Post by Deleted on May 6, 2012 4:32:09 GMT -5
"Jacob. This month, I will have been in the business for nine years."
"Nine long years. Nine long years of wrestling in sold out arenas, and inside playmats with ring ropes around them. Nine years of wrestling the best in the world and the dregs of the industry. There have been times where I've been the smuggest son of a bitch that walked the face of this Earth. There have been times when there's nothing that I've wanted more than to bury this entire industry and everyone in it. But every time, I've been able to see people for what they are. Sometimes, it's just a parasite. Sometimes it's someone who sees themselves to be something they're not. Once in a blue moon, I'll come across someone who genuinely does only care about competing, and it's just an unfortunate set of circumstances that I end up being put against those people when I'm in the middle of a crusade of mine."
“That’s the way I see people, Jacob. It’s not something I’m proud of, seeing people as nothing but labels, but it’s the way I do. I see how people gravitate towards them or how others are inclined to oppose them. I see the cliques and alliances form and crumble in time, and every time it happens, I’m very rarely surprised by what I see. After nine long years, I would have thought that there was nothing left in the business that could surprise me. And then you came along and you proved me so very wrong.”
“Because in nine years, I have never wanted a match with someone just to kick their fucking head in.”
“Congratulations. Congratulations on having finally done what you wanted to do for so long. You succeeded, you did it. The Acid Project is dead. My contract with THY World Wrestling Empire was nullified and my investors sold their stocks back to the McMahon family. The control Vince has now is ironclad, and no one will ever again be in a position to threaten the status quo the way I did. The one singular chance that professional wrestling had to change has been killed forever.”
“But don’t for one moment think you did that.”
“There is no victory for you. The Acid Project is dead because of me. I killed it. I’m the one who violated my contract. Because there was nothing I wanted more – I didn’t want to save the sport, I didn’t want the company – all I wanted was to eat you alive.”
“In nine years, no one has ever made this personal.”
“But you did.”
“I have nothing, Jacob. I’ve never had anything. Even at the beginning when I was fighting for scraps, I would have given it away for the asking. I could have taken the original contract and grown fat off of McMahon’s ‘generosity’ and I chose to use it to make a change. No hotels, no fancy cars, no mansions, no booze, no hookers. I dreamt of an industry where people like you wouldn’t exist. And I chose to forsake that dream. Me.”
“When I worked back in Xtreme Frontier Wrestling, there was a man called Erik Masters. Masters had the same dream I did. He dreamt of a world of competitors and people who didn’t rely on crutches, on bending rules or subverting the values of their ethics and the sport. There was a difference between myself and Mr. Masters, however – a little boundary called ‘sanity’.”
“Whereas I try my hardest to appear as the pinnacle of this sport, Masters had a different idea. He called himself ‘Gabriel the White’. He kidnapped people and indoctrinated them through torture, like they were a cult. He called them his ‘Found’. The first of the Found, a young girl called Veled Cherizli – Israeli, a child soldier – was completely broken by him. And when Gabriel vanished, she broke all the more.”
“When Gabriel came back calling himself ‘The Red’ and throwing all his old doctrine out of the window in the name of violence, no one could put her back together again. No matter how much my brother tried.”
“And it makes me sick to think that at one point I considered that man an inspiration. For God’s sake, I –called- myself Gabriel the White at one point, trying to piggyback off of that aura of fear and extremism out of desperation to finally instill some change in this sport, but I couldn’t go all the way. I kept thinking about it – Veled, strapped to the bed in the darkness, the water dripping onto her forehead for hours and hours and him in the background droning his trances. It’s a line I couldn’t bring myself to cross.”
“But you. You and Austin Starr alike. You didn’t see what I saw. You didn’t see one of the best business and deductive minds in this industry, you didn’t see someone who was vulnerable and who wanted things to change for the better – hell, you probably didn’t even see a woman – no, you didn’t even see a person. You saw an opportunity. You saw weakness. And when you had that pipe in your hand, you saw a chance to strike a blow at me, because you cared that much about a strap. A piece of leather and metal.”
“If you are the Saviour – if you are the future of professional wrestling, then McMahon is welcome to it. Let it die. Let all of it fucking die.”
“That night, McMahon visited me in the jail cell, and for the first time we looked at each other for an equal level. I saw him as the shrewd businessman that I could only begrudgingly give him credit for, and he saw me as someone that cared for the sport. Neither of us wanted this. Me and him, staring at each other through the bars, finally – for the first time – realising how ridiculous this situation had gotten. It didn’t matter that I’d tried to kill his dream, or that he had already killed mine. Vince McMahon didn’t want it to end this way.”
“He offered me a new contract. A position as figurehead of the company – as Thy WWE World Heavyweight Champion, as was my title. Money – less money than before, but enough that I’ll never have to want again. Promises of position that if or when I decide to step away from the ring, that I will do everything I can to help this company grow and prosper and keep faithful to the sport. They’re concessions, but they’re concessions I never would have expected from a man with such pride.”
“And I would have declined them all. I was ready to walk away, Senn. I’d gambled everything and I’d lost.”
“Yet, for the first time in my life, I wanted a match. Not to compete. Not to say I was the best wrestler in the world. Because I had a rage boiling inside me the likes of which I’d never known before where I just want to dedicate every single ounce of adrenaline in my body to genuinely hurting somebody.”
“You, Jacob Senn – everytime I close my eyes, I see that bloody pipe, and the thought is so clear I feel like I can reach into my own thoughts and grab the thing so that I can beat you senseless with it. And then I stop and reflect. Reflect beyond my heart sinking, when I go to the hospital and I’m told that Caitlyn has already checked herself out. Beyond knowing that to date, she still hasn’t contacted me. That she put her faith in me, and I could neither deliver my promise, nor protect her.”
“I think of you. Thinking you killed my dream yourself. Thinking you’re going to have my championship and coddle it for the rest of your career. You’re going to be the face of the company. You’re the Saviour.”
“And I’m going to crush every single one of those thoughts as slowly and methodically as I’m going to crush you.”
“You are not going to defeat me, Jacob Senn.”
“If my first loss is to you, it will be from a disqualification, for refusing to let go when I have a chance to strangle you to death.”
“If I lose this title, it will be because I have been stripped of it for the likes of violence this company has never seen.”
“And if my contract is to be null and void – if I am to be gone from this company, it will be because I am in jail for attempted murder.”
“You want to be a Saviour, Jacob?”
“I will make you a fucking martyr.”
"Nine long years. Nine long years of wrestling in sold out arenas, and inside playmats with ring ropes around them. Nine years of wrestling the best in the world and the dregs of the industry. There have been times where I've been the smuggest son of a bitch that walked the face of this Earth. There have been times when there's nothing that I've wanted more than to bury this entire industry and everyone in it. But every time, I've been able to see people for what they are. Sometimes, it's just a parasite. Sometimes it's someone who sees themselves to be something they're not. Once in a blue moon, I'll come across someone who genuinely does only care about competing, and it's just an unfortunate set of circumstances that I end up being put against those people when I'm in the middle of a crusade of mine."
“That’s the way I see people, Jacob. It’s not something I’m proud of, seeing people as nothing but labels, but it’s the way I do. I see how people gravitate towards them or how others are inclined to oppose them. I see the cliques and alliances form and crumble in time, and every time it happens, I’m very rarely surprised by what I see. After nine long years, I would have thought that there was nothing left in the business that could surprise me. And then you came along and you proved me so very wrong.”
“Because in nine years, I have never wanted a match with someone just to kick their fucking head in.”
“Congratulations. Congratulations on having finally done what you wanted to do for so long. You succeeded, you did it. The Acid Project is dead. My contract with THY World Wrestling Empire was nullified and my investors sold their stocks back to the McMahon family. The control Vince has now is ironclad, and no one will ever again be in a position to threaten the status quo the way I did. The one singular chance that professional wrestling had to change has been killed forever.”
“But don’t for one moment think you did that.”
“There is no victory for you. The Acid Project is dead because of me. I killed it. I’m the one who violated my contract. Because there was nothing I wanted more – I didn’t want to save the sport, I didn’t want the company – all I wanted was to eat you alive.”
“In nine years, no one has ever made this personal.”
“But you did.”
“I have nothing, Jacob. I’ve never had anything. Even at the beginning when I was fighting for scraps, I would have given it away for the asking. I could have taken the original contract and grown fat off of McMahon’s ‘generosity’ and I chose to use it to make a change. No hotels, no fancy cars, no mansions, no booze, no hookers. I dreamt of an industry where people like you wouldn’t exist. And I chose to forsake that dream. Me.”
“When I worked back in Xtreme Frontier Wrestling, there was a man called Erik Masters. Masters had the same dream I did. He dreamt of a world of competitors and people who didn’t rely on crutches, on bending rules or subverting the values of their ethics and the sport. There was a difference between myself and Mr. Masters, however – a little boundary called ‘sanity’.”
“Whereas I try my hardest to appear as the pinnacle of this sport, Masters had a different idea. He called himself ‘Gabriel the White’. He kidnapped people and indoctrinated them through torture, like they were a cult. He called them his ‘Found’. The first of the Found, a young girl called Veled Cherizli – Israeli, a child soldier – was completely broken by him. And when Gabriel vanished, she broke all the more.”
“When Gabriel came back calling himself ‘The Red’ and throwing all his old doctrine out of the window in the name of violence, no one could put her back together again. No matter how much my brother tried.”
“And it makes me sick to think that at one point I considered that man an inspiration. For God’s sake, I –called- myself Gabriel the White at one point, trying to piggyback off of that aura of fear and extremism out of desperation to finally instill some change in this sport, but I couldn’t go all the way. I kept thinking about it – Veled, strapped to the bed in the darkness, the water dripping onto her forehead for hours and hours and him in the background droning his trances. It’s a line I couldn’t bring myself to cross.”
“But you. You and Austin Starr alike. You didn’t see what I saw. You didn’t see one of the best business and deductive minds in this industry, you didn’t see someone who was vulnerable and who wanted things to change for the better – hell, you probably didn’t even see a woman – no, you didn’t even see a person. You saw an opportunity. You saw weakness. And when you had that pipe in your hand, you saw a chance to strike a blow at me, because you cared that much about a strap. A piece of leather and metal.”
“If you are the Saviour – if you are the future of professional wrestling, then McMahon is welcome to it. Let it die. Let all of it fucking die.”
“That night, McMahon visited me in the jail cell, and for the first time we looked at each other for an equal level. I saw him as the shrewd businessman that I could only begrudgingly give him credit for, and he saw me as someone that cared for the sport. Neither of us wanted this. Me and him, staring at each other through the bars, finally – for the first time – realising how ridiculous this situation had gotten. It didn’t matter that I’d tried to kill his dream, or that he had already killed mine. Vince McMahon didn’t want it to end this way.”
“He offered me a new contract. A position as figurehead of the company – as Thy WWE World Heavyweight Champion, as was my title. Money – less money than before, but enough that I’ll never have to want again. Promises of position that if or when I decide to step away from the ring, that I will do everything I can to help this company grow and prosper and keep faithful to the sport. They’re concessions, but they’re concessions I never would have expected from a man with such pride.”
“And I would have declined them all. I was ready to walk away, Senn. I’d gambled everything and I’d lost.”
“Yet, for the first time in my life, I wanted a match. Not to compete. Not to say I was the best wrestler in the world. Because I had a rage boiling inside me the likes of which I’d never known before where I just want to dedicate every single ounce of adrenaline in my body to genuinely hurting somebody.”
“You, Jacob Senn – everytime I close my eyes, I see that bloody pipe, and the thought is so clear I feel like I can reach into my own thoughts and grab the thing so that I can beat you senseless with it. And then I stop and reflect. Reflect beyond my heart sinking, when I go to the hospital and I’m told that Caitlyn has already checked herself out. Beyond knowing that to date, she still hasn’t contacted me. That she put her faith in me, and I could neither deliver my promise, nor protect her.”
“I think of you. Thinking you killed my dream yourself. Thinking you’re going to have my championship and coddle it for the rest of your career. You’re going to be the face of the company. You’re the Saviour.”
“And I’m going to crush every single one of those thoughts as slowly and methodically as I’m going to crush you.”
“You are not going to defeat me, Jacob Senn.”
“If my first loss is to you, it will be from a disqualification, for refusing to let go when I have a chance to strangle you to death.”
“If I lose this title, it will be because I have been stripped of it for the likes of violence this company has never seen.”
“And if my contract is to be null and void – if I am to be gone from this company, it will be because I am in jail for attempted murder.”
“You want to be a Saviour, Jacob?”
“I will make you a fucking martyr.”
