Requiem for an American Dream

Clients Posts : 55 Join date : 2019-12-18

[Deus Xavier Machina is shown seated in his usual leather chair with nothing but an orange background behind him.]

Hello, my friends. I hope that you all had a wonderful Christmas and pleasant Holidays.

And yet, with so much joy to spread throughout this holiday season, the chill of winter has been so very cold. It’s almost ominous even. With the cold comes the snow, with the snow comes darkness, and with darkness comes… Well, very nasty things, I assure you. Darkness happens to be where villainy thrives. Darkness is where creatures of the night hide and take advantage of it while our unintimidated hero chooses to march forward into it.

Some would call it foolish to do such a thing. What does honor mean if it brings you into such a terrible situation such as this? What good is the rule you’ve followed if it leads you to your potential demise? But that is just it, my friends. Our hero does not think of such things. Triumph is all he focuses on, not the tribulations. For he is a hero and this is his duty. The creatures may very well attack at any moment from any angle, but he is willing to take that risk. And why? Simply because he is a protector. He is a defender of his homeland, and he is willing to do anything to keep it safe.

The gold that shines at the end of the darkness is a beacon that will guide him through it. He will fight, and he will protect until he has reached it and taken the treasure that he needs to continue to protect. And more importantly, there is no beast nor villain stronger than his will to make it happen. They will all be eradicated, because our hero triumphs. He marches on into a war, and we along with him as we live vicariously through his odyssey.

War is upon us, my friends, but do not fear. Our hero is here to protect us. We are, as we have always been, in the middle of our story.

[Deus snaps his fingers.]

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So many people throughout this industry have bastardized the term “role model” to the point that it’s become just something thrown around by the media. Turn on your TV, pull out your tablet, look at your phone and you’ll have a good chance of seeing some talking head emphasizing why Arata Asakura is the heart and soul of Strong Style, why Christopher Sabertooth is an irreplaceable commodity that’s carried the world on his back, and why Stephanie Matsuda is the face of professional wrestling. Not just the American Dream, no, I’ve heard “face of professional wrestling” slither out of the mouths of those snakes. Now I’m as humble as they come, believe it or not. I look at someone, I see how they perform, and I recognize how good they are. These are all very talented people who have no doubt put a lot of work into training and perfecting their craft. If this were any other professional sport, it would be nothing short of an honor to stand in the ring with them all, do our business, and may the best athlete win. I’d shake their hand, accept the outcome be it victory or defeat, and I’d move on. In fact, once upon a time that’s how I saw things. Stephanie Matsuda, who lives in the past much like many others who oppose me will, will go out of her way to bring up what I did or didn’t do once upon a time as a man named Layne Kurobane. I ask that none of my fans harass her on social media for her mudslinging and slander by bringing up so many dead issues as if they’re relevant in any way, shape, or form. Instead I ask you to do the same and look into the past and see what kind of a man I once was.

Now if I stood across from the ring from Stephanie as this man, perhaps she’d go the predictable route and play nice like the good hero she thinks she is. As if she has to set an example for everyone to know that she is, if nothing else, honorable. But because I’m NOT this man, she can’t help but pick the low-hanging fruit right in front of her face and act as if throwing it at me will deal any damage. I’m above that. I’m better than that. Maybe the man she knew of before would have happily played those games with her, but I’m not that guy. There’s something that Stephanie and people just like Stephanie can’t comprehend. They don’t know how to evolve. They don’t know how to improve. They pick an identity and they drive it into the ground until there’s nothing left but dirt and the smallest specs of remains. Yet, they’ll stick with it through thick and thin and ride it all the way to the end of their pathetic careers. But not me. No, instead I turned my greatest weakness into my greatest strength as I evolved. I had no identity, but that just gave me the opportunity to continue to change and adapt to anything and everything. And now here I stand, and my success cannot be denied. Stephanie spits at how I’ve outsmarted her because it’s considered coloring outside those proverbial lines she tries to keep to like a moron, but she knows that I’ve gotten her at every single turn. Call it opportunistic, Stephanie, but have the brain in your head to know being opportunistic is what the smart and the strong do. Why take you head on the way you’ve succeeded throughout your career when I can play by my own rules and win? That’s not cowardice, that’s strategy. That’s how wars are won, “War Queen”.

But it seems I’m the only one who knows you’re nothing more than a clown that puts on makeup to play the part. I don’t expect you to be smart enough to know I don’t mean that literally, so I’ll clarify that I don’t mean the actual makeup you use to cover up that ugly fucking face of yours. I mean your identity. Your entire being. Everything that you are and always have been, because over the past several years it’s never been in your best interest to evolve. If you find success with it, why think of evolving? Why fix something that isn’t broke? You feed yourself your own propaganda bullshit until you vomit it out in front of someone like me like you have for all these years you’ve been doing all the same tired bullshit that’s brought you gold and wins in your life. And if THAT isn’t bad enough, you have the biggest fucking mess I’ve ever seen in The World’s Finest; a group you helped bring to life under the guise of being the frontline of Wrestleworld; acting as if you truly believed that this group would be both the sword and shield of this company. Instead, it’s the blind leading the blind. It’s chaos. It’s a fucking disgrace is what it is. And I know I may as well be talking to a brick wall. I may as well not even open my mouth and waste my breath, because it’s become clear that it’ll take actions, not words to get it through your thick skull, but I’m a charitable man. I’m willing to help you with both words and actions regardless. I don’t expect a thank you or any ounce of respect for it. I know what you’ll slap my hand away when I offer it to pull you out of this dumpster fire you’ve ignited. But make no mistake, this isn’t a joke, Stephanie. I’m not looking to join the cool kids, I’m looking to take over the whole fucking building and telling YOU where to sit. I’m going to save you and save this company in the process. I’m gonna wipe away that clown makeup and clean up this clown show you’ve cursed Wrestleworld with.

I’m the hero here, not you. And you may not like that. You might kick and you might scream, but it’s not something that you can just deny. Because when I beat you and take that American Dream Championship away from you like the unruly child getting his favorite toy taken from him that you are, I’m gonna make sure that history from that moment on is written in my vision and no one else’s. I’m gonna make certain that this company knows who the real burden was. That Stephanie Matsuda was nothing but a cancer that needed to be removed. Of course, there’s always the option of evolving, Stephanie. You could always learn from your mistakes and improve and simply tow the line like a good fucking soldier should, because that’s what you are and all you’ve ever been. You’re no Queen and you don’t know a Goddamn thing about war. You’re a fucking moron that thinks because she can hurt people in a ring with wrestling or weapons that she knows what war is. You know what war is, Stephanie? You’re in one right now and you don’t even fucking realize it. You don’t even realize you’ve been losing it from DAY ONE. You think being the same predictable animal you’ve always been is all you need to survive and prove your point, but I’m gonna make you see how much of a relic of the past you are. I’m not just stronger than you, I’m smarter than you. You fight a style of war that went out of style years and years ago. You’re trying to play it civil while you’re walking into a guerilla warfare ambush that you were never ready for. And for every ounce of disrespect, every insult, and every struggle you give me along the way, I’m gonna torture you for it. I’m gonna hurt you in ways you never thought possible, and then I’m gonna take everything you love. I’m gonna make the world forget you were ever the American Dream Champion, I’m gonna make your World’s Finest friends feel too ashamed to be around you, hell, I’ll make your wife too repulsed to look at you.

You’ve been operating under the belief that I give a fuck about the American Dream Championship, Stephanie. I don’t. Not an ounce. Why would I care about a Championship held by someone like you? There’s no reason to care about the American Dream Championship until it’s out of your possession and cleaned of the stains you’ve left on it. Claudia Michaels wasn’t the prelude to it, YOU are. That Championship is still being held hostage by a villain far more delusional than Claudia ever was, and I’m gonna make sure it’s saved. I’m gonna save you, save that Championship, and most importantly, I’m gonna save Wrestleworld. Because you’re only the beginning, Stephanie. Don’t flatter yourself and go thinking that you really matter all that much to me in hindsight. I’m only interested in what you have to offer that I can take, because those are the tools I’ll need to clean up this fucking mess everyone like you has made. I’ll take away every Championship that lands in the wrong hands. I’ll right those wrongs. I’ll protect Wrestleworld as its hero just like you’ve spent the past year and a half pretending to do. No more false idols. No more lies. No more propaganda. The media can spit their venom and sing your praises, you can stroke your own ego, and you can keep entertaining that delusional you’ve been under with the help of all those sycophants telling you everything you want to hear from friends to family to colleagues. I’m gonna shatter this glass you’ve been hiding behind, and if it happens to cut you up and you bleed out when the time comes, then so be it. You won’t be missed in my new Wrestleworld.

I am the sword and I am the shield of Wrestleworld. Not you. Not your pathetic mess of a fucking group. The most insulting of it all is that you think the company I last competed in matters, or any of the other companies you’re in or have ever been in matters. All the accolades and victories you’ve captured throughout this universe. You think that means something to me, don’t you? Wrestleworld is the only thing that matters. Nothing else. NOTHING. So go lick your wounds somewhere else if that helps, but you won’t have a place here anymore if you think you could go for so long believing all of that bullshit. Maybe elsewhere you’re a Queen. Maybe elsewhere you’re a hero. But here in MY world. Here in Wrestleworld, the only leader is me. The only King is me. The only God is me. But don’t worry, I’m merciful. If you can still mentally hold up when this is said and done, I’ll leave you be. You can go spend the rest of your days on skid row with the rest of the rats and lost souls, and maybe they’ll listen to your talk of how important you are everywhere else but here. I’m not The Landlord of Wrestleworld as some neat little nickname like “War Queen”, Stephanie. This is my house now, and you can go fucking sleep in the backyard with nothing to your name until you learn how to evolve and understand that I’m the leader and you’re the follower. Try “War Soldier”. Sounds decent enough to me.