I'm More of a Champion Than You'll Ever Be
Oct 13, 2019 8:22:39 GMT -5
BonnieBlue, Smith Jones, and 1 more like this
Post by Dean Wolf on Oct 13, 2019 8:22:39 GMT -5
APW Metal
October 7
WVU Coliseum
Morgantown, West Virginia
The masked man that attacked Dean Wolf is making his way through the crowd. With his slight girth and outfit that has him covered up in multiple layers, he’s leaking sweat and breathing heavier than someone who is having an asthma attack and can’t find their inhaler. Still, the rush of adrenaline, and the threat of the two security guards that are gaining on him, pushes him more and more to get away and protect his identity. He enters the concessions and starts running towards the door when he spots a trash can coming up on his right. He instinctively pushes it to the ground. One security guards trips over it. His partner tries to hop over him but trips as well. The masked man pushes the glass door open and exits the building. Suddenly, he stops.
Where did I park my car? E-12? Or was it F-12? Or F-13? FUCK!
He turns back and sees the guards getting back on their feet and running for the door. In panicked desperation, he looks for anything that can save him and spots a van belonging to 100.9 Jack-FM, the local radio station in Morgantown that sponsored tonight’s APW show. The station employees are taking down the tent and table that were set up beside the van to give out free stuff. The masked man sprints towards the van and approaches one of the workers, startling him.
Masked Man: Give me the keys to the van!
Radio Station Employee #1: What?
Masked Man: Give me the fucking keys!
Radio Station Employee #1: No way, man.
The masked man punches him out and looks at the other guy, who has his hands up.
Masked Man: Where are the keys?!
Radio Station Employee #2: In his pocket! In his pocket!
The masked man reaches into #1’s pocket and grabs the keys. He gets in the driver’s seat and turns the ignition. No sooner than that, he puts the car into drive and slams the gas pedal, peeling away. The back of the van is still open, causing the table the employees stored in there to fly out. He drives straight at the approaching security guards, who dodge certain death at the last second.
He zooms through the parking lot recklessly, trying to reach the exit. Fans are starting to come out of the arena, but they too steer clear of the van that’s racing through the parking lot like it’s a bull running through the streets of Pamplona. Finally, he finds the exit and drives off into the night.
Back inside the WVU Coliseum, Smitty is gone and APW officials enter the ring to check on Wolf, who’s coming to after the Point of Controversy hit him like a sniper’s bullet. Eddie Silk tries to help him up. Wolf pushes him away. He shakes the cobwebs and looks around.
Dean Wolf: Where’s my belt?
Eddie Silk: Smitty threw it out of the ring.
He looks over at Jasmine Silk.
Eddie Silk: Go get it for Wolf.
Dean Wolf: No. I’ll get it.
He starts to push himself up off the mat. Eddie tries to help him again.
Dean Wolf: Eddie, don’t touch me!
Eddie backs away. Wolf gets to his feet slowly and the fans applaud. He looks over the ropes and sees his belt lying on the floor like it was a bag of garbage that someone had thrown out their window. He gingerly steps through the ropes and jumps from the apron to the floor. He bends down, picks his belt up, and looks at it.
Smitty may think this belt is a piece of junk, but to Wolf it’s beautiful. It’s everything to him. It’s all he has right now, and he’s formed a bond with it that he hasn’t been able to form with any human being for the last 15 years.
And I’ll be damned if some fucktard like Smith Jones is going to treat it like shit!
He’s emboldened. He was mad before, but now he’s at a boiling point. Smith Jones has insulted the title. Smith Jones has insulted Wolf’s wrestling ability. Smith Jones got the better of him tonight by hitting the Point of Controversy while he was distracted.
If it wasn’t for that masked coward attacking me and fucking security trying to protect me instead of allowing me to teach the masked fuck a lesson, I’d be standing over Smith Jones’ bloody body right now.
His neck was in pain and he had a massive headache, but now all that pain is negated by the resentment filling his body. He feels reinvigorated. He feels refreshed. He feels more ready now to kick the ever living shit out of anybody that crosses him. He throws the police-taped strap across his shoulder and marches towards the back. He blasts through the curtain and into the gorilla position, where he’s intercepted by Troy Butler, who’s holding a microphone and has a cameraman with him. Butler runs up to Wolf.
Troy Butler: Dean Wolf, can I get a word with you?
Dean Wolf: WHO WAS IT!?
Troy Butler: Who was who?
Wolf pushes Butler away and grabs the microphone.
Dean Wolf: THE PERSON WHO ATTACKED ME TONIGHT, DIPSHIT! WHO WAS IT?!
He looks into the camera.
Dean Wolf: Was it Big Bad Bodacious looking to get a little bit of revenge?! Huh?! Was it one of his goombahs carrying out a hit on me?!
Was it Irina?! Whoever it was, they looked kind of manly like Irina! Maybe it was someone she hired, some former KGB agent!
Maybe it was ZMAC, maybe getting his revenge on me for cutting out his guts the other night! Huh?! Maybe he’s a little jealous that I bested him while he was trying to screw me out of my Hardcore Title! Maybe he still can’t get over the fact that I pinned him to win this title! Maybe he can’t get over the fact that I overcame his fucking head games and won this beautiful piece of police-wrapped gold back from Spartan!
Maybe it was a surrogate of Smith Jones. Maybe it was an ally of his, jumping me from behind before Smith and I could get it on in the squared circle next week!
He calms down but breathes heavy between his words.
Dean Wolf: But you know what? I’m not gonna worry about the identity of this fucking asshole right now. I gotta focus on that very match I have next week against Smith Jones. I’ve got a score to settle with him because he thinks that being the Hardcore Champion makes me beneath him. He thinks the Hardcore Championship itself is beneath him and that World Title. Yeah, he’s a real arrogant fuck. That’s what you are Smith, a real arrogant fuck!
He laughs.
Dean Wolf: Your whole reasoning for thinking that you’re better than me and the Hardcore Title is laughable. You think I went after this title because I lost my desire to be the best? Motherfucker, I never lost my desire to be the best! I went after this title because I believe I AM THE BEST, because the best go after the championships, no matter what they are!
And just in case you still want to question my desire, just know that I’ve had my eye on that World Championship you hold since I stepped into this promotion. Before it was even introduced, I had my eye on it. Winning it has always been my goal, and if I beat you, I will have the BIGGEST claim to a World Title shot. It’ll be so big that not even Irina Ivanova, who would love nothing more than to drive me out of this promotion, could turn me down.
But in the meantime, I proudly and humbly defend my Hardcore Championship, because that’s what you do when you hold a title belt. You honor it by defending it. You honor it by treating it like the most prized possession in the world, more important than a wife or a child or a family heirloom.
They say the title doesn’t make the man but rather the man makes the title. Well, let me tell you something. I’ve MADE this title. I’ve HONORED this title. When I step into that ring, I don’t take a night off. I don’t take it easy. Title match or not, I go full throttle. And when my title is on the line, I put everything I have into fighting for it. Even when I lost it to Spartan in that Triple Threat Match at Alpha Showdown, I didn’t just sit back and let Spartan and ZMAC have it out so I could wait for the right time to attack. If I was conscious, I was on my feet, going after my opponents to keep the right to call myself the Hardcore Champion.
I defend this title as if I’m fighting for my own god damned life, and I’m going to continue to defend it that way until somebody proves that they deserve to hold it more than me.
Time will tell if you honor your championship in the same way, but if you ask me, you haven’t carried yourself like the World Champ yet. The World Champion, the supposed “top guy” doesn't run down the competition. Running down the competition makes everybody on the roster look weak. If you’re the champion of a roster full of weaklings, how does that make you look? Frankly, it’s a line of thinking that I seem to be fighting against more and more in APW, and that’s what you, World Champ, should be doing. But no, you propagate that way of thinking. You’re no better than Fuckin’ A. He’ll never deserve to be a world champion no matter where he wrestles, and you don’t deserve it, either.
The World Champion is a leader and you’re no leader. You’re a pretender, just like when you were spewing out your motivational bullshit. I said it once and I’ll say it again. You’re no better than the corrupt pastor who gets on TV and asks for people’s money in return for good fortune from God. You’re no better than the snake oil salesman who sells you a bill of goods and rips you off. You’re no better than the crooked politician who talks out of both sides of his mouth. Sure, you compliment me and give me credit for being resilient and fighting to get my title back, but in the next breath, you’re telling me that I should just put on a red nose and clown shoes because it goes along with the hardcore “gimmick.” Yeah, you say everyone who has fought for the Hardcore Title has been a “top notch superstar,” but then you say that the Hardcore Title doesn’t measure the greatness of a wrestler. You may be the World Champion because you hold the physical belt, but in my eyes, you’re full of shit. You may be a great wrestler with a bag of technical wrestling moves as big as the day is long, but from where I’m standing, I’m more of a champion than you’ll ever be, no matter what title I hold.
You see, I just want to be the best, and holding a title makes you part of the best. It makes you part of the elite, and I consider myself an elite wrestler. I’m not just an elite HARDCORE wrestler, but an ELITE WRESTLER. I will take on any challenge or any type of match put in front of me.
Can I say the same for you? I mean, why is it that YOU didn’t take the shot at the Hardcore Championship in AC? As soon as I heard that that match was happening, as soon as I heard that there was a belt to win and that it was open to the whole roster, I didn’t say “Fuck that. It’s beneath me.” I said “Bring it on. I would love to hold that belt because it signifies a championship. It shows that whoever holds it is part of the best in APW.” I didn’t care that it was an anything goes match. I didn’t care that it was in a casino and not in a traditional venue. I said “I want it” and I went after it because that is what a professional wrestler does.
But you. You sat at home because in your words, the Hardcore Championship was a “glorified piece of scrap metal.” You were just saving yourself for the World Title. I’ll give you credit for your long-term vision. That’s what all wrestlers should think. I have those plans myself. But I didn’t let that stop me from going after the Hardcore Championship. I took the chance. You think I didn’t know the risk of walking into that match in AC? You think I didn’t know that there was a chance for a serious injury to befall me, that I was jeopardizing my chance to someday become the World Champion? Yeah, sure, I thought that, but I didn’t let that stop me. Taking chances is what you do when you want to make a name for yourself. And it paid off. I opened a lot of eyes the night that I first won my Hardcore Championship.
And I really wonder, what would have happened if you and Bodacious’ fortunes had switched in the Alpha Showdown match? What would have happened if YOU had been the one to earn the Hardcore Title shot instead of him? Am I to believe that you would have forfeited that title shot because it was beneath you? No, I don’t think so. You’re a smart guy. I don’t think you’d be so dumb as to just give up the chance to be a champion, to be part of the elite in APW.
Then again, maybe you really are just a pussy who’s too afraid to ever fight for a hardcore championship again. I look at you, in all your smugness and all your arrogance, and I don’t think you can play my game anymore. I don’t think you could be hardcore like me, even if you still wanted to be. But it’s fine. I’m not asking you to step into the ring for a hardcore match. I can play your game, too. I can wrestle the kind of match that you want, with the rules and restrictions of a straight wrestling match. I don’t need a wrench or a chair or a bull’s horn or a table to do damage. All I need are my fists and my boots. All I need is this mighty right arm to hit the one move that has taken out every single opponent I have beaten here in APW- The Kill. These are the only tools I need to beat you.
You know how I know that?
BECAUSE I’VE ALREADY DONE IT!
He gets worked up again.
Dean Wolf: So if you think I’m beneath you, just remember when you were beneath me when I pinned you on July 1! If you think that I’m beneath you, just remember that I will fight any type of match that you want! When we step inside the ring next Monday, I’m gonna cut you down before you even have time to seek the wolf in thyself!
He walks closer to the camera until his face takes up the entire shot. He talks low before getting loud one more time.
Dean Wolf: And I’ll prove...THAT I AM THE BETTER FUCKING CHAMPION!
He throws the mic down on the ground. Feedback squeals through the audio as the Hardcore Champ walks off camera.
The masked man and his stolen van are now on the outskirts of town and approaching the West Virginia countryside. He remembers his own car, which he left at the arena, and wonders how he’s going to get it back.
I’ll figure it out once I can ditch this van safely.
His thoughts turn to the failure that was his ambush on Wolf. He starts feeling anger rise up in his chest.
Damn it. This is not right. This guy got dominated every fucking day for a good two years in high school, and one day, he gets lucky and all of a sudden my life turns to shit and he gets to be some big star on TV. Motherfucker thinks he can just call rename himself Wolf and be some kind of badass?
It’s not right.
IT’S NOT RIGHT!
And tonight, I think I’ve got him where I want him, and I think I’m going to make everything right, and I fail! I make myself look like an idiot for millions to see! I make myself look like a bigger loser than I already am!
He smacks the steering wheel.
Me, Mark, and Joe owned Dan Dexter’s ass, and…
Wait a minute.
Why am I trying to do this myself? I never kicked Dan’s ass myself. Me, Mark, and Joe always did it together. Why am I trying to shoulder the burden crippling this prick myself? I’ve got to believe that Joe and Mark still aren’t over what Dan did to them all those years ago either. Joe got his head split open. Mark’s face got all messed up. They must be feeling the same way that I’m feeling. They have to want revenge, too.
He looks out his mirrors and sees that the coast is clear.
Fuck. This mask is hot.
He pulls it off. The face underneath belongs to Chris Swenson.
Chris Swenson: I’ve got to find Mark and Joe.
He smiles and nods.
Chris Swenson: Yeah. Time to get the band back together. Time to put the lights out on this motherfucker who calls himself Dean Wolf once and for all.
He drives on into the night, looking for a place to abandon the van, but content that he has come up with a plan B.
