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Post by Osh Vaughan on Mar 21, 2021 1:15:29 GMT
Round 1 of the IIW International Title Tournament vs
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Post by Thomas "The Truth" Stone on Mar 24, 2021 17:27:53 GMT
See the curtains hangin' in the window In the evening on a Friday night A little light-a-shinin' through the window Lets me know everything's all right
Summer breeze makes me feel fine Blowin' through the jasmine in my mind
(The warm Tennessee summer sun shines down on Thomas and his girlfriend Heather. They are just teenagers, not quite adults, and lacking the innocence of children. Their fingers tickle at each other’s hands until they lock hands in a loving embrace. Thomas turns his gaze from the clear summer sky to look at his lifelong love and stares at her. Her skin shines in the sun, and the rays of sun glisten off of her red hair. She is the most beautiful girl in the world to him, just the sight of her makes butterflies flutter in his stomach. She turns her head to look at him as well and smiles. Their eyes are locked on one another and Thomas wants to stay in this moment forever, and countless times has wished he could go back to this moment. Suddenly, the sky rumbles with thunder. Thomas looks up and to his surprise, the clear blue sky has now turned dark and is full of black clouds. Lightning flashes across the sky and Thomas feels a sense of panic that causes his chest to tighten. Thomas looks back at Heather but gone is her shimmering her and shinning skin, in their place is grey rotting flesh with pitch-black hair. Her emerald green eyes are replaced with deep black caverns, and in the middle of her head is a gaping bullet hole. Thomas screams in fear and pulls his hand away from hers. Thomas tries to scramble to his feet and as he does her now zombified corpse begins to crawl after him.) TOM COME BACK!(Thomas back peddles quickly, but trips and falls to his butt. Heather's hand grabs at his foot, but he kicks it off and again pulls himself to his feet.) COME BACK TO US TOM!
TOM, COME BACK!
F**K!
TOM!
TOM, OPEN YOUR DAMN EYES!(Thomas feels a pounding on his chest, a pounding so hard it causes him to fall down. Thomas tries to get back up but the weight of his chest holds him down, and the pounding continues. Being immobilized allows the zombified Heather to crawl on top of him. She leans her head back and her mouth opens wide revealing sharp, razor-like teeth. Heath moves her head down quickly for a bite and as she does Thomas closes his eyes. When he closes his eyes though, it’s as if he has actually opened his eyes. Now, in front of Thomas is his battle-buddy and best friend since Bootcamp Scott Lords. Scott is pounding on Thomas’s chest and screaming at him to open his eyes, and as Thomas does Scott mumbles, “ Thank God”. Thomas looks around and is no longer in the field in Tennessee, instead he has snapped back to reality and is back in the Helmand Province of Afghanistan. Thomas’s convoy had just been hit by an I.E.D and was now under fire from Taliban fighters. Thomas’s vehicle had been flipped by the explosion and it knocked him unconscious. Scott, however, had been unaffected by the blast, Thomas swore Scott had a head made from concrete. Scott had grabbed Thomas and dragged him to safety and then began CPR to resuscitate his friend and battle-buddy. Thomas could barely see, he was still coming too and his blinks were slow and heavy. “ STAY WITH ME DAMN IT!” Scott shouted at him as he gave Thomas a slight smack on the cheek. A noise was beginning to bleed in behind Scotts screams, at first it reminded him of raindrops on his grandfathers tin roof, but as Scott covered Thomas with his body, Thomas realized it was the sound of bullets hitting their armored Humvee “ These f**king rag heads got us pinned” Thomas heard his Sargent say. Thomas sat up, using Scott to pull himself up. Thomas tries to get to his feet but is still too shaken from the blast to do so. Thomas, with the aid of Scott, is able to scoot against the turned-over Humvee which was their only shelter from the rain of bullets. Once Thomas was stable, Scott moved over him, closer to Sargent Baker.) What’s the plan Sarg?F**k if I know, f**king airstrike should have been here already. F**king drones, f**king Obama.We can’t sit here all day with our dicks in our hands Sarg.NO SH*T PRIVATE! When these sand suckers stop to reload unleash hell on these f**kers and I’ll head for the fifty cal.(Two cars ahead was a Humvee with a fifty-caliber machine gun on it, but the gunner had been taken out in the first few shots. As the intense fire broke Scott and the rest of the platoon begin to return fire as Sargent Baker sprinted for the 50cal. Baker wasn’t fast, he was a tank of a man, hard to bring down but wasn’t a sprinter. The Taliban fighters began to fire but Baker didn’t stop and was able to reach .50cal Baker hopped into the Humvee and began to reign fire at the Taliban fighters, but he must have fired less than 20 rounds when an RPG struck the Humvee engulfing it in flames and killing Baker on impact. “BAKER!!! F**K!!!” Scott screamed. Seeing the Humvee explode with Baker in it was the match that lit the fuse for the 4th Battalion 503rd Infantry Regiment. Scott and the rest of the battalion began firing back, at this point they didn’t know if they were going to live or die. Thomas clung to the Humvee and pulled himself up to his feet and looked around the corner to the bumper to see a handful of Taliban fighters charging towards them. Thomas pulled his sidearm as quick as he could, which in his current state wasn’t very quick. Thomas raised his sidearm and fired and watched as a Taliban fighter fell down dead. This was Thomas’s first kill in the war, his first kill in life. This is a moment that would haunt Thomas for the rest of his life. He killed several other people after that, all in the name of his country and during the war, but it changed Thomas forever and is something that he still has nightmares about to this day.
Sweet days of summer, the jasmine's in bloom July is dressed up and playing her tune And I come home from a hard day's work
When you live a lonely life, even the days prefer the night. Keeping step to the hearts offbeat. On the often-empty streets, hate fills the kingdom that's surveyed. The innocent turn their heads away. We've come to expect nothing less. From the King of Bitterness A chess match using ghetto pawns. As the procession rolls along, passing by in time to thumb the nose, the Emperor wears no clothes. Mark it down and save the date. No way is there to escape. A bitter pill adds to the bitter edge, for the King of Bitterness. Spread the wealth and take a bite, promised anything you like. If they would look, they'd clearly see, that you were born of royalty. Click your ruby heels, there's something wrong. No way will you make it home. Remember what your mother said, about the King of Bitterness. You've been stuck and you have bled, to the King of Bitterness. Lay down now you sleepy head. Goodnight King of Bitterness.
(Thomas sits on the hood of his truck and looks out over a large open field, it is the same one from his dream during his IED-induced sleep. The sun is beginning to set, and Thomas watches as the giant flaming ball disappears over the horizon. Thomas placed a cigarette into his mouth and flips his Zippo open, lighting a flame in one fluid motion. Thomas tilts his head a bit as he lights his cancer stick and then flips the Zippo closed on his le, snuffing the flame out. Thomas takes a long and slow drag before exhaling smoke and begins to speak as he stares off into the distance.) Jason, what are you so damn bitter about? Why do you let the past eat away at you? You have to learn that you cannot change the past, but you can learn from it. You can let the past teach you, and let it give you the knowledge to shape the future. You went on and on about your success in the past, about how you were a tag team champion and a world champion, but for all your sound and thunder, at KKND you were nothing but clanging brass. If you aren’t picking up what I’m saying, let me put it in layman’s terms for you. You talked about how good you were in the past, but at the end of the night, you lost. Just like you lost those championships you had in the past, and just like you lost so many people who were close to you in the past.
Or…
Is that why you are so bitter?
Because you lost people close to you.
Well, cry me a f**king river. We’ve all lost people we love in the past. I’ve lost my father, I’ve lost countless friends to war, drugs, and the corporate prison systems that lock people away for a profit. You think you are the only person who has ever lost someone Jason? No, you just use it to shape yourself and make the world think you are some tortured soul because you have experienced loss and hardship. The truth is, you have just experienced life like anyone else and with all the people the world has lost over the last year to this pandemic and violence, you losing someone close to you doesn’t set you apart at all.
So, if your loss doesn’t set you apart then what will you use to make yourself seem special? Your past accomplishments? Is that what you are going to do to define yourself, rest on your laurels? How about instead of living in the past and using your past to hype yourself up, you blaze a new trail for yourself? How about you rebrand and build your name back up? Don’t talk about what used to be or what you used to have. Look to the future and you know, build back better as they say.
One problem though.
Your path to the future hits a roadblock right out of the starting gate. That roadblock is me, The Truth. You and me, the first round of the International title tournament. The truth is your Rocket-ship to the top will suffer the same fate as the Space Shuttle Challenger. You’re going to suffer tragedy and defeat before you even get to take off. Your hopes and dreams will explode before you ever even reach orbit. Only you won’t be torn apart because of gasses in external fuel tanks mixing, oh no, you will explode and crash to Earth when you learn that the truth hurts.(Thomas takes another long drag of his cigarette and then flips it down to the ground. Thomas hops off the hood and stomps the smoldering cigarette before grinding it into the dirt.) Jason, your hopes and dreams are going to get snuffed out under the heel of my boot. I will grind you down and outlast you. It will be long and suffering, and it will be the worst night of your career. It’s a good thing you already know about loss because you are going to experience loss once more at Mayhem.
Or…
Are all your stories of loss just bullsh*t? Are they a front you put up to try and make yourself seem hard or edgy? Like your love for Metallica who came out as so anti-authority and were bucking the system, only to hide behind the system and embrace it to combat Napster. Jason, you are a fake, a fraud, and a phony. Every word that comes out of your mouth I consider to be a lie because you exposed yourself with your own words. You proved yourself to be a liar when you tripped up over your own words.
You said your parents were killed in a hit and a run, but then talk about some scumbag pulling a knife out on them and taking things too far. One question, how the f**k do you run someone over with a knife? So, are you a liar, or are you an idiot who doesn’t know what a hit and run is?
Don’t even bother trying to answer or rebuttal, because I won’t believe you. You have proven yourself to be a liar. And I’ll expose you as the liar, fake, phony, and fraud that you are even more so at Mayhem. You are supposed to be some legend, some former world champion, and you are supposed to be back simply for the love of it right?
Bullsh*t, that is just another lie.
You said titles don’t matter to you, but all you do is talk about how you used to be a champion. So, which is it? Are you here for the love of it and the titles don’t matter, or are you proud of your championships? Do those past championships just not matter to you? Does anything really even matter to you, Jason? Clearly, the truth doesn’t. But, that will all change, and when I say something you know it isn’t a lie, it is the truth.
You have been caught in your web of lies Jason, but at Mayhem you will be set free. Because… the truth shall set you free.
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Post by Thomas "The Truth" Stone on Apr 2, 2021 18:00:28 GMT
All the wants you waste All the things you've chased
And it all crashes down And you break your crown And you point your finger, but there's no one around Just want one thing, just to play the king But the castle crumbled and you're left with just a name Where's your crown, King Nothing? Where's your crown?
As "King Nothing" by Metallica fades away an image of Jason Myers appears on the screen. Jason sits upon a throne crafted of bones, with skulls at the top of the back and at the end of the armrest. Upon Jason's head sits a crown made from tiny bones with an ornate cold medallion in the middle. As Metallica fades out and silence grows in a new voice interrupts, the voice of The Truth. There was once a hero, a legend of the game. Oppositions hated him, but all feared his name. He could once leap tall buildings in a single bound. Once he was an excitement machine and earnt the roars from the crowd. But those days are past him now, he is no longer 'the King'. Leaving the sport cost him everything. He no longer garners the respect from the crowd. He has become the Jester of the game. Painted signs point out his disgrace. People spit upon his name. Once he was Captain. He defeated warriors to claim victory. He won battles by his own hands. All the opposition feared him. Now he's just a paper tiger. No teeth, no claws, no. bite. He cowers from the truth. Even little Chino beat him in a fight. At the end of 21, he'll leave this game, a disgraced hero. Hanging his head in shame. Goodbye King Nothing. A small flame appears in the bottom left-hand corner of the photo. The flames start slow at first but spread quickly and begin to consume the photo. The shot grows closer on the face of Jason Myers until the fire consumes it all, and the crown is the last thing that is seen as the fire burns out and darkness is all that is left. From the darkness a figure appears, the figure of Thomas Stone. His head is down as he looks at the floor, his long hair in braids hangs from his head. Thomas begins to speak but doesn't lookup. Jason, you consider yourself a king, but you truly are the king of nothing. Let me draw another similarity between you and your beloved Metallica. Much like the geriatric rock band, you are well past your prime. Metallica hasn't been good since the black album, and you haven't been good since... well I don't know if you were ever that good. Oh wait, you are a former world champion though, right? Well, so am I. See, I and my friends used to have a lawn dart league we started at my buddy's house. I won the league and we called it the lawn dart world championship, so just like you that makes me a former world champion. Now, I know you are going to claim your title was in wrestling and was so prestigious, but the truth is those titles are worth a damn thing today. The truth is this sport is all about the here and now, what you did lately not what you did back then. But, I'm glad you enjoy the past, cause that is where I'm going to leave your sorry ass, in the past. You are a relic who clings to the past as an Alabamian clings to his Confederate flag. Like the Confederacy, you'll fall and you can whistle Dixie all the way down for all I care. Truth is, I'm not about that cancel culture, but if you were a statue, I'd tear you down because you offend me. You offend me by assuming that I give a f**k about who you are and who you were. Truth is, you aren’t shit you me. Thomas raises his head and gives a cocky smile, and as he does the darkroom illuminates behind him. Thomas stands in front of a giant throne in the middle of a castle, not a white castle, and not a Mid-Evil times restaurant, but a true historic castle that sits high upon a mountain. Thomas slowly sits on the throne and grips the handles of the chair. This feels good. This feels right.
But, I’m not ready to sit upon the throne and wear the crown just yet. No, I don’t overestimate myself. I know that I have the skill, but I have to prove myself to the fans and to the world. I will do that by winning this tournament, my crown will be the International championship, and my kingdom will be the IIW. You Jason, well you will be nothing more than the court Jester.
Only you don’t spin narratives in a funny direction and crack others up with a well-timed punchline, no, you are not a joke teller, you are simply a joke. In other words, people won’t be laughing with you, they will be laughing at you. They will laugh at how far you have fallen, from you were once a king of the past lands you inhabited, to a station below a stable boy, as you serve at the objection of everyone’s amusement.
When I become the king as I claim the crown that is the International championship, I will sit back on my throne at the head of the IIW kingdom and as I look down upon my servants, I will notice you and I will smile. You may be forgotten by everyone else in the world, but I will; always remember you, Jason. I will remember you as the bottom rung of the ladder I climbed to the top.
At least you will be remembered for something, and not just fade away into nothingness. You may not be remembered as a king, but you will be remembered as the first step in my ascension to the top of IIW and the wrestling world, and that my friend is… the truth.
I will be the king of IIW. I will be the king of this entire sport, and once I am the King I will decree that the truth and nothing but the truth shall bespoke in my kingdom. Lies will not be tolerated. Fakes, frauds, and phonies such as you Jason, will not be tolerated, you will be persona non grata. It will execute on-site for purveyors of the falsities, which means death on sight for you Jason, and honestly, with you and I, it is on sight.
You are cocky, you are braggadocios, you are arrogant, you are self-centered, and that is all on top of you being a fake, fraud, and phony. You claim to be a legend, but you are a legend only in your own mind. You need a reality check and a wake-up call, and you will get just that at Mayhem.
Don’t look at this as a bad thing though Jason, look at it as a good thing, a life-changing experience for the better. You will have your mind opened, you will be free from you shackles and chains of the fake life you have set up for yourself. You will be liberated from your falsehoods and you will that THE TRUTH… set you free.
But.
Freedom comes at a cost. It comes at the cost of releasing your lies and opening yourself up. You have to be honest, and I mean honest with yourself. You need to look deep inside of yourself Jason and admit to yourself what you really are, the king of nothing. Then you will realize you were meant to serve, to serve the real king, to be a servant to The Truth.
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Wish I might, wish I may You wish your life away Are you pacified?
The airstrike that Thomas, Scott, Sargent Baker, and the rest of the platoon had been waiting on had never come. The men of the 4th Battalion 503rd Infantry Regiment had fought hard and had defeated the Taliban fighters, but not without casualties. As the warriors returned to camp Scott was still in battle mode and as we sat in our barracks he continued to stew. Thomas was still in shock and stared down at his hands which shook uncontrollably. “ Tom you ok?”, Scott asked, but it fell on deaf ears. Why the f**k are we here?Scott’s face twisted in a wave of confused anger as he stood from his bunk across from mine. What’d you say?WHY THE F**K ARE WE HERE!Thomas jumps to his feet, his mind strained with pain, anger, and grief. The comedown of the adrenaline rush was hitting him hard. Those guys were fighting us to kill our way of life, they were fighting us to protect their homes. I thought we are the good guys' man, but we are no better than the people who attacked us on nine elevenWhat the f**k are you saying? Look man, I know we just went through some shit, but you better watch what you are saying.By this point, all eyes are on Thomas and Scott. Thomas doesn’t notice them and hardly notices Scott, even as he stands right in front of him This isn’t right. The attackers were even from here, if it was about the attackers we’d be in Saudi Arabia. Maybe… maybe we are the terrorist.No one said a word, except for Scott, and he let his fist do the talking. Scott punched Thomas across the face knocking him back into the bunk bed bunks. Scott comes forward with another right, but Thomas blocks it headbutts Scott in the face. Some other troops move in to break it up but are stopped and held back by other members of the battalion. Thomas doesn’t advance after the head butt though. Open your f**king eyes Scott, you know I’m right.Scott responds with a grunt induced with rage and charges Thomas with a tackle driving him to the middle of the barracks and both men trip and crash to the floor. Scott mounts Thomas and hits him with two hard rights before Thomas can underhook Scott’s leg and sweep him off of him to his side. Both men begin scrambling to their feet and as they do, Thomas lands a hard left to the face of Scott dropping him to all fours. Scott shakes it off and lungs at Thomas again, but Thomas catches him in a front face lock and under hook and uses Scott’s own momentum against him and spins him onto his back. Now that Thomas is on top of Scott Thomas shoves his own blood-covered shirt into Scott's face. LOOK AT IT! SMELL IT! TASTE IT!Scott reaches his arms up trying to shove Thomas off, but Thomas is bigger and strong and shoves Scott’s arms away and leans closer, pressing the shirt harder into Scott's face We are spilling our blood, and murdering men for nothing. FOR NOTHING! For oil, for Bush, for Cheney, for F**KING NOTHING!Thomas is grabbed by several other members of his battalion and pulled off of Scott. Thomas tries to fight free, but isn’t trying to fight anyone, he is just fighting against constraints. Thomas is released and he looks around the room, everyone is stunned and silent, not the usual demeanor of these soldiers. Thomas looks at Scott, his battle buddy, his best friend, and the man who just a few hours ago had saved his life. Scott slowly sits up and shakes his head, his face clearly giving away that he is lost and confused. Tears begin to fill up with tears. So, what the f**k are we supposed to do man? If this is all for nothing, how do we change it, how do we change anything?Thomas looks at his friend and answers with the only thing that has ever worked for him. He answers by telling him what has been the most freeing thing for him in his life. We expose the lies, and can we tell the truth.
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Post by Jason Myers on Apr 3, 2021 15:23:14 GMT
''I had him. I had the son of a bitch right where I wanted him. It slipped through my fingers''
Myers mutters to himself as he paces around his hotel room, taking a brief moment to take a sip of his coffee before staring out of the hotel window, gazing off into the distance;
''Dan you son of a bitch, I'll make damn sure you get what's coming to you. I won't rest until I've gotten my hands on you and make you wish that those bullets had killed you all those years ago, because the clock is ticking for you, the grim reaper is calling to collect on your sorry ass. I'll make sure you'll wish you didn't overlook me at the PPV, but you were to distracted dancing with your old pal weren't you? Well I can guarantee you that you won't be distracted by Chino any more, your mind will be focused on me because you won't be able to take a shit without thinking when and where I'll strike. Mark my words, I'm coming for you''
He takes a moment to collect his thoughts before shifting focus;
''Don't mistake me on this though, I certainly haven't forgotten about the IIW International Championship Tournament. I'm not letting this opportunity pass by. I'm reminding Dan just who the hell I am, but I'm also letting the locker room and the fans know just what I'm capable of as well. You can't be in this business and let chances like this pass you by now, can you? Which brings me to my first round opponent Thomas Stone. Tommy, I gotta say, you've impressed me, you really have. You wanna know why I lied? Not that I care what you or anyone else thinks, but the reason why I lied was I was embarrassed, guess I took the cheap way out. Tried to bury who my father truly was, because I was just trying to remember him in the short time I knew him as someone who raised me for five years, but now that I'm older and wiser, I guess in some sort of fucked up way I can thank Dan for exposing the truth. That doesn't mean I don't want to rip his throat out because it should have been on my terms, but here we are''
''You see, I may be a Brit but I certainly am no King. Me, personally, I don't give two shits about the royals. I'm a man on a mission to reclaim past glory. To rise like a phoenix from the ashes, to prove everyone who ever doubted me that they were wrong about me, and I don't care who I step on to do it. You see you allowed us to see into your past. You're an army vet, I get that, I respect that. In a lot of ways, that ring is like a battlefield. Only we aren't fighting for a country, no, we're fighting for ourselves. For our own self gratification. Our own ego. To silence the doubters and nay-sayers. Well this isn't Iraq, Afghanistan or wherever you were stationed''
''As for your personal life, this isn't some mid 2000s emo album now is it? i don't give a damn about you and your lost love. I once had a love and gave it up before it killed me. It was easy, like throwing away trash, because it ate away at me and my mental health consumed me to lengths in which I don't wish on any man not named Dan DiStoner. You see Tom, I'm not letting my past life define me, no, I'm exposing myself for the whole world to see. The real me, because I wasn't myself for far to long until I woke my ass up, stopped feeling sorry for myself and started doing what's best for me''
''As far as Championships go. So, what, I can't be proud of what I've achieved? Yeah, you're damn right I love this, I've loved it since I started watching from a young age and my grandpa helped train me, so it runs in my blood. I want to make my gramps proud. I also want to break everyone I step into that ring with in half, because I will not be overlooked anymore. I'd like to apologise in advance though Thomas, you're merely a pawn in this game. It's merely a case of wrong place, wrong time for you, but you'll get your chance at some point. That is, if I allow you to walk out in one piece. See you Monday kid''
Myers then exhales before grabbing his phone and headphones as he puts on Spotify and puts on a playlist as the scene fades.
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