I’ve put up with a lot of bullshit in my two years working under Lee Best. I’ve dealt with setback after setback, I’ve been thrown into impossible situations. I’ve been targeted time and time again by GOD himself. He’s thrown me mongrel after mongrel, idiot after idiot took the offer. Everyone had their hand out, thinking they could get the best of me.
Thinking they could drive me away.
No. There is no driving me away.
I’m here Frank Dylan James, I’m here until my body fails me. I’m here until I stop putting maggots like you to sleep with my left arm. I’m here until I can’t go anymore. Whether Lee Best likes it or not, this is my fucking home. He invited me in, he opened the door, and he begged for me to come here. I’m not fucking leaving.
I’m not walking away from this place until I get what I want, I’m not leaving High Octane Wrestling until I take what is rightfully fucking mine. I’ve been on a mission for the last two years, a mission Lee Best himself sent me on. I’ve worked my fucking ass off for two years. I’ve smashed every garbage, malcontent, sack of human waste he’s slammed in front of me. Mother fucker, I’ve cleaned this roster out, up and down, like it’s a red light special at Wal-Mart on check day.
I’ve done exactly as commanded, I’ve smashed Darin Zion into oblivion, I’ve beat the fuck out of the Egg boys, I’ve beat up whoever the fuck he’s wanted me to kill for YEARS. That idiot from OCW wanted to come over? Dead. Jace fucked up against Zion? Dead. Teddy Palmer leading a rebellion from within? I don’t see Teddy Palmer around these parts anymore. I’ve massacred and smashed my way through anything and everything that’s stepped foot in my path. I’ve done it for two years, I beat Jace Parker Davidson so bad last year we had to send out his face on a fucking milk carton.
And now he wants me to pack my bags, get up, and walk away. He wants me to take my Texas ass somewhere else. He wants me to go find greener pastures, he wants me out of his hair, the #97RED loving fuck probably wants me wearing a shade of light blue. And I’m not going to do it, I’m not going to walk away from a fucking fight. I’m not going to walk away from a fucking battle. I’m not going to run away with my tail between my legs.
I’m not some whipped fucking dog Frank. I’m not some man you beat into submission.
I’m Clay fucking Byrd.
I run this shit.
Inside those ropes, that’s where I make my living. That’s where my bread is buttered. That’s where the violence happens. That’s where people step through the ropes with a smile, because they believe they can win. They step through those ropes grinning from ear to fucking ear believing with every fiber of their fucking being that they’ll be the ones to walk into the ring and fucking beat me. They think they can do what Michael Best did, they think they can do what Sutler Kael did.
They think they can conquer The Behemoth.
They all find out the same thing Frank, they all find out that I’m too big, that I’m too fucking strong, that I’m too fucking mean. They all find out that they don’t have the fucking heart, they all find out they don’t really have the desire. They are in their fighting for money, they are in their fighting for their families.
While I’m in there fighting for my fucking life Frank.
I’m a selfish man, my best friend Steve Solex could tell you that. I always have been Frank, I do everything I possibly can for myself. I’m singularly focused. As long as our goals are aligned I’m your best fucking friend, but if you step in my way, there’s no stopping me. I’m a fucking pit bull, I’m ferocious to a fault. I’ll grab on tight as I fucking can with my teeth and shake the fucking hell out of you. I’ll shake you so hard your big dumb hillbilly eyes pop right out of your head. I’ll shake the Kentucky right out of you. I’ll shake you so fucking hard they’ll think they can use what’s left of you for shine mash.
Because I’m fucking prideful Frank. I have many sins, and I own them. I own them just as much as I own the inside of a #97RED ring. I know my flaws, and I know they can be fatal. I know I slammed Benny Newell through a fucking cage wall instead of finishing off Mike Best. I know I walked into a fucking trap against Conor Fuse after March to Glory. I know I let Sutler Kael tie me in a knot. I know John Sektor put me to sleep because I was too confident and thought he was washed up.
But one thing I’m not Frank, the one thing I’m not is fucking stupid. You out there calling me a coward for weeks and weeks while I’m progressing the mission. Out there begging for me to get sidetracked with your stupid ass. Singing to me like I’m a girl at the school dance and Keith Sweat just came on. You wanted me to fire you up, you wanted me to start fighting you at every corner. You wanted me to soften myself up. You wanted to beat me down with EPU, or whatever other stupid fucking ideas Lee Best had.
You wanted to be one of them, you wanted to ride Mongo like STRONK. You wanted to be like Tyler Best, the apple of Lee Best’s eye. You wanted to show the world that someone could finally ship Clay Byrd off to Las Vegas like he was a dying horse sent to the glue factory.
Nobody is going to make me leave Frank. Nobody is going to drive off Clay Byrd. Nobody is going to stop me from completing my mission. Not the big muscle bound freaks, not one of my own friends Steve Harrison, not Christopher fucking America, not STRONK fucking Godson and not Conor Fuse. Nobody is going to stop me from taking the one thing Lee fucking wants more than anything. Nobody is going to throw me off the fucking path, nobody is going to take me down and out.
I’ve fought too long for it. I’ve fought too hard for it, Frank. I’ve chased that red belt for the last fucking year, I’ve been incessant. I’m obsessed with it, I need it. I want it more than anything else I’ve ever wanted in my entire life. I need it more than anything else I’ve ever needed in my entire life. I need it more than food, I need it more than water, I need it more than air. My entire being yearns for it, it craves it, it calls for it.
And you’re the one they sent to try to stop me. You’re the one they put in front of me to punish me. You’re the one they sent to distract me.
I will not be denied what I want Frank. I will not be told that I can’t have what I need. I will not be knocked off course. I will run through every inch of your six-foot nine big ass shoeless self. I will run you through into the fucking dirt. I will plant your big stupid ass like a fucking flag at Iwo Jima. I will invade the island of Alcatraz once again. I will smash through the barriers, I will put you down in the middle of that fucking prison canvas like a fucking dog. I will drive you into that mat like you were a fucking railroad spike. I will pay a price for what I want, and it’ll be in the blood of whoever stands in my fucking way.
I thought I had made that point clear by now. If you’d watched our shows at all for the past ten months you’d fucking know that. You’d know that I’m hellbent on smashing my way through whatever is necessary to get where I want to be. You’d know that I’d do whatever it fucking took. I’m not a good man Frank. I never said I was a good man.
I’ve tried to be a good man, I’ve tried to live my life by a code. But this place, this place drives you to the brink Frank. It drives you to the very fucking edge of what you believe. It takes you to a place you’d never fathom that you’d go to. It turns you into something you never thought you’d be. It warps you, it twists you.
It has warped and twisted me. Things I’d never have done in the past, I’m willing to do Frank. You experienced it a few weeks ago at CHAOS, you felt what I was willing to do to get my fucking point across. I drove that fucking nightstick across your temple while two other men held you down.
I told you I’m not a good guy Frank. I’ve done terrible things, I’ve done terrible things in the name of this place. I’ve mutilated and fucking mauled people Frank. I killed a man on the way to this very event last year. I murdered him in cold fucking blood. I wrapped my fucking hands around his neck and I squeezed. I can still hear him, I can still hear him gasping, rasping, pulling, for air. I could feel his esophagus ripple and flex under my fingers, begging to open. I could hear the gargle, what saliva he had in his mouth blocking off whatever small bit of air there was left. Whatever hole I couldn’t close.
I did it for this. I did it for High Octane Wrestling. And it betrayed me. It stopped looking out for me and instead started looking for me. My owner became my abuser, my best friend became my tormenter.
And you think you can stand in the way of my revenge?
You really believe that?
Deep down, inside that little furry chest of yours, between all the unkept spaghetti meat, where you can feel your heart thumping against your hand. You can feel the device that keeps your blood pushing and pulling through your veins.
Do you believe it there?
Deep down in that big buttery greasy Kentucky heart do you believe it? Do you really feel like you can stop me? Do you really believe that you’re finally going to be the one to knock me off of my path? Do you really feel like you’re going to be the person that drags me away kicking and screaming? Do you believe that after two years of humiliating War Games, that after being thrown off a fucking ship, that after having the son of the owner of the company leap off of a cage and humble me on pay-per-view, that you can take me away from this place?
You’re insignificant Frank. In the grand scheme of things, in the grand scheme of the machine, you’re nothing but a fly buzzing around a hungry, angry, pissed off gorilla. You might be a big fly Frank, you might be the biggest fly that’s ever been put in my path. But you’re still a fly. You still eat shit, you still annoy instead of combat, your words were irritating, but they weren’t infuriating. You weren’t taking anything from me, you weren’t a threat.
You were just there Frank.
That’s all you were, you were just the fly buzzing near the tiger while he hunted his prey. You were the insect buzzing around, doing whatever you could to stop me from slaughtering my way through them. You were sent to appease me, to satiate me, to feed my hunger in the hopes that I’d become fat and bored.
But I’m insatiable. No amount of pestering and dimwitted hillbilly slang could possibly make you appetizing. The only thing this is, is another check in the win column. A victory over a broken, beaten man that doesn’t deserve to go out there at Alcatraz. A victory over some piss poor selfish little brat who thinks he needs to be the center of attention every waking moment of his existence.
I’m a predator Frank, I always have been. I hunted Mike Best around this place for months, I sought out the lion looking to make him a meal, you don’t think I’ll destroy your water buffalo looking ass? I was born hungry, everything I’ve ever done I’ve wanted to be the absolute best at. Everything I’ve ever had put in front of me, I needed, and had to conquer. From my time as a child until now, I’ve hunted men like you. Men who don’t believe in themselves.
I’ve stalked men like you through the high grass for decades, the men with eyes bigger than their stomachs. Out there trying to get fat in the middle of my field. Out there feeding off my prey, bagging up wins against the bottom ends of the food chain like a slaughterhouse.
But you’re in my slaughterhouse Frank. You’re not a predator anymore. Now you’re the prey. Now there’s some big giant fuck walking around looking to eat you. To rip you apart in that ring piece by fucking piece. Because I can’t let just anyone into my jungle to eat. I can’t let anyone walk through my territory. This is my home. These are my prey. I will not run off, I will not run out, I will not be evicted.
Not for you.
Not because of you.
I will swat the fly. I will destroy the distraction. I will resume the mission. I will move forward instead of backwards. I will fight my way through whatever Lee Best puts in front of me. I have to. This is the path I chose, this isn’t something I was forced into. I choose to live here, I choose this shitty fucking life. I need it Frank. I need the punishment, I need the suffering. I deserve it. Because it’ll make the victory that much sweeter.
So come to the rock for a fight, come to the rock prepared for the most violent encounter of your fucking life. Come ready to bleed, come ready to suffer, come ready for violence. Because I will give you your fill, and I will not stop. I cannot stop. I have to keep going, I have to keep clawing and scratching. There’s nothing else out there for me. This is all I have, all I’ll ever have. I’ve spent the best years of my career here Frank, and they aren’t fucking over yet. I’m not fucking done. I can’t be fucking done.
Not until I rid this place of all the scum. Not until Lee Best begs me to fucking stop. Not until everything he puts in my way is a smear on my fucking boot.
Get the fuck out of my yard.