Re: Superbowl of Wrestling: Rocko Daymon vs. John Doe
John Doe is leaving WFW’s corporate office he is holding a portfolio as he walks through the ravishing hallway a secretary waves John over to the main desk in the oval shaped office entrance. He halts in front of the desk and looks down at the secretary.
SECRETARY: “My son is a huge fan of yours I was wondering if you can sign this for him?”
DOE: “Yeah, no problem”
She hands him a John Doe t-shirt he signs it and hands it back. John continues down the hall way and walks up to the elevator he press the down button as the elevator starts ding. John turns the camera.
”Ah hello. How are you all today? Great, I am great. I just came back from running the stipulation with the heads of our federation. Oh, you heard me right, I personally designed this match up, I personally requested Rocko Daymon. There is a method behind the madness, there is a reason why.”
“For months I have gotten emails, letters, phone calls wondering why I have never defeated Rock, why I have fallen short. They eat me away, the fans wish for me to defeat Rock, the fans want me to pull one over him. It seems every time I see Rock here in WFW it’s in a stipulated match, us versus others not him and myself able to prove whom is the top dog.”
“There was one time we faced off, and that one time we tied. It was my fault, I was weak back then, I hit Rock…and my body fell. It fell and I fell with it, I was unable to complete my mission. Don’t count on that again. People have been chirping, the rumors will be put to rest, I will tell you the match I have designed later on.”
“I decided that a match of this sort, of this level needed to stars who would put their lives on the line, I find Rocko that sort of man. Don’t get me wrong there is a mutual hatred between Rocko and myself. But there something that holds me at a higher pedestal then him and that is respect.”
“If we want to get technical I am better than Rocko. There are reasons to support that fact, yes it is a fact. let me support it. I came in the rumble before Rocko, I was tossed out after Rocko. I helped the elimination of Rock. I will not take credit for things I did not do, Felix Red eliminated Rock, but Rock should have lasted longer. If it were not for my distraction, Rock may have won the Rumble.”
“But the focus of this promotion is to present to you my match. My design the stipulation. I present to you Rocko Daymon…The Device of Death. It’s a great match Rocko, it is our way to decided who is the real great.”
“I want you to imagine a ring, the WFW ring. The turnbuckles latched to chains. These chains are hooked to a pulley system Rock. This system will raise the ring to a maximum height of 25 feet. Of course the federation owners are still debating if that height is what they call, “Too Dangerous”. I find it suitable foe what I have in mind Rocko.”
“Now, the object of this match Rock is simple Rock. Throw your opponent over the rope down to the floor. That’s how you win, that’s how I settle disputes. You are booked in it Rock there is no way to get out.”
“My vision is to see you thrown over the top Rock. My vision is for success. Let us discuss why I want to defeat you so bad Rocko. For as long as I have been in the wrestling industry only crap has excreted from your lips with my name stained in the stench. I travel for WFW to NEW nothing ripe about me has been said from your lips. You attacked Carlee Marx over nothing. You attack my name over nothing, now Rock I settle a ageing question. Can I defeat Rocko Daymon?”
“That WILL be put to rest Rock, that will be settled and it will die at the Superbowl of wrestling. I will defeat you in the biggest match of the year, at the biggest venue of the year, for the biggest argument of the year.”
We are live at the Superbowl of Wrestling, WFW's event. The camera flashes over to the parking lot, and it scans around until it gets to a bizarre looking car starts to park. It's painted in three layers of green, white and saffron. In the middle of the hood, there is a design of a discus. The front door opens, and out walks a tall brown-skinned man, holding a bamboo stick in one hand and a Tiranga (Indian National Flag) in the right hand. He stops, as the camera is focused on him, and he begins to speak.
"Hello fans. My name is Hindustani, and I am a new member on this exciting roster. I'm sure some of you are wondering what brings me to this company. Perhaps you think you know why I'm here. Some of you might think it's the glory of winning the world titles, or the respect that comes with the money I will make. Some might think I do this for you fans. I am here for those reasons, and for more."
Hindustani walks away from the car. As he walks, he spins his cane around while talking.
“I am here, looking for respect for myself, and for my country. I am sick and tired of India being buried at the bottom of the history books. We are the oldest civilization in the world, and thousands of years ago we did things that people are doing now. Who founded Yoga? We did. Who cares? That’s what I want to change.”
Hindustani is now half way between the lot and the door leading into the arena.
“My mission begins tonight, in front of you fans. I have been added to quite a special match already, to make it even more interesting. Tonight, John Doe and Rocko Daymon were scheduled to face off in the Device of Death, to decide who the better man truly was. However, this is no longer a solo battle of respect; it’s a triple threat war of supremacy. That’s right; I have joined this match.”
The crowd cheers for this announcement.
“I heard Doe announce the stipulation to this match, and what I heard had the makings of greatness. I must say Doe, you have quite a brilliant mind. When management informed me that I was to be included in this sickness, I couldn’t refuse. I’m ready to knock both my opponents down to their deaths; I’m just hoping that they’re ready to die.”
Hindustani, now at the door of the arena, stops.
“You see, this isn’t just about personal enmity. National pride rests in this match. I hope you care about America, in the same manner I care for my Mother India. I will hold nothing back, and I hope you won’t either. In my first fight for respect, India will triumph!”
Hindustani now opens the door, and enters inside the arena, as the scene fades.
OOC note to the two other handlers involved in this match... and also to Paul, who I'm sure has been wondering where I've been.
I've been offline for the past month having just moved out. Haven't really hadn't had an opportunity to roleplay, and might not have one until the deadline in January. I send my apologies... perhaps Rocko may just miss the flight.
John, send me a PM some time... been meaning to get ahold of you.
(Just like the last time. We fade in. No bull****. No charitable autographs. No flashy cars. From the get-go, the man, Rocko Daymon, sits on a black stool in front of a WFW logo backdrop. His brown hair hangs longer now, covering half his ears, eyes, and most of his neck, sporting a five o'clock shadow. He's wearing his usual denim jeans and a long-sleeve black dress shirt.)
(Just a man and his words.)
(All that ever mattered.)
(All that ever will.)
When you finish a year, you want to go out with something good… something that leaves a mark to carry on into the next year, so people know you mean business.
We’ve entered a new year, and when I look back on December, I see that there was hardly anything that could be remotely considered “good”. Three consecutive tough losses in three separate federations… all with high stakes. Not only did I come home disappointed in myself, but now I’ve got those three marks against my record, tarnishing my reputation.
It’s like I said right before Road to Glory… you could win one hundred matches in a row, and nobody would ever care…
Then the one time you **** up, you never hear the end of it.
(He shakes his head, saddened.)
Case in point… the SoCal Rumble, when I was eliminated by Felix Red with the help of John Doe. Not surprisingly, Doe’s been hanging this over my head over the past month leading up to our match at the Superbowl of Wrestling, as though it somehow stands as pure and unquestionable evidence that he’s presently the better man.
Ironically, when I remember back to the weeks preceding Road to Glory, I recall saying that the only way Doe would ever get the advantage over me was by being the sneaky little bastard who waits in the corner until his target's back is turned and hits him without looking.
Not surprisingly... it's only when I'm in the process of eliminating someone else that Doe steps up and makes his move.
That's the nasty thing about rumbles, which was the one thing that had me worried going into the match. Too many people to take account of... too little focus to divide among them all.
I can leave that all behind me now... and the same with my other losses. The Superbowl of Wrestling is on its way, and because I couldn't end 2005 well, I have no choice but to start 2006 with something to be remembered by all.
I'm through with the meaningless rumbles, gauntlets, and tournaments. When I step into the ring, I face only two others: John Doe and Hindustani.
Guess we can start with the new guy. Dunno who Hindustani is, nor do I know what he's capable of. He's here on a mission... and based on what he says, to seek a little more respect for his people.
...kudos, but I'm on a mission too, and it's victory. More importantly, victory over the other man involved in this match, John Doe.
To be honest, the stakes are too great to allow myself to be beaten by a man who was simply thrown into this match seemingly at random, for no other purpose other than to showcase some new talent. This match should have been left to Daymon and Doe, without any other distractions or factors getting involved.
No offense to you, Hindustani... I hope you have a lot of luck here in WFW, but I won't let you get in between me and my goal. Do your best to stay out of my way.
With that said, I come to more pertinent issues... involving the one man who is presently my only concern in WFW.
People know the history between myself and John Doe... no need to rehash it. A few ties or mutual failures from frequent gimmick matches.
Like Doe, I also get a lot of fans asking me the same questions... such as, why can't I just cut the crap and put this jackass in his place? While Doe's crowd of bleeding hearts and suckers want to see David tackle Goliath, my crew of wrestling enthusiasts, some who have been with me all seven years of my career, want to see the man who stands for true professional wrestling standards humble the ambitious, haughty amateur who has grown too big for his britches.
I don't know what Doe tells his fans... but I give mine the same response. Simply put, in those last matches, I didn't have my heart set on defeating John Doe.
You have to understand that there are too many factors to consider in our previous matches. In the SoCal Rumble, I went in with hopes to outlast the others, not outlast John Doe. In the Torneo Cibernetico, it was eliminating members of the opposing team in order to help my own, not to take Doe-boy's number.
In our one and only match where the two of us faced off, I made the mistake of underestimating my opponent, and going into the ring half-assed and thinking I could do the job in my sleep. Doe's excuse is that he was weak; whether or not he has changed at all remains to be seen when the bell rings. I, however, have no excuse. I failed to do what I said I would do, and while on paper it's credited as a tie, in my eyes it's a personal loss, all brought about by a lousy mistake of letting my head get away from me.
That mistake I won't repeat. To my fans, I'll deliver what they want to see. All the bickering and wars with words over the past months will finally end. My goal for the Superbowl of Wrestling is simple: to defeat John Doe, at any cost. Even if it means being beaten by Hindustani... even if it means putting my physical condition to risk, I will be the man to throw Doe from the ring, proving once and for all what I've been saying from the beginning...
And I won't say it anymore. This one time, I'm leaving out all that crap about what it means to be a wrestler then, now, and later, and who we are and what we're doing in today's world. I leave behind the past in hopes of attaining a future in which the world knows that I am above John Doe on mental and physical levels. I ignore my every failing, clearing my conscience fully in preperation for this one match.
I'll walk into that ring without ego or hype or promises... nothing but a single goal in mind, to throw John Doe out of that ring.
(Rocko pauses for a moment as he takes a moment to stretch his back and crack his knuckles. His eyes drift off into a space somewhere off camera as he speaks directly to his opponent.)
You blatantly said that you are better than me. You claimed this to be a fact. On top of that, you said that there are reasons to support this "fact".
So answer me this, John...
What are these mysterious "reasons" you speak of? What is it that makes you so certain you are above me?
Do you think it lies in the SoCal Rumble? One event, and suddenly you're better than me?
You came in before me and you were eliminated after me, yes... but you forget that anything can happen in a rumble. I came in last purely by chance. If I had come in before you, do you think the outcome would have been the exact same? Maybe I could have eliminated Felix Red before you came into the ring... maybe you wouldn't have had that shining moment of opportunity in which to assist in my elimination... who knows what would have happened, but I hardly doubt that circumstances brought about by the complete randomness of our entering the match hardly has anything to do with how we compare in talent.
You seem to forget a few things about yourself in that match... something I noticed after watching the video again.
For starters, the only time you gain an advantage over anybody is when you go after them while they are otherwise occupied with or distracted by someone else. The minute you hit the ring, you clipped Adam Benjamin while he wasn't looking and laughed at him as he lay there on the mat. I wouldn't have allowed you to get anywhere near me while I was in the process of handling Felix Red if I hadn't already been dealing with him. You spent a lot of time in that ring, but during that time you only eliminated one person by yourself. You might have been eliminated after me, but you were eliminated by one man; it took two to get me out of the ring.
Perhaps you and Hindustani should consider teaming up.
To make my point, John, you shouldn't define your level of expertise based on the lopsided outcome of a single match, and a rumble at that, where anything can happen to anyone. As it stands, I don't think you have much support for your alleged "fact."
So what else do you think sets you above me? Is it that respect you mentioned? Do you think that by bringing me into this match you'd be doing me an "honor" for someone of my caliber? If that's the case, then you couldn't give me any greater insult.
What the hell do you know about respect, John? Rewind to Guerra Interminable, my WFW debut. Before the ink on my contract even had time to dry, you were flapping your gums about me, calling me an overhyped coward, mentioning all of my involvements in other federations such as NWL and EPW. The moment I came to WFW, you started talking **** about me, and here I didn't even know who the **** you were.
A year later, you finally think you can outdo me in respect by bringing out these moronic stipulations, arguing that it's the kind of match that requires two men to put their lives on the line. You think that I'm "that kind of man", and by your ideology that serves and paying me respect.
You know how you show respect to a veteran wrestler, John? You don't drag him into a tacky gimmick match. That might be your way of settling disputes--the way of a coward--but I fight the way of the warrior, and expect to be competed against as such. Raising the ring over the floor... yeah, it's sure to be a real crowd pleaser. But a true professional wrestler doesn't reduce himself to taking high-risks just to gain the admiration of the fans and whatever it is that you think is respect from the other wrestlers backstage.
A true professional wrestler goes into that ring and does his job... and if he does it well enough, he earns all the admiration and respect necessary to ascend the ladder of greatness.
You show me no respect by assuming I'm the kind of amateur act that thinks taking a life-threatening dive is somehow meaningful. If you wanted to respect me, John, you should have just left this as a true match to test our wits against each other. Hell, you should have made it Last Man Standing... or a straight-up back-alley brawl, if you think you've got the balls to fight me in a match of my element. No gimmicks or risks... just two men with only their wits and their fists to use against each other.
Let the glory go to the man who stands bruised, battered, and broken over the fallen, rather than to the man who inexplicably gets lucky enough to throw his opponent out of the ring with a well-timed back-body drop.
But if it's your choice, John, then I can't argue it. As I said, I'm no longer concerned about who is as what level, or who is higher than the other. For one night, I'll be "that kind of man", who takes the death-defying risks and puts his life on the line without a qualm. If it means beating you, then I'll do it. I'll show this federation that I can beat you in a match of your own design, giving you a broken ego to go along with your likewise broken body.
It looks to me, John, that you've run out of support for your so-called "fact"... so why don't we just drop the same old bull**** routine you've been feeding for the past year or so...
(Daymon looks directly into the camera, head tilted down so that his eyes peer out from under his brown in traditional Kubrick fashion. His gaze pierces right through the viewer. His anger noticable swells.)
You sit there and say, straight-faced... that I stain your name through the crap excreted from my lips. Once again, Doe, your delusions set in and you take it to the airwaves, gerrymandering around the truth in some failed attempt to make yourself walk away smelling clean.
You know full well that I've been saying that about you this entire time... but all of a sudden, a year later, you're saying it about me.
I'd almost think you practically ripped off the lines I've been giving you for the past twelve months, about you dragging my name through the mud everywhere you go. You and your idiotic family. You think I attacked Carlee Marx over nothing? Then enlighten me as to why she kept mentioning that "loser husband" of Caitlyn Daymon's in nearly every one of her promos in NEW. You think I attack your name? What I say about you is no different than what the rest of the world is saying; apparently, you've already forgotten what Tact, Benjamin, Cruise, and everybody else said about you at Road to Glory. Everybody in this fed says the exact same thing about you, but you only choose to hear it from me, the one guy you think is wrong about everything...
Fact of the matter is, Doe, you cast the first stone, attacking MY name in typical amateur design in my first match in WFW, back in Guerra Interminable. Before that, the two of us had never been in the same ring together, and suddenly you thought you were in a place to say anything you wanted about me.
(Fists clenched over his knees, Rocko's upper lip pulls back into a menacing sneer. His eyes look almost as though they are on fire. His body tremors as his rage bellows up inside him, hardly able to be controlled.)
And now, after all these months of taking unprovoked **** from you in neary every fed where you have any influence...
the... BALLS to accuse me of attacking your name over nothing!!
(All at once, Daymon closes his eyes and takes in a deep breath. He comes off the stool and turns away for a moment, hands on his hips while he recollects himself. He continues to speak, facing the backdrop.)
Guess what, John; that's where I draw the ****ing line.
I'm tired of your bull****.
I'm tired of your ego.
I'm tired of your sick gimmicks and delusional Holy Grail quest to bring me down.
I'm tired of you accusing me of being everything I'm not.
I'm tired of you being everything you accuse me of being.
I'm tired of you picking me apart over nothing.
I'm tired of you overlooking every one of your flaws.
I'm tired of your jerk-off underdog persona you carry around like a chip on your shoulder.
I'm tired of your meaningless potshots across the other federations.
I'm tired of waiting... waiting for the one ****ing moment, the snap second that's all I NEED to tear you to pieces in the ring for everyone to see.
I'm tired of waiting to settle this score.
Most of all, John Doe... I'm tired of you.
(Daymon slowly turns back to the camera, his head still tilted low so that his eyes burn straight into the camera. He approaches slowly, voice very low and grave.)
Can you beat me, John? A few months ago, that might have been the question you were asking yourself. But that doesn't apply to know.
Forget any thoughts of beating me, John. The only question you should be asking yourself now is, can I SURVIVE Rocko Daymon?
At the Superbowl of Wrestling, I will once and for all put an END to everything about you that makes me sick to my stomach. I will cast you out of that ring. Then I will follow you out, and proceed to beat the living **** out of you until you are either incapable of walking, talking, or breathing from that moment on until the rest of your days...
To you, John, it's the biggest match of the year... but for me, right now, it's the only match.
To you, John, this is all destiny and death.
But to me, John, this is about settling the matter once and for all, putting your mouth into early retirement by force, and making up for the past twelve months of HELL you've dragged me into by making you burn and writhe with pain!
You made it personal, John.
All that buys you is a little more pain than most.
(Like a stalking lion, Daymon turns away from the camera...)
(In the blink of an eye, he snaps like a viper with lightning-fast reflexes, his arm, a subliminal blur, plucks the stool from its place in front of the backdrop and in one fluid motion brings it smashing into the camera. We hear metal crunch and glass shatter as the image goes to static.)
(We fade into silence, in the darkened interior of an empty arena. The sound of something dripping can be heard echoing through the cavernous interior. In the middle of the floor is a growing pool of red liquid, rippling every few seconds as something drops into its center. The camera cranes upward until it finds a ring suspended above the floor by chains supporting the turnbuckles.)
(In the middle of the ring lies the imitation of a corpse lying in a pool of its own blood, so thick that it seeps through the mat and drips to the floor below. The fallen lies suspended in the ring for all to see; not on the outside as one would typically expect to find the loser. He has been left here, the match left inconclusive, to bleed out fully. Surrounding him is Daymon's looping V logo.)
(A graphic appears on the bottom of the screen, reading Device of Death. A moment later, the word "Death" is scratched out with a red streak and "Daymon" is scrawled over its place in the same coloring. Next to it is a timer, counting down the final hours until the Superbowl of Wrestling.)
The arena as the test the Device of Death. The ring is risen to the 25 foot limit. The ring sways as it is hoisted. Doe nods his head as he looks at it and looks at the height. A fall that would kill a man if landed wrong. He turns and sees the camera, Rocko Daymon on the titan tron behind him.
“Finally, my enemy has responded to his threat. My enemy has shown his hatred to me and I must respond. Not because I want to Rock, because they have forced me to come on air. And because of that I will speak my mind to you Rock. It was I who chose you to face, I want you to remember that Rock at all times, I chose you, I chose you because I want this to end at the biggest stage of them all.”
“Where better than the Super Bowl of Wrestling. It was I who signed the original paper work, it was I who designed the match, it was I who said day after day for you as the opponent, not some fool such as the new comer who was entered into the match. I want you think of that Rock as you rant your hatred to me.”
“You want to talk about the Rumble Rock? Let us speak on that topic. You want to call me a sneaky bastard for helping out in the elimination of you? So be it, you would have done the same if it was me on the other end, don’t deny it. Seek the opportunity Rock, you have to get the job done, Felix was going over, you had to leave, you opposed the biggest threat. Is it so wrong that I wanted the title as bad as you did? Or is there a chip on your shoulder because I bumped you out of another chance of glory, me your biggest foe to help in your defeat.”
“You are infuriated at the fact it was Felix and me to have tossed you out, you already have your heart blackened by me, it only drove you more over the edge. Face the music, It wasn’t a sneak attack Rock, it wasn’t any of that, it was I acting on a chance to become number one. Did I outlast you? Yes I did. I have the right to boast that, I have every right to say I outlasted Rocko Daymon, you’re just pissed off that I did. So, you piss on my name in order to get your own self esteem to a proper level.”
“As for the Adam Benjamin situation. Like I said, when opportunity calls you have to answer. You think I was going to tap him on the shoulder and say ‘Well now turn around so I can clip you’. No rock, if he is so great he would know that in a Rumble you must be prepared at all times. Anything can happen Rock in a rumble. As for your little talk of you having two men to eliminate you, no one gives a f*ck. You still failed as I did.”
“I find you slowly sucking into your anger Rock. That will be your undoing. You are so caught up in John Doe this John Doe that, you have sunken and drowned yourself in my name you are building me up to a greater level. Disagree? Perhaps you will, fact is Rock you can’t handle the fact I am on an equal level as you a ‘veteran wrestler’. You are soaking in your own sun trying to figure how you fell. You were an esteemed wrestler, granted at a time you were a great. That time has passed Rock. Look where the spotlight is shinning.”
“And it angers you. Truth is Rock, I KNOW I am the better wrestler, it’s a fact. I know it, the fans know it, and deep down inside of your gut you know it as well. But it’s the guilt and pride that holds you from admitting the truth. Your hatred is jealousy. My hatred is legit. I have reasons for my hatred for my name dropping.”
”As for when you signed your contract I will admit. I feared you Rock, I saw what you have done to men in the ring. I sh*tted on your name. Once I wrestled you I walked to the back and chuckled. I chuckled after I saw you were NOT as good as you hype yourself up to be. You were never as good as you hype yourself to be, and never will.”
“You talk about this about that. You fear this match because we both know it can end a career. You call it a tacky stipulation, because you are afraid of losing at my game. That’s a fact. We have stepped out of your field and entered mine and it is putting the fear of God inside of you Rock. I didn’t do this to gain ticket sale, although the heads ate it up. I didn’t do it for the fans. I did it to end this once and for all, may it be the end of careers it shall be done Rock. You will end me, or I will end you. This is the final solution. We both know that”
"You call yourself a warrior Rock, I will give you that. You are a warrior you always have fought to the end. But Rock the question is, do you want it more than me? And are you so certain you want a victory more than me? I will call it on the limb and say no. Because I feed off the energy you produce, I inhale it and I use it for myself. I look at the hatred you display and I smile upon it because I know it is close to the end. And because I know it is, I shall come out with arms swinging, eyes blazing, soul burning for a win.”
“Rock, don’t come finding an answer for Carlee’s actions, ask Jonathan Marx about it, they are related. I think it was low for you to attack a female whom was not in conflict with you as we are. But that’s how Rock is nowadays isn’t it? A low standard wrestler whom feeds off the weak. That’s why I am going to stop it here at the Super Bowl of Wrestling. It’s my personal vendetta, my way to prove it and shut you up for good Rock.”
“Here’s what I will say straight faced Rock, I have faced you once, I am still standing, I faced your twice, I still walk, I faced you at the rumble, I still breath. You haven’t shown me you can break me, you haven’t shown you can put me out. The Karma can be felt around us Rock, it’s my turn to show you what survival is truly about. I have survived all odds even when YOU the VETERAN doubted me.”
“Isn’t that common of you though. I wouldn’t expect anything less of you but to frequently drop me Rock. You to tell me of the ways you want to manhandle me but have failed at it in the past. Not that I am saying I am perfect, I reside where you are. I never put you out, I admit it. I never have, people change, you have changed for the worse. Me? I have changed for the better of myself, and the company. I am a company man.”
“You take leave to **** your wife. I have no ties, I focus on this business. F*cking gives you weak knees Rock. I am a pure wrestler I dedicate my life and soul to this industry. I don’t con out like you do, have, and will do”
"Want to argue your con outs? You blame me for your defaults. On how you are tired of this, tired of that, you are tired of this industry is what it is Rock. But if you want to talk about what you are tired of? Let me rephrase what you said Rock with the TRUTH.”
You’re tired of being held down by your own mistakes
You’re tired of you falling short of a self standard.
You’re tired of me always being right.
You’re tired of not being able to defeat me.
You’re tired of me constantly showing you the truth .
You’re tired of not being able to succeed.
You’re tired of not accomplishing a self set goal.
You’re tired of hoping from promotion to promotion for a successful run.
You’re tired of not being able to prove your worth.
You’re tired of facing me without any for certain chance of winning even with your numerous amount of ring talent.
“You said it yourself you want this to end what makes you sick to your stomach. Rock, it’s not me who makes you sick…it’s YOU who makes YOU sick. You sicken yourself and point the finger at me, a man who has risen. You find me as a scapegoat for your errors. Not tonight Rock, not tomorrow, not ever again.”
“I didn’t drag you into this hell Rock. I looked at you I saw a man who opposed a threat, you looked at me and saw fresh rookie meat. You went toe to toe and you ALMOSTFAILED in your quest to defeat me. Twelve months have passed Rock, what do you have to show? If I didn’t request this match you would have turned your back and walked away from me like nothing happened Rock. The fans know our conflict, they know what the truth really is.”
“A washed up wrestler who seeks to prove his worth against a rookie has the skills, the ability and the heart to defeat. And that my friend, that is why I will overcome you once and for all.”
“See you on your way down to the floor Rock. Just remember you dug your own grave.”
(A darkened arena. A ring, suspended in air by four chains, illuminated with numerous spotlights. A man in the middle, in boots, gloves, pads, and cut-off jeans. Rocko Daymon stands in his wrestling gear, the camera slowly circling around him. He stands in a meditative state with his eyes closed. Playing in the background is "You Know What You Are" by Nine Inch Nails.)
Remember where you came from...
Remember who you are...
Remember where you came from...
Remember who you are!
DON'T YOU ****ING KNOW WHAT YOU ARE!?
(Daymon's eyes suddenly snap open as the music ends. He looks directly into the camera.)
Only a short time now... and I'll be in this ring with two other men. One represents nothing more than a distraction... a factor that I'll deal with systematically in order to make sure he doesn't stand in the way of my goal. The other... is John Doe.
Superbowl of Wrestling marks more than just the closing of a feud. In two days, I'll be 29. That's almost 30. It seems that once you become a trigenarian, people start assuming you're too old for the business. They see you as nothing more than dead weight in the way of the new blood.
John Doe seems to think this is the ultimatum for us both... that one of our careers--or perhaps our very lives--will end with this match. By this logic, my seven years of wrestling would verily end by falling 25 feet from a ring... thrown out by John Doe.
I spent a lot of time doing everything I could possibly do to get to this point. I've made mistakes, and I've corrected them... I've tasted fame and failure... I've won titles and lost them... and through it all, through thick and thin, I've promised myself that I would never give up... I would never walk away satisfied.
And now, according to John Doe, I come to a point where it would all come to an end, all in the name of a feud that I didn't even want to begin with.
I am a ****ing professional wrestling veteran... but would I allow it to end now, even as I creep on the age of 30?
Do you think I would let John Doe throw it all away?
(Daymon closes his eyes and looks away.)
**** you, Doe. **** your feud. **** this match.
To you, this is the culimination of everything you've worked for in your entire career... to me, it's just another Pay Per View, and you're nothing more than another opponent.
I've had feuds... I've had dangerous matches... I've had incidents where my life was on the line... and you know what? You're nothing new to me, John.
Yeah, you might be the one man on my mind right now... but if you think this is going to be the end of my career, you've got another thing coming. Too many times, I've been in this situation... and every time, I walk away with the last word.
You dragged me into this, John. This is YOUR FEUD, and now I'm going to finish it.
A year ago, because of your fear, you made the mistake of talking trash. I made the mistake of not taking you seriously then, and because of that, your warped ego has progressively led you to believe that you're in some way superior to me.
You chuckled because you thought you got the true picture of me... but all that you saw in the ring then was a man who didn't have his heart set on defeating you. What can I say, John? I thought you were a mere fly on my back then. I was in a match I really didn't want to be a part of. And yet somehow, you think that in those few minutes we spent in the ring, you learned everything you ever needed to know about Rocko Daymon.
That's something that makes ME chuckle, John. Where I once underestimated you, you are now underestimating ME!
You seem amused at my anger... you seem to think that it somehow fuels the fire within you. I think your spouting off a little more of that typical John Doe bull****. You want to know the truth, John? Yeah, you've pissed me off. You could go as far as to say you've successfully gotten under my skin.
How does that make you feel? Does it bring a smile to your face? Does it bring a boost to your confidence, knowing that for ONCE IN YOUR CAREER, all that bragging and trash-talking and mental masturbation finally paid off, and you finally have an esteemed man's complete and undivided attention?
You might think that gives you some sort of advantage... when in fact, you'll quickly find that it's only going to work against you. Tell me how you'll feed off my rage, John. Tell me how you're going to have the edge when the opponent you thought you knew so well knocks you on your ass because he no longer shows the same apathy he gave you in your previous encounters.
You can run from the bull when he doesn't even care that you're there... but prod him in the ass a few times and piss him off, and we'll see how far you get before you get the horns up the ass.
Like I said, John... you made it personal, and for that you're only going to feel more pain than you normally would.
So wear that little smirk, thinking you've accomplished something in shaking up the hornet's nest. It will be all the more satisfying to slap it off your face the moment you realize you’ve bitten off more than you can chew.
You already show that you have no idea what you're up against. This rage... it's cold, it's focused. I eat and sleep and carry on with my day thinking of your demise, the final effort that will erase you from my life for once and for all. But you seem to think I'm jealous.
How can I be jealous of you, John? Do I envy the way you constantly contradict yourself? Do I wish I could spout out completely false, baseless “facts” without so much as batting an eye, like you? Do you honestly think I'd want to be the sort of guy you are, who inflates his own ego and undermines the talents and efforts of everybody else?
Jealousy, John? Nah, I'm far from it. My rage is spawned from irritation; twelve months worth. After Guerra Interminable, all I wanted to do was get on with my career. But you just HAD to come crawling back, hampering on and flapping your gums like the ****ing amateur you are. You just HAD to have this meaningless war, all for the simple purpose of proving someone wrong.
That's just the way you work, John. Like a leech, you find someone to latch onto. You suck them dry until they can't take it anymore, and you end up stealing some of that spotlight.
Don't get ahead of yourself, boy... that spotlight isn't on you just yet. The problem is, you WANT it to be, but you just don't know how to get it. So, you find someone to prey upon... someone like me, or Troy Douglas, or Jean Rabesque. You find someone with a lot of experience and notoriety, and you make a pointless attempt to TAKE everything they worked for.
I've busted my ass for too long, John, to lose my life’s work to a little **** like you!
There’s a reason why I have the spotlight, and why you’re tugging at my coattails in an attempt to get some for yourself. You're a coward, John; a bothersome little attention whore. You can't gain respect and notoriety on your own, so you have to act the parasite until people start giving you the attention you desire. You did the same **** to Rabesque in NEW, and it's no wonder why you're doing it to me in WFW. The truth is, John, that YOU are the jealous one; you see the spotlight on me, and because you don't have the ability to get it on your own, you have to crawl up my ass in an attempt to pilfer it away.
Once again, John... **** you. I'm not losing everything I worked for to a leech like you. Failure would not only be letting myself down, but also failing every other professional wrestler who is where he or she is because they go out there every night and earn every last bit of what they have!!
You can't be a better professional wrestler than me, John... because you don't even qualify as "professional".
Don't lie to yourself; you are the jealous one, and that pisses YOU off.
Who here has anger that is justified? Tell me that now.
You're problem, John, is that you're so damn jealous of me, that you THINK you're me.
Just look at everything you say... hell, your past two promos have been pretty much rehashed word for word everything that I told YOU in the months building up to this one match.
You are the one who did all the ****-talking from the very first day.
You are the one who sounds like the skpping record.
You are the one blinded by pride and envy.
You are the one who has failed to change, stand, and grow as a wrestler.
You are the one using ME as a scapegoat for your own errors.
You always have been these things... and chances are, you always will be.
These are facts... this is the truth... and unlike you, John, I'm going to back up that statement!
In every federation I compete in, I show excellence. That's true here, in EUWC, where I am a champion, in TEAM, and in NEW. You, however, show the same fear by picking fights you know you can never win, hoping that when you crawl away bruised and beaten, at least you'll be remembered as the guy who put up a fight, and you can carry that with you into your next diabolical plot.
Everywhere you wrestle, you're nothing more than a joke... a stupid gimmick gone horribly wrong. People backstage laugh behind your back. Fans cheer for you not because you're a talented competitor, but because you're too stupid for your own good.
You have to resort to taking potshots about me and my wife... little verbal low blows that have nothing to do with what will go on in the ring. Just like Carlee Marx over in NEW, running her lips over something she never suspected would come bite her in the ass. Do you think it was an act of preying upon the weak, John? Carlee Marx thought she could talk **** from the safety of another federation, thinking she could get away with it. So I proved her wrong... and you've got the balls to criticize me, for protecting my own honor.
It's like the age-old situation of the fat little spoiled brat torturing the dog by pulling on its tail and screaming in its ear, laughing like the little **** he is because he thinks he's immune to everything. Then when he gets bit for being a jackass, the dog gets put to sleep...
Who gives a **** if she's a woman... who cares if she's weaker than me... I don't discriminate. You slight me, you pay for it. It’s as simple as that. It’s the way I work!
Take this case, John. To me, you are weak, you are stupid, and you have no idea what you're getting into. But just because you're inferior to me, I won't hold anything back. You play with fire, you get burned. You **** with fire, you go straight to hell.
The point, John, is that I love my wife just as much as I love the ring... and to show you just how damn good of a professional wrestler I am, I'm going to show you that I can juggle both lives. I've going to kick your ass, in your match, and then I'm going to go home to Caitlyn's loving arms. You'll go home to nothing, because like you said... your life is that ring...
So what happens when everything you live for turns out to be nothing more than a farce? What happens once you realize that the man you thought you were turns out to be nothing close to your expectations?
Then your world comes crashing down... and you promptly follow. You fear that, John; I know you do. Losing this match will mean everything to you. To lose would mean that the past year of your life has been nothing more than a waste.
You won't get any pity from me, John... nor will you gain any from the other wrestlers, or the company, or the fans. This is YOUR grave, John, and YOU dug it YOURSELF.
So, do you think you want it more? I think you want nothing else in life, other than to see me beaten... and I think that's sad, because there isn't any way you can win. I think that your desires are blindly led by your own delusions; the very ones that make you think you're not you, but you're me.
You will be thrown from the ring and you will fall... and your dreams and hopes everything you've fought for will follow with you... because unlike you, I don't fight under the idea that the outcome of this match will be everything that has ever mattered...
I fight only to defeat you... to humble you... and possibly, to end the amateur wrestler known as John Doe for once and for all, not so much for myself, but for the company, the roster, and the industry as a whole. I fight to win because to allow myself to lose to YOU would be a sacrilege against everything considered holy in this sport.
You want to win only for yourself and your own self-centered goals... but I want to win, and everybody else wants me to win, because it's my ******* duty as a professional wrestler!!
I'm not the only one who's tired; this whole ****ing world is sick of you, John, and the sooner I put an end to you, the better it will be for us all.
No more of your bull****...
No more of your so-called "facts"...
No more of your delusional truth...
No more of your confusing me for yourself...
You are John Doe... a semi-talented mid-carder under the impression that he can fight with the big boys. You never won a title, you never beat a legend, and most importantly, you forget that NEVER IN YOUR ENTIRE CAREER DID YOU PIN THE SHOULDERS OF ROCKO ****ING DAYMON!!
I'm done ****ing around with you, John. This time, I'm fighting you with all the effort and focus I can muster--regardless of this match's third entrant. Forget thinking about those past matches; this is NOW, and that's all that's going to matter!
I'm ending it.
I'm ending it now, because I and the rest of the world with me are sick of putting up with John Doe.
I will go into that ring at the Superbowl of Wrestling… I will rise 25 feet into the air… I will defeat you in the very match you assumed I would fear, the one match you consider to be your “field”, and show this world I can stoop down to your illogical level and smite you.
There isn’t a damn thing you, or Hindustani, can say or do to stop me!
You can say all you want about how jealous I am of your talent…
You can assume I’m afraid for all I care…
Think what you will, John… convince yourself of whatever…
**** what you and the fans and the company think or know… there will be only one outcome of this match, and I will be victorious over you!
In this ring, I will define REAL TRUTH by throwing you to the floor and breaking every bone in your body!
I've been a wrestler for seven years... damn, it surprises me when I think of how many times I've brought up that fact, and how many times you seem to overlook that FACT. Seven years, and I'm still unsatisfied. I'm going to keep fighting after this match, after YOUR defeat! I'm going to see ten--hell, FIFTEEN years of experience, maybe even more!
One thing is for certain...
Rocko Daymon has been through all kinds of challenges and suffered all methods of punishment and torture in the ring. I've walked to hell and back, and I'd do it all again just to make this entire world realize that I am the MAN I claim to be!
Rocko Daymon doesn't end with John Doe. You're nothing more than another notch in my belt.
Step down, little man...
A true warrior is in your presence.
(A red filter suddenly covers the screen. “You Know What You Are?” by Nine Inch Nails restarts with its machine-gun drum rhythm as the camera pulls back. We fade to black, and Daymon’s looped V-logo appears on the screen. Below it reads, “Device of Death”, with “Death” again scratched out in red, and Daymon scrawled over it.)
Everything has been said before
There's nothing left to say anymore
When it's all the same
You can ask for it by name
Are you mother****ers ready
For the new ****?
Stand up and admit,
tomorrow's never coming.
This is the new ****.
Stand up and admit.
Do we get it? No.
Do we want it? Yeah.
This is the new ****,
Stand up and admit.
World Gym John doing preacher curls as he drops the weight and stares at the camera.
“And so it ends. Another day, another pay per view, another match. It ends here, and with that ending it had a beginning. The beginning of what is now being rumored as the greatest match in sports entertainment. This may be the end of an old era, the beginning of a new standard. But is that why I have dragged myself, and this man into this match? For ratings? For a chance to set the bar again? No. Rock is still tied up in what his heart is telling him, he is still caught in his own mental delusions of success with no means of pin point proof of success.”
“Rock, I want you to do what I have done. I want you to sit down and clear your mind, think of everything that has been said. Think about what you are about to enter, think of every possible aspect of this match. No excuses Rock, no past glory involved. Sit back and ask yourself if you can beat me.”
“You have asked yourself that before haven’t you Rock? You have pondered on the fact if you can put me out. You lie uncertain in your mind if you can defeat me. But you still come out and rant about how you will kick my ass. Rock, I have come out telling you what is wrong with you, your flaws, and why I CAN and WILL defeat you. You haven’t shown any of that.”
“No concrete evidence. Nothing.”
“Is this the end of Rocko Daymon as we know it? That’s what I wonder Rock. My words have taken full effect of you mentally. You are under my spell. You have fallen for my trick. And it consumes you. Let us not forget the best way to defeat an enemy is mentally. And I have succeed in that Rock. You admitted it yourself.”
“You are mentally unsure of everything. My constant harassing and jaw jacking has taken you so low mentally it’s driving you insane like a splinter in your mind. And because of that Rock the battle is already won. Doubt me? All great battles were won by mental strategy.”
“Like I said, this battle ended before it started. You know it, I know it, the fans know it. You clinch your fists in anger prepared to rip someone’s head off. that’s right Rock, that’s how I want you to be full of anger, full of hate. That’s where you will become sloppy and I will make my counter. I have done it before. Your anger will consume you and you will make your flaws more visible.”
“And with that anger filling, day by day you become more like me. You become more my servant as my words eat you from the inside out. I shook the hornets nest? They only accomplish a mission if working as a unit. You are so shaking up, so mentally insecure your hornets are as jumbled as you are Rock. I have done nothing more then drag you to a mental state where you are confused and hurting from the inside.”
“This war? This war is not a means of proving anything Rock. It’s a mean of exposing you to the reality that you are not the great star you believe yourself to be. This war is MY war. This war is MY design, my mental chess, you are in my world, playing by my rules, with the mastermind as the enemy. I have dragged you into this Rock, I have forced you to face me, I made you hate me, I WANT YOU TO HATE ME!”
“Everything that has happen has conspired under my supervision. I researched, I pressed all the buttons that made you tick until you went off like a time bomb. I made sure I drove you into madness. And I have succeeded. You have become unknown to yourself as I am.”
“You aren’t losing everything to me Rock? But you already have. You have lost your pride, your skill, your talent, everything you have worked so hard for has went down the drain the minute I broke you down. Now, instead of training, and preparing for a match you have focused on me. I have been working out running, becoming a perfect athlete of this match. You have been in your house crying to your mind that you fear me in the ring”
“You fear the end of career. Because you don’t know where else to turn to Rock.”
“Excellence is only as excellent as others see it Rock. I see nothing. I see you falling in a deeper rabbit hole wanting to exit so quickly you can’t grasp the focus. You never wrestled in NEW, you never shown excellence there. In EUWC? Those are pushovers Rock, you are lucky we didn’t end up on the same show, I see no threat to you on that show. Hell, I was giving a title shot there with in days of me entering the federation Rock…with in days. With in months I will be the World Heavyweight Champion. But this isn’t EUWC, this is WFW. Talk about your walk out of EPW?”
"Truth is Rock, i don't need a title to prove my worth. I prove it every time I enter the ring Rock. Titles are under rated. Just...like..you. If every person was judge by title nobody would be great. A champion is as great as the people see him. If had the title, i would be the same wrestler, no changes. A title changes a man from the inside, it changes his heart. For the worse or the better. It doesn't change your in ring abilty"
"I never defeated anyone great Rocko? I will challenge that. Here in WFW you are correct I never defeated any greats. Outside of here, don't be so sure. I put Jared Wells down for 3, Troy Douglas down for 3, Rock, your another name to be added to my 'To-Do' list."
"I am not just a nobodie. If i was, why such effort on just me Rock. You truly have lost your mind. If I am nobody, then it would just be dust in teh air. No, it's skin deep Rock, I am picking your brain apart."
"This match is not just for any thing Rock. This is your chance to prove that what you say isn't a bunch of bullsh*t. This is your chance to prove your point. But don't be so d*mn cocky and underestimate me Rock. I haven't done that when I picked you for this match. I had the whole roster to choose from Rock. I personally picked you."
“It is undeniable Rock, you want my head on a stick so bad you can almost taste the blood. It’s not happening, it won’t happening. I have more than you in the ring, more than you out of the ring. I have spent my time in the ring , I have studied all exits all possible scenarios and I have prayed for the best Rock, I have prepared for the worst.”
“Unlike you Rock who has one focus, to rip my arms from their sockets. That’s your main goal, you haven’t looked at every single aspect of this match or ME. I have, I have sensed your failures and your weaknesses, I shall attack those and attack you to a point where you have no clue what to do with yourself.”
“I dug my own grave? Have I Rock? Or is it you are so caught in your little world that you somehow believe you can put me over that top rope to the floor. You are nothing you claim to be, you are nothing you say to be, you are a LIAR.”
“You have lied to everyone about putting me out, you have lied to everyone by saying you are better. You don’t know truth from lies anymore Rock, you are so deep in your own sin you can’t tell who you are anymore. And because of that factor I will do what I do best….win. I will win, I will defeat you, and I WILL prove my point.”
“You have been in this industry seven years Rock, you are still unsatisfied as you stated. Do you know why? Because of your failure in the industry. It’s a fact, you are sick of it you want to vomit. Now the biggest threat of your career stands in front of you and it’s eating away at you so bad you can’t believe you had seven years to make yourself a great. But you didn’t Rock, you never attempted to bring yourself to an outstanding level you just let yourself fall so far until someone opened your eyes.”
“No thanks required”
“Your crusade to end the world of Doe, ENDS HERE. It’s going to be out to a close, this chapter, this book will end here and only here. After this I never want to hear my name spewed from your lips, after this you have no excuse when I DO defeat you. When they hull you out on the stretcher look up at me and remember that face, remember who tolled you your failures. And once you see that I was right, go back home and sob. Then return to WFW a new man.”
“After this, there will be no more Rock vs. Doe. After this there will be one name that stands above all other names, it’s mine.”
The scene is now the locker room of Gillette Stadium. Instead of the traditional football equipment one would see in a, well, football locker room, we find Hindustani, sitting on a bench, his bag in a locker. In his hand happens to be a bamboo stick. On the ground next to him is the Indian Flag, the Tiranga. Suddenly, he whacks the locker with his stick; the door shatters.
"Pain. That's what I will bring to this match. John Doe, with his device of death, has given me this opportunity to inflict PAIN."
"Oh foolish man! You set up a match, twenty five feet in the air. Reality check. We're wrestling inside an outdoor stadium. Has it gotten to your head yet? It will be cold. Colder than you can dream. This weather is the reason why the Colts dread coming to New England during the playoffs. This weather will prove your doom."
"Why? How many times have you wrestled outdoors Doe? Probably only a handful of times. It is different from indoor wrestling. The elements are important. And those times you probably wrestled outside were in the Summer. Warm weather. The opposite of what we're recieving tonight. It's cold out there. Freezing. We go out there, and we will wrestle in fourty degree weather--good luck if you've never done it. I have."
"What, do you think of India as a summer paradise? If so, it's time for a lesson. India is a diverse land. It's home to year round hotspots, yet it is home to the below freezing, snowy summits of the Himalayas. In the capital, where I'm from, the fog is so thick, and the wind blows so fiercely, that it is hard to live there in the winter time. I've done more than live there. I've wrestled there."
"Yes John, in that weather, I've fought, and I've come out on top. Tonight, however, it will be harder. Twenty five feet higher, it will be a whole different ball game. The wind will be fiercer. The atmosphere colder. It shall be quite difficult. Best of luck. I hope you don't die when I toss you over the edge."
"Now, I've listened to both of you, rant on about your feud, and your issues with each other. Fine; that seems to be the only thing on your mind. But let me make some things clear to both of you. I'm not just a small digit in the whole equation. You can't just brush me off, wish me luck in future matches, and forget about me. That's not going to happen tonight."
"I'm here in this match for one reason only. To bring respect to me and my country. I've NOT come here to be a disregarded item in a three way match. Daymon, by speaking as you did, you have added fuel to an already raging inferno. It is set to devour you and Doe. I believe in myself, and my ability to come out on top. If I didn't, I wouldn't be here, thousands of miles away from my motherland, about to perform in front of thousands of people"
"And mark my words. I will do more than perform. I will excel. The odds are stacked against me. I am the underdog of this match. Just like the Patriots were the first time they came here for the playoffs. I take inspiration from their victory. Tonight, India will walk out triumphant!"
With that, Hindustani leaves the locker room, as the Superbowl of Wrestling goes to a commercial break.
FWrestling.com was founded in 1994 to promote a community of fantasy wrestling fans and leagues. Since then, we've hosted dozens of leagues and special events, and thousands of users. Come join and prove you're "Even Better Than The Real Thing."
Add Your League
If you want to help grow the community of fantasy wrestling creators, consider hosting your league here on FW. You gain access to message boards, Discord, your own web space and the ability to post pages here on FW. To discuss, message "Chad" here on FW Central.