Without Conclusion
Scene I: December 8, 2003
- MGM Grand Resort and Casino, Las Vegas, NNV
Once again I find myself unemployed, and once again, I find myself in Las Vegas.
So many mixed emotions, so hard to organize them into a logical, flowing unit.
The CSWA had crumbled right out from under me, when I felt destiny was finally giving me the nod to punish CSWA Heavyweight Champion Kushner for his sins. And not only that, but to claim a Heavyweight Championship for the first time in my career.
All to no avail.
The greater tragedy though, saw the not so much the destruction - I hesitate to use such a word - but rather, the separation of the Jacobins.
Myself, one half of the final CSWA Central States Tag Team Champions in history; the Scythe Meister, Gravity Division Champion, having defeated the mindless, juvenile yet spirited Python only recently; Chris Wright, one of my closest friends, once the CSWA Great Plains Champion, a belt I myself saw into inception; and of course, Seamus Finnegan, my tag team partner, my confidante, my true friend. All four of us combined had been making such great strides as of late, spreading the now dreaded and feared message of Libertas an mortis - liberty, or death - but now that message in the incarnation of the Jacobins, is no more. But whatever comes my way now in this sport of kings, I know that until the day I retire, I shall live, breathe, and still fight for that message, no matter who I am with, and even more importantly perhaps, who I am against.
I know not what will become of Wright or the Scythe Meister, but for now, I have some comfort in knowing that in this building, as I stand in the middle of these people, Seamus is still by my side. As is Kushner...Jeff.
Who I am once again able to proudly call my friend, my comrade.
My ally.
A few days ago I would not have believed it. The power of diplomacy however is great.
And thus here we are, all three, together, on the same page. In the same city. In the same arena. With the same goal.
To let our presence be known. And to put the stars of the BWWa on notice.
That three of the greatest talents the wrestling world has ever known, at any period in history, have arrived.
But we have not come just for any reason.
We are here for a very decisive purpose, which we shall reveal unto the world in but a short period of time.
As I think upon these things I survey the fans crammed into this arena. There is a certain surge of energy to be amongst the people here in Las Vegas. And of course being back in Vegas has it's mixed emotions.
It is here that Seamus and I made our successful defense of the CAL World Tag Team Championship against Flare and Thunder. That was perhaps one of the best matches I ever fought in, and I had much pride in being able to defend the CSWA name in foreign territory, and prove just why we were the best in the world.
However, it was the place of the hell that I was not soon to forget, nor will I ever. A certain Irish barmaid here in Vegas set me up and humiliated me in front of the world by selling her story to the damn Brit tabloids.
Returning here with my colleagues, and setting up shop, would be daunting to say the least.
I know those here in the "B-Dub," as they proudly call their federation, would be gunning for us the moment we show our faces around here. I invite and hope they all step up. So I can show them what I am made of.
I was not about to leave my career without conclusion. And hopefully myself, my friends, Seamus, and Jeff, can use the BWWa to cement ourselves, and our legacy.
But I make no mistake. These men and women are the best in the world, as well.
As always however -
I will be out to show that I am just that much better.
I smile satisfyingly to myself as the fans continue to hound me for autographs. Bloody nuisance. Perhaps bringing our championship belts wasn't the wisest of maneuvers. I remind myself though: this night was all about making a statement.
For now I am going to enjoy this.
The atmosphere.
The fans.
The tension I know that must be building up in the minds of the people in that locker room when they find out just why we three are here.
My smile suddenly vanishes however as I turn my attention to the big screen where the shot zooms in on one man in particular.
Henri Chartier.
That bastard...
Once again I find myself unemployed, and once again, I find myself in Las Vegas.
So many mixed emotions, so hard to organize them into a logical, flowing unit.
The CSWA had crumbled right out from under me, when I felt destiny was finally giving me the nod to punish CSWA Heavyweight Champion Kushner for his sins. And not only that, but to claim a Heavyweight Championship for the first time in my career.
All to no avail.
The greater tragedy though, saw the not so much the destruction - I hesitate to use such a word - but rather, the separation of the Jacobins.
Myself, one half of the final CSWA Central States Tag Team Champions in history; the Scythe Meister, Gravity Division Champion, having defeated the mindless, juvenile yet spirited Python only recently; Chris Wright, one of my closest friends, once the CSWA Great Plains Champion, a belt I myself saw into inception; and of course, Seamus Finnegan, my tag team partner, my confidante, my true friend. All four of us combined had been making such great strides as of late, spreading the now dreaded and feared message of Libertas an mortis - liberty, or death - but now that message in the incarnation of the Jacobins, is no more. But whatever comes my way now in this sport of kings, I know that until the day I retire, I shall live, breathe, and still fight for that message, no matter who I am with, and even more importantly perhaps, who I am against.
I know not what will become of Wright or the Scythe Meister, but for now, I have some comfort in knowing that in this building, as I stand in the middle of these people, Seamus is still by my side. As is Kushner...Jeff.
Who I am once again able to proudly call my friend, my comrade.
My ally.
A few days ago I would not have believed it. The power of diplomacy however is great.
And thus here we are, all three, together, on the same page. In the same city. In the same arena. With the same goal.
To let our presence be known. And to put the stars of the BWWa on notice.
That three of the greatest talents the wrestling world has ever known, at any period in history, have arrived.
But we have not come just for any reason.
We are here for a very decisive purpose, which we shall reveal unto the world in but a short period of time.
As I think upon these things I survey the fans crammed into this arena. There is a certain surge of energy to be amongst the people here in Las Vegas. And of course being back in Vegas has it's mixed emotions.
It is here that Seamus and I made our successful defense of the CAL World Tag Team Championship against Flare and Thunder. That was perhaps one of the best matches I ever fought in, and I had much pride in being able to defend the CSWA name in foreign territory, and prove just why we were the best in the world.
However, it was the place of the hell that I was not soon to forget, nor will I ever. A certain Irish barmaid here in Vegas set me up and humiliated me in front of the world by selling her story to the damn Brit tabloids.
Returning here with my colleagues, and setting up shop, would be daunting to say the least.
I know those here in the "B-Dub," as they proudly call their federation, would be gunning for us the moment we show our faces around here. I invite and hope they all step up. So I can show them what I am made of.
I was not about to leave my career without conclusion. And hopefully myself, my friends, Seamus, and Jeff, can use the BWWa to cement ourselves, and our legacy.
But I make no mistake. These men and women are the best in the world, as well.
As always however -
I will be out to show that I am just that much better.
I smile satisfyingly to myself as the fans continue to hound me for autographs. Bloody nuisance. Perhaps bringing our championship belts wasn't the wisest of maneuvers. I remind myself though: this night was all about making a statement.
For now I am going to enjoy this.
The atmosphere.
The fans.
The tension I know that must be building up in the minds of the people in that locker room when they find out just why we three are here.
My smile suddenly vanishes however as I turn my attention to the big screen where the shot zooms in on one man in particular.
Henri Chartier.
That bastard...