Blood

Sitting in my Chicago apartment, I stare into the mirror in my bathroom.  Looking back is a man still covered in the blood of Conor Fuse.  Still riding the high of massacring that fucking noob who thinks that this is just all some fucking game.  That he just just hit reset, use another life or enter some cheat code to get to the fucking top.

Try to hit the reset button now fucker!
See if it heals up the barbed wire holes scattered across your fucking body!

Trust me.. If there was a cheat code to HOW… I would have it… and trust me I would have used it by now.  I know we’re not done Conor… but I can’t focus on you just yet.  I have someone else I need to take care of before we can move forward.  So let’s hit the pause button on our little game Conor.  Sit back and watch me… call it a twitch stream… or whatever you nerds will… cause in the end it is gonna be a hell of a show.

Now… the blood…

That is something we have in common Jack.

No… not in the sense that we are related.  I’m not gonna try and pull some Lee and Mike Best bullshit and toss some old ass DNA tests that prove we’re long lost brothers.  They can keep their day time Maury talk show drama bullshit for themselves.

But we both share a love for blood… causing it to pour from the bodies of our victims… I mean opponents.  We are two of the most sadistic fucks that HOW has seen in recent history.

I remember when you and those other four joined HOW.  At the start of this new era.  It was big fucking news.  Troy, and Lee’s huge fucking hard on for her.  MJ Flair, the spawn of the famous legend Eli.  Eric Dane, a defiant and mortal enemy of HOW, making the turn to try and prove he could easily run house in HOW.  Dan Ryan, the verteran work horse, trying to prove he has one last solid run left in him.  Then there was Jack Harmen… High Flyer.  PTC royalty.  A man with quite the distinguished resume… and an even more sadistic past.

Some may have even said that you could be the new Scottywood of HOW.  Sure, crack your jokes, I can hear Mike Best and the ghost of Max Kael laughing already.  Saying who the fuck would ever want to be the new me.  But while Mike might have actually murdered fucks… and Max Kael may be the most psycologilly mess up men in HOW, I am undoubtably one of if not the king of hardcore in HOW and it was thought the legendary High Flyer could knock me off that throne.

It wouldn’t have taken much Jack.  I certainly haven’t wowed anyone since HOW has returned.  Failed LSD Title matches against MJ Flair and Hughie Freeman.  Shit, I got crucified by fucking Scott Stevens!  It seems that my best days are certainly behind me.  That the end of the road for Scottywood was miles ago and I’m just aimlessly wandering in the woods, waiting to be put down.

But we did not get the Jack Harmen that made his name across the feds of PTC.  You’ve spent the last year and a half treading water here in HOW.  Not being able to get a single fucking thing going for yourself while your friends Troy, Flair and Ryan all have had varying amounts of success. 

We won’t talk about Dane.

Sorry… correction… I’m not allowed to talk about Dane.

Deep breath and moving on.

The facts Jack are that the only throne you kicked me off was who has been a bigger disappointment since HOW has returned.  I don’t mean to kick you while you’re down… or bury you in the shallow grave your career has fallen into.  I’d love nothing more to face off against the legendary sadistic High Flyer.  The man we saw glimpses of during your first War Games match.  That is the man who could literally… fucking literally burn The Best Arena down again in a match as we fucking destroy… fucking destroy our bodies in the process just for honor of being called the winner.

Now I might not be LSD Champion.  I might have lost to Hughie at Rumble at the Rock.  But believe me Jack… you are NOT going up against a Hardcore Artist who is just going through the motions.  I may be broken… I may be hurting, both physically and certainly emotionally… but believe me when that shit is fueling me more than ever to burn the whole fucking shit fuck world down to the fucking ground!

If she doesn’t want me… then fuck her and fuck this whole fucking world!

I’ll find someone else… someone who does want to be with me.  Or I will destroy everything I can get my hands on.  EVERY FUCKING THING!

Oh how brilliant it would be to have the head of High Flyer piked on a fucking stick.

That would show her how she picked the wrong man at Alcatraz.  Make her regret picking that dumpster stain of a human being instead of The Hardcore Fucking Artist!

So please Jack, show up.  Please Jack, bring High Flyer, that crazy, sadistic, madman that made Phantom Booker wet in his Chinese made panties.  I wanna put that stake through the best you have left, through PTC and through all those fuckers who back in the day never thought that me and my company were worth shit compared to the mighty PTC elites.

Ya think I have held some grudges from back in the day?

No fucking shit.

I’ve got a lot of pent up aggression from years in that toxic PTC environment that I just can’t wait to release as I look back on all those years I spent in that shit hole when I could have been over here in the Golden Era of HOW on HOTv.  But don’t worry Jack… I’ll right all that come Refueled when I prove just how much PTC overlooked me and my group back in the day.

So get ready Jack, I know… or at least I hope this is gonna be one hell of a fucking war.  Since this fight between us deserves nothing less.  If that ring isn’t soaked in both our bloods by the end of things… it will be an utter let down.

Then again… we’ve both been used to that over the years… haven’t we?

Taking a long ass drink of my beer, I smile as I stare at the blood of Conor Fuse.

Thinking about adding to it that of High Flyer’s.  A crimson mask, to hide my pain.  To shelter the loss from everyone and try to continue that facade of The Hardcore Artist.

HOW much longer can I keep it up in HOW?

Maybe Jack will call my bluff… maybe he will be the one that puts me out of my own misery as I wander out in those woods, well past the road of my career.

Maybe… but doubtful.  No matter what happens in that ring with High Flyer… I’m far from finished.  I might be damaged… and the road ahead… if there is one… will be tough.  But I’ve fought through so much over the years.  I have overcome so much.  Shit that would have K.O.ed so many others.  But here I am still… so that has to mean something. 

Right? 

Wrong? 

Someone please give me the answer, cause I’m getting tired of looking for it.  I just want to walk down to that ring and beat the living shit out of another human in hopes that they’ll call me the winner.  But in the end… it doesn’t even really matter.  I just need to impress her.

The new apple of my eye.

My next conquest.

There is a long game to still be played.  Long past Flyer… and even Fuse.  Time to step things and set shit into motion.  Because I refuse to let her beat me.  I refuse to let her win.  I will prove her wrong and I will make her fucking regret everything she put me through!

You picked Hughie… not me… and now I’m gonna make you regret it.  It might be me in pain now… but in the end… you’ll feel it too… and I fucking promise I’ll make it hurt you so much more.