"A win's a win."
That is what I had to remind myself after K2S. After Clyde decided that he wanted a share of my meal. that he wanted to show that he isn't just in my shadow but that he deserves to be seen as equal to me and take some of my shine. Swoop in and collect on the scraps that I have left by locking in a crossface and getting a share of the victory. A taste of what it's like to be an alpha. To be at the head of any table. I hope you enjoyed that taste Clyde because you know that this isn't finished between us. That you still aren't going to be rising out of my shadow just because you were able to slide in and collect on what I had already set up. That you are nothing more than the man who gets an "A" on the group project even though they did nothing to contribute to it.
A win is a win though, so I'm not going to deny you that. It's on me. I should have made sure you had no chance to sneak in. I should have taken you out first then dealt with Kenny but I let myself slip. I got tunnel vision and thought you'd have more honor than to try and steal my bread. Instead, you proved you are just a snake. Lying in the grass and waiting for others to do your dirty work for you.
I did that.
Next time we step into that ring together, I promise you I'm not going to let you walk. I'm not going to give you even a single second to breathe. to fight and try and prove yourself. Try to show that you are somebody. That you belong in the ring, because I'm making sure everybody knows I am the alpha dog. I am the man who everybody's eyes should be on and the one who will stand at the top of the mountain. Alone whilst you lay at my feet like everybody else. The world will see with their own eyes that when it comes to you and I, there is only one of us capable of holding the torch. One of us who is able to go into that ring, night in and night out, and prove they are the standard. That they are the one everybody else has to match.
It's not you.
You aren't that guy. You don't have what it takes to step into that ring and look not just your opponent, but also the fans in the eyes. Show them that you can hold the weight on your shoulders and carry it. Exceed it. I can. I do it each and every time I step between those ropes, no matter who is thrown in front of me. Just go back and watch the tape. Go watch the match with Knox. The match with Andy and Max and the match at K2S. You'll see that I'm right and that for you, there's no way you can deny it.
When I look at you, I see somebody desperate to be seen as a star. As a fighter yet you have no idea how to actually fight. How to break free from the streets and stand on your own. I see a man who is scared to admit he's unable to finish the job he set out to do unless somebody holds his hand and does the heavy work so he can collect on what's left. That may have worked for you at K2S. It may have gotten you what you wanted there, but just know... it's not going to work next time you and I are in that ring. Whether it is just the two of us or if there is another party at the table. That's for when that time comes though.
When it does, just know you won't be fooling anyone.
For now though, it's onto the next one. The next man who has been thrown my way, in the hopes of slowing me down. Of finding somebody who can step into that ring and at least try to stop me. Try and block me from getting to where I want to be, even if they'll simply end up like everybody else who has tried to step up. Thought that they could swing at the king, only to learn they aren't up to par. they aren't on the level they thought they were and are simply slabs of meat. Waiting to be devoured by the lion. Ripped apart and left to be scraped up from the mat before being stuffed into a body bag. Michael Hunter. I don't know a lot about you, Michael. I don't care to know much about you, either, as none of that outside shit. None of that history or what you have achieved bothers me.
All I'm focused on is the fact you are the one who is going to be opposite the ring to me at Mayhem. the man who has the unfortunate honor of having to step into the ring with a man who isn't just hungrier than ever. A man who doesn't just have a point to prove not just to everybody else in the back or Clyde, but also to those who want to keep sleeping. Who aren't ready to wake up and see what is smacking them right in the face. Staring right into their eyes and waiting for them to acknowledge it. To tell the truth to not just those around them, but to themselves too. J
This is the worst position you could find yourself in.
It's not your fault. I'm sure you didn't want to be put in this position. I'm sure you would rather be facing anybody else this upcoming Mayhem, but instead you got me. You got the man who has been a freight train. A tornado who has no signs of stopping until it has left everybody in its wake as carnage. Strewn on the mountain at my feet. You are just the next person who is going to be swept up in the storm. Cast aside and left to drown in the ocean once you realize your blueprints. Your supposed abilities and talents just aren't going to be good enough.
That you're nothing.
You're always going to be nothing. You can try all you want to tell everybody you're this big, bad wrestler who has cut his teeth and earned everything that has come to him, yet every time it comes to you to prove it. To actually make your words mean anything, you fall flat on your face. You leave with your tail tucked between your legs and wondering where you went wrong. What you did that led to your failure. I've seen it every time I've watched your tape. The matches you've been in since I walked into the IIW and even before.
It's shown me that you're a wannabe.
You want to be the blueprint. You want to be the symbol of power. The top dog who can break through brick walls yet in reality, you end up ramming your face into the wall. Knocking yourself out and being left behind as the stars take the stage. As the top dogs use you as nothing more than another stepping stone to the top. Another speed bump on the road to greatness and the spotlight. Another message to be sent to everybody watching. The seat keeps getting warmer for me at the top and Mayhem is just another step toward making it mine.
Another victim.
Don't worry though, I'll make it as painless as possible so that you can go home and reevaluate where you truly stand. Ponder whether or not this business is truly where you want to be.
The scene opens to a high school gym on the outskirts of Saint Louis, Missouri. There are oaken bleachers sit up on either side of the basketball court, with ten feet hoops on either end of the court, as well as a logo of a Crimson "R" at center court as well as on either wing. Blue canvas mats line the walls and a white banner with "Roosevelt High School" written in crimson font hanging down from the ceiling. Normally, there would be students in this gym, either practicing their shot for basketball or partaking in the multitude of classes that take place within the gym. Both inside and outside of school hours. Right now, however, the gym is vacant aside from one man sitting on the third row of the bleachers. Staring downward at the court. That man is Deandre. Attired in a white Nike t-shirt with black trimming and the swoosh on the right breast, black shorts and red/black Nike sneakers with the swoosh on the tongue. A stoic look upon his face, he continues to look down at the court, absorbing everything around him.
Deandre: I'm not going to front. We all know that I had Kenny beat. That I had him crying and hoping that his father would slide into the ring and save him before his ankle was broken and he wouldn't be able to stand. He knew that the lights were shining on him and that when I told him that he would be trending for the wrong reasons and that he wouldn't be able to stand on his own. That all he was, was somebody residing in his father's shadow, but of course Clyde couldn't have that. He couldn't fall into line and realize that no matter what. No matter if we're supposedly intertwined with one another, I am simply the superior one of us. That he will always be living in my shadow and thought he would take some of my food. He would take some of my shine.
Deandre's eyes narrow as a scowl appears across his face.
Deandre: Deep down, he knows that it was the only way people would pay attention to him. That they would see his name as more than just the footnote that it is. Show that he is more than just a wannabe gangster, yet only putting himself even more into my crosshairs. Lock himself into my line of sight for when we inevitably step into the ring again. When we get the chance to go out there and settle this once and for all. When I expose him for what he truly is behind the rapping and the false self-belief.
You do not take food off my plate.
You do not get to benefit at my expense without me ripping you to shreds. Leaving you on the ground, just like the gazelle you are. Don't worry, your time will come, Clyde. We both know that that match solved nothing. It didn't definitively prove anything more than you and I being locked together. That when they look at me, they compare us. Same as when they look at you... expect we both know it isn't even a comparison. You can talk about how you got the win. How it was you who made Kenny tap, but I think you know he was tapping anyway. That he wasn't escaping my grip. Don't worry, I promise that next time, you will see for certain that you're not worth anything. That your little story. Your flows are veering off course and your keys are off.
That this is simply your fifteen minutes of fame.
Just like those fifteen minutes, your time will lapse, and you will be seen for what you are. A sheep in wolf's clothing, pretending that he can climb the mountain. That he can match up and be the one to knock me down. In reality, there are bigger men. Tougher men, both in the ring and on the field who hold the same thoughts. Believe that they can do the same thing, yet none of them have succeeded. None of them will succeed as long as I'm the one standing opposite of them. It didn't matter in high school; it didn't matter in college and it sure as fuck doesn't matter now that I'm in the spotlight. That I'm on a stage bigger than anything most people could dream of. A spotlight where I thrive and you simply wilt.
Bringing his right forearm in front of his chest, Deandre taps his wrist with his left hand, as if he was wearing a watch before placing his hands back by his side.
Deandre: Enjoy the time you have in the light though, because for now, you're not the man I'm going after. You're not the one being hunted and can run free. Letting people know that you evaded me for now. Breathe a sigh of relief knowing that I am not standing in front of you, prepared to steamroll you and toss you to the curb without even thinking about it. Something that will befall Michael Hunter when he takes his turn and steps into my path at Mayhem.
Deandre smiles.
Deandre: A man who considers himself the Blueprint. An example of what a wrestler should look like, yet doesn't understand that looks mean nothing if you can't put in the work. If you fall flat on your face every time you step into that ring and have even just one person staring at you. Hoping that someday, you will come out and prove the world wrong about you, only to learn that you can't even do something as simple as that and instead fall back into your shell. Into your little "safe space", where you can delude yourself into thinking you're special. That you hold any worth within this industry aside from being a name. A "veteran" who roams around, wanting to cling onto anything that he can get his hands onto. Anything that gives him even a tiny bit of hope that he still has it. That he can keep up, yet knowing that the sport has left him behind.
That he simply cannot keep up.
You may have been able to survive in the past. When people were a lot closer to your level but those times are no more. They're buried and simply noted in history. There to reflect back upon and try and use as a means to hold relevance, but simply that. History. You may have been the blueprint then. You may have set an example for those people who walked into those halls, but face the facts... right now, you are simply a relic. A shell who is simply in this to earn a paycheck. Try and hold onto what little relevance he has left before it runs out and he has no choice but to walk away. To go home and stew on what could have been. On what you thought you deserved, whilst I continue my march toward center stage. Toward the billboards and the walk of fame that awaits me.
The position where I belong.
As I have said since day one, I am the face of the new generation. The man who doesn't just tell you he's better than you and that he is the lion, but steps into that ring and shows you, face to face, that he is exactly that. I'm not afraid to do whatever it takes to make sure I put you down and leave you at my feet. It doesn't matter to me how much blood I have on my hands or how dirty I have to get, if it means I get the job done. Shut you up and send the message out loud and clear that if you want to stand between me and the top. If you want to be the man in the tunnel, staring into the light, then go ahead. You will see that the light is nothing more than a train speeding your way.
Leaning forward, Deandre's eyes narrow further.
Deandre: That train is in the form of me. Michael, this isn't personal. This isn't me having some problem with you beyond you being the one who finds themselves trying to block me. Trying to go one out against me, hoping that you can do what nobody else has done. What not even the United Kingdom champion was capable of doing when he stepped into the ring against me.
If he couldn't, what makes you able to?
What makes you better than him? What makes you able to pull a rabbit out of your hat and walk out of Mayhem as a winner? As the one man who blemished my record? You won't. You've got nothing about you that can match up to me. You claim to be a powerhouse. A man who can throw people around, yet you're looking at a man who has done that to O-Linemen. People who are supposed to be able to block and protect the QB. Men who make you look like a damn paperweight.
Intensity continues to ooze from Deandre's face as he snarls.
Deandre: Don't think for a second that I'm going to take you lightly though. Don't think I'm looking past you and fixating on getting Clyde in the ring again. I'm not foolish enough to let you slip on by. Find a way to somehow survive and walk away with your dignity intact and the win next to your name. Anybody can get a stroke of luck in this sport. Anybody can pull off a miracle, but that's not going to happen this, Mayhem. That's not going to happen at my expense. I promise you that right now. You won't be able to come close to me in that ring. Your blueprints are going to be exposed as the fraudulent printings that everybody knows them to be. Difference is, they're afraid to tell you in case you throw your toys away like the delusional man-child you are.
I'm not.
You can come at me all you want. You can tell me you're going to hurt me until you go blue in the face. I've heard it before. You can even play the "experience" card, hoping that it'll be enough to get people to rally behind you. Cheer you on and hope that it'll be enough to put me and my "youthful greenness" in check, only to find their faces covered in egg when their gamble backfires. When it is the veteran who is taken to school and given a lesson in hunger. In desire. In wanting to make the show his instead of taking the blows as they come, like you have done. This week should be familiar to you then, as you'll be stepping into the ring, taking your L and then heading backstage with your head down and your tail tucked between your legs whereas I will simply be onto the next one. Placing your name on the list and being done with you.
Rising to his feet, Deandre makes his way to the right hand side of the bleachers, walking onto the steps heading down to the court.
Deandre: Mayhem is just the next step in my road to the pinnacle. To be the man who stands on top. The one who is simply a cut above everybody else.
Making his way to the bottom, he calmly walks toward the exit to the gym, planning on continuing his preparations for the match against Hunter in Amsterdam.
The scene changes to a house in Joplin. A home that would be familiar to people who watched the build up to K2s as belonging to Jessica Rhodes. Right down to the two seated couch situated in the middle of her living room. Sitting atop it currently, is Deandre. Attired in the same clothing he was earlier at Roosevelt High. To his left, sits Jessica. Attired in a black leather jacket over the top of a white t-shirt, black tights and chocolate brown leather knee-high cowboy style boots. Staring into Deandre's eyes, Jessica gives him a relaxed smile.
Deandre: How's Emily doing?
Jessica: She's good. Got a contract with a firm in San Jose and starts there on Monday, so she's excited.
Deandre smiles at that.
Deandre: That's awesome. Tell her I'm proud of her and if she wants to catch up someday, she knows where to find me.
Jessica laughs, remembering how close Deandre and Emily were in college, before she graduated and moved to the west coast to advance her career in the modeling industry. It's how the two of them met.
Jessica; Couldn't you do that yourself?
Deandre chuckles, nodding.
Deandre: I will, but I know you'll be able to get the message to her faster.
Jessica sighs, rolling her eyes at that comment.
Jessica: I guess.
Deandre leans in, softly kissing her lips, which she returns before he leans back against the couch.
Deandre: Anyway, you coming with me to Amsterdam or you planning on staying with mom?
Jessica ponders this, as she hadn't asked her mom if she wanted her to stay around to help with housework, as she has been doing the last few days.
Jessica: I'll have to check with her.
Deandre's eyes widen as he raises his eyebrows.
Deandre: You're usually the one of us who's on the ball with this sort of thing. So, I assumed you had already figured that out.
Jessica, feeling her face redden, has no answers to that.
Deandre: I'm flying out on Tuesday morning.
Jessica nods, remembering him telling her that earlier.
Jessica: I'll let you know tonight, but I know you'll be okay without me anyway.
Deandre: True, but I'd rather you be there. Even if it is only Michael Hunter, we're in this together. This is just as much about you as it is about me. About everybody here in Joplin and even around the world.
Jessica: I know babe. I know how much this means to you, but you know how important mom is to me. I know she means a lot to you too.
Deandre nods, knowing that family is a key component of who Jessica is.
Deandre: I know. Do what's best for you. I don't want you to feel like you have to be there for me if your mom needs you here. We still have our phones and I know you'll be watching Mayhem when I put the so-called Hunter into my line of sight and show him that there's more to being a hunter than just his last name. Or him trying to portray himself as one, when he is really the gazelle.
It's just the natural cycle of life.
Something that he has to learn about. There's a difference between pretending to be something and actually being that same thing. He pretends. I'm the real deal.
Jessica rolls her eyes once more.
Jessica: I think we already know that.
Deandre: Some don't. Especially not Michael himself, seeing as people think he can pull a Clyde and take some of my shine. People still have wool over their eyes and one by one, I will open them. By any means necessary. Even if that means I have to break him in the middle of the ring in front of the entire world.
Jessica raises her right hand, placing it onto her face. Not out of embarrassment, but because she knows by the intensity in his voice that DeAndre is willing to do that. She has seen it with her own eyes.
Jessica: I have no doubt that you will. Remember what Melanie said though. You still need to focus on your brand. You can't let yourself get blinded by the lights and then fall short.
Deandre laughs as Jessica narrows her eyes, holding her stare.
Deandre: Trust me, I won't. I have no plans on letting anybody get the best of me in the ring. I'm not about to let anyone outwork me or take my shine. Clyde knows that next time, he isn't going to be so lucky and Michael knows he is just a message. A statement to remind people I am still the top dog. The alpha.
Jessica smiles, hearing the passion from Deandre's voice before placing another kiss on his right cheek.
Jessica: I believe you.
Deandre holds his smile, remembering something.
Deandre: Anyway babe, we still going to see Cocaine Bear tonight>
Jessica: Yeah. Still want to go to Red Onion for dinner?
Deandre: Of course.
The two then stand, knowing that they should probably start getting ready for the movie. An opportunity for Deandre to take his mind off wrestling... at least in the short term, before the focus returns to dominating Michael at Mayhem.