John Ojeda(c) vs Troy Stone

[PWXonline]

Main Event
PWX Championship
Falls Count Anywhere
John Ojeda(c) vs Troy Stone

RP Limit: 2 per person

Deadline: 3-5-14 at Midnight CST


Story: In a Hostile Takeover rematch, John Ojeda will put his newly won PWX Championship on the line against Troy Stone. Wrath had been wanting this rematch for quite some time now as he feels he hasn't punished Stone enough. Stone has gone on record stating that he's very much under looked in PWX, especially after having accomplished being the longest reigning PWX Champion in history by surpassing Mr. Executive, Brian Hollywood's title reign. This time, these men meet in a Falls Count Anywhere match. Can Troy Stone shut up the critics and reclaim the PWX Championship? Or will Ojeda, who's back on top of the mountain, keep his rightful place at the top by doing what no one has ever done before...beat Troy Stone twice? This rematch is sure to be a classic!

[wrath]

(OOC Notes: I FUCKING DID IT! From October 24th 2011 until March 4, 2014 I've been working on this fucking novel and this is the final chapter of the fucking thing. I FUCKING DID IT! This is the hardest thing I've ever done and the biggest accomplishment of my efedding career. Hope you people enjoy the end of the wild ride.)

{On Camera}


Podcast 043: Leviathan

Well isn’t this going to be quite a bit more fun than I expected?

So Troy, I gotta ask you… are you ready for this again. I know I am. I never stopped wanting it. Because I didn’t get what the fuck I came for the first god damn time we got in the ring Troy. Yeah, I said I wanted the PWX World Championship, and to be honest… it feels great knowing that you don’t have it anymore, and won’t have it for quite some time. Not as long as it’s in my possession, that’s for damn sure Troy. It seems that the gods no longer favor you, your divinity-ship. It seems that you angered them. Oh, wait, you did anger me mother fucker. I didn’t come out to the ring for that match for the god damn gold, I came out to that ring to set the fucking bar for what’s expected in this company. I came out to that ring to set right a bunch of fucking wrongs that had taken place. And they still aren’t right. They still aren’t finished and done, and it’s not all because of you Troy. I’m sure you had your weasel hands in the dough, but this falls on Brian just as much as you. I’ll be honest, Troy… you laid a half way decent ass whooping on me there. Had I not been hand cuffed to the ropes, there would have been an entirely different language being talked up in that ring. But Brian did what he did. It’s not like it ultimately mattered in the end. Another solid guy from our locker room that’s sick of Brian’s shit made the save. And that’s what it took to keep shit some kind of even.

That shit isn’t going to happen this week Troy. That shit isn’t going to come close, because we’re in a Falls Count Anywhere match. And that means there ain’t going to be ring ropes to cuff me too. Brian can come try his shit again, and I’m sure TJ would be more than happy to come break his foot off in Hollywood’s ass. But this time Troy, it’s just you and me. It’s just you, me, and a whole train full of ass whooping coming your way. I exposed you for what you are Troy, a fraud. What do you have to say now? That it was a fluke? That you got cheated? Cuz it didn’t look that way to me. It looked like you still didn’t know my uppercut was murder. And it damn sure didn’t look like a fluke when we both came crashing down from the turnbuckles and you got super brain bustered on the concrete. So what are you going to say now Troy? Are you going to eat a little humble pie? Maybe, but will it stop you from being a vapid, self absorbed, annoying little douchebag? No. Why? Because you have no integrity Troy. You have no character. You’re just another guy in a long list of people, some current, some past THAT PLAY FOR THE NAME ON THE BACK OF THE JERSEY! I’m fucking sick of selfish, spoiled cunts that think PWX is a free ride! That’s not how this shit got built! That’s not how the people that made it so we all get first class flights, nice hotels, and the chance to travel the world and be international superstars.. that’s not what we built it to be. I know… because that’s not what I made two hundred dollars a night for fucking blood baths for! That’s not what I put my own blood and treasure into to build. Shit, had I known someone like you was going to come in and start acting like you owned the place… I’d have pulled the plug on PWX before the lot of us ever let it start running after our hiatus.

You want to know how I got to where I’m at Troy? You want to know why I’m the best fucking wrestler in the business. I know the most important rule about this business. I know that I come in second. I know that when I walk out to the ring, win, lose or draw… I put three simple letters first. I put PWX first. Fuck my payday, fuck the fans, fuck my body… when I step into that ring, I give everything in my being for PEE DUBYA EX! I give myself to those letters every city, every show, every night. When you were laying into me with that chair Troy, and I wouldn’t drop, the only thing going through my head was ‘this is for PWX.’ It’s what has driven me to the depths of depravity and the heights of the business I’m currently at. It has driven me to be an entirely ruthless prick, and it has driven me to show the world that PWX is the place where workers, REAL WORKERS, get their fucking due. Brian wasn’t always a scumbag. There was a time where he was a fucking worker. There was a time where Darin was a fucking worker. You know, boys… I’m sure you remember being at the arena at noon when bell time didn’t hit until 7:30. I’m sure you both remember a time where you weren’t douchebags obsessed with your own power and fortune. I’m sure you remember a time where the biggest problem in your life was JPO and the bullshit he was pulling. But Troy here… he doesn’t know what it’s like, because he still hasn’t fucking figured it out!

And I’m going to beat it the fuck into you Troy. I’m going to beat these lessons into your body, in hopes that one day, maybe you’ll get it. Maybe, just maybe, if I beat your ass enough times you’ll start to see the light. Maybe you’ll start to figure out that Troy Stone isn’t the most important person or thing in the world. Maybe Troy Stone will figure out that it’s those fans and those three letters that are the most important things in the world. Because without those three letters, and those people going crazy over our every move, we’re not here doing what we love to do. I couldn’t give a flying fuck about your ego Troy. I couldn’t give a fuck about your star power. It’s all meaningless when the only thing that matters is the name on the back of your jersey. It’s all meaningless because in the end, when you’re used up and no longer worth the time of day… you have nothing left. You may have a big house, and money… but you’re still a broken down old wrestler. You’re still someone that can’t escape the glory days. You’ll inevitably have nothing to show for your life’s work except the vague notion that you used to be great. And that greatness thing is very much up for debate at this point Troy.

You may have had the wool pulled over the eyes of some people, but you haven’t fooled me a bit. You got where you are, because you played the ass kiss game and handpicked your own opponents. You went out of your way to make yourself look good; because you know if you didn’t stack the deck, you’d be shown as just another half bright wrestler that would have had to work. You didn’t go out of your way to compete against and beat the best; no, you just went out to make yourself look good. Me, even though I am the best, I still came home to take the new crop of PWX talent down a peg. I came home to prove, once and for all, that no one is above the letters. Not me, not you, not Brian, not Darin, NOT ANYONE! Troy, the first time you had real competition, you cracked and crumbled under the weight of it. You thought coming out and nailing me with a cheap shot was going to set the tone for your dominance over yet another person. What you failed to think about, was that you weren’t dealing with someone that was happy making money. You didn’t get someone that couldn’t cut the mustard, or another me first guy. You got the baddest man walking the face of the planet. You got, arguably, the best person to step foot in a PWX ring, in the long and illustrious history of the company. And you got exposed for what you are, Troy. You are nothing more than the next Kenji Gosenkugi or Bradley Jackson. And that’s a really shitty place to be boy. Because you’re the flash in the fucking pan. You already missed your chance to step up… so it’s definitely time for you to step the fuck off. You could have sealed your fate and the annals of history as one of the all time PWX greats if you had taken me down at Hostile Takeover, and you couldn’t do it. You haven’t been able to do shit to me the entire time Troy.

It’s not going to be any different this time around Troy. You’re not getting quarter, you’re not getting me coming at you easy. This isn’t a fucking title defense to me. This is round two of the championship bout asshole. I’m going to show you your place Troy. You want to beat me, you’re going to have to run through fire. You’re going to have to get down and dirty and out work me mother fucker. But you won’t do it. You don’t have it in you. You don’t have the straight up fight in you to take me on little boy! So you’re going to get shown your fucking place yet again. And when I’m done with you and I’m walking away polishing up MY PWX WORLD CHAMPIONSHIP… you’re going to be wondering what’s next for you Troy. And I already know the future for you, because this is yet another case of where someone is going to expose you for what you are. So please, because I’m a sure fire hall of famer, and you’re just another chump ass. You’re another of the countless many who don’t stand for the banner and the colors of PWX. And that’s why I have to tell you this Troy. When I’m done kicking your ass and you’re looking for a way to stay relevant… you can come to me. But only after…

You go home and get your fucking shine box, Troy.

{Off Camera}
Epilogue

Spring was starting to set in over the mountains in West Virginia. The frost was lifting and buds were starting to form on the trees. The air was still quite brisk, but the starts of flourishing life was bringing a certain weight and happiness to the air that many longed for all winter. It had been a long and brutal stretch of road for the Viking Warlords and John Ojeda was finally getting to take a minute and relax, before the run was set to start on a new crash course. They had put to bed another club and established themselves as one of the most dominate MC’s on the scene. They were no longer one of the smaller clubs. They were one percenters of the highest order. They had taken down a large national club and had obliterated its ranks; and now they were the undisputed kings of the North Eastern region of the US. And life had gotten infinitely more complicated than bar hopping and brawling with the Centurions.

The past two years had seemed like a blur, a whirlwind of destruction and change that had inevitably lead to bigger and better things for John and the Warlords. At the outset of their journey, they had been at war over their home turf. The battle with the Centurions had given way to brotherhood; and it had happened because of love. Or more importantly, it had happened because of a woman. Madison looked at John with a smile as he sat on the back patio of their home with a beer in his hand. He was staring out into the woods, and she couldn’t help but think that he was enjoying the peace and quiet. She knew he hadn’t gotten much of it lately; and she was almost afraid to disturb him. But there were certain things in life that were worth disrupting a peaceful moment over.

Pushing open the backdoor, Madison stepped out onto the patio. John looked up at her from his seat at the sound of the door shutting. He gave her a smile and blew a kiss in her direction as she walked towards him. Resting a hand over his chest from behind, she rubbed under his cut and kissed the top of his head. Her pregnant belly touched the back of his head as she straightened up; causing the man to laugh just a little bit. He turned in his chair and smiled up at her. He looked back at her belly and smiled.

“What’s going on baby?” John asked.

“Nothing. What’s going on with you?” Madi responded.

“Nothing. Which is wonderful. I almost want to take a nap.” John said with a laugh.

“You know, if you want to you, can.” Madison said. “Shut off your phone, crash for a while.”

“I wish. I’m waiting on a couple of phone calls.” John said quietly.

“Which one?” Madison asked. “The New York thing, or the in several states?”

“Both.” John said with a laugh.

“Hey, put your hand on my belly, John.” Madison said.

John placed his hand over her stomach, and she moved it to a different position. There it was, for him to feel and know. It was a first for him, and it was something that brought a tear to his eyes. That pulse of energy, that tiny thump against his hand left him speechless. His baby had just kicked and there was no denying that is was there now. He had been ignoring the pregnancy for the most part. The only thing he had noticed was a bit of weight gain until this point. But that first thump had let him know that there most certainly was a life in her womb and there was no getting out of it now. Despite the tears, John had started to laugh and rested his head against her stomach. He pressed a kiss to her belly and looked up at her.

“That’s him, isn’t it?” John said with a smile.

“Yeah, that’s your son, Johnny.” Madison said with a smile.

“Baby, whatever you need to start setting his stuff up, just say the word.” John said.

“I could use a prospect to clean out your stupid video game room.” Madison said with a smirk.

“Yeah, I guess I’m going to have to move that stuff to the living room.” John said.

“No, you’re going to move it down to the basement with all the other entertainment stuff.” Madison said.

“Fine. I’m not going to arg…” John said, being cut off mid sentence by the prepaid phone on the patio table ringing.

John looked at the phone and held up a finger at Madison; examining the number and the prefix from where it was calling. He knew by the area code that it was a call from DC and that was one of the biggest calls he could ever possibly receive. He didn’t want to seem to anxious, so he let the ringer go a couple of times before he flipped open the phone and stuck it up to his ear.

“Hello?” John said.

“Hey cowyboy. You’re good to go wherever things are legal. I’m working on making it happen in the mountaineer state as well, but that’s more complicated.” Markham said

“But I can go north, west, and east without issues?” John asked.

“Not from your Uncle Sammy.” Markham replied.

“Any other issues for me?” John asked.

“Nope, just keep shit running smoothly.” Markham said.

“You got it.” John said with a laugh. “You keep your head down. “

“Do the same, cowboy.” Markham replied.

The line went dead and John let out a sigh of relief. He was getting his way, and he was getting to move the club into a more legitimate direction. Running crank and dope was good money, but it was dirty, and it was something he wasn’t happy about doing. But it was about loading the coffers and keeping the club in the safe and clear. They had handled their business, upped their status, and started to build their legend. There would be no stopping them soon and he was sure that there was a lot more to pillage. He was just having to forge a dangerous alliance to accomplish all of it. But the treasure to be had was enough to secure the future for every member of the club. John looked up at Madison and smiled.

“What?” Madison asked.

“It’s got the green light. Huge earning time.” John said with a big smile.

John knew that things were about to get very interesting. After all of the horrible things that had gone on, it was time to do something good for the world. Medical Marijuana was revolutionizing medicine, and John saw the potential to help a lot of people. Most of all, he wanted to help the veterans coming home with PTSD get some relief from it; but he couldn’t ignore the benefits of its ability to fight all sorts of diseases. It wasn’t dirty, it didn’t kill people, and there were tons of profits to be made; all from growing a plant. John looked at Madison and stood up from his seat. Times were changing for the club, and the bright horizon had John excited for the future for the first time in a long time. For the first time, he could see the end of the bloody journey; and now he could enjoy the spoils of war.


{On Camera}
Podcast 044: Veritas

There are a lot of truths in the universe, a lot of absolute certainties.

Gravity, math, time, space… there are so many absolutes it’s absurd. There are some absolutes about this business. Fans pay their money, management tries to fuck the boys out of their money, and John Ojeda is better than Troy Stone. That’s been proven all god damn month. It’s been proven every step of the way since we started this dance Troy. Came out and put you and your girl out of your misery. Put your posse out of its misery, shocked the shit out of your family jewels, and then whipped the shit out of you and took your title. I didn’t just do all that. I took away your ego, I took away all of your glory. I took away that façade you had up for the world; and there was nothing you could do about any of it. And here we are again, getting it going just two weeks after we both laid a pretty serious ass whooping on one another. And I’m ready to do it all over again. I’m ready to get back to swinging fists and chairs like it’s going out of style. I’m ready to get in the ring and make you pay for the bitch shit you pulled at Hostile Takeover. I’m ready to leave your head in need of stitches and glue. Because I sincerely wasn’t satisfied with what we did at Hostile Takeover. I wanted to take things so much farther in teaching you some respect. But I got cut short by Brian Hollywood and his fantabulous bullshit spewing rimjob machine.

You danced around me the last time Troy, verbally and physically, because you knew you weren’t ready to handle me. And now two weeks later, I’m sure you’re not ready again. Maybe you’ve got some ideas in your head. Maybe you realized that you really need to step it up because your arrogance finally cost you something. But it’s too little, too late. You can’t win a race when you’ve already been lapped a hundred times and your already half broken. If you had wanted to get this on with me and hang with the best, you needed to be on your shit from jump street mother fucker. If you wanted to hang with me inside that ring and in a fight, you needed to be clear and focused on it. Instead, you spent the time being a pussy. You chose to be blind to what was right there laid out on your plate and it cost you. Hell, boy, you’re too dumb to even defend yourself when someone calls you on your bullshit. Not that you have a defense for being a lack luster pussy. But at least you could have had some guts instead of dancing around the subject. Nope, no integrity, no intelligence, not even any intensity. All we got was more of the same old Troy Stone self aggrandizing bullshit.

Well I don’t care how much you talk yourself up. I don’t care how many times you say that you’re the best wrestler Troy, all I care about is what you do. And what you’ve done so far when you’ve come against me was suck shit and lose. Therefore, you’re going to suck shit and lose this go round too. What have I done? Whipped everyone’s ass and win. You want to talk about your stupid little list of accomplishments, son? Within two months I’ve had more matches than you in damn near half a year, and I took away the thing you claimed to work so hard to get. And I did that shit quicker than you could have boy. Troy, there are so many comparisons to make, but it’s all growing very very tiring. I’m getting tired of having to talk about you. I’m getting tired of having to battle you. And that’s why I’m going to put you to bed once and for all. When Adrenaline rolls around, I’m going to kick the crap out of you and send you packing once and for all. And then you can take your dumb little ass and try to chop down some other mountain. And maybe if you work your ass off enough, you can come back and try again. And then I’ll smack the shit out of you again Troy. Because you need to get one thing through your head and you need to get it through that thick skull of yours very quickly. I’m the fucking boss. I’m the fucking guy that you worry about when he walks into a room. You should stop kissing Brian’s ass, because I promise you, Brian is going to be a thing of the past when I’m done with him. And then who are you going to coming too Troy? You’ll be coming to me. And when you do come to me and you want the help, I’m going to tell you one thing Troy.

Go home and get your shine box.

[wrath]

(OOC Notes: It's been a wild ride this week. Emotional. But the end of something is the start of something new. So I'm onto book two now. Hope you guys enjoy. Good luck Troy.)

Prologue

Things were seemingly falling into place for the Viking Warlords Motorcycle club. Getting clear of a war with the Dogs of War MC, they were fortunate to come out of the entanglement the victor of the battle. They had managed to have a long and dangerous run without managing to end up in the clutches of law enforcement. It had meant making dangerous new alliances and very serious new friends. Those new friends expected a lot out of their relationship; and they were all aware that they had to make good on those promises. They knew that failure to keep up their end of the bargain meant bloody fucking genocide for the whole club. But the arrangement had kept them free, clear, and able to handle the business that they needed to handle to get the revenge they had all desperately desired.

They had finally lain to rest their brother Brandon Lambert, and the founder of the club, Mattias Ojeda. John Ojeda had buried his best friend and grandfather with a great deal of forlorn and unhappiness. But knowing that funerals were a big part of club life meant knowing that you could end up in the box at any time. They all knew that they weren’t too far off from being with their brothers that had passed at any moment. Life was very short, and the fact that things were starting to go well for them was making life seem a lot brighter than it may have actually been. Their happiness was brimming as they stood in a storefront in the suburbs outside of Philadelphia. Laws had changed in the state and it was time to start making money hand over fist.

“No dickhead, those cases go over there. The big lighted ones go back there. That’s where we’re putting the premium grade stuff!” Marvin snapped at the prospect that was lugging a case.

“For fucks sake. Make up your mind Martian! This son of a bitch is heavy” Grim, the prospect snapped back.

“Both of you shut the fuck up. Marvin, stop torturing the kid. Grim, don’t talk to the Sec Def like that again or I’ll let him stick your head in a toilet.” John said with a laugh.

“But…” Grim started.

“Fucking can it. Move the lighted case to the back, move the others over there, and clean this place the fuck up.” John snapped at them both. “God, you’re like a couple of kids! I have to go over to the production facility and make sure those dipshits are doing things right.”

“You know they’re not.” Marvin said with a laugh.

“Yeah, I know, and that’s why I’m going over there.” John said with a bit of frustration.

“Yeah, who’d have thought growing pot was so complicated.” Marvin said, shaking his head.

“If you want it done right and to not suck…” John said, trailing off.

“Yeah, I know. Get the hell out of here. I’ll hold down this fort.” Marvin said.

“Lay off the prospect. He signed up to be a prospect, not Martian’s personal bitch.” John said as he headed for the door.

“Same thing!” Marvin shouted at John as he walked out the door.

John walked out of the storefront and into the warm sunshine of the spring afternoon. Walking over to his bike, he threw the helmet on his head and mounted his metallic steed. He turned the engine over and pulled out of the parking space moments later, dropping out onto the road and heading off in the direction of Route 1. That was the joy of their lives now. They had started an endeavor on top of their illegal activities and it was going to be a task to manage both of them at the same time. But the legal endeavor seemed to have everyone happy and busy; and that was what he needed at the helm of the club. He needed his guys occupied, making money, and happy. It would go a long way in keeping new problems from arising.

But to think that there would be no problems was wishful thinking. He knew that sooner or later, there would be a problem and the CIA would be there to handle the problem. And even if they were making them quite a bit of money off of the heroin, cocaine, and methamphetamine trades; they were still quite a bit more expendable because of who they were. They were the scumbags that skulked in the shadows and did the dirty work. And that was a position they were all quite used too. Recon Marines in their former careers, they had been expertly trained at hiding in the shadows and moving undetected. It had been a boot camp of sorts to put them into their current line of work.

John was on his way north, towards Newton, to where they had grow ops set up in several large houses. They were houses that retailed north of half a million dollars; and they had been renovated, retrofitted, and outfitted to become elaborate grow ops . Temperature controls, humidity controls, ventilation systems, odor filters, lighting, and a plethora of other things were whirling through John’s mind as his Harley worked down the highway and slid off of the highway in the direction of a rather well to do community. They were keeping everything quiet, and the houses were only ever staffed with four people; but they were keeping traffic to a minimum. Pulling into the driveway, John reached into his cut pocket and pulled out the cell phone. He flipped it open, preparing to call the people inside, until the garage door opened for him. He pulled the bike inside the door and shut the engine off.

Walking inside, he was transported to a world of sights and sounds. The kitchen and living room hadn’t been converted, but there were plenty of bedrooms that had been converted to rooms to start growing in different mediums and methods. They had rooms for organics and hydroponics. They had rooms for babies, growth, and the most important step, the flowering. John looked at Mack, who was laying on a couch with a beer in his hand. John gave him a dirty look and spread his arms out at his sides; his body language asking him a very simple question. It was followed by the physical shout.

“What the fuck Mack!? Get up!” John snapped.

“I’m taking a break. I’ve been at it since six in the morning.” Mack said.

“Dickhead, we’ve got two weeks to get all of these places on line and running or we’re not going to meet the grand opening!” John snapped.

“We’ll be fine.” Mack said “The only thing left to do is set up the flower room, and we were waiting on you because we’re missing some balasts and bulbs, so I can’t set them up.”

“Fuck!” John snapped, digging in his pocket for a wad of cash. “Get to the supply house. Get the ballasts and bulbs that you need.”

“I’m getting the LED’s instead of the High Pressure Sodium.” Mack said.

“Why?” John asked, clearly frustrated.

“Because it will save on the energy bill, we can dial in the light spectrum for specific times of the year and climates depending on the strain, and well…” Mack said, trailing off. “They look cooler.”

“If it doesn’t work and you fuck up the harvest, you owe the club for all of it.” John said.

“Jawohl, meine General” Mack said mockingly and saluted John as he got up and shuffled off towards the door.

John looked around the house and could hear the hum of fans and walked into the lower bedroom to see that everything was hanging and looking about as perfect as if he’d done it himself. So the idea that they’d fucked everything up seemed a little less likely. John looked at everything and smiled; nodding his head in appreciation of the work done in the room. They hadn’t fucked up, and that was going to leave him with extra time. Time he was going to spend with his pregnant wife Madison; and she was very pregnant. And having him home, was going to make her quite the bit happier.

Podcast 045: Time

Time isn’t on your side Troy.

Time is something that you’re running out of. Time to heal, time to think, time to plan. You’re quickly running out of the time you so desperately need Troy. Time is falling like sand through your fingers and there is nothing that either one of us can do about it. For me, it can’t go away fast enough. Adrenaline can’t get here soon enough. I’m sitting here in my hotel room in Winnipeg, fixing up this little recording, mostly because I’m bored Troy. It’s the day before the show, I’ve already had dinner, and I still haven’t heard a word from you pussy. I normally like when people have something to say, because it amuses me before I get in the ring and play with my food. I like hearing my food start to squawk and holler before I eat my meals. It’s just in my nature to enjoy it a little bit while my opponent is begging for his life or acting like he’s the toughest animal in the jungle. But the facts are, you’re not giving me that right now Troy. So we’re just going to sit here and make jokes about your head size, your face, your days as a male cheerleader.

So how did that shit happen? How did you end up becoming such a monumental douche Troy? How is it that you took that handful of talent and potential, and manage to turn it into what you did? It just fucking baffles me, kid. How you could think going the over blown, pompus, egotistical route was going to benefit you kid. I mean, you are the worst kind of person Troy; specifically because you refer to yourself in the third person. I mean, do you know how retarded I would sound if I called myself Wrath all the time. Wrath is going to beat your ass. Wrath is going to ride his Harley all over your face. Seriously, if I wanted everyone to want to give me a fucking swirly, I’d have worn glasses and been a douchey little faggot like you. I’d have done everything that you’ve done; and the end result will be total ridicule and venom from everyone. You know, I wasn’t liked by the people for a long time. Can’t say I blame ‘em too much, I’m a dickhead most of the time. But they respected me Troy. They weren’t calling me a pussy. They didn’t say my ego was over blown.

They say all that shit about you Troy. Everyone knows who you are. Everyone knows that you’re playing with the deck stacked. Well, you can stalk the shadows all you want bitch, because I’ve got your number. I know how to handle you every time we get in the ring. I’ve had you scouted from the moment I came back to the company. Every move, every attack, I’ve either seen them coming, or calculated them into my game plan. You hit me with something, you need to start thinking about the chess game boy. Because maybe I wanted you to hit me with a suplex. Maybe I wanted to take a little punishment to lure you into something. Maybe I’m crazy enough to let you hit me to set up something bigger and better to walk you into. Troy, this wrestling shit, isn’t about who the prettiest is. It isn’t about who says they’re the best. It’s about who out thinks who. It’s about who can out work who. And kid, you’re still learning. You’ve been getting some praise, you started feeling your oats a little bit. I understand who you are and where you came from. I understand everything about you Troy; and that’s why I’ve got you hanging on a hook, every time we get in the ring. There’s a reason I’ve got you pegged from the word go Troy. And it’s the same reason you’re not going to walk out of Adrenaline with MY PWX World Championship. You’re a not near threat battling a top tier vet. I’m way the fuck up at the top of the mountain. Troy, you might get there some day…

But you’re not there yet.

[troystone]

Disclaimer: This is a completely different style of writing than I usually do with Troy from top to bottom. Have thought about doing this in the past but eh figured I would do it here. So yeah Good luck and Enjoy!


Dear Pro Wrestling X Fans,


If you're reading this, that means Megan has submitted this piece to the monkeys that run the official PWX website and now this is out for the viewing public. If you're also reading this, given the percentage of people in this country that are illiterate and actually struggle to put together prefixes, suffix, subjects, nouns, verbs, pronoun, etc, etc, I'm also aware that about half of you(and that's putting it nicely) will have difficulties fully comprehending this. I knew writing this would be a risk, mainly because I knew exactly how many of you dweebs aren't equipped without enough knowledge to understand the literacy thing that BTW all of you should have learned via schooling and/or your parents; which clearly either the former latter or BOTH have failed you. Would explain why most of you are benighted(Google it) and uneducated.

Anyways dweebs I didn't write this letter(yes I'm ACTUALLY writing this on paper; which is a dead concept these days but whatevs) to question whether or not this writing would be able to be comprehended(I'm giving you dweebs the benefit of the doubt here), I'm writing this letter and I'm dedicating it to all of you. I could have done one of my usual promotional videos, yes I could have. However the fact that I constantly have to repeat myself usually on said promotional videos plus the fact that none of you ever fully listen to me, I decided to no waste my oxygen on you guys. I decided not to spend ten minutes speaking to all of you. I wanted to address you, that's right YOU, the PWX fanbase, as a whole personally. I wanted to make what's going through my head currently is digested and understood. I write this for clarity dweebs. YOUR clarity.

So, assuming none of you live under a rock, I'm sure all of you know by now as of today, Tuesday, March 4th 2014, I am no longer the PWX World Heavyweight Champion of Divinity. I'll take a few moments to stop writing and allow all of you to mourn over that. Oh wait, that's not how that's going down right? Yes, I can take a hint. The hint of thousands chanting and cheering at the sight of my body being carried to the back. Apparently brings joy to all of you barbarians while ignoring the fact that a human being was being carried out after putting him body on the line to continue proving he was the best. Ever. I couldn't truly see it and I couldn't fully hear it, but I heard enough. I heard enough of the chants for John Ojeda, the chants for the sight of my beaten body being assisted out of the ring. I heard a fraction of the noise, but it's all I needed to hear.

Of course no one cares that for a week i haven't been able to properly eat without the occasional grimace of pain or even care about the slight migraines that I've been experiencing because remember, I'm the bad guy and all of you people are the saints. Right? Isn't that the narrative about Troy Stone? Isn't that what all of you type to each other on the forums or talk about when you attend the shows? So with that out of the way, I simply ask all of you a simple question.

Are you satisfied?

Are you satisfied with what transpired at Hostile Takeover? Are you satisfied with the fact that the five month reign of Troy Stone is over? Are you all leaping for joy over the way my almighty title reign ended? Did all of you walk out the building happy after seeing your "hero", the one that you put all of your failures and your burdens on his shoulders John Ojeda, with the PWX World Heavyweight Championship draped on his shoulders? I get it. That was the storybook ending everyone wanted to see. John Ojeda comes back, says all the magic words needed to make you all get behind him, and beats the big baddie Troy Stone?

I could laugh.

I could. But I won't because honestly for one, it would still be a bit difficult with my jaw. But with that aside, even if that wasn't an issue, I still wouldn't give you all my pity. Not one ounce of Troy Stone's body is charity. And why would I because honestly dweebs, all of you crowing John Ojeda to be your happy is sad. It's sad that all of you have to saddle on someone's back and cheer them on because you want to do something you know you can't do. I usually don't say things bluntly because honestly I do prefer ribbing you dweebs for your own mistakes but in this case, it's quite pathetic. Pathetic that you people's night are made because of someone else because your life is so dull and uneventful that you have to get someone that says sweet nothings in your ear and convinces you that he actually cares,

Truth is most of you have never seize a big moment for yourselves. Most of you have never won anything meaningful BY YOURSELF. So you get behind someone else's conquest. Because that's the easy thing to do. It's easy to expect one person to make you feel better about yourselves when you can't even do it for yourselves. It's easy to be a follower and believe everything someone else says. it's easy; which is why all of you do it.

And you got behind Ojeda. Just like you got behind Elijah Black. Just like you got behind Ryan Kidd, Timothy Hunt, even Abi when she flat out TOLD all of you dweebs that she didn't need nor wanted your support. All of this just to cheer on whoever was facing against me. And why is that exactly? Because I have to bravado to declare that when in comes to wrestling I outshine everyone else and that I believe I can outshine anyone, anyplace, anywhere it does not matter. I believe I'm at the upper echelon of not only PWX, but professional wrestling itself. That's my belief and that's what I proudly proclaim and proudly every time I'm in the ring go to prove.

But all of you say that's arrogance. That's megalomaniacal. That's self-serving. And so you despise me for that. You despise me for being prideful of the fact that the reason I'm so damn good in the ring is because of all of the work i've put it for almost the last ten years of my life. The person that made Troy Stone is Troy Stone and Troy Stone only. I'm the architect of this. And yet all of you bash me for it. And just to prove a point about you, the PWX fans and your loathing of me and the rest of the House of Stone, let's go back to Hostile Takeover and look at the way you treated my babe when Tiami Tyler blindsided her after the match. None of you shed a tear, none of you showed any sign of concern because she's my fiancee. And anyone apparently that's around me is public enemy number one.

You know when I was backstage and I was literally watching all of you enjoy watching my babe suffer, which ironically is the same thing all of you did to me moments later in my match. And normally I don't allow you dweebs to get to me, but dammit that's my future wife and you treated a woman, A DEFENSELESS women with little respect when Tiami was beating on her when their match was over. None of you gave a damn about her safety. None of you gave a damn about her well being. Just because she was my babe, her broken neck was CELEBRATED by you dweebs.

You know in that moment I actually reminded myself when I was a little kid I would tell my mother that one day I wanted to be the one everyone saw as their hero. That's right, when I was little I wanted to be that guy. Because when i was little, that's all I saw in the movies, the tv shows, all of my action figures were heroes. I thought that was the way to live. To .live for others. To be this great force of good for people who couldn't.

I thank God for high school because I realized then in this world it's a competition. That's what my track teacher told me. One of the greatest lessons I've ever learned in my life. We all want the elusive grand life that we see on TV shows and media and we gravitate to that because we want it. That's all that matters in life. The grand life. Getting that grand life is all that's really important. I learned no one in this world is going to love or care about you as much as yourself. And that's why I don't allow none of you to get behind me. Because like Ojeda, like everyone else, you'd take it for granted. You would take every shred of good that I would do for all of you for granted. There's no point in being yours because like Ojeda, like Pariah, like Stryker, you dweebs, the PWX audience you'll saddle on someone else's back when the time comes.

I tried not to get angry writing this to you dweebs because it's not worth getting my emotions worked up because of you people. But you treat my babe with disrespect, you laugh at my body being carried, the same body is put on the line by myself for YOUR entertainment(that's the reason you guys even buy tickets and come to the shows). And that's where you all take me for granted. You all use me and the House of Stone as the villains and try to compare us to the roleblocks in your own lifes. So that's why cheering for Ojeda's breakthrough was easy because in your minds, you were imagining it was you that was experiencing the moment.

So I hope you all are happy. John Ojeda is your World Heavyweight Champion. You got your wish. Now do me a favor. Savor that moment. Hell you guys can Torrent it or watch it through some backdoor method(aka streaming). Do whatever you please. All I ask is watch me and Ojeda again. Watch how all of you jumped for joyed when he bat me. Remember that feeling of accomplishment. That feeling of achievement. That feeling of hope. Because tomorrow, I'm going to take it away from you and your hero. And you dweebs will have nothing left.

Sincerely Yours(NOT)
Troy Stone
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The World of Stone: House of Madness

Chapter Eleven: Troy Story Part I

Saturday, September 7th, 2013 in Los Angeles around 2:00 P.M.

How is my life? Well how can I describe it? The life of Troy Stone is like..that summer action movie that gets all the hype and gets talks about over and over again by friends who doubt it's actually going to be anything but then they end up watching it and are amazed at how wrong their doubts were. So translation, my life right now is like Fast and Furious Six; only I'm not an international criminal. Well..if you ask the right person that would think the criminal part would be just for me.

Ha please I'm not a criminal. Seriously I feel as if people want to label me every word that's a synonym to scumbag on me without actually calling me a scumbag. Although..some just flat out say it. The whole nine has told me this. Exes, Liam and Cindy have both had their moments in which they think the worst of me(although being the oldest sibling it's my duty to show them tough love because no one else in this world is going to)..And while I'm at the subject of exes, well exes are always bitter. Comes with the territory. You try to tell her "look the sex is great but everything else is lacking and even the sex part is waning" as politely as possible and next thing you know, you could never "measure up", you never cared about her, you only used them for their body(that's what they lie to their friends.) And sure at times you meet that one girl in which you know immediately that it's just going to be sex and sex only. Because well let's face it, some women are just undateable in ever sense of the word. Now thinking about it..about half of my exes were that way. Blinded by beauty I guess(although mostly they were more with mine). I mean they wanted to have some "personal connection", but I can't really get personal with an inept human being. That's just bad for me and my IQ.

Does that really make me a criminal? No. A criminal would be sticking with those women and faking as if I actually enjoyed their company all the time. But I can't tell people about that apparently because all they'll do is spin it and make it seem as if I'm the, dramatic phase, scumbag. You would have thought I committed the eight deadly sins forward and backward the way some people talk about me.

But yes my life. It's splendid. In fact, I'm basking in the sunshine of life. I'm eating the fruits this world has given me like Adam and Eve. It's the life everyone wants and not everyone can get(mostly because of themselves but whatevs not important). I am Troy Stone; a son of parents that unfortunately try to remind me that the 80s was a cool time once upon a time(it's scary). I'm also brother, a wrestler and my own man. Self made that is. I've taken the world and I've beaten into submission with my own success that way it has no choice but to pump out nothing but blue skies on me. I mean I get to wake up in a beachouse that i bought with my own money. Plus I get to share that beachouse with a woman that's both beautiful on the inside and outside while in the process makes me wonder what in the hell I saw in half of my exes.

The reason why I have these things because I've been able to live my dream. My American Dream(yes that cliche mantra). Wrestling, the one gig that gets you stares when you go to the airport and when the guards find a pair of underwear, boots and oil, you have to explain to them that no you're not in porn. And then when you explain to them the wrestling thing and they mutter it's fake, the inevitable eye roll has become routine. Every time. And I'm pretty good at it too. But yes wrestling. My love. My first love. One of the few things that's never let me down because it's the gift that keeps on giving, It helps too that I'm damn good at it.

It's been my rock since I was thirteen. What started off as mere admiration is now my life. In comparison to other people and their lifestyles, I feel as if I've picked the best one. I only have one goal and one goal only. To become the bets ever. Nothing else gets in my way. I wish it was the same for Larry. Damn. That's my man I wish it didn't happen to him. Cheated on his wife, got the mistress pregnant and almost killed the wife in shock. That's enough drama to make me even more committed to Ophelia. I don't want them problems. Besides I haven't heard from Larry in about three weeks. Bruce and I are getting worried a bit. All I've heard from his offices is that he's in Malibu and that as expected he got kicked out of his house. And apparently he didn't sign up for preen-nup; which means she's looking for one thing out of Larry.

Money.

I love Larry but he put this on himself. Why oh why he never sign up for preen-nup I will never know. The two known things you must do when you marry; buy her a ring that will make even her friends despise her and sign up for preen-nup. It's a given. Pretty sure that was a thing even in the 80s. He could have stuck it in there even before then. He knows people(like I can get you the exclusive type people). He could have got it done. Now, he probably is going to lose have of his money. When it rains it pours. Which makes me wonder would Ophelia be ok if I got the preen-nup. I mean the term marriage has crossed my mind like clockwork the last month.

One of the things my dad told me(when his head was actually not fascinated about 20th century things) was that whatever profession I do, that should be my partner. That should be my only marriage and that I should only marry when I'm done with my profession. Says the guy that married my mother before he got into real estate. Whatevs. But he brings a good point I guess. I have my career, she has her career. Sure we live together. Sure we got a good thing together. But we're both in the business to steal the show. Surely fitting in a marriage would make that goal a bit more distracting right? I don't know. I'm going against my own rules about this anyways.

Personally anyone who marry before they're about..30 is just asking for a divorce. You should marry when you know how your life is going to be. I always told myself if I'm going to marry someone, it would be at 30. I'm 26. I have four more years and yet I'm actually taking this into consideration.

"Are you finished with your thoughts," Sebastian's voice(my personal psychoanalyst) called behind me. I can't believe I just let this man sit on my couch in my house and tell me to write a journal about my feelings like it's middle school with the guidance counseling. I asked him what this was about and he only said something about a new method of these meetings we have. Whatever that means. So I finally put down my ink pen and place my notebook on my glass table. It was made in Taiwan by the way. Wasn't cheap at all.

"Yeah but why are you making me do this again," I asked him, this time looking for some type of an actual answer out of him. All he does is stroke his grey hair on his beard and then runs his hands through his bald head, as if he had hair. I can't picture Sebastian with hair., Just can't do it.

"Because like I told you I'm trying a different method," he tells me. Again. the same answer. Again. He would do wonders working for the FBI because they surely don't tell the public anything. "Instead of listening to you I've decided to give you the platform of writing so I could get a more in depth look to the best possible way I can guide you."

"You could have done that by allowing me to talk but I guess we're just forgetting the entire concept of these meetings."

"Again Troy this was just an exercise to allow you to explode your mind a bit." He leans over the couch and looks at what I wrote. Looking back at it, I wrote three pages. THREE pages without even thinking about it. "And judging by how much content you've written, you did certainly that."

"I like to be able to use my Amendment rights ok?"

"I see."

"Hey Sebastian," I say to him. "Can I ask you something?" Sebastian looks as me with his interest peaked.

"Certainly Troy," he responds. "You can ask me anything."

"Alright then." I look at the man for a moment before I get this question out. "When did you and your wife get married again?"

"March 15th, 1982 in a little chapel church here. The church is no longer around though. Why do you ask?"

"How old were you when you married her?"

"I was I think...I want to say 22."

"Woah you were 22 when you got married? Do you think that was a bit too young?" He laughs and I relax a bit. He's probably been asked this a millions times before. But I was curious.

"You know when I proposed to my wife, all i heard from both friends and family was that I was too young. I didn't even ask her father for permission because I knew he wouldn't have approve of it."

"Not asking the father to take his daughter's hand in marriage? You were a rebel Sebastian. You lived on the wild side."

"Not in the slightest. But yes it was certainly a risk. Something that I even considered when I was going through with it. I heard all about how marriage is suppose to be this commitment in which you must absolutely be 100% behind. That's why people my age at the time was discouraged from it because we were too young."

"You kinda was."

"I was but it didn't matter. Age does not mean maturity. Just because you're a certain age doesn't mean your mind is the same. Everyone always thinks marriage is this magical fantasy thing that everyone can be a part of. But it's not because your mind must 100% be into it. You must 100% be in love with the woman you want to be your wife because when you decide to marry her, you're saying that you don't want any other person in the world but them. And in this world troy there's temptations out there. There's things that distract such harmony. That's why marriages fail today because they haven't given their mind, body and soul to their mate and are still lurking. Marriage is magical Troy. it's a beautiful thing to be apart of when you know it's with the right woman." As Sebastian goes on and on in his little soliloquy, maybe he bring sup a good point. Doesn't matter how old I am, if I truly feel that I don't want anyone else than my cuddle monkey, that's all that should matter right?

"I see," I say to him. He looks at me as if he knows what I'm thinking about.

"Troy, are you thinking about marrying Ophelia?" I lock my eyes with his green ones. Sebastian always has this knack of knowing what's on my mind with little to no detail. That's why Larry pays him the big bucks to be my personal guide. Although now Larry may not be doing anything at all.

"Yeah I am actually," answer him.

"Is that what you want?"

"I think so."

"No. With marriage Troy, you have to know you want to marry someone. it's not something you think you want. You have to know it."

"Sebastian, this girl is like my world. Rhyming wasn't intended. But she really is like everything you know? I honestly don't see why I'm waiting for."

"So you are serious about this?"

"I am. I am dead serious about this. This is what I want. I feel it. Didn't you feel it with your wife that when you saw her, that was the only girl for you? That your life has to have her in yours because that's how I feel right now about my babe."

"Well if that's the way you feel, all you need to do is go through with it. Troy, I've known you for almost two years and you've had your fair share of relationships."

"Don't remind me Sebastian. The past is the past for a reason. No need to bring up the archives."

"What I'm saying is I notice with Ophelia you speak about her in a different tone. It's almost as if when you speak of her, you get this rush and you almost gleam when you mention her name. I can tell that you care about her dearly and that your love for her is real. Personally you mentioned it earlier, if you're thinking about marrying her, I don't know why you're stopping yourself from going through with it."

"Not anymore Sebastian. Not anymore. I'm sure of it now. I'm going to make Ophelia Morganti my wife. That's what I want."
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About Twelve Hours Later at a bar

"So then this guy juciehead comes into the room, cock diesel and shit and then he goes to the pervert that's trying to hit on his girlfriend and just straight drops him with a clothesline! I man he straight up LEVELED this dude so hard he actually flew back a few inches." Yadda, yadda, yadda. I swear it's almost as if Austin's stories are just a lame as the idea of his being in a relationship with Lacey, who BTW, bared my only short-lived children. I mean Bruce, David and I didn't come here to this bar to listen to some unfunny stories that don't even relate to anything worthy of mentioning. It's not even reverse good. It' just....exist. Just like his relationships with Lacey. Ugh the thought of those two together is just make my stomach churn on the inside. it's quite horrifying. And I don't care what anyone tells me, I am never getting over that. Nor am I going to get over how unfunny Austin is at trying to entertain people. As she's trying to convince Bruce and David that he's somewhat cool, I just got my shot that I had on the bar counter and downed it. I had too. There's two types of people in this world. The ones you want to drink with and the ones that make you want to drink. Guess which one Austin is? And the fact is I don't even drink all that much. I'm not like David, who treats it like it's the Olympics. I mean he better hope the whole "Brits having iron liver" theory is true or he's not going to make it to 50. I say this out of love.

"Ha ha ha funny you mention this Austin because this sounds exactly like something Bruce here should do to you for going after my leftovers," I say to Austin. It had to be said. I saw his blonde head turn back around once I muttered what I said. Oh here we go.

"Fuck you," he remarks. What a stinging blow to my soul. I am literally as we speak shaking at how shook up I am for this original comeback. "You know you're just a supersized prick.'

"Whatevs. I'm not the one shaking up with someone's ex; who by the way that certain someone so happens to be the guy giving you pointers on how to actually succeed as a wrestler. How's that local gig I set up for you going huh? No you're welcomes from you?"

'Bro you know I appreciate the hookup man. I'm getting some green in my pocket just to start my career and clean the floor afterwards."

"So much that you turn around and start playing tonsil hockey with my ex. That's definitely a sign of appreciation."

'You know I didn't mean like that you dick. Isn't that right Davey?"

'Hey mate I told you about not calling me that," and that's why David Wilson is one of my favorite people to be around. Straight to the point. No filter. he gets it. He takes a shot of his glass before calling for another. Bruce was sitting right next to me doing the same. "And look I'm not into this shit. Whoever Austin wants to get his jollies in a twist for is his own business to be frank troy. I'm just saying. You and the girl have been splits for years. Let it go mate. it's Happy Hour. You don't bring up this shit on Happy Hour. This is not Happy Hour chatter."

"Relax fella," Bruce steps in and speaks. "we're all here to relax and tip a few back."

"Yeah what the big oof said mates. You two keep up with this soap opera shit and I'm gonna have to give both of you the bloody boot! Now fucking drink while they're half off or else I will."

"Hey you're not taking my shots buddy," Austin says in his whimsical voice. He's like a cute cartoon character without the cute point. Whatevs. I roll my eyes a bit but I can understand how Davey would be kinda tired of this same old story. EH my gripe though is justified but this is Happy Hour I guess. The one hour where sloppy drinks are half off all in the purpose of getting us to end up being sloppy drunk. I know my limits though. You won't see Troy Stone get sloppy drunk.

"Alright for now I'm just to pretend as if someone that I know isn't banging the woman that once popped out one of my kids."

"Troy!" Davey gives me the "just drop it look." I'm getting myself too worked up on this anyways. This is not even worth it. Fine I'll just let it go. it'll be hard to be hold it in as long as I have to see Austin's face, but for the sake of Happy Hour, I'll keep my mouth shut. I'll try at least.

"Troy Stone?! No way!" That's what i heard from behind me. It was a female voice and judging by the tone of the voice, it was definitely a LA valley girl. But wait, she called me by my name. How does she know my name? Ah man was this one of those one night stand type deals in which we had a fling like eons ago and she finally tracks me down and act why I never called; which by the way I would like to think would be self explanatory since well, it was a one night stand. See it should be obvi by the name. Nothing needs to be said. I let out a sigh and prepare myself for wherever this was about to take me.

"I'm sorry who are you," I ask right as I spin around in my seat. Everyone else turns around as well and when I stop my revolution, i take one good look at this female's face that's standing right in front of me with this blue dress that purposes shows off her figure. She's clearly trying to make a statement because that's the clear aim of wearing a dress like this. But once I took a lot at the face, I then cringed. And not in the "she's facially challenged" way, but in the "ah crap it's one of my exes" faces. Because this brunette was in fact one of my exes that I haven't seen in like a year. Has it been a year? Or has it been two? Did I even know her two years ago? Ah who cares. That's not the most relevant question here.

"Mandy," I mutter with a bit of surprised in my voice. Mandy was one of those girls that would probably make someone really happy in the future because she was trophy wife material. Because she was basically a trophy wife and that was about it. That type of thing works for a relationship but at the same thing, it can also lead to a short one. Mandy and I I think went a good month so this is obvi. But still, why is she standing right in front of me?

"So you do remember my name," she responds with a chuckle. Quite frankly I didn't find anything comical about this. I look at my man Bruce and David and Austin for a moment and then I lean close to Bruce's ear.

"I don't know what's about to happen but just be on the lookout," I tell him. True story you should ALWAYS be weary of exes.

"Just handle your business," he tells me. Easier said than done though. I turn back around to face Mandy and then somehow with her expensive black heels she runs and almost bearhugs me. As her body gets close to mine, I just realized she dyed her hair. No wonder why she looked different. She was a basic blonde LA velley girl. Now she's a basic brunette LA valley girl.

"How have you been asshole," she says to me. I immediately start to tense up. This could go done in a MILLION different directions.

"Well I didn't know asshole was my name but I'll let that slide and to answer your question, around the world and back." She finally lets go of me. "You know that wrestling thing you thought I was wasting my time doing? Welp, I'm in the big leagues now so you know I did tell you so."

"I never said you were wasting your time. I just said that wrestling in speedos against other guys in speedos was stupidf. No matter how rockin' your bod was,"

"It's more than that but again I'll let it sllide. But what are you doing here and why did you just come up to me all of a sudden?"

"Because I saw you from a distance and so I wanted to see what was up. It's been-"

"2 years?"

"8 months you asshole." She gives me a playfully punch to my shoulder. She use to do that a lot. Davey can vouch for me on this regard.

"I was joking...yeah I was just ribbin'." No i wasn't It's seriously been eight months? Woah.

"So you haven't noticed anything new about me Troy," she asked me. Loaded question here. All girls want attention and if I say no, i would never hear the end of it.

"What are you talking about here," I ask her. She then starts touching her breast and that quickly gave me the answer. Now looking at them, her chest does look a bit more "enhanced." I wonder what surgeon she went to. There's way to many in this city.

"I got myself a pair of twins. See," she says to me in a pridefully manner.

"I certainty noticed love," David spoke up. Mandy looks at him and smiles.

"Why did you get those," I asked her. Since she was bringing them up into the convo, I figured I had to ask.

"Well you're not the only one that's been busy with his life lately Troy. OK so I was doing the modeling thing but now, the adult entertaining business sis where it's at. They saw me in a local magazine and they wanted me to do a few projects and I took it. I'm getting paid so good money Troy. So I spent it to get these. What do you think?" Is she serious right now?

"Wait, did you just say you're doing porn," I asked her. She gave me a frown. Ah crap I offended her. Shut up Troy. Just shut up. "You're getting money for getting buns stuck in your oven? Oh now this is a development.

"What are you trying to say? That I'm a slut!" She sets up in my face. Bruce immediately steps in. Good to know B Double has my back at all times.

"Who the fuck is this," Mandy asked as Bruce makes sure there's some distance between her and I. Exes be crazy I tell you.

"Oh yeah this is my bodyguard and my good friend Bruce. He makes sure nothing pops off around me. Look I wasn't ragging on you for it. I just thought it was kinda funny that you're doing porn." Eh I should have taken that line back.

"Who the fuck are you you piece of shit?! You wrestle other sweaty guys in fucking underwear all the time. Who the fuck are you to judge me?"

"At least my job lets you keep your dignity. No offense." I hear David and Austin cackling in the back. I was enjoying this too much. I just really don't like reunions with exes. And as expected, Mandy tries to advance at me, but thankfully Bruce is there to push her back and make sure that doesn't happen. She keeps trying to run around him, as if that was going to work but eventually she realizes she's not getting through and steps back. Thank God.

"That's ok you prick. You just reminded me how much of an asshole you are."

"Maybe that's why we broke up then."

"No we broke up because you got bored with me."

"Did I actually say that?"

"You know what the fuck you said. It doesn't matter though. I bet you won't find this to be boring. Why don't you check your pockets for a moment." Check my pockets? What is this girl talking about? Alright fine I'll bite. Whatevs. I go to reach inside my pockets. This is pointless. Wait...my wallet. Where is my wallet? i always put my wallet in my left pocket. Every single time. Where is my wallet? I know I just saw it and put it here?

"Hope your life isn't boring without your wallet," I hear her voice call and when I look up, she has my freaking wallet in her hands. And she's running away with it! What the fu-?

"BRUCE," I shout. "BRUCE! BRUCE! SH GOT MY WALLET?"

"What?"

"SHE GOT MY WALLET. WE GOTTA RUN AWAY HER! SHE'S GOT MY WALLET![/color]
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Dear John

Salutions. I'm sure by now John you've probably seen my first hand written letter than I(thanks to Megan) sent to PWX so they could upload it on their website so everyone could see with their own two eyes. However this letter isn't for the masses. This is a letter written directly for you. If you haven't noticed by now I'm not calling you by your self-given nickname Wrath. Nah at this point, I feel as if we're past that. We're on first name bases basically. Or at least we should be. Bottom line is John is that from this point on, I'm calling you by your birth given first name. Anyways how are you today? I'm seriously asking you this not as a loaded question, not as some satirical jab but I honestly ask? How are you feeling right now? Do you still feel a bit banged up from Hostile Takeover? probably. Will you admit it? of course not but I would expect you to ask as if you're indestructible. That's your rep in the eyes of the dweebs so of course you have to live by thank.

But seriously how do you feel knowing the fact that you did beat me for the PWX World Heavyweight Championship huh? I bet you feel as if you're on cloud nine. Here you are; with my title, under my spotlight and for the first time ever in my life I'm not under that spotlight. For the first time ever, someone has managed to take the spotlight from me and put it on themselves. For the first time John, when I enter the ring tomorrow and look across the ring and see you, I'll know that I'm the supporting character. I'm the on outside the spotlight. Tomorrow night is your show.

How does that feel huh? That's three times I've asked you this because I want to know. I want to understand how you feel with that championship in your hands. I want to understand the feeling you felt when you beat me and thousands of people jumped out of their seats and screamed at the top of their lungs in support of you. Must have been everything that you hoped for when you returned to PWX right? And you probably feel justified when you constantly call yourself the greatest wrestler this company has ever seen. When the ref raised you hand and you were given the World Heavyweight Championship, in that moment, thousands creaming in approval and my body on the canvas, flowing in and out of consciousness, you probably felt as if this was truly the storybook ending you had been looking for since you came back.

And I can't deny you of that John. These dweebs are your people. These people have taken you in and you are their champion. You are their collective voice rolled into one. You are their pariah, no pun intended BTW. You are their Savior. It's something believe and it's probably something you believe. But John let me ask you this. I know this piece already has been filled with nothing but questions and more questions. But I have a point to this so just bare with me. Here we go. Here's the burning question that I want to find out. How does it feel to be able to manipulate thousands of people, aka the PWX fans, into believing everything you say is gossip?

I mean week in and week out you have these people around your little finger so much that they don't call you out for all the double standards, all the asinine comments you slew out of your mouth. Week in and week you're given the permission by these dweebs to speak slander without a single voice questioning your words. And I didn't even think about it up until I began writing this that what you have John is power. Like me with the House of Stone. But our powers are different. i have the power and the ability to no matter who i face in the ring I an beat that guy. It's been proven set I stepped foot in a PWX ring. Troy Stone is on another level when you look at the Strykers, the Callibans, the John Pariahs the list go on and on. And you can do the same thing John. I can't take that away from you. But there's something else that you;re so good at and that's being able to control these dweebs, control their emotions and lead these people to believe that everything you say is the truth. And you are put on that pedestal by these dweebs and you are given the platform to lie to their faces,

You're no different than me John. you're a liar like myself. But hey, I'm a honest liar. Believe me. I've made no bones about it. i will do whatever it takes to make sure I maintain the power that I have and sometimes I have to spin the truth. But like every business man knows, sometimes you have to lie to have yourself remain in business. And you're no different. You're a business man John; only you're in this business for yourself. Not these people and not for PWX. In my last promotional video I pointed out your constant desire to slander me and say that I haven't earned anything that I've gotten and that I don't wrestle in that PWX ring to become the best. You want to take about the amount of matches I'm in. You want to take about the apparent lack of title defenses I had. And apparently you and other dweebs feel as if this is an actual legit question that. And guess what? These dweebs allowed you to slew the same garbage once again without any of them calling you out for repeating yourself.

I'm confused though John, I thought the Stone Cold Gauntlet was an OPEN CHALLENGE to EVERYONE in professional wrestling designed to prove my status as the true king of this entire business. I thought letting EVERYONE from every promotion apply for entry to be entered into the gauntlet was an example of me stepping out of boundaries no one in PWX has ever done and taking things to another level. But no John, apparently you missed out that fact and instead you want to call me out for things that i can't control. I'm sorry John that i can't control who I'm able to face or what show I'm suppose to wrestle on. I'm sorry I don't have the power of the PWX board to book myself in enough matches to make you feel better.

Seriously John you're really making that easy statement the base of why you think I'm undeserving? i mean how easy is it for you to assume me of that and just claim that I'm not a "real worker" when you don't measure in the fact that I don't run the shows. I don't choose who I face and I don't have the power to do all of the above. But since you want to talk about the amount of matches I've been in, let's talk about that then. You want to discredit me for "being in fewer matches? but my question I ask you is is that really relevant? Is it? Because look at those matches I've been in and what have the results been? In those "few matches", I became the Evolution Champion, the World Grand Prix Champion and I became the LONGEST reigning PWX World Champion in history. It's a concept that I have told both John Pariah and everyone til i'm blue in the face. QUALITY OVER QUANTITY. I could have wrestled in less than nine matches, but in less than nine matches I beat the top names and I won title after title after title. The only thing I'm able to control John is the people put in front of me that's what i do better than anyone else.

You just don't want to give me my due. That's just the bottom line John. You just don't want to admit that it took me less time, less matches to reach the same level that you had been fighting to get too. You just want to believe in the notion that everything has just be handed to me because that's the easy thing to say. My first ever match here in PWX wasn't a World title match. In fact, it was the opening match on the show. Against Mike Tompkins. And I went from there to headlining PPV within A MONTH, ONE MONTH because in one month I proved I should steal the show better than anyone that tried to match me. You don't want to admit that within three months of forming the House of Stone, I MYSELF reach the top of this company ON MY OWN ACCORD! People just tend to forget that Hollywood and Zion CAME to me because I didn't need to come to them. I was already the top guy. i was already the man. And that's something I'm going to have to talk to Hollywood about because on a side tangent we have some things we need to discuss.

You don't really care about this company because all you do is bad mouth people in this company, people like Elijah Black, like Timothy Hunt, guys who are(in Timmy's case was) considered by everyone the top names in this company. Surely you can't honestly think you can be the face of this company when you constantly undermine this company. BUT NO ONE CALLS YOU OUT OF IT! Because you've managed to make everyone ignore this. You've made everyone seemingly ignore the fact that you bash this company right and last and yet in the same breath you can be the hero that everyone thinks you are because they're gullible and they actually believe it. It sickens me.

No matter what I say, fact is fact, you took that championship from me. That's twice you've bested me. You've also tased my privates and you've also cost me and my babe the PWX World Tag Team Titles. Some would say you have my number and as much pride as I have to shallow John as of right now, you do. But think about this John since you like giving me no credit, you've done all of that to me plus give me a messed up jaw, a migraine and a few other injuries and tomorrow night you have to face me again. Just think about that. You've done all of that to me and yet I'm still standing right across from you tomorrow night. You know why John?

Because I've never been defeated.

I've lose yes. I've lose plenty of times. It happens. But there's a saying. Losing isn't losing when you fail. Losing is losing when you fail and you can't get back up. Everyone who has managed to somehow beat Troy Stone has never been able to put me down. Not one person has been able to stop me from getting back up. I remember when I first started in this business almost seven years ago and even then I felt as if I could take on anyone standing in front of me. And the vets didn't like it. So every time they faced me, they tried to kick my ass. Beat some sense into me. And they did kick my ass. Every. single. time. But they could never put me down.

That is true greatness John. it's not just when you're winning , it's how you bounce back and no matter how every dweeb loves the idea of Troy Stone failing, they have NEVER seen me defeated. Ryan Kidd thought he defeated me, I bounced back and I outsmarted him and I beat him. I've lost but I've never been defeated. No one has been able to beat me twice in a roll because Troy Stone learns from his mistakes. That's the sign of divinity John.

We go at it again tomorrow night. Falls Count Anywhere. But the pressure's on you John. This time, everything's on you. The lights are on you. You beat the big bad Troy Stone; you did the ONE thign everyone in the back and the audience wanted to see. Now you have to put me down and I get how this thing goes, if I lose tomorrow, i don't get a shot in a while. if you beat me tomorrow John, I will have been defeated for the first time in my life. It's on YOUR shoulders to put me down for good. Remember your last title reign? You only held it for a month. And you couldn't even defend it once? Just think what everyone will think if the same thing happens only now it's within a two week span? You lose to me tomorrow night, everyone finally sees who's really speaking the truth and who's not. I am divinity John and no one on this planet can every keep me down. Which is why tomorrow I take back their hope and your dream. i take back my championship. I take back...my spotlight.