old son who needs you at home, Ricky. You also have a girlfriend in Mayu who adores you. What they think and what they feel is more important than my opinion. Their happiness is more important than mine.”
He cracks a slight smile and nods his head in agreement with her statement. She was right, after all. Little Richie and Mayu should be top priority in his life. Whether they were or not was another issue in itself...
.
.
.
Journal Entry #700
Back On That Horse Again
12/26/2015
I thought I was stronger. I thought maybe I could work a lighter schedule, spend more time with my son, and be the father I always pretend I’d like to be. The one Jessica thinks I can be. The one Mayu thinks I am.
But I can’t. I live to wrestle. I eat, sleep, bleed, breathe wrestling. God put me here for that very purpose and more so than any other addiction in my life, it has this unbelievable power over me that always brings me back wanting more. There’s nothing rehab, injuries, or heartwrench can change. Like Whitney on crack or Elvis on the toilet, wrestling will be the death of me.
Accepting that reality, it’s my hope that my son remembers me as the awful “man” I am. How I was never around. How I could never put the effort in to be around. I don’t need the money. I don’t need the fame. Yet an evening without the bright lights shining and my name in lights is pointless to me. I might as well be dead. It’s a sickness I’ll never overcome. I just hope it doesn’t have the lasting effects on my son I’m fairly certain it will.
Maybe I’ll get a handle on that one day. Until then, my focus shifts to the squared circle. My FGA debut and a date with the “Silver-Tongued Devil”. How appropriate. He’s younger, stronger, faster...I know I’ll have my hands full, but I have too much left to accomplish...too much left to prove. He’s playing my game now, and there’s no chance I’ll let him walk out the winner.
.
.
.
(rec)
“I’ve waited a long time for this. Longer than I ever really should have,” Ricky says as he enters our screen as he sits in a random seat a long ways up the balcony at the currently vacant Hammerstein Ballroom. His feet are propped up on the chair in front of him and a sly grin graces his face as his blue eyes meet with the camera. He’s wearing a white t-shirt with the words “FREE ODB” on the front in black lettering; on the back, the number 13 below the words Beckham in support of suspended New York Giants superstar wide receiver Odell Beckham Jr.
“For as long as I can remember, FGA has been where the top talent was,” he starts as he slouches back in his seat. “It is where the top talent performs week in and week out, putting on a show for everyone in attendance and leaving them in complete awe. If you want to claim to be the best, as the old saying goes, you have to beat the best, and the only place you can ever truly do that is right here in FGA. So when the opportunity arose for me to finally step foot in the middle of an FGA ring, you can bet the ink was dry on my contract before I even finished reading it. I have accomplished so much in 15 years inside the squared circle, but it would have all been for nothing if I didn’t take a stab at FGA as my days in wrestling boots dwindle down.
“And since I’ve signed that contract, I have been anticipating making my debut,” he continues as a smirk rises across his face and he shrugs his shoulders. “What better way to do it than in my hometown of New York City? The place that made me. The place that taught me everything I know. The place that I will always call home. I have wrestled across six continents and within hundreds of countries. I have heard my name booed and cheered inside thousands of arenas. But nothing ever compares to wrestling right here in the mecca, New York City. New Yorkers know food. They know sports. But they really know wrestling. If you suck, they will tell you suck. And if you’re good, they will make you a legend overnight. There are no better fans in the world, and I would be lying if I didn’t say I was immensely excited to make my Vertigo debut amongst a raucous sold-out crowd right here in this very building, the iconic Hammerstein Ballroom!”
He sits up in his chair now, leaning forward toward the camera with his elbows propped up on the armrests. For over a month, Valero has been counting down the days to this moment. A minor stint out of the ring was initially welcomed by him, but he had become restless. He needed to get back between the ropes. It was the only way he knew how to survive, and he couldn’t have imagined a more appropriate company to do that for than FGA at this stage in his career.
“Aries Reed, we both come here starting at the very bottom. Our past accomplishments, anything we’ve done before now is completely irrelevant. This is a clean slate to bury the past where it belongs and leave our mark here on the FGA. I have heard about your talent and what you bring the table. I have watched enough film to know that while we may be opening Vertigo in a few days, we could very well steal the show. I know I have a legitimate challenge on my hands, and I relish the opportunity to make my first impression in an undeniable fashion.
On paper, this should be a competitive matchup. The youthful natural versus the veteran technician grasping at one last run of some semblance of purpose. Sure, I’ve accomplished a lot in my 15 years between the ropes, but I refuse to accept I’m finished yet, and unfortunately for you, my rally to prove that starts with you. I won’t tear you down by citing your inexperience in comparison to myself. If we’re being honest, six years in, you should have a pretty good handle on things by now. You should be able to stick with an old dog such as myself, even if you are less technically gifted and lacking in basic ring IQ...”
He says this with a subtle smirk remaining on his face, but then he can’t help but chuckle to himself at Aries’ expense.
“Rather let me be blunt with you in why, though you may prove to be a viable initial challenge here in FGA, you will most certainly fail in your endeavor to defeat me: You’re just not that good,” he says matter-of-factly with his eyes set square on the camera in front of him. “Certainly not as good as you believe yourself to be. Sure, you boast a hell of a moveset featuring a compilation of a suplexes and holds made to wear down your opponents and leave them for dead. It’s honestly a similar moveset to what I try to teach my students at the VFC in Brooklyn… And sure, you may be a better athlete. You possess God-given talent that I could never compare to… but dammit, Aries, I’ve seen nothing about you that says when that final bell sounds and there’s an arm raised down in the middle of that very ring down there,” he says putting where the ring will be in just a few days time, “...your name is the one being the declared the victor. It’s not going to happen. I will not allow it to happen.
I have too much to fight for. I have too much to win for. I’m not like you, Aries, I have heart. I have a will within me that you could never match. It’s really easy to spew a load of nonsense even you know is nothing shy of utter bullshit. It’s another thing to back that talk up with action inside the ring and a line of W’s in the win column to support your theory. For everything that comes so easy to you, I work my ass off for and everything single I will accomplish here in FGA will be supported by the reality that, unlike you, I put the effort in to earn it. Meanwhile, you...you go ahead and bank on your laurels. Put your faith in God-given talent and expect it to do all the work for you. I know enough about you to know you’ll always talk the talk. Whether or not you’ll ever actually follow through and walk the walk remains to be seen. I have bigger plans than pretending I’m something special. I’m going to prove it.
I didn’t come here just to say I’ve been here. I seek to be the next great FGA superstar. The next individual no fan will ever forget. I intend on being where Zero McHannon is today and where Chandler Scott was just two weeks ago. The top dog. THE best in the world amongst the best in the world. I have more to fight for, because I know that any day in the ring could very well be my last. Any visit to the doctor’s from here on out could be my death knell. Sooner or later, I’m going to run out of doctors willing to declare me fit to wrestle with a long list of documented concussions already showing effects on my memory and a spine ready to crumble at any moment.”
For a moment, he pauses. His tone has become much more serious now as reality has settled in.
“There’s a wheelchair calling my name every time I step foot inside a wrestling ring, but I have yet to let that stand in my way. I have everything to lose and everything to gain. And you’re caught in the crosshairs, Aries. Like a deer in headlights… you’re roadkill. As good as dead. Your misfortune is my pleasure, and I will take joy in burying your carcass beneath my boot as I set off on this journey to once again return to the mountaintop. And I will return to the mountaintop, Aries, make no mistake about it. It will be at your expense and the expense and every poor soul who steps in my path. Failure has never been an option for me, and it never will be. Mediocrity breeds complacency in this industry, and I don’t have the time left to waste dilly-dallying around against undercard scrubs with a ladder to climb in front of me.
Aries Reed, you are merely the first of many rungs for me en route to the top of FGA. Take solace in that. If nothing else, you’ll always be a footnote in the ascension of one Ricky Valero, and for that, I wish you the best of luck. Try as you might, I think I have made my goals here in FGA quite clear and I have never had an issue achieving every goal I have set for myself in the past. I’m not going to allow you to make that any different. No one works harder than me. No one is more dedicated than I am. I will triumph. I must triumph. There is simply no other option.”
He shrugs his shoulders as he slouches back in his chair once more.
“So Aries...don’t forget to show up on Monday, and if you do, I hope you are ready for the fight of your life. I want nothing less than your A-game, 110 percent. We’re going to find out who the better man is. We’re going to get a good preview of what the future holds for FGA when you and I clash inside that ring. Cause when the lights hit and that bell sounds…”
IT’S GAME TIME BABY!
“And believe it or not, I am ready, Aries… are you?”