I Earned It.

[James Joseph Page.]

Prologue: A Love Letter, To: My Victims. 

I slowly begin to think that I'm in a room full of soulless dolls. Fake, cheap, plastic nothings gathered in one giant group. Taking up air, space, and people's time. I feel like I'm suffocating, I can't breathe, the air's making me SICK. See, people are primitive animals who go off of their basic instincts. They see something, they want to take it for their own. It's like a LION in the Serengeti killing the offspring of his rival and mountin' their wife. People don't care, people don't strive to be anything. People will continue to say the same, mindless, bullshit. And I'm sure you've heard them say their strawmen, and their cognitive bias crap. Me? The Gold Rush Rumble, once upon a time...was at my fingertips back when I first started here. What could have been, was Jimmy Page being the winner of said match and not having to take the detour route to getting his fair shot.

How's it going Harter...? 

I don't need to talk to everyone on the roster. Because personally, that gives you too much credit. All of you bright eyed, with big ideas, thinking "This is my chance! The big time!" musing over a pipe dream that's never gonna happen. All of you were destined to be corpses at my feet. Nothing but bodies that will lay down and DIE as I become KING OF THE F'N WORLD once again. And who's gonna stop me? Hm? What the Hell is gonna stop me, answer that question for me, because the way I see it I'M UNTOUCHABLE!!! Look what I did to Emily, poor, poor Emily. If only she had someone to protect her. I beat her head in, and I left her a bloody mess. Who came to her rescue? Who stopped me?





I looked in the eyes of each and every one of you spineless cowards. Could've said your piece, could've confronted me, but you BIG, STRONG, men and women who call yourselves wrestlers did NOTHING; CHANDLER SCOTT...did NOTHING. So what do I have to be afraid of going into this match?! All of you got more bark than bite. Fancy lil' words and metaphors, but when the shot counts, most of you are gonna miss the mark. Victims, never the perpetrator. Meat being led to a slaughter. And yet, you all would tell me you're ready to take the throne and become something more.



See, that's what's killin' me. None of you, and I mean NONE...OF...YOU know what it feels like to fight for something you truly endear. Say what you want about me, yeah I'm a filthy son of a bitch, I've got a few screws loose up top; HEY I could shake your hand and in another have a knife to stab you in the back; But this? This is something I've spent my adult life doing. When this is done, there's nothing back home for me. Hey, I could always try and get my old job back at the Waffle House back, but I think I'm banned from everyone in the Flint district.



This...th-this is all I got. And time and time again, I've come to this point in my career where I realize that. People would say "they've got nothing to lose." which is bullshit. You've got it all to lose, all of it, GONE. The Gold Rush Rumble is an opportunity for you to do something with your miserable lives. And most of you are gonna squander it, let's not beat around the bush. You...are all worthless, just like Emily...and just like Chandler Scott.



I don't think Scott has the backbone to show his face in public. Many people are hopin' he'll make a TRIUMPHANT return. The hero, looking to right the wrongs of the big bad dragon. Well the HERO...let his people down, and he let the bodies of his fans and supporters burn...along with poor Emily. If Scott is as smart as he has been, he won't set foot in Hershey, Pennsylvania. He won't do anything stupid because if I can get to him like I did last Vertigo, what's stopping me from doing it again?



WHO'S GONNA STOP ME? No one, no one at all. I'm untouchable, none of you can touch me. And at the Rumble, I'm gonna win that match, and I'm gonna get what's mine...the FGA World Heavyweight Championship.

And There's Not A Goddamn Thing You Can Do About It. 

---

The sudden numb feeling you get after doing something, some people would consider wrong; That would define me. My hands hadn't stopped shaking since that day. I felt sick to my stomach, but I kept telling myself this was the only way. This was the only way he would respond and I had no other choice. She was innocent, just wanting to chase her dreams. I didn't do what I did to her, Chandler did this. His arrogance drove me to do something...rash. That's all, the ends justify the means. I'm not wrong for what I did and I won't feel sorry for him.



My hands won't stop shaking. My eyes were bloodshot from drinking an entire bottle of Buffalo Trace the other night. I didn't want to tell Dr. Gaines, but she was smart enough to see I was having an episode. She just sat and looked at me, while I kept my eyes down. Maybe I should tell her I almost died alone in my dirty apartment back home after mixing the painkillers I was given after my little stunt in HKW and bottles of beer.



Maybe I should tell her that I've been seeing things; Strange, abnormal things. The woman in my illusions who felt warm, who felt loving. Maybe I should tell Dr. Gaines about the things I've seen. Or maybe, I just keep quiet. I decided that travelling to New York was too much of a crapshoot. So me and Dr. Gaines decided we would video chat. She sat there, crossing her left leg over the right and gives me a small smile. "Well, I'm glad you've been able to make time for me...given how hectic of a work schedule you have." She said in an upbeat tone. "Money's been good. Don't have to worry about gas. I don't like travelling in planes, I'm no good with being in a small box flying thousands of feet in the air." I said in a dry tone.



She nods her head, "I see, you feel a lil' bit crowded, huh?" She asked curiously. I just shrug my shoulders. Dr. Gaines goes quiet for a brief moment and leans back in her seat, "I see your bruises are going down. How are you feeling?" She asked. I feel like a walking, pile of warm dog-shit, is what I want to say, "I'm fine, the pain medication they gave me helps." But I decided to give her the plain answer. "Otherwise, I've been able to work my dates. Been in and out of my apartment so much, I don't even know why I keep paying rent for it." I said with a scoff. "Why do you stay there?" She asked me bluntly.



My eyes wander for a moment, searching for an answer. When it finally came to me, I looked at her, "Only place I've ever known. I mean, being on the road, it's nice. Go to new places, do new things, see new faces. But when I go back to Flint, it's not just a dump, y'know? Home, sweet home and all of that." I chuckle at my last sentence, she smirks. "You know, from what you've told me that place really isn't the environment you should stay in. Especially with the water crisis and all." She said, adjusting in her seat, "Have you ever thought about...moving...?"
She asked.


Move? To where? Someplace nice and sunny? Please, as if I want to be around people who paint on fake smiles all of the time. Hell, why don't you tell me to move to Florida while you're at it? This is what I deserve. Everything I've done in my life, this? This is a place where filth belongs. For Christ's sake, I just bashed someone's head through a mirror. I don't need nice, because I haven't earn the right. But she doesn't know that...



"Actually, no. Rents good, payments are easier now that I'm working two gigs. I'm actually thinking about doing some home improvement when I get the chance to settle down. Nothing too fancy, but it'll make me happy at least, y'know?" I said, brushing my hair out of my face. She sat quietly and nodded her head, writing some things down. She stops and looks back at me, "Have you been drinking lately...?" She quizzically asked. I just paused for a moment, then gave a small chuckle, "I've been in control of my drinking, honest." I lied.



"Jimmy, I'm gonna have to level with you. With your depression, alcohol is nothing more than a substance that's counterproductive to the life you want." She implored me. I rub at my beard and look around the motel room, "You know Doc, I understand, but having a drink once in awhile can't hurt can it?" I joked, she looked at me with a serious expression, "James, I'm going to email you the address of an AA group in your area. I want you to call--" I interrupted her, "Look, Doc...I-I'm fine, okay? I don't need to go to AA, I'm functioning fine. Believe me, okay?"



"James--" I stop her again, "Hey, I've got to head to the gym and uh...work out. So we'll talk about this some other time, alright? Thanks." I turn my phone off quickly and frown. I grab my bottle of Buffalo Trace and sit at the edge of the bed. I drown my throat in the stinging taste. Looking forward, I continue to talk, "You know? She doesn't know what she's talking about sometimes. Stop drinking? AA? Like that's gonna help me with the horseshit I go through everyday. But you? You don't judge." I say, downing another gulp of alcohol, "No, you stand there and you leave me to my devices. Why can't more people be like you? Everybody wants me to change. Scoff. I don't need to change, they need to." I hold the bottle tightly in my hands.



My guardian angel, the woman who kept appearing, she stood there watching me. She walked forward, smiling warmly as her hand brushed against my face. I closed my eyes, placing the bottle down on the bed. There it was, that feeling again. "Why can't I be with you...?" I whispered. As I opened my eyes again, she was gone, the warm feeling disappeared and I was left in my lonesome. I looked around the room, but there was nothing. The emptiness came back, and I was left to my devices. I sat there, now brooding.

I didn't want to hurt anymore... 

---

The camera's set up in my motel room. The sound of cars passing by the building. In a trance, I began to clank the cup I was using for my liquor against the bottle itself.  

"Every time I have a drink, I get this numbing, warm feeling. It's kinda like euphoria when you think about it. When I didn't have anything to eat when I lived on the streets, I had beer. Back when I was stick-up kid, holding up people for loose change and cash I use to always go and buy alcohol, because it made me feel good. I like things that make me feel good. I mean, contrary to popular belief, I don't like to hurt all of the time. I just...GRIT my teeth...and just take it. I'm brutality's bitch, and it knows it. See, violence gives me an adrenaline rush, yeah it does. But drinking? Drinking's always been that mutual lover I can't get away from..."

I swirl my drink around, playing with it. 

"Wanna know what else makes me feel good? Winning. Winning makes me feel important. All eyes are on me, I get attention. I feel amazing when people look at me. People will say what I did to Emily Carter was sick, demoralizing, EVIL. But you people saw me, right? All eyes were on me. I got your attention, and no matter how much you said you couldn't look away, you watched. People enjoy cruelty, and I guess you could say I provided them a service in what I did. But you want to know what the cruelest thing a person can do? Letting it happen. No one wanted to help Emily, a sweet girl, wanting to be just like Chandler. People let my onslaught happen. Honestly, I feel sorry for her, because not a soul in the fuckin' world could save her. And you all watched. You...are all...perverts. You're disgusting PIGS."

I begin to laugh quietly, almost amazed at this revelation. 

"And so, the Gold Rush Rumble dawns upon up. A big gauntlet to see who's got the guts to take the brass ring. Everyone wants to be the ONE, but nobody believes they are...the ONE. Hoping and dreaming, that's all the people on this fuckin' roster do. They hope and dream, and they give BIG INSPIRING speeches. You idiots believe in your own GARBAGE! And the masses can eat it up, but to me you are all full of CRAP!! Drones, robots, fake things that will say things people want to hear. I was never a big fan of candy, so I really don't like things sugar-coated. The Gold Rush Rumble, is important to me. And you wanna know something I know I can win it. I know I'm gonna win it, because it anything, I'll do what has to be DONE in order to win the thing."

I lean forward, my eyes staring cold daggers into the camera lens. 

"Can you say the same? Because most of you, if not are underachievers. Perennial washouts who are lookin' to take one last big swing for a HOME RUN! Well let me tell you something, THIS AIN'T THE MOVIES!!! NO HAPPY ENDINGS!!! NO FEEL GOOD STORIES HERE!!! THIS?! THIS--"

I bang my hand on the table, shaking the contents on it. The bottle of bourbon I had tips over. The room was a stale quiet.  

"THIS IS REALITY!!! Your reality is that you all can try all ya want. Bring it all out, but your fight is futile. Your hopes of claiming that FGA World Heavyweight Championship is FUTILE!!! The only person who gets a chance at it again is ME! I had it taken, the one thing I carried for in this entire world. I had it taken from me, and I have the means in getting it back! I want my title back, and so help me God I'm gonna take it by FORCE!!! No one is going to stop me from reclaiming my throne. And as I do, I'll build my throne upon the bones of my fallen enemies!!! I'll make a crown out of their teeth!! I'M THE KING OF THE FUCKIN' WORLD!!!! THE!!! WORLD!!!"

I begin to breathe heavily as my eyes wander down. I lean back in my seat and claw my hair out of my face. I begin to chuckle, giving a big toothy smirk. I stretch my arms out wide... 

"For a year, I've struggled for an entire year. All because of one person. And I've gotta tell you guys, I let it haunt me. I thought he was unbeatable. I doubted myself. I thought Chandler Scott was the better man all that time ago. But then, Zero beats him, and you know something i-inside of me clicked you know? I saw someone I beat soundly, beat the man I couldn't. And I don't know what that says about me or Zero. But I know what that says about Chandler. He's not immortal, he's no GOD, he's not the best. You're only as good as the last person you beat. Chandler Scott, got sloppy. The "KING" had fallen, and now imposters are stakin' claim for the throne I built."

I get a kick out of that notion, giving a dry laugh. 

"♪ Everybody, wants to rule the woooorrrrld ♪"

I sigh, shaking my head while my hands rested on top it. 

"I have been miserable...for a year. Eating CROW and shit and still coming back for more. And, in a way, this cycle is seeping into 2016. Hell...is a word I would use to describe my life. My HELL...ends in Hershey, Pennsylvania. No more. No more pain, no more coming up short, no more having to listen to fakes and wannabes trying to take away my livelihood. No more pimps, or witches, or elitists, or nihilists!! No more underdogs, just wanting to prove something. No more greedy, conniving, Machiavellian pieces of garbage! ONE. BY. ONE. YOU ALL WILL FAIL!!! And there's nothing you'll do about it. Each and every one of you, I see nothing but fear. I see nothing but doubt. You can force a smile on your face and mad dog your way from a camera for so long. But I can see the uncertainty in your hearts."

I lean forward, pressing my index finger on the table to make a point. 

"When I enter that match, all your hopes and dreams, I'm going to feast on them. At the end of the night, people are going to talk about when Jimmy Page went into the Gold Rush Rumble, beat 27 other wrestlers. I'll even go a step forward. Whoever wins that match, has to go through me. Zero doesn't want another match with me. And Cindy? If she thinks the last few times she's had a run in with me were bad, she's not going to like it even more if she has to defend against me. No matter what the outcome, I'll be CHAMPION yet again. I've been waiting for over a year. And I'll be damned if I let this opportunity slip through my finger tips."

I pause for a moment, collecting my thoughts. 

"None of you know it's like. Everything was taken from me, everything I ever earned. I EARNED my right to become one of the best wrestlers in Frontier Grappling Arts. I earned my right to have my name next to everything in this company's history. I EARNED IT ALL ON MY OWN!! And I'm going to earn my right to be called the Winner...of the Gold Rush Rumble. So why don't you all do me a favor, and just...let it happen. For your sake..."

I blink a bit, conflicted to my very core. 

"And mine."

I stand up and walk to my camera. I turn it off...and then... 






END.