Post by Sabrina Agbonlahor on Jun 15, 2017 18:54:57 GMT -6
Posting this solely because this involves something rather personal for Jericho, thank you for your time.
T W E L V E - D A Y S - R E M A I N I N G
November twenty-first, twenty-eleven. Toronto, Canada. Five men fighting for the right to be crown the WEW Universal Champion. The match has barely started and a young Englishman, in his second ever match, decided to slide out of the ring to grab a pair of ladders…CRASH! A pair of boots from some cowboy comes flying through the ropes and hits the ladder, only for it to shoot directly into the male’s face, breaking the face in an irregular fashion that not only course blood to pour out from his face but also caused that very rookie to be practically carried to the back by a group of EMTs. The screen suddenly snaps to black.
★ Saint Jericho ★
“…………failure.”
The screen snaps back to life. February thirteenth, twenty-twelve. Newcastle, England. The same Englishman is battling the future WEW legend Chance Rugani in a match to earn the male a shot at then WEW Champion Sophie Oliveira. The Naked Truth hits. ONE! TWO! THREE!!! The English crowd screamed as the male had Rugani pinned yet the official was distracted by Sophie, so he got up and tried to attack the Champion…only to give Rugani enough time to get back up and nail his Critical Finish finisher. The crowd booed but there was nothing to be done as the man in the ring realises that his window of opportunity slamming shut on him. The screen snap off again…electrical problems perhaps?
★ Saint Jericho ★
“………failure.”
Once more the screen turns on. April ninth, twenty-twelve. Paris, France. The very first Retribution Rumble, an over the top rope thirty person battle royal with the winner headlining the very first Legacy event to face the World Champion of their respective brand. With each passing entry and elimination more and more people were anxious and interested to see who came after each other. That was until the twenty-ninth person entered the ring. The crowd knew who was entering at number thirty and they cheer as the Englishman shot out from the black curtain, having previously admitted that this was his last possible shot at the WEW Championship. Yet, about two and a third seconds after entering the ring, the male was clotheslined out of it and the crowd laughed as he slumped to the back. Only to have the screen crackle off.
★ Saint Jericho ★
“……failure.”
Barely holding onto life the screen creaked back on. November twelve, twenty-twelve. New Orleans, Louisiana. The Englishman is finally a Champion, the Universal Champion, and here he was…flat out on his back from being beaten by Genesis. But that was the least of the problems as Jayceon Taylor, a man who once had so much power back then, strolls out to the ring to taunt the Englishman about his failings before not only stripping him of the Universal Championship, for being – in his words – ‘a weak Champion,’ but announcing that the clearly devastated individual is suspended ‘indefinitely.’ Yet again the screen caved into blackness.
★ Saint Jericho ★
“…failure.”
The screen sluggishly comes back to life. September eighth, twenty-thirteen. Los Angeles, California. After years of trying, and even returning from a legitimate heart attack, the Englishman finally finds himself in a WEW Championship match against then three time Champion Chance Rugani. With every successful move the crowd cheered louder and louder, as if believing – with each passing moment – that Rugani could actually lose the belt. The volume shot up to a deafening level the moment the Englishman kicked out of Chance’s ‘Last Chance’ finisher and even, figuratively, blew the roof off the Staples Center when the Naked Truth connects…only for Rugani to gather enough wit to turn Saint’s tired cover into a much needed rollup to gain victory. The screen splits off into black before even letting the Brit’s expression he seen.
★ Saint Jericho ★
“Failure.”
Now, with more struggle than before, the screen coughed into life. September seventh, twenty-fourteen. Los Angeles, California again. Two whole years after issuing his first challenge Sophie Oliveira demands a match against the Brit himself. Two years of hatred. Two years of annoyance. Two years of animosity. Finally the two clash…and the man doesn’t look like he cared at all. Never once did he appear to be interested as the crowd who once loved him like their own child boo him as he seemed until to take much control over the ring-rusted Oliveira. One great counter into Sophie’s ‘Queen of Hearts’ finisher and the three count following it ensured her victory while the male looked……lifeless?
★ Saint Jericho ★
“FAILURE!”
With that shout a man steps up from his chair, lift the television up and downright threw it away, not at all caring about how much such a thing would cost him as he flopped back down into his seat with a sigh. After a few silent seconds the chair spins around to reveal, to the camera recording this, that this man is none other than Saint Jericho as he looks quite bothered.
★ Saint Jericho ★
“I guess you saw my failures. I don’t need to claim or hide anything. Heh, as if I ever need to…if anything, out of the men on Adrenaline, I’m probably the only guy who hardly hides anything at all. Hence why I don’t need to hide the fact that I honestly believe that I have got the luckiest of lucky breaks the moment realisation set in about the fact that the only person in between me and the WEW World Championship is you, Ashley Tierney. Do I sound arrogant by any chance? Well let’s look back towards the past month or two. In the very first round you took on not only the smallest member of the tournament but also someone who could be best described as a mere shell of her former self. Meanwhile I maimed Mason Wolfe, a kid who was not only held in high prospect but was also trained directly by the one Chance Rugani.
Then look at the second round, or better phrased semi-finals. Oh you managed to defeat one Equinox, oh that must have meant something…right? WRONG! The Equinox you defeated was not the same Equinox who fought for the belt we’re going to fight for in just under two weeks. No…he was the Equinox I got my hands on. I twisted his body, I twisted his mind. The Equinox you fought was nothing more than a psychological cripple that I injured beforehand. What am I saying? You defeated a damaged Equinox, who would have easily slaughtered you if it wasn’t me breaking him. As for me? I fought the man that even I didn’t expect to beat. Kevin Hunter has beaten me over and over, and over again…yet, when it matters more than ever, I overcome the one true obstacle that could have stopped me form being World Champion.”
While he started with a sigh and didn’t look completely interested at all, at least by the way he is sloughing back in his chair, before slowly his originally bored sounding voice was finding its focus as the Brit’s eyes begins to sharpen upon the device recording him. Confidence was beginning to elude from his lips near the end of his words as his sloughing now looks like a posture of pure arrogance about his chances of becoming the victor of this World Championship tournament.
★ Saint Jericho ★
“So while you had an easy route to the final bout, I ventured through the hardest path to not only be where I am but to also be able to say right now that I am going to beat you in the middle of that win without any problem at all. Am I underestimating you Ashley? You did overcome adversity to make it to the finals but the last time I checked William Wallace did not need some sidekick to inspire a nation…yet you needed Jasmine to help you against a shell and a broken man. What does that say about you? Hold the answer, I’m not done. While you needed some munchkin’s help to win matches against minor people, I defeated both a prodigy and a two time Champion in World Elite Wrestling…singlehandedly. I had no help, no assistance and no cheap win. I stomped Mason to the ground and I hunted down the hunter by myself.
So what does that say about you? What does it say about me? It says that you are a joke, an embarrassment, a parody of a wrestler and it says that I am a conqueror, a survivor and the one who shall stamp an indefinite end onto this parody that I am going to face in the American Airlines Arena on May tenth. Hell, some nerds may take May the fourth as a special day in the year but May the tenth shall be the day the Tierney family will never forget as both Mama Tierney and Papa Tierney will spend every May tenth mourning the cataclysmic death of their dear little Ashley until the day they die. And what will I do every single time I visit your tombstone is spit upon the ground that you are beneath, for a meagre spit means so much more than you ever have.”
Now the male begins to lean forward to look directly at the camera as a fusion of hatred and anger begins to slowly seethe through his teeth with every word spoken. The anger in his eyes flaring higher and higher as the tone of his voice goes sharper and sharper, to a point where his voice was mixed between venomous and growing like an animal when the words ‘meagre spit’ crawled out from his mouth.
★ Saint Jericho ★
“Why am I so angry? Is that what you’re wondering? Could it be that no matter what I do, people just never learn to respect me? It could be possible since the entire commentary team practically hates me…I mean, what kind of commentator would want somebody’s mother to have an abortion? Or better yet when I defeated Vantage on the first show after he won the WEW Championship, just as singlehandedly as I will beat you Ashley, instead of possibly looking into the fact that I had a decent contendership claim…they criticised Vantage, even calling him the worst WEW Champion is history all because I beat him. And while they all seem to hate me…Dean and Nathan seem to love you very much Ashley.
Not only does that shell of a former General Manager throw compliments toward you at every show, but there are already rumours sailing around about you and Dean Reynolds – that guy probably was an utter disgrace of a wrestler before becoming a rather crappy commentator – being a possible item. Not that such rumours surprise me anymore, considering the vast amount about why Nathan hired you as his assistant, but it is practically obvious who the ‘Corporate Favourite’ is going to here. However…I don’t care, I haven’t in a long time. However there is one comment that spins around in my mind, day after day after day, every time I close my eyes. The date was November fourteenth, twenty-fourteen, the show was Adrenaline and – during a dark period of mine that I don’t want to go back into – I lost to Ryan Henderson. The first thing that was said right after the match were words by Nathan Parker himself and I can remember them as clearly as diamonds…
.
.
.
This guy needs to seriously retire.”
With those last six words the Anglo-Scotsman sloughed back in his chair again, one of his hands over a side of his face and another running through his hair as he mutters the words ‘retire’ over and over again, as if believing in those very words. At first he seems sad, than angry and now sad again. Is the male losing his mind or going through mood swings? Either way the hand that was running through his hair slowly slide down to the uncovered side of his face as the Brit began to speak up again.
★ Saint Jericho ★
“Every time I try to close my eyes, even to blink, those very word echo through my mine. Tormenting my mind, wrenching my emotions and twisting my psyche. The times I’ve looked lifeless was just me trying to mentally block out such words. YET! Yet when I seemed bleeding close to no longer caring about such words…
What happened to the Saint Jericho I saw so long ago, since I don’t recognise this loser in front of me.
Those were the word Zelda, one of only three people I feel comfortable to speak freely with, said to me – on the thirtieth of January’s Adrenaline – and, while I was confused at first, everything opened up to me the moment I kicked Milla’s skull in. I was reacting wrongly to those words, instead of trying to push them away I should be using them as an inspiration to turn myself around. So, dear Ashley Tierney, while I kick your head in until your skull is indented, you can whine, cry and curse all you like…just remember to partly blame people like Nathan Parker and Dean Reynolds for your broken bones. Yes, you heard me correctly, I did say the words broken bones because I do, I do, I do want to crush your bone and use them as grit to clear whatever snow tries to set itself upon my path of WEW World Champion.”
His voice…brokenly sullen, clearly full of regret and sorrow. But about what? His left hand slide off his face when the Scotsman quoted his manager, agent and advocate, his eye obviously showing stress and distraught over something. But, as if attempting to sway himself away from his unknown sorrow the male growled his voice into an aggressive tone, one that would naturally ache anybody’s throat, and leaned his body back forward to give a stern posture as he directly stated that he wants to indent his opponent’s skull. However, no matter how hard the voice and body language tries, the eyes could not lie about what is personally bothering him at the moment. So, instead of continuing Jericho’s hand reaches past the camera’s vision and everything snaps to black.
When the recording began anew we find the Scottish Elitist is seen sitting on chair again yet his hair is noticeably wet, his face hasn’t been fully dried and now, there are a pair of Baoding balls in the male’s hands. Clearly he must have been washed his face or something but it seem to have been successful as his eyes no longer look stressed or worry, but instead they share the same level of arrogance that his smirk does.
★ Saint Jericho ★
“You want to object to that Ashley? So what? Object to someone who could give a rat’s arse since I. Do. Not. Care. At. All. I’m four inches bigger, ninety-two pounds heavier and this is no David versus Goliath situation. Oh of course you managed to defeat a much stockier opponent, in the form of Equinox, and a Speedy Gonzalez wannabe, in the form of Tiffany Krys…but there is a difference between them and me. Want to know them? Well there is only two that is worth mention…the first of which is that, unlike the both of them, I expect Jasmine to be at ringside. I expect her to try some pitiful schemes to try to throw me off, from trying to pull me out of the ring to distracting the referee, and I will admit that I would have fallen for such absurdity – back when I would stupidly put the sheep before myself – but now none of that will catch me off guard. Why is that? Well that is another difference between me and the losers you’ve beaten to get to me…
I am scum.
Didn’t expect me to say that, didn’t you? Well I did, I am scum. Dare I say it I might as well be Scum of the Earth. But don’t mistake that as a joke or a time to be all jolly…I am of the Scum of the Earth and that is the last thing anybody would ever want to meet in a dark alleyway, let alone in the ring as you’re going to be at Battlefield. I am scum…I don’t respect your health, I don’t respect your wellbeing, I don’t respect your safety and I don’t respect you at all. The only thing about you that I will respect is how much blood you’ll lose when I tear the pretty blonde hair from your scalp in a fashion grizzlier than Brenda’s trap in the fourth Saw movie.”
The renewed confidence is easily noticed in the way Jericho was ever so calmly saying his words, even laughing lightly after referring to himself as ‘scum.’ Yet the aggression in the tone of his voice hasn’t left at all as the guy, who just called himself ‘Scum of the Earth,’ savagely spoke of how little he respects Miss Tierney, even referencing a Saw movie to potentially threaten the only person between him and the WEW World Championship. But then, as if asked a question, the male’s facial expression suddenly switched to slightly puzzled one, almost as if he can change his expressions like a light switch.
★ Saint Jericho ★
“Oh? Why am do I sounding so aggressive? Well you see, lass, if you listened to what I said you should remember me saying ‘remember to partly blame people like Nathan Parker and Dean Reynolds for your broken bones’…well…you see…partly is the key word of that statement. Why is that? Because there is one person who has angered more than those two twats. Who is that? Who should you mostly blame? Look in the mirror sweetheart, you are the one who just rolled snake eyes. What have you done? Well, when watching the recordings of my opponent’s promos I’ve noticed yours…how you were at my grave. Now the thing I’m pissed about is nothing that you’ve said, since being a fifteen day Universal Champion makes me fifteen times more successful than you are at the moment, while the fat actor you got is almost picture for his role as my trainer. If anything I wanted to laugh and enjoy what you were doing…
But then you got a bloody child actress to impersonate my seven year old daughter Sabrina.”
Okay…the atmosphere, at least the warmth of the lights and the calmness of quietness, has dropped completely thanks to cold way Jericho said his last few words. The warmth is all gone as even the faintest breath of air feels chilly, the calmness that the silence original gave has now caved way to feelings of claustrophobia within this room that we cannot see the walls of. However this coldness and claustrophobic mood quickly gave way to fear as, out of the blue, Jericho straight up threw one of the Baoding balls straight at a wall. The sound actually echoed as the Brit glared his enraged eyes directly at the recording device for the briefest of moments before standing up and walking over towards the ball he has thrown.
★ Saint Jericho ★
“Words…actions…paintings…NOTHING! NOTHING can possibly explain how pissed off I am due to your sign of pure stupidity! Why would that anger me more than a million haters? Well Ashley, since you’ve already seen my many failures and I am somewhat – barely but still somewhat – impressed that you made it to the finals of our little contest, I will tell you something that not even my most trusted friends and mentor know…I’m going to do two things. The first of which is tell you my GREATEST failure and the second thing is tell you why I am broken. You better take note since I seriously doubt I’ll ever say what I’m going to say ever again.”
Even though walking and crouching down Jericho continued to speak, even suddenly shooting his volume upward at random intervals in a manner that may indicate forcibly confined rage. It was only when Jericho found his ball and picked it up that he spoke about admitting his greatest failure. Yet instead of answering the question of ‘why is he broken’ straight away, the male walked past the camera, grinding those stress balls once again. When he returned into vision the male was completely quite as he sat himself own on his seat before looking at the photograph in his right hand…a photograph of him, his deceased wife Serena and their baby Sabrina.
★ Saint Jericho ★
“The date was the tenth of May, the year was two-thousand-and-nine, and me and Serena were celebrating our first anniversary like two idiots in love. Throughout the week in build-up we always went to the same pub, we always got smash, we always go to the field nearby and we would always love each other silly. So on that day – as we had Serena’s sister Candice, who never liked me but loved her baby sister, babysit our year old Sabrina – we went to the same pub, we got smashed again and this time around Serena wanted me to drive us to the field and I was too pissed out my mind to realise I was drunk.
So we went into a car, shared a kiss with my Serena as our light shun green and then it happen, the moment I was about to tell ‘I’d die for you,’ a truck…a fucking truck…rammed straight into the side of us. I won’t claim some Hollywood bullshit and say that the car flipped twenty times but all I could remember from the impact was a lot head banging and finding myself upside down. Yes I was hurt, having a dislocated shoulder usually does, but the moment I looked to my right I was experience the most excruciating pain. No matter how much I screamed her name she never answered…
My dear Serena…
Was dead…
…I…k…killed…her…”
The slight breaking of the voice made it obvious how reluctant Jericho is to reveal this, rather grim, chapter of his life. K…Killed!?! He killed the woman he loves? And, out of all days, the tenth of May…could that be why he can’t seem to keep his emotions under complete control? Most likely so as the hand holding the photograph was shaking rather violently and the stress balls fell out of his left hand. Yet, instead of picking the balls up, the man with slowly reddening eyes had his left hand grab his right arm in an attempt to stop the shaking.
★ Saint Jericho ★
“Barely under a week later, I found myself in court. Even though it was that fucker trying to cut the lights who crashed into us, the police found out I was drunk out of my mind. So I was being charged for manslaughter via drink diving. I knew I was getting sentenced, I deserved to be sentenced and I was originally sentenced for fourteen years. If you’re wondering why I’m here instead of prison well – about six months into my sentence – my trainer, Chris Middley, got the police to agree to a rather unique compromise, since in some of their eyes the only crime I was properly guilty of was drunk driving, which in itself is six months imprisonment. That compromise? He pays a heavy amount to ‘officially get me out on bail,’ I become a professional wrestler and I have to wear this ankle monitor for the rest my sentence…”
As if to prove his final sentence correct the red eyed male leaned forward and tilted the camera down a little bit before lifting his right trouser leg up, revealing the very ankle brace he mentioned in the process. His free hand went back up for some unseen reason before it returned to tilt the camera back into the right angle to see the Scotsman…wait…why does the back of his hand look a little wet? Could he have been trying to not cry on camera? Clearly his deceased wife is an extremely sensitive subject to the man from the United Kingdom.
★ Saint Jericho ★
“Yes, that means that I’ll be wearing this fucking thing for eight more years. But, to tell the truth, I don’t deserve any of that…accidental or not it was my fault that Serena died so I was okay with any sentence, from life to death. But then the judge did what I never expected…he not only sentence me but also handed full custody of my Sabrina to Candice as well as issuing a complete restraining order preventing me from seeing baby girl. Hell…it’s probably a high probability that I will never get to see my little Sabrina, the only thing that remains of Serena, ever again…
That…Th-at…broke me…
Physically…
Emotionally…
Mentally…
That is why I originally referred to myself as T…The Br-Br…Br-oken………S…S-aint…”
Okay, it is pretty obvious now that the Scotsman’s eyes were stinging from the tears he has been trying to hold back. Yet as he spoke of why he was broken, specifically the moment he attempted to say his own stage name, his voice was cracking at every syllable and tears now broke free as they dropped upon the photograph within his hands. The male tried to speak again yet now not even words were leaving his quivering lips as, almost in a blind rush to rub the tears off his face, Jericho accidentally knocked the camera over, causing everything to go black again.
The camera began to record once again yet now there is quite a crack a little off the centre of the lens yet now we see Jericho. However, instead of him being covered in tears, his face is cover in pure dark red…is this paint? Or could this be blood? The answer is unknown as the male seem to have calmed down enough to continue speaking to his damaged device.
★ Saint Jericho ★
“Why, oh why did I admit all of that to you, Ashley Tierney? Because the moment I saw that child actress pretend to be my daughter every single moment from those days flashed through my mind like the most violent of flashbacks. I felt every emotion I felt back then…sadness. Sorrow. Regret. Depression. Hatred. Rage. Passion. Anger. Frustration. Confusion. Lost. Dread. Hurt. And sadness all over again. And all that…all of that…infuriates me.”
Now anger is within Saint Jericho, not the kind influenced by emotional instability but instead the kind of controlled rage as, instead of shouting his words out like some Dragonborn, the Scotsman is whispering these words out with a rattlesnake’s hiss underneath each letter. The motion of his neck, when it snaps to the right before snapping straight back within a blink of an eye, and the colour of his face almost making the atmosphere worryingly chilly once again as his eyes remained on the camera.
★ Saint Jericho ★
“Ashley Tierney. While you might view this match as a date with destiny, this is really a date with the demon that ends with a kiss of the executioner’s axe as I don’t just seek mere victory over you. Don’t get me wrong, I will defeat you for the WEW World Championship at Battlefield, I’m not just going to simply beat you. I’m going to torture you. I’m going to hurt…maim…debilitate…hang, draw and quarter you in the middle of that damn ring!”
Never once…never once did those hazel eye drift away from the lens or even blink as the passionate, a word which many wouldn’t have thought of using to describe him months ago, Anglo-Scotsman spoke in a way that made each word either laced in poison or armed with daggers. After finishing his words he stood up and watched as the camera raised up so that the lens were at the same level as his eyes.
★ Saint Jericho ★
“I am going to become the first male to hold the WEW World Championship in over two years and I’m going to do it by making you as physically broken as I was those many years ago. So…Ashley Tierney…as I proceed to make Jack the Ripper look like a hoodlum at Battlefield, exactly six years from the day I lost my true love, I want you to remember just one thing. As I turn your hopes, fantasies and dreams into a cold, dreadful, nightmare I want you to just remember one, little, thing. Ashley Tierney…as I possibly kill you, exactly six years after I killed my wife, for the WEW World Championship…remember this…”
Even though mentioning his wife caused a noticeable stumble in his voice Jericho remained complete focused on the camera to his left as he spoke so fiercely. However, instead of instantly saying what he wants Ashley to remember, the male looked up and spread his arms out…only to have water boom down upon him like a waterfall. The only sound that could be heard was splashing and sloshing as, after a while, the male looked back towards the camera – the red partly flush off, partly dripping yet fully making his face appear disfigured – and smiled in a way a sexual predator would.
★ Saint Jericho ★
“You deserve this.”
Those very words bounce from the walls and echo across the room as, mere moments after saying those words, Jericho threw his head back and began to laugh so loudly. Has he lost his mind? Or is it still on a knife’s edge? Nothing is certain as the Anglo-Scotsman suddenly jerk his head back forward, with an expression of seething rage, he snapped in the direction of the camera, took a couple of steps toward it and reached past it before everything went to black…permanently.
T H R E E - D A Y S - R E M A I N I N G
The air is chilly, the sky is black and everywhere we look is either a gloomy looking building, an alleyway leading into pure darkness or the path in front of us. Clearly we are not in Miami Florida, even though that is where we should be for Battlefield is soon, but – by now – it should be clear to us that we are here for one Anglo-Scottish Elitist. But where is he? He is nowhere in sight among this almost pitch-black atmosphere of frightening coldness. Step by step we continue moving, hearing only the stepping of our feet and the beating of our heart, but then it happened…something sharp is close to one side of our neck and some breathing can be felt on the other.
★ Saint Jericho ★
“Welcome to my domain…”
Was all that was uttered as the next thing we knew we were getting dragged into one of the dark alleyways. What is happening? Nothing is perfectly certain as pushing is felt over and over against until suddenly we were turned around and forced against a brick wall. Slowly and nervously we turn around to face the one who holds a small blade in his right hand. This man, wearing a black hoodie with black leather pants, is none other than Saint Jericho as he tilts his head slightly to look at us with the same deranged smirk he gave the motionless body of Equinox on the last episode of Animosity.
★ Saint Jericho ★
“Like I said, welcome to my domain, dear Ashley. The streets of London, the capital of my homeland. Why are we here? Why not? I feel so comfortable here…funny actually. Ever since four days ago I’ve been watching your matches, against Tiffany and Equinox, over and over again and, while I wanted to take you seriously, one thing almost made me fall out of my seat laughing. You want to know what could this hilarious thing be? Well I ain’t letting it turn into some mystery for Scooby Doo to solve. I’ll tell you straight up, something that the majority of the roster seem the ability to do, it is Dean Reynolds’ reactions to when you were on the back foot or your opponent has the advantage over you, which seem to happen a lot in your matches for some reason.
I mean seriously…thinking that Equinox is a woman beater? How cute. Well, Ashley, it seems that I’ve got yet another task to do in three days and this one is to show the likes of foolish Dean what a woman beater really is. What…did you expect me to be a motherfucking gentleman? I ain’t no Psy and I’m damn sure not a gentleman…I’m Scum of the Earth and I’ve hurt many people, just ask Milla – who, like you, is an alumni of that failure of a program called Top Notch Training – and Emily Poison for reference. Hell, ask Kevin Hunter and – if you can actually find the guy – Mason Wolfe about how it feels to have their faces crushed by the End of Heartache…why? Just so you can help get prepared for a future without such a pretty, little, face because let’s face the facts sunshine, considering what I’ve this year, smashing that face into a mere pool of blood wouldn’t exactly be something I would not be comfortable with doing…would it?”
Even though he is clearly serious about what he is talking about, our view couldn’t fully ignore the knife that the male is holding in his right hand. Well ‘holding’ is a strong word, slightly shaking the blade left and right seems more like a way more accurate term. But suddenly a hand launches past us and places itself on the wall we’re leaning against, his arm now blocking us from making a break for it as the crazed looking male look into our eyes with that frightening smirk becoming frighteningly bigger.
★ Saint Jericho ★
“Where do you think you’re going? You’re ain’t going anyway yet sunshine…but even if you did somehow got away…what are you going to do about it? Complain and cry about over social media like Facebook, AIM and Twitter? Pah. Pathetic…that is what you are Ashley. Pathetic…and yet you have the guts to proclaim your, rather unrealistic, victory over Twitter before claiming that you will make sure that I will be as dead as my own career. How…cute. You really think you can do that Tierney? Well here is a surprise for you, Princess Dumbass, your career is just as dead as mine. Hell, the career of EVERYONE in the entire tournament is dead. You defeated a shell and a never-will-be, in the forms of Tiffany Krys and Equinox, while I defeat a waste of potential and a guy who really hasn’t gone a thing in approximately a year, in the form of Mason Wolfe and Kevin Hunter.
Yes, I have never won a true big time match, I’ve lost count of the amount of time Chance Rugani has defeated me. Yes, in my four years here I have only won once at a pay-per-view, which includes the shortest time in the Retribution Rumble with two point three seconds. And yes, I was probably the first Elitist to ever get suspended indefinitely, even though – technically – my suspension never got lifted. But I never once said I was perfect, for I knew I never would be, however I am a legend in my own right. Former Universal Champion, holder of multiple records and the only truly active member of the current WEW roster to have featured in all the previous Legacy pay-per-views.
I AM A FUCKING LEGEND!
YOU meanwhile…what are you? You were trained by Sayge Jemson, for reasons I still don’t get. Then you were Nathan Parker’s assistant when he made Adrenaline actually worthwhile. Afterwards you replaced him and did fuck all until you disappeared and reappeared into TnT…and the fact that training programming has closed down after four or so months simply proves how much it has FAILED. Then you, some oompa loompa reject and King Kong’s long-lost daughter decided it would be a good idea to be famous at the expense at Shady Layne…only to get your asses kicked so hard that the reject walked out and the missing she-link got fired. But then you hooked up with a completely new nobody rookie and, instead of bolstering your own possible legacy, she overtook you and became Women’s Champion. Ashley Tierney…I know that you don’t want to hear it but it is so bleeding obvious now…
YOUR CAREER HAS BEEN FUCKING DEAD FOR AT LEAST A YEAR!”
Shivers shout up our spine as the Anglo-Scotsman shouted his words directly at us as the hand was against the wall pulled back into vision, clenched into a fist and shot forward, narrowly missing our cheek by an inch as he punched the wall with enough force to make us jump lightly. Yet this seems to be the reaction he wanted as the smirk began to show some teeth.
★ Saint Jericho ★
“So I plan to help join it while I become the first male WEW World Champion in two whole years. Heh…something I just realised as I said those words. Slash…Ryan Cavallari…Ryan Jackson…Shady Layne…and Rhiannon…they are all who have ever held the WEW World Championship but the more I think about it, the more a certain question enters my mind…where are they now? Seriously, think for one you blonde bimbo. Where. Are. They. Now? Only five people have held that belt we’re going to fight for in three days’ time and all five of them are gone. So does it sound like we’re going to be fighting for a poisoned chalice? Is the high possibility of ending up following the rest worth the reward? Or is the Championship really worth the risk?
Are you willing to risk leaving your dear Jasmine behind for what could simply be five minutes of fame? When I look into your eyes, through the footage of your previous matches, I can tell that – deep within your mind – you can’t handle it…you cannot handle such a risk, because you want to prove your worth to all the idiots who have ever put their faith in you. The moment you hold the belt your career will decline down a vortex of obscurity, just ask the first ever Universal Champion…that is unless she is still in her ‘coma’ after long three years.
However, unlike you, I can take the risk and, unlike all five of those failures, I will succeed in not only becoming a great World Champion but I’ll also become the Face of Adrenaline. I know you doubt me, Ashley, and I know that you’re not the only one who doubts me. If anything, more people doubt my chances more now than they did at Beach Brawl twenty-thirteen, when I last had a top tier Title match. Hell, just yesterday Megan McCrea, otherwise known as Robina Hood, the person who I’ve treat like a sister I never had…stated that Ashley Tierney will defeat me.
Am I really that pathetic?”
The way he asked his question, especially with the way his head dropped down while asking it…is he seeking an answer from us? Or sympathy perhaps? Before we can do anything we feel his left hand clutching onto our shoulder, keeping us to place as the man’s body begins to shake and not just shake but also chuckle. This chuckling was quick to turn into full-blown laughter as Jericho’s head slowly moved back up to clear at us directly in the eyes as the most sickening of smiles slowly etches its way across his face.
★ Saint Jericho ★
“You actually think shit like that bothers me? No it doesn’t. For years I’ve had people against me, saying so much about how I can’t do this or can’t do that but you know what? This Sunday, Ashley, I’m going to put all those naysayers down as I beat you black and blue and black again until I walk out the American Airlines Arena with the WEW World Championship over my shoulder. Roughly like I said earlier, I can take the risk and I will succeed as not only the WEW World Champion but also as the Face of Adrenaline. Why is that? Why am I willing to risk having my career killed off? The answer is simple sweetheart…
You cannot kill what, in your point of view, is already dead. And, considering that I’m practically Scum of the Earth, I have nothing to lose. No respect, no friends and no honour…nothing to make me think twice about crippling you.
Heh…throughout late last year I have called myself the number one contender to the WEW World Champion and, in just three days’ time, I finally get my damn match. Yet, instead of being against a god, I get put against a fraud. Many people think that you should win the match, to a point where you are the favourite, but don’t you see? Everything has lead me to this event, all the failures, all the happiness, all the victories, all the defeats, having my unborn child killed and even having a motherfucking heart attack has all lead me to May tenth where I, Saint Jericho, shall finally become the World Champion. And sweetheart…there is nothing you, your miniature babysitter and not even The Board them self can do to fucking stop me!”
The passion in his eyes, the very eyes that mainly looked as dead as a door nail at the start of the year, was clear as day for us to see and his voice not only mirrored that passion but also doubles it. His breathing has become noticeably rapidus and the smile is completely gone Wait, why is the knife coming closer to us? Oh god we can feel the edge merely poking our neck. Is this is for us? Before we could even close our eyes to pray the knife was withdrawn and this crazed man in front of us has pushed us down. Our head must have struck something because everything is slowly blurring out as, the last thing we can see before fading to black, was Saint Jericho running deeper into the shadows.
November twenty-first, twenty-eleven. Toronto, Canada. Five men fighting for the right to be crown the WEW Universal Champion. The match has barely started and a young Englishman, in his second ever match, decided to slide out of the ring to grab a pair of ladders…CRASH! A pair of boots from some cowboy comes flying through the ropes and hits the ladder, only for it to shoot directly into the male’s face, breaking the face in an irregular fashion that not only course blood to pour out from his face but also caused that very rookie to be practically carried to the back by a group of EMTs. The screen suddenly snaps to black.
★ Saint Jericho ★
“…………failure.”
The screen snaps back to life. February thirteenth, twenty-twelve. Newcastle, England. The same Englishman is battling the future WEW legend Chance Rugani in a match to earn the male a shot at then WEW Champion Sophie Oliveira. The Naked Truth hits. ONE! TWO! THREE!!! The English crowd screamed as the male had Rugani pinned yet the official was distracted by Sophie, so he got up and tried to attack the Champion…only to give Rugani enough time to get back up and nail his Critical Finish finisher. The crowd booed but there was nothing to be done as the man in the ring realises that his window of opportunity slamming shut on him. The screen snap off again…electrical problems perhaps?
★ Saint Jericho ★
“………failure.”
Once more the screen turns on. April ninth, twenty-twelve. Paris, France. The very first Retribution Rumble, an over the top rope thirty person battle royal with the winner headlining the very first Legacy event to face the World Champion of their respective brand. With each passing entry and elimination more and more people were anxious and interested to see who came after each other. That was until the twenty-ninth person entered the ring. The crowd knew who was entering at number thirty and they cheer as the Englishman shot out from the black curtain, having previously admitted that this was his last possible shot at the WEW Championship. Yet, about two and a third seconds after entering the ring, the male was clotheslined out of it and the crowd laughed as he slumped to the back. Only to have the screen crackle off.
★ Saint Jericho ★
“……failure.”
Barely holding onto life the screen creaked back on. November twelve, twenty-twelve. New Orleans, Louisiana. The Englishman is finally a Champion, the Universal Champion, and here he was…flat out on his back from being beaten by Genesis. But that was the least of the problems as Jayceon Taylor, a man who once had so much power back then, strolls out to the ring to taunt the Englishman about his failings before not only stripping him of the Universal Championship, for being – in his words – ‘a weak Champion,’ but announcing that the clearly devastated individual is suspended ‘indefinitely.’ Yet again the screen caved into blackness.
★ Saint Jericho ★
“…failure.”
The screen sluggishly comes back to life. September eighth, twenty-thirteen. Los Angeles, California. After years of trying, and even returning from a legitimate heart attack, the Englishman finally finds himself in a WEW Championship match against then three time Champion Chance Rugani. With every successful move the crowd cheered louder and louder, as if believing – with each passing moment – that Rugani could actually lose the belt. The volume shot up to a deafening level the moment the Englishman kicked out of Chance’s ‘Last Chance’ finisher and even, figuratively, blew the roof off the Staples Center when the Naked Truth connects…only for Rugani to gather enough wit to turn Saint’s tired cover into a much needed rollup to gain victory. The screen splits off into black before even letting the Brit’s expression he seen.
★ Saint Jericho ★
“Failure.”
Now, with more struggle than before, the screen coughed into life. September seventh, twenty-fourteen. Los Angeles, California again. Two whole years after issuing his first challenge Sophie Oliveira demands a match against the Brit himself. Two years of hatred. Two years of annoyance. Two years of animosity. Finally the two clash…and the man doesn’t look like he cared at all. Never once did he appear to be interested as the crowd who once loved him like their own child boo him as he seemed until to take much control over the ring-rusted Oliveira. One great counter into Sophie’s ‘Queen of Hearts’ finisher and the three count following it ensured her victory while the male looked……lifeless?
★ Saint Jericho ★
“FAILURE!”
With that shout a man steps up from his chair, lift the television up and downright threw it away, not at all caring about how much such a thing would cost him as he flopped back down into his seat with a sigh. After a few silent seconds the chair spins around to reveal, to the camera recording this, that this man is none other than Saint Jericho as he looks quite bothered.
★ Saint Jericho ★
“I guess you saw my failures. I don’t need to claim or hide anything. Heh, as if I ever need to…if anything, out of the men on Adrenaline, I’m probably the only guy who hardly hides anything at all. Hence why I don’t need to hide the fact that I honestly believe that I have got the luckiest of lucky breaks the moment realisation set in about the fact that the only person in between me and the WEW World Championship is you, Ashley Tierney. Do I sound arrogant by any chance? Well let’s look back towards the past month or two. In the very first round you took on not only the smallest member of the tournament but also someone who could be best described as a mere shell of her former self. Meanwhile I maimed Mason Wolfe, a kid who was not only held in high prospect but was also trained directly by the one Chance Rugani.
Then look at the second round, or better phrased semi-finals. Oh you managed to defeat one Equinox, oh that must have meant something…right? WRONG! The Equinox you defeated was not the same Equinox who fought for the belt we’re going to fight for in just under two weeks. No…he was the Equinox I got my hands on. I twisted his body, I twisted his mind. The Equinox you fought was nothing more than a psychological cripple that I injured beforehand. What am I saying? You defeated a damaged Equinox, who would have easily slaughtered you if it wasn’t me breaking him. As for me? I fought the man that even I didn’t expect to beat. Kevin Hunter has beaten me over and over, and over again…yet, when it matters more than ever, I overcome the one true obstacle that could have stopped me form being World Champion.”
While he started with a sigh and didn’t look completely interested at all, at least by the way he is sloughing back in his chair, before slowly his originally bored sounding voice was finding its focus as the Brit’s eyes begins to sharpen upon the device recording him. Confidence was beginning to elude from his lips near the end of his words as his sloughing now looks like a posture of pure arrogance about his chances of becoming the victor of this World Championship tournament.
★ Saint Jericho ★
“So while you had an easy route to the final bout, I ventured through the hardest path to not only be where I am but to also be able to say right now that I am going to beat you in the middle of that win without any problem at all. Am I underestimating you Ashley? You did overcome adversity to make it to the finals but the last time I checked William Wallace did not need some sidekick to inspire a nation…yet you needed Jasmine to help you against a shell and a broken man. What does that say about you? Hold the answer, I’m not done. While you needed some munchkin’s help to win matches against minor people, I defeated both a prodigy and a two time Champion in World Elite Wrestling…singlehandedly. I had no help, no assistance and no cheap win. I stomped Mason to the ground and I hunted down the hunter by myself.
So what does that say about you? What does it say about me? It says that you are a joke, an embarrassment, a parody of a wrestler and it says that I am a conqueror, a survivor and the one who shall stamp an indefinite end onto this parody that I am going to face in the American Airlines Arena on May tenth. Hell, some nerds may take May the fourth as a special day in the year but May the tenth shall be the day the Tierney family will never forget as both Mama Tierney and Papa Tierney will spend every May tenth mourning the cataclysmic death of their dear little Ashley until the day they die. And what will I do every single time I visit your tombstone is spit upon the ground that you are beneath, for a meagre spit means so much more than you ever have.”
Now the male begins to lean forward to look directly at the camera as a fusion of hatred and anger begins to slowly seethe through his teeth with every word spoken. The anger in his eyes flaring higher and higher as the tone of his voice goes sharper and sharper, to a point where his voice was mixed between venomous and growing like an animal when the words ‘meagre spit’ crawled out from his mouth.
★ Saint Jericho ★
“Why am I so angry? Is that what you’re wondering? Could it be that no matter what I do, people just never learn to respect me? It could be possible since the entire commentary team practically hates me…I mean, what kind of commentator would want somebody’s mother to have an abortion? Or better yet when I defeated Vantage on the first show after he won the WEW Championship, just as singlehandedly as I will beat you Ashley, instead of possibly looking into the fact that I had a decent contendership claim…they criticised Vantage, even calling him the worst WEW Champion is history all because I beat him. And while they all seem to hate me…Dean and Nathan seem to love you very much Ashley.
Not only does that shell of a former General Manager throw compliments toward you at every show, but there are already rumours sailing around about you and Dean Reynolds – that guy probably was an utter disgrace of a wrestler before becoming a rather crappy commentator – being a possible item. Not that such rumours surprise me anymore, considering the vast amount about why Nathan hired you as his assistant, but it is practically obvious who the ‘Corporate Favourite’ is going to here. However…I don’t care, I haven’t in a long time. However there is one comment that spins around in my mind, day after day after day, every time I close my eyes. The date was November fourteenth, twenty-fourteen, the show was Adrenaline and – during a dark period of mine that I don’t want to go back into – I lost to Ryan Henderson. The first thing that was said right after the match were words by Nathan Parker himself and I can remember them as clearly as diamonds…
.
.
.
This guy needs to seriously retire.”
With those last six words the Anglo-Scotsman sloughed back in his chair again, one of his hands over a side of his face and another running through his hair as he mutters the words ‘retire’ over and over again, as if believing in those very words. At first he seems sad, than angry and now sad again. Is the male losing his mind or going through mood swings? Either way the hand that was running through his hair slowly slide down to the uncovered side of his face as the Brit began to speak up again.
★ Saint Jericho ★
“Every time I try to close my eyes, even to blink, those very word echo through my mine. Tormenting my mind, wrenching my emotions and twisting my psyche. The times I’ve looked lifeless was just me trying to mentally block out such words. YET! Yet when I seemed bleeding close to no longer caring about such words…
What happened to the Saint Jericho I saw so long ago, since I don’t recognise this loser in front of me.
Those were the word Zelda, one of only three people I feel comfortable to speak freely with, said to me – on the thirtieth of January’s Adrenaline – and, while I was confused at first, everything opened up to me the moment I kicked Milla’s skull in. I was reacting wrongly to those words, instead of trying to push them away I should be using them as an inspiration to turn myself around. So, dear Ashley Tierney, while I kick your head in until your skull is indented, you can whine, cry and curse all you like…just remember to partly blame people like Nathan Parker and Dean Reynolds for your broken bones. Yes, you heard me correctly, I did say the words broken bones because I do, I do, I do want to crush your bone and use them as grit to clear whatever snow tries to set itself upon my path of WEW World Champion.”
His voice…brokenly sullen, clearly full of regret and sorrow. But about what? His left hand slide off his face when the Scotsman quoted his manager, agent and advocate, his eye obviously showing stress and distraught over something. But, as if attempting to sway himself away from his unknown sorrow the male growled his voice into an aggressive tone, one that would naturally ache anybody’s throat, and leaned his body back forward to give a stern posture as he directly stated that he wants to indent his opponent’s skull. However, no matter how hard the voice and body language tries, the eyes could not lie about what is personally bothering him at the moment. So, instead of continuing Jericho’s hand reaches past the camera’s vision and everything snaps to black.
When the recording began anew we find the Scottish Elitist is seen sitting on chair again yet his hair is noticeably wet, his face hasn’t been fully dried and now, there are a pair of Baoding balls in the male’s hands. Clearly he must have been washed his face or something but it seem to have been successful as his eyes no longer look stressed or worry, but instead they share the same level of arrogance that his smirk does.
★ Saint Jericho ★
“You want to object to that Ashley? So what? Object to someone who could give a rat’s arse since I. Do. Not. Care. At. All. I’m four inches bigger, ninety-two pounds heavier and this is no David versus Goliath situation. Oh of course you managed to defeat a much stockier opponent, in the form of Equinox, and a Speedy Gonzalez wannabe, in the form of Tiffany Krys…but there is a difference between them and me. Want to know them? Well there is only two that is worth mention…the first of which is that, unlike the both of them, I expect Jasmine to be at ringside. I expect her to try some pitiful schemes to try to throw me off, from trying to pull me out of the ring to distracting the referee, and I will admit that I would have fallen for such absurdity – back when I would stupidly put the sheep before myself – but now none of that will catch me off guard. Why is that? Well that is another difference between me and the losers you’ve beaten to get to me…
I am scum.
Didn’t expect me to say that, didn’t you? Well I did, I am scum. Dare I say it I might as well be Scum of the Earth. But don’t mistake that as a joke or a time to be all jolly…I am of the Scum of the Earth and that is the last thing anybody would ever want to meet in a dark alleyway, let alone in the ring as you’re going to be at Battlefield. I am scum…I don’t respect your health, I don’t respect your wellbeing, I don’t respect your safety and I don’t respect you at all. The only thing about you that I will respect is how much blood you’ll lose when I tear the pretty blonde hair from your scalp in a fashion grizzlier than Brenda’s trap in the fourth Saw movie.”
The renewed confidence is easily noticed in the way Jericho was ever so calmly saying his words, even laughing lightly after referring to himself as ‘scum.’ Yet the aggression in the tone of his voice hasn’t left at all as the guy, who just called himself ‘Scum of the Earth,’ savagely spoke of how little he respects Miss Tierney, even referencing a Saw movie to potentially threaten the only person between him and the WEW World Championship. But then, as if asked a question, the male’s facial expression suddenly switched to slightly puzzled one, almost as if he can change his expressions like a light switch.
★ Saint Jericho ★
“Oh? Why am do I sounding so aggressive? Well you see, lass, if you listened to what I said you should remember me saying ‘remember to partly blame people like Nathan Parker and Dean Reynolds for your broken bones’…well…you see…partly is the key word of that statement. Why is that? Because there is one person who has angered more than those two twats. Who is that? Who should you mostly blame? Look in the mirror sweetheart, you are the one who just rolled snake eyes. What have you done? Well, when watching the recordings of my opponent’s promos I’ve noticed yours…how you were at my grave. Now the thing I’m pissed about is nothing that you’ve said, since being a fifteen day Universal Champion makes me fifteen times more successful than you are at the moment, while the fat actor you got is almost picture for his role as my trainer. If anything I wanted to laugh and enjoy what you were doing…
But then you got a bloody child actress to impersonate my seven year old daughter Sabrina.”
Okay…the atmosphere, at least the warmth of the lights and the calmness of quietness, has dropped completely thanks to cold way Jericho said his last few words. The warmth is all gone as even the faintest breath of air feels chilly, the calmness that the silence original gave has now caved way to feelings of claustrophobia within this room that we cannot see the walls of. However this coldness and claustrophobic mood quickly gave way to fear as, out of the blue, Jericho straight up threw one of the Baoding balls straight at a wall. The sound actually echoed as the Brit glared his enraged eyes directly at the recording device for the briefest of moments before standing up and walking over towards the ball he has thrown.
★ Saint Jericho ★
“Words…actions…paintings…NOTHING! NOTHING can possibly explain how pissed off I am due to your sign of pure stupidity! Why would that anger me more than a million haters? Well Ashley, since you’ve already seen my many failures and I am somewhat – barely but still somewhat – impressed that you made it to the finals of our little contest, I will tell you something that not even my most trusted friends and mentor know…I’m going to do two things. The first of which is tell you my GREATEST failure and the second thing is tell you why I am broken. You better take note since I seriously doubt I’ll ever say what I’m going to say ever again.”
Even though walking and crouching down Jericho continued to speak, even suddenly shooting his volume upward at random intervals in a manner that may indicate forcibly confined rage. It was only when Jericho found his ball and picked it up that he spoke about admitting his greatest failure. Yet instead of answering the question of ‘why is he broken’ straight away, the male walked past the camera, grinding those stress balls once again. When he returned into vision the male was completely quite as he sat himself own on his seat before looking at the photograph in his right hand…a photograph of him, his deceased wife Serena and their baby Sabrina.
★ Saint Jericho ★
“The date was the tenth of May, the year was two-thousand-and-nine, and me and Serena were celebrating our first anniversary like two idiots in love. Throughout the week in build-up we always went to the same pub, we always got smash, we always go to the field nearby and we would always love each other silly. So on that day – as we had Serena’s sister Candice, who never liked me but loved her baby sister, babysit our year old Sabrina – we went to the same pub, we got smashed again and this time around Serena wanted me to drive us to the field and I was too pissed out my mind to realise I was drunk.
So we went into a car, shared a kiss with my Serena as our light shun green and then it happen, the moment I was about to tell ‘I’d die for you,’ a truck…a fucking truck…rammed straight into the side of us. I won’t claim some Hollywood bullshit and say that the car flipped twenty times but all I could remember from the impact was a lot head banging and finding myself upside down. Yes I was hurt, having a dislocated shoulder usually does, but the moment I looked to my right I was experience the most excruciating pain. No matter how much I screamed her name she never answered…
My dear Serena…
Was dead…
…I…k…killed…her…”
The slight breaking of the voice made it obvious how reluctant Jericho is to reveal this, rather grim, chapter of his life. K…Killed!?! He killed the woman he loves? And, out of all days, the tenth of May…could that be why he can’t seem to keep his emotions under complete control? Most likely so as the hand holding the photograph was shaking rather violently and the stress balls fell out of his left hand. Yet, instead of picking the balls up, the man with slowly reddening eyes had his left hand grab his right arm in an attempt to stop the shaking.
★ Saint Jericho ★
“Barely under a week later, I found myself in court. Even though it was that fucker trying to cut the lights who crashed into us, the police found out I was drunk out of my mind. So I was being charged for manslaughter via drink diving. I knew I was getting sentenced, I deserved to be sentenced and I was originally sentenced for fourteen years. If you’re wondering why I’m here instead of prison well – about six months into my sentence – my trainer, Chris Middley, got the police to agree to a rather unique compromise, since in some of their eyes the only crime I was properly guilty of was drunk driving, which in itself is six months imprisonment. That compromise? He pays a heavy amount to ‘officially get me out on bail,’ I become a professional wrestler and I have to wear this ankle monitor for the rest my sentence…”
As if to prove his final sentence correct the red eyed male leaned forward and tilted the camera down a little bit before lifting his right trouser leg up, revealing the very ankle brace he mentioned in the process. His free hand went back up for some unseen reason before it returned to tilt the camera back into the right angle to see the Scotsman…wait…why does the back of his hand look a little wet? Could he have been trying to not cry on camera? Clearly his deceased wife is an extremely sensitive subject to the man from the United Kingdom.
★ Saint Jericho ★
“Yes, that means that I’ll be wearing this fucking thing for eight more years. But, to tell the truth, I don’t deserve any of that…accidental or not it was my fault that Serena died so I was okay with any sentence, from life to death. But then the judge did what I never expected…he not only sentence me but also handed full custody of my Sabrina to Candice as well as issuing a complete restraining order preventing me from seeing baby girl. Hell…it’s probably a high probability that I will never get to see my little Sabrina, the only thing that remains of Serena, ever again…
That…Th-at…broke me…
Physically…
Emotionally…
Mentally…
That is why I originally referred to myself as T…The Br-Br…Br-oken………S…S-aint…”
Okay, it is pretty obvious now that the Scotsman’s eyes were stinging from the tears he has been trying to hold back. Yet as he spoke of why he was broken, specifically the moment he attempted to say his own stage name, his voice was cracking at every syllable and tears now broke free as they dropped upon the photograph within his hands. The male tried to speak again yet now not even words were leaving his quivering lips as, almost in a blind rush to rub the tears off his face, Jericho accidentally knocked the camera over, causing everything to go black again.
The camera began to record once again yet now there is quite a crack a little off the centre of the lens yet now we see Jericho. However, instead of him being covered in tears, his face is cover in pure dark red…is this paint? Or could this be blood? The answer is unknown as the male seem to have calmed down enough to continue speaking to his damaged device.
★ Saint Jericho ★
“Why, oh why did I admit all of that to you, Ashley Tierney? Because the moment I saw that child actress pretend to be my daughter every single moment from those days flashed through my mind like the most violent of flashbacks. I felt every emotion I felt back then…sadness. Sorrow. Regret. Depression. Hatred. Rage. Passion. Anger. Frustration. Confusion. Lost. Dread. Hurt. And sadness all over again. And all that…all of that…infuriates me.”
Now anger is within Saint Jericho, not the kind influenced by emotional instability but instead the kind of controlled rage as, instead of shouting his words out like some Dragonborn, the Scotsman is whispering these words out with a rattlesnake’s hiss underneath each letter. The motion of his neck, when it snaps to the right before snapping straight back within a blink of an eye, and the colour of his face almost making the atmosphere worryingly chilly once again as his eyes remained on the camera.
★ Saint Jericho ★
“Ashley Tierney. While you might view this match as a date with destiny, this is really a date with the demon that ends with a kiss of the executioner’s axe as I don’t just seek mere victory over you. Don’t get me wrong, I will defeat you for the WEW World Championship at Battlefield, I’m not just going to simply beat you. I’m going to torture you. I’m going to hurt…maim…debilitate…hang, draw and quarter you in the middle of that damn ring!”
Never once…never once did those hazel eye drift away from the lens or even blink as the passionate, a word which many wouldn’t have thought of using to describe him months ago, Anglo-Scotsman spoke in a way that made each word either laced in poison or armed with daggers. After finishing his words he stood up and watched as the camera raised up so that the lens were at the same level as his eyes.
★ Saint Jericho ★
“I am going to become the first male to hold the WEW World Championship in over two years and I’m going to do it by making you as physically broken as I was those many years ago. So…Ashley Tierney…as I proceed to make Jack the Ripper look like a hoodlum at Battlefield, exactly six years from the day I lost my true love, I want you to remember just one thing. As I turn your hopes, fantasies and dreams into a cold, dreadful, nightmare I want you to just remember one, little, thing. Ashley Tierney…as I possibly kill you, exactly six years after I killed my wife, for the WEW World Championship…remember this…”
Even though mentioning his wife caused a noticeable stumble in his voice Jericho remained complete focused on the camera to his left as he spoke so fiercely. However, instead of instantly saying what he wants Ashley to remember, the male looked up and spread his arms out…only to have water boom down upon him like a waterfall. The only sound that could be heard was splashing and sloshing as, after a while, the male looked back towards the camera – the red partly flush off, partly dripping yet fully making his face appear disfigured – and smiled in a way a sexual predator would.
★ Saint Jericho ★
“You deserve this.”
Those very words bounce from the walls and echo across the room as, mere moments after saying those words, Jericho threw his head back and began to laugh so loudly. Has he lost his mind? Or is it still on a knife’s edge? Nothing is certain as the Anglo-Scotsman suddenly jerk his head back forward, with an expression of seething rage, he snapped in the direction of the camera, took a couple of steps toward it and reached past it before everything went to black…permanently.
T H R E E - D A Y S - R E M A I N I N G
The air is chilly, the sky is black and everywhere we look is either a gloomy looking building, an alleyway leading into pure darkness or the path in front of us. Clearly we are not in Miami Florida, even though that is where we should be for Battlefield is soon, but – by now – it should be clear to us that we are here for one Anglo-Scottish Elitist. But where is he? He is nowhere in sight among this almost pitch-black atmosphere of frightening coldness. Step by step we continue moving, hearing only the stepping of our feet and the beating of our heart, but then it happened…something sharp is close to one side of our neck and some breathing can be felt on the other.
★ Saint Jericho ★
“Welcome to my domain…”
Was all that was uttered as the next thing we knew we were getting dragged into one of the dark alleyways. What is happening? Nothing is perfectly certain as pushing is felt over and over against until suddenly we were turned around and forced against a brick wall. Slowly and nervously we turn around to face the one who holds a small blade in his right hand. This man, wearing a black hoodie with black leather pants, is none other than Saint Jericho as he tilts his head slightly to look at us with the same deranged smirk he gave the motionless body of Equinox on the last episode of Animosity.
★ Saint Jericho ★
“Like I said, welcome to my domain, dear Ashley. The streets of London, the capital of my homeland. Why are we here? Why not? I feel so comfortable here…funny actually. Ever since four days ago I’ve been watching your matches, against Tiffany and Equinox, over and over again and, while I wanted to take you seriously, one thing almost made me fall out of my seat laughing. You want to know what could this hilarious thing be? Well I ain’t letting it turn into some mystery for Scooby Doo to solve. I’ll tell you straight up, something that the majority of the roster seem the ability to do, it is Dean Reynolds’ reactions to when you were on the back foot or your opponent has the advantage over you, which seem to happen a lot in your matches for some reason.
I mean seriously…thinking that Equinox is a woman beater? How cute. Well, Ashley, it seems that I’ve got yet another task to do in three days and this one is to show the likes of foolish Dean what a woman beater really is. What…did you expect me to be a motherfucking gentleman? I ain’t no Psy and I’m damn sure not a gentleman…I’m Scum of the Earth and I’ve hurt many people, just ask Milla – who, like you, is an alumni of that failure of a program called Top Notch Training – and Emily Poison for reference. Hell, ask Kevin Hunter and – if you can actually find the guy – Mason Wolfe about how it feels to have their faces crushed by the End of Heartache…why? Just so you can help get prepared for a future without such a pretty, little, face because let’s face the facts sunshine, considering what I’ve this year, smashing that face into a mere pool of blood wouldn’t exactly be something I would not be comfortable with doing…would it?”
Even though he is clearly serious about what he is talking about, our view couldn’t fully ignore the knife that the male is holding in his right hand. Well ‘holding’ is a strong word, slightly shaking the blade left and right seems more like a way more accurate term. But suddenly a hand launches past us and places itself on the wall we’re leaning against, his arm now blocking us from making a break for it as the crazed looking male look into our eyes with that frightening smirk becoming frighteningly bigger.
★ Saint Jericho ★
“Where do you think you’re going? You’re ain’t going anyway yet sunshine…but even if you did somehow got away…what are you going to do about it? Complain and cry about over social media like Facebook, AIM and Twitter? Pah. Pathetic…that is what you are Ashley. Pathetic…and yet you have the guts to proclaim your, rather unrealistic, victory over Twitter before claiming that you will make sure that I will be as dead as my own career. How…cute. You really think you can do that Tierney? Well here is a surprise for you, Princess Dumbass, your career is just as dead as mine. Hell, the career of EVERYONE in the entire tournament is dead. You defeated a shell and a never-will-be, in the forms of Tiffany Krys and Equinox, while I defeat a waste of potential and a guy who really hasn’t gone a thing in approximately a year, in the form of Mason Wolfe and Kevin Hunter.
Yes, I have never won a true big time match, I’ve lost count of the amount of time Chance Rugani has defeated me. Yes, in my four years here I have only won once at a pay-per-view, which includes the shortest time in the Retribution Rumble with two point three seconds. And yes, I was probably the first Elitist to ever get suspended indefinitely, even though – technically – my suspension never got lifted. But I never once said I was perfect, for I knew I never would be, however I am a legend in my own right. Former Universal Champion, holder of multiple records and the only truly active member of the current WEW roster to have featured in all the previous Legacy pay-per-views.
I AM A FUCKING LEGEND!
YOU meanwhile…what are you? You were trained by Sayge Jemson, for reasons I still don’t get. Then you were Nathan Parker’s assistant when he made Adrenaline actually worthwhile. Afterwards you replaced him and did fuck all until you disappeared and reappeared into TnT…and the fact that training programming has closed down after four or so months simply proves how much it has FAILED. Then you, some oompa loompa reject and King Kong’s long-lost daughter decided it would be a good idea to be famous at the expense at Shady Layne…only to get your asses kicked so hard that the reject walked out and the missing she-link got fired. But then you hooked up with a completely new nobody rookie and, instead of bolstering your own possible legacy, she overtook you and became Women’s Champion. Ashley Tierney…I know that you don’t want to hear it but it is so bleeding obvious now…
YOUR CAREER HAS BEEN FUCKING DEAD FOR AT LEAST A YEAR!”
Shivers shout up our spine as the Anglo-Scotsman shouted his words directly at us as the hand was against the wall pulled back into vision, clenched into a fist and shot forward, narrowly missing our cheek by an inch as he punched the wall with enough force to make us jump lightly. Yet this seems to be the reaction he wanted as the smirk began to show some teeth.
★ Saint Jericho ★
“So I plan to help join it while I become the first male WEW World Champion in two whole years. Heh…something I just realised as I said those words. Slash…Ryan Cavallari…Ryan Jackson…Shady Layne…and Rhiannon…they are all who have ever held the WEW World Championship but the more I think about it, the more a certain question enters my mind…where are they now? Seriously, think for one you blonde bimbo. Where. Are. They. Now? Only five people have held that belt we’re going to fight for in three days’ time and all five of them are gone. So does it sound like we’re going to be fighting for a poisoned chalice? Is the high possibility of ending up following the rest worth the reward? Or is the Championship really worth the risk?
Are you willing to risk leaving your dear Jasmine behind for what could simply be five minutes of fame? When I look into your eyes, through the footage of your previous matches, I can tell that – deep within your mind – you can’t handle it…you cannot handle such a risk, because you want to prove your worth to all the idiots who have ever put their faith in you. The moment you hold the belt your career will decline down a vortex of obscurity, just ask the first ever Universal Champion…that is unless she is still in her ‘coma’ after long three years.
However, unlike you, I can take the risk and, unlike all five of those failures, I will succeed in not only becoming a great World Champion but I’ll also become the Face of Adrenaline. I know you doubt me, Ashley, and I know that you’re not the only one who doubts me. If anything, more people doubt my chances more now than they did at Beach Brawl twenty-thirteen, when I last had a top tier Title match. Hell, just yesterday Megan McCrea, otherwise known as Robina Hood, the person who I’ve treat like a sister I never had…stated that Ashley Tierney will defeat me.
Am I really that pathetic?”
The way he asked his question, especially with the way his head dropped down while asking it…is he seeking an answer from us? Or sympathy perhaps? Before we can do anything we feel his left hand clutching onto our shoulder, keeping us to place as the man’s body begins to shake and not just shake but also chuckle. This chuckling was quick to turn into full-blown laughter as Jericho’s head slowly moved back up to clear at us directly in the eyes as the most sickening of smiles slowly etches its way across his face.
★ Saint Jericho ★
“You actually think shit like that bothers me? No it doesn’t. For years I’ve had people against me, saying so much about how I can’t do this or can’t do that but you know what? This Sunday, Ashley, I’m going to put all those naysayers down as I beat you black and blue and black again until I walk out the American Airlines Arena with the WEW World Championship over my shoulder. Roughly like I said earlier, I can take the risk and I will succeed as not only the WEW World Champion but also as the Face of Adrenaline. Why is that? Why am I willing to risk having my career killed off? The answer is simple sweetheart…
You cannot kill what, in your point of view, is already dead. And, considering that I’m practically Scum of the Earth, I have nothing to lose. No respect, no friends and no honour…nothing to make me think twice about crippling you.
Heh…throughout late last year I have called myself the number one contender to the WEW World Champion and, in just three days’ time, I finally get my damn match. Yet, instead of being against a god, I get put against a fraud. Many people think that you should win the match, to a point where you are the favourite, but don’t you see? Everything has lead me to this event, all the failures, all the happiness, all the victories, all the defeats, having my unborn child killed and even having a motherfucking heart attack has all lead me to May tenth where I, Saint Jericho, shall finally become the World Champion. And sweetheart…there is nothing you, your miniature babysitter and not even The Board them self can do to fucking stop me!”
The passion in his eyes, the very eyes that mainly looked as dead as a door nail at the start of the year, was clear as day for us to see and his voice not only mirrored that passion but also doubles it. His breathing has become noticeably rapidus and the smile is completely gone Wait, why is the knife coming closer to us? Oh god we can feel the edge merely poking our neck. Is this is for us? Before we could even close our eyes to pray the knife was withdrawn and this crazed man in front of us has pushed us down. Our head must have struck something because everything is slowly blurring out as, the last thing we can see before fading to black, was Saint Jericho running deeper into the shadows.