The Golden Jacket

{Tristan has been teasing an earth-shattering announcement regarding his career all over social media. Which of course, has caused a ton of speculation. Could he be taking time off? Could he be making an appearance in OWA? Creating a tag team perhaps? Don’t worry, we’ll get to the bottom of this in a second. The camera pans to a hotel lobby or something like that as RZD’s interviewer Sarah Beckett steps into frame. Yeah, Tristan is boys with Zaire and D’Angelo so they cool with this. Then Tristan makes his way over as he is sporting a sharp navy blue suit and dark tan shoes. He has his crown in his right hand as he gives Sarah a cheesy grin.}

Sarah: “At this time, I am pleased to be joined by the King of the World himself, Tristan Ki—“

Tristan: “King Tristan...”

Sarah: “King Tristan Killebrew! Sorry about that.”

Tristan: “It’s fine. Except — not really. Actually nah, you know what? It’s okay. You did your best, which is hmmm, fine — I guess, given the circumstances. But it just wasn’t quite good enough though, now was it? Better luck next time, Colt. I mean, Sarah.”

Sarah: “...Well, Tristan, you have let the world know that you have a big announcement for us. What exactly is it?”

Tristan: “Wouldn’t you like to know? Quite literally, you would. Everybody wants to know. What is going on with the king? Will we like the news? You know, something positive, as I provide you with some light in this dark cruel world that is crumbling in front of our very eyes. Hope. Something I give to you, my fans, on a weekly basis. Because uhhh yes, this has always been about the fans first and foremost. Without you, there is no me. So the king humbly thanks you for being devoted as you are. But on the other hand — could the news be a huge gut punch? Something that will not only ruin the rest of your day but year? We wouldn’t want that now, would we? Nooooo. So I’ll let the cat out of the bag.”

{One of Tristan’s assistants comes in with a black suit bag. Tristan smiles for a few seconds, then turns to his assistant.}

Tristan: “Well?! Unzip it. I’m not going to do it myself. I have a match this week. My body must be 100%.”

{The assistant’s face turns bright red and unzips the bag to unveil a shiny gold jacket. Yes, this is the big announcement, a jacket. On the right side of the zipper, near the chest area has the word “King” in black lettering. Tristan then takes off his suit jacket as he lets Sarah hold onto it. Oh wow, such an honor. Millions of people would kill to be in her shoes right now. The assistant then puts the gold jacket on Tristan. He gives a spin as the back of the jacket says “King Tristan Killebrew” in matching black cursive writing.}

Sarah: “...What is this?”

Tristan: “History, Sarah — history. This is my golden jacket. And hey, look at the top of my head! It just so happens to match my golden crown! Which means I’m kind of the golden boy of Wrestleworld, but whatever. At the end of the day, I’m all about coordination because if I look good, I feel good. And right now, I must say, I look like a billion bucks. I know, I’m selling myself short, but I guess I’ve always been on the modest side. Besides, I should have been gifted a jacket long ago. Like when a golfer wins the Masters. They get a green jacket. To show off and let the other golfers know that they are a clear tier below them. Well? So it makes sense. This is my jacket. This is my crown and nobody can take either away from me because well,  I’ve earned both. I’ve earned everything I’ve gotten in Wrestleworld as a matter if fact because I do everything the right way. Because I’m a h—“

Assistant: “Hero.”

Tristan: “Oh jeez I don’t know if I’d go that far but if you want to label me as such, I’m not going to try and stop you. Don’t you agree, Sarah?”

Sarah: “Uhhh...”

Tristan: “Sarah?”

Sarah: “Yes?”

Tristan: “Aha so you do agree about me being a hero and all. Shucks.”

Sarah: “Wait no I was saying yes because you said my n—“

Tristan: “Haha funny story. Classic Sarah, now get out of my shot. Be gone.”

Sarah: “But...”

Tristan: “Bye now.”

Sarah: “...Bye.”

{As Sarah leaves the scene confused Tristan decides to sit down on the bench, to collect his thoughts and think about what he wants to do or say next.}

Tristan: “It has always fascinated me on how easy it is to push someone’s buttons. Not necessarily in just professional wrestling, but life. Messing with people, it’s fun. I get a kick out of it. No harm, no foul, you know what I mean? But on the receiving end? Not so much. Or at least, that’s what I hear. Truth be told, I can’t relate to the easily offendable, because I don’t have any glaring insecurities you can exploit. Yep, not even one. I don’t have thin skin. I don’t have a temper or feathers to ruffle. Why I’m a good boy. A polite one at that. But unlike me, there are those out there that are just pissed off at the world because of the shitty hand they’ve been dealt. They are too uptight. Can’t take a joke. Thinking they must look and act tough at all times because they don’t want the masses to see them for what they truly are — some punk ass bitches. Or to be more PG, mental midgets. Or to be more PC, mental little people, okay? I don’t mean to offend, it’s simply not in my nature. But look, I can take a joke. I can laugh at myself. Hahaha!  That King Tristan Killebrew is a straight-up foo’! See? So when I’m in the ring and make a ohhhhh I don’t know, a kiss the ring gesture because I’m the king, yeah don’t mind me, just connecting the dots for a sec — it’s an obvious joke. Nothing more, nothing less. So no need to take it personally. But I get it. People get offended by every little thing as the Karens of the world nitpick everything to death. So, with that said, being the bigger man that I am, I would like to offer a sincere apology in these trying times and say I’m sorry you feel the way that you do. Okay? That came straight from the heart. So let's just move on, because today is a new day -- for me to conquer."

“For the longest time here in Wrestleworld, I had a laundry list of opponents I eagerly wanted to face off against. Not only face, but cross off after I laid them to waste. And when I say opponents, I mean the creme de la creme. Matches that would not only improve me as a wrestler but matches that would also make my pockets deeper. So it's fair to say that the last bout I competed in, wasn't exactly a huge motivator. Yet, I still rolled out of bed that day, even with the scars and bruises spotted all over my body from Kingdom Come -- to the point you could make some constellations out of them, I still got the job done. This week, will be no different. Now, I realize Queen Claudia is a much tougher task. That much is clear, for I will not sell her short, but instead, show her some respect. She's a legend. She has accolades for days and all that jazz. But I'm not starstruck. Because I realize what I am. And what I am is a star. I am no longer that nervous and wide-eyed kid amazed by the big stage and platform that Wrestleworld has kindly enough given me. I know I belong here. Just like I know this is no longer about my opponents, but me. Dream opponents? I no longer have any, for I know I am the ultimate dream opponent for every man and woman on this roster, including yourself, Queen. Now correct me if I am wrong, but we have never faced off in that ring before. I know we had a little history early on. You being the American Dream architect and all, trying to convince me that weapons are not only okay to use, but encouraged. That's about it. Now, maybe it's my fault that we have never gone toe-to-toe in that squared circle because I let Reno climb a ladder and retrieve a contract, but in the end, none of that matters. Reno, doesn't matter. We can all agree on that as he has quickly fizzled out. Something that is far too common in wrestling. Well, not just wrestling, but any sport. I am looking at you, Michael Carter-Williams. But yes, Reno, old news. Well, never newsworthy in the first place. But here is a controversial one -- the American Dream Championship? Never mattered to me either and still doesn't. Yeah, I can hear your gasp from here Claudia!"

"But it's true. The American Dream Championship, the European Championship -- in the words of the worst commissioner in all of sports by a landslide, Rob Manfred, they are just 'pieces of metal.' Now, I realize you can spin this and say I only feel that way because I failed to capture both. First of all, I never failed to win the two titles that belong in a claw machine for their worth is a quarter at best. But I can confidently say that because King Tristan Killebrew never fails. He delivers when he needs to the most. And that I did -- when I became your King of the World. Therefore, I won something that is far more prestigious than any other accolade in the history of professional wrestling in this crown. Which reminds me of that tangent of yours when you went on and on about how I owe you a thank you for becoming the king. And why is that? Because you and your goons helped eliminate April Song and Stephanie Matsuda? Because you think they were head and shoulders better than the remaining field? The fuck you talking about, Claudia? Tie your damn boots 'cause you tripping all over the damn place. I get it, you are talking up your rivals because you have been wasting your time with them for what seems like an eternity. It would be a bad look if you just flat out admitted that they are some bonafide scrubs because it would make you look weak since even after all the trouble you have gone through to try to get them off your trail, they are still there, gnawing on your ankles. But you seriously can't tell me that you actually believe in your heart of hearts that me going through those two would be more impressive than me running roughshod over the current European Champion, the current Shogun Champion, and former Shogun Champion in three consecutive events? If you do and you can actually say that with a straight face -- actually never mind, your face is always straight with all that botox, but look, the point is, maybe you should go get your tiara resized because it seems like it is far too tight if you believe in the hot garbage you spew. But then again it is entirely possible that you have a few loose screws after you were thrown off the top of a cage and crashed through some tables at Kingdom Come, so my apologies. Look, I have no ill will towards you. This matchup is just corny in a way. Surely you can agree there? The marketing behind it is royalty versus royalty. King versus queen. I get it."

"But why not run with the more accurate tag line: Present versus Past?"

"Huh? HUH? Try that one on for size. I like it. I dig it. And well, that is all that matters. But Tristan, what about the future? Who gives a -- earmuff kids -- who gives a fuck? Couldn't be me. I forget, but was it Jaywalker from a day or two ago that said many view Colt of all people as the future of Wrestleworld? L.O.L. what? Well damn, if that's the case, then I am afraid Wrestleworld will be shutting down when that day comes. It had a good run. But Colt? He is the wrong horse to hitch your wagon on, that's for sure. But 'the future' bothers me because oftentimes being regarded as the future is seen as a compliment, when I see the cold hard truth -- it's a slap in the face. Because it's basically saying that currently, you are decent, but nothing more. Maybe with another year or two, you can smooth out your edges and perhaps become something. But when it comes to me, there is no maybe. There are no hypotheticals because what you see before your very eyes, is a sure thing. The face of this very company. Not only that, but THE King of the World -- how fortunate -- for Wrestleworld, that is. But I digress. I'm now going to shift my focus back towards the queen as I ask you, why is it that we must be foes? Kings and queens belong to be on the same side, the same team, no? They need each other to help keep the overpopulated peasants in check. Queen Michaels and King Killebrew could -- no, WOULD, be a force to be reckoned with. Hell, I noticed you even have a few empty rooms in that lovely castle of yours. Where do I apply? Actually, I can just skip that whole boring process because my resume and reputation speaks for itself. So should I pack my things now, orrrr? But man, what a get that would be for The Underworld. Having King Tristan Killebrew on their side. Replacing the rusty spare parts that were Wraith, Maggall, and The Burned Man with me? What a well-oiled machine we would be. Ahhh, I can picture it now! So like I said, what a get that would be -- and well, an unrealistic one at that. Look, I am not going to beat around the bush for the only thing I am going to beat is you this week. Let's call a spade a spade, I am not about sharing the spotlight. I am not about leading a group of misfits that desperately need each other to survive because, without strength in numbers, they have no strength at all. Yes, lead, for I did not stutter. I would give it hmmm, two, maybe three weeks at the most until I overthrow you as leader? And unfortunately for you, this time, there won't be any tables waiting below to catch you as you fall from the highest point in that castle. The roof or your ego, not sure which one. But what I am sure of is how this match will play out and what I will do if I get my hands on a weapon. This is no longer Tristan Killebrew from Chapter 1 speaking to you. No, this is KING TRISTAN KILLEBREW! Big difference -- and you will feel that first hand, come this Sunday."


"I humbly thank you for your time, Queen Claudia. Now, be a doll and apologize for wasting mine."