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Posted on March 25, 2022 at 10:45 pm by Darin Zion

“Thank you for embarking on this journey as we explore your career, Sir Simon Sparrow.  Rather you decided to join us from the comfort of your locker room VCR or the HOTV app on the go, we appreciate your time.  We understand time’s a valuable commodity for the HOW roster.  As a good Chief Financial Officer would say, ‘time equals money’ and money matters. I respect and value the accomplishments and accolades behind your name, Sparrow.  Or should I say Jatt Starr…


Welcome everyone to our exposé on the career (so far) of Sir Simon Sparrow.  I am your host with the most, Darin Zion. Today we will explore the pathetic run of the recently rebranded Hall of Famer, Jatt Starr.  Let’s dive deep to expose this counterfeit cavalier to his admiring fans.

Over these past two months, Sir Sparrow heavily levied accusations.   He caught the attention of everyone’s favorite self-proclaimed CFO.  From forging genealogies to screaming like an incessant toddler, this ‘gentleman’ acts hypocritical. Never once in his vain searches for apologies did Sir Simon act with the grace of a refined man. Always causing a scene or disruption, his actions never waivered.  Eye witness accounts and HOW Refueled footage shows us the facts.

This wrestler-turned journalist claims that Sir Simon Sparrow is a failed rebranding attempt. Think 1985 and the birth of New Coke.  Same great Jatt Starr look, terrible new flavor.  You hate to see a legend like that fall from grace.  And wouldn’t you know it?!  The Jatt Starr Brand’s at it again, folks.  They’ve got a hot new product launching on the market.  Introducing new Starrlight Coke.  Once it hits your tastebuds, you hope and pray it tastes like the advertised Cotton Candy and S’Mores. But deep down hidden within the label, it’s repackaged shit.  I promise you don’t wanna know what chemicals you’re ingesting.  There’s enough to kill a small village!

If you take one minute to process the facts about this rebirth, the stats don’t lie.  Sir Simon’s not won a singles match since Rumble at the Rock last year.  The two wins his camp touts came from Scotty’s shitty hockey club or Mike Best carrying his sorry ass.  Hell, Bryan McVay doesn’t count it, he refused to acknowledge Jatt Starr’s name when announcing the win.  Boy!  How the mighty Hall of Famer has fallen.

But it’s sad when you realize the only keeping his career relevant at the moment.  I’ll sum it up best for you.  It’s a faltering old man riding the coattails of his dying daughter’s strive to stay relevant.

Yes, I said that.  I’m sorry it hurts to hear the truth, Jatt, but facts don’t lie.  The only reason people have praised your work recently is because of your promo work.  It kills me to share that hard to digest piece of evidence with you.  But the thing that kept you booked on this card was your brilliant promo work against me.  Everyone gushed at how you kept relevant.  They feel sorry for you, Jatt.  Hell, I hate seeing such a historical, admirable friend suffer right now.  No one deserves to see their child lying on their deathbed.  I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemies in life.  But videos don’t lie, you profited off the plight of your child.

I don’t enjoy saying those words.  It churns my stomach hitting you over the head with the cold hard truth.  But a true friend and idolize wants to see his heroes succeed.  He wishes they’d reach down and pull themselves out of the depths of hell and depression.  He’ll hit you in the hardest heart punches he can.

Deep down inside, I won’t enjoy cracking your skull open with weapons.  I don’t take pleasure from injuring someone with your pedigree.  Hell, I don’t want to risk ending your career because I’m a member of the Jatt-I Order.  I pray we can restore balance from the moon and Starrs and back.  Shit, the whole universe could benefit from an alliance.

Yet you choose to let your ego blind you.  You spent weeks obsessing over a hiccup between us.  You brought this match at March 2 Glory upon yourself.  You reap the consequence of what you sow, Simon.  You banked on ruining my legacy over a foolish misunderstanding.  Let me show you.”


Wednesday, February 16th, 2022

1:33 PM

Daventry Island Medical Facility, Private Room

The Isle of Daventry

It’s a bleak, rainy day on the Isle of Daventry.  You can see the thick, gray storm clouds outside of the picture window. The drizzle drains down the sides of my thick black trenchcoat.  In one hand, I’m carrying my giant umbrella, trying to protect a gift.  In the other,  I’ve got a card and a bouquet of flowers.  The somber tone in my eyes highlights my thoughts:  nervousness.  I haven’t dawned the halls of a shooting victim’s room since Clara’s shooting.  Fighting back a flood of waterworks, I mosey past the nurse’s station.

I’d experienced a successful trek past the security team into the private wing of the hospital.  While searching through the rooms, a specific one sticks out.  Yeah, that’s how Jatt Starr works.  Always treating his family like royalty; exactly how he’d treat himself.  The name stood out like a sore thumb:


Cautiously jarring the door open, I tiptoe with discretion, praying.  The last thing I want to do is to disturb anyone attending the situation.  Peering around the corner only ruins my night.  My heart sinks down towards my stomach, and the acid in my stomach churns.

Her gunshot wound is located near Clara’s laceration location.  Unlike my last experience, my body trembles; my knees giving out.   An immense pressure squeezes my chest, restricting my airways.  Words cannot describe the horrified look on my face.  I draw in a heavy breath before letting out a heavy sigh.

Kipping back up to my feet as best I can, I hobble closer to Gilda’s bedside.  The only words I could muster up from the trauma. “My God!  The horror!  Poor Jatt!  For fuck sakes, he shouldn’t have to go through this.  No one should have to go through this.”Taking a moment to observe, every card the HOW roster sent the Starr family is on display.  For a brief second, my inner selfishness demanded I put my card front and center. But I second guessed myself, going out of my way to sliding it between Jace and Mario’s.  I didn’t want any self-promotion, not during a time like this.   Stroking the stubble on my cheek, I stare at Gilda’s lifeless body.  She has so much more life to live, it brought me perspective.

“This is what’s got Jatt’s panties in a knot.”  I mutter underneath my breath.  I can’t fathom why Jatt wants people so much attention to the situation.  It’s none of my business anyways.  Strolling up closer to the bed, I near her ear.  Without getting too close, I whispered out.

“I’m sorry for bringing your name into this mess.  I shouldn’t have publicized your turmoil on air.”

At the bottom of my heart, I knew Jatt wouldn’t see this gesture, nor did I care if he did.  It’s my personal journey, not HOW’s.  Meandering off into the sunset, I turn back, eyeing the poor girl.  I bow my head to pray before respectfully leaving her alone.


“Isn’t that what you wanted this entire time, Jatt?  An apology to your family!  It’s funny how we took different approaches to our situation.  You wasted two months, crying like a baby on HOW television to everyone who owned a camera.  But, I didn’t want to air my dirty laundry for the world to see.  For once in my life, I didn’t feel the need to do the humble brag.  OH LOOK AT HOW RIGHTEOUS THE ALMIGHTY DARIN ZION IS!  Sounds sickeningly annoying, right?  It’s the wrong fucking time, wrong fucking place to pull shit like that.  I didn’t want the cameras on me.  I want the exposure of being a saint.  Mainly because I know I’m the furthest thing from one.  I’ve got flaws for miles and the Lord only knows every sin I’ve committed.

Honest to GOD himself, I struggled with even showing you this. I didn’t want to air dirty on the airwaves.  But you twisted my damn hands in this situation.  You backed me into a damn corner by breaking Meredith’s nose.

I only wanted to fly under the radar because I don’t think a shooting victim needs exploiting like you do.  I’ve lived watching someone I LOVED die from a gunshot wound.  She bled out in front of me.  By the time I made it to the medical facility; it was too late.  She died in my arms before the ambulance arrived.  Every moment cameras wanted to capture my grief.  Paparazzi everywhere bugged me like you’ve bugged me.  Wrestlers all over the world used that traumatic situation to hit me.  I hid under a mask away from the world for a long time.  I share first hand experience with you.  It’s an emotionally stressful situation and if anyone knows how you feel, it’s me.  My ego died with me that day 15 years ago.  I don’t feel remorse when I hurt someone just because they tell me to feel it.  It takes a lot for me to feel it and when I do.  I surrender that ego.

Unfortunately, Jatt, it’s not just a simple problem with your ego anymore.  You’ve graduated to straight up narcissism and gaslighting.  You’ve become the psychotic girlfriend who sleeps outside in the bushes.  Somehow, you’ve got a camcorder focused on my bathroom, stalking me every incessant moment.  Hell, I should have hired cops to break the news to you.

You’ve become an egomaniacal fanatic blinded by rage.  You’re sounding like those Bible Thumping nuts, crying anytime someone ‘sins.’  Five years ago, Jatt, your schtick was cute.  Everyone laughs when you rename all the cities of the world in your image.  The crowd pops for that shit and it’s all innocent.  But over the past two months, how has your rage changed you?

You’ve rebranded yourself, but can’t decide on a persona.

You’ve obsessed over Darin Zion like a jilted lover.  No one should do that.

You’ve mauled random hobos and friends, causing them physical damage.

You’ve attacked the woman I love and broke her nose.

You’ve become a danger to this company and its fans.  Not only have you grown so unhinged over something solved.  It wasn’t to your liking.  I didn’t give you a grandeur parade of epic ass kissing.  You wanted the polishing, rim job, cake, and everything.  Why?  Because you wanted to exploit your precious little princess’ condition for fame.

Mario held your ass back.  I’d be mad too if a Hall of Fame Tag Team expert killed my chances the moment the tournament started.  The man’s always busy with other things not named Jatt Sparrow.  Mafia’s calling him for some hit job or favor. How dare someone not focus on Simon Sparrow?  Right?

But I can already hear you protesting, Jatt.  Because like every other Hall of Famer; it’s never enough I give everything up to you.  I’ve gotta give more. Hell, if I didn’t parent your daughter or give her a small fortune; I’m guilty in the court of Starr.  Maybe you’ll groan because I didn’t shake YOUR hand, when it wasn’t YOUR name I soiled.  But every problem must become about Sir Simon Sparrow, the self-centered bastard.

In case you’re aiming your self-righteous cannon at me, Jatt; I’ve got more.  Let’s take a look at Exhibit B:”


Thursday, February 17th, 2022

3:23 PM

Daventry Island Medical Facility, Private Room

The Isle of Daventry

“You sure you want to do all this, Mr. Zion”  The nurse asks, confused over my generosity towards a rival’s child.  

“Absolutely!  I want the Starr family to have an escape from all this craziness. Get them a $400 gift certificate to the finest steakhouse in the area.  And if there’s anything fun in the area, put another $400 towards it.”  I chime back in while hanging up a frivolous ‘Get Well Soon’ banner right by the windowsill.  The random nurse nods before exiting the room, leaving me tending to Gilda.

Whistling a tune from my childhood transitions to singing of course.  My strong, tenor voice reverberates off the acoustical tiles in the ceiling.  I sing the words when I hit the bridge.

“Blossom of snow

May you bloom and grow

Bloom and grow forever.”

It’s my only wish for this poor child.  I want her to kick out of that coma, beat death like Clara couldn’t.  But at the same time, my disdain grew from her father’s lack of patience.  Over the weekend, that prick terrorized me during an MVW Heavyweight conteders match. Gritting my teeth together, it took every muscle fiber from slandering her father to her face.  I shake my head, pitying her situation.  I couldn’t help talking to her like a friend.  They say after all, those in comas can hear things.  Maybe it’ll have an effect in lifting her spirits up.

“I’m sorry, kiddo.  You deserved better than all this.  Wish your father and I could see eye to eye in all the turbulence we’ve got.  He’d love it, it’s a Jatt-tastic good time.  If he wasn’t out busy helping earn money to pay your bills, we’d entertain ya.  Shit, if we got along; he could write a story and I would turn it into a ballad.  Another fun run for you since he told you those stories around ICONIC time.  The nurses told me how memorable it was.”

I chuckle in silence, hoping not to annoy the patients’ next door.  Cracking a small smirk on my face, I recollect my tumultuous past in Italy.

“Anyways, Gilds…if you don’t mind me calling you that.  I’ve sat through one of these shootings before.  I’m not as lucky as your dad and you.  God only knows how much I wished I could have saved Clara.  Her killer didn’t give her the chance to fight.  Two more inches over and you’d have died in a flash like her.   You probably don’t want to hear all the gruesome details.  Especially when I’m trying to do my best at encouraging you.”

One small tear rolls down the side of my face.

“You gotta make it through for you, father.  It’d kill him inside if you lost this fight.  I can tell you’re the apple of his eye.  He’d do anything to protect you.  It’s no small cost to stand up to me in that ring, kid.  I’m one of the most stubborn athletes in the game.  While I don’t win; I can knock a lot of fools around and leave marks.  Yet your father wants to defend your honor.  I’d say you have one of the best fathers.  I’d do the same for my step-child.  I’d give her the moon and Starrs.  HA!  Punny, right?  You got this champ.  Fight like hell through it.”

Climbing back up the ladder, a stoic expression glaces my face.  Trying deep to bury the emotions in my heart is difficult, even for me.  Even though I try my best, the waterworks flow.  Rushing out of the room, I bury my face in my hands hoping no one sees my pain.


“What kind of a heathen does what I just did?  Am I a lickspittle still causing someone in power trouble?  Because clearly you don’t hold any power.  You clearly hit that point home.  When there’s no Lee Best; there’s no Jatt.  No, I’m someone who cares a lot about you.  Honestly, I went to Conor to save and reach you before it’s too late.  I don’t need a false apology from you.  I’ve stood where you stood, Jatthew.  That type of hurt guts a man.

I refuse to let you take another damn troupe from me.  I won’t let the grief strike you down and spread lies about MY character.  No, we are way past that, Jatt.  You’ve turned into a delusional madman, lost within the realms of depression. Hell listen to yourself in one of your most recent promos.  Mario and you are talking about me scalping Conor from the pack.  I’ve got nothing but mad respect for Fuse.  We’re GL214 for life and we’ve got each other’s backs.  But we understand it’s business and respect our career choices.  I’ve got my path with Xander and singles runs.  He’s got his with Noble Gaming.  No harm, no fouls for differences. Sure, I’d love to team with my buddy and friend.

But the beef between Starr and Zion roots itself deeper.  Two years ago, you came back and nearly ended my career.  You and John Sektor hit a massive powerbomb to injure my back.  My back’s faced a plethora of back surgeries over the years.  And because that blind bastard Lee Best told you to do it; you jumped like hungry hyenas.  Never once did I demand you apologize.  It’s business.  But the moment I say the wrong thing; you demand it from me.  Pffft!  Ever since you returned to HOW; you treated me like your butler.  You think I’m beneath you as a human being. You’ve battered and beaten me and disrespected my boundaries.  Guess who kept on the lights when you little shit head buddies ran off to UTAH?  I did!

Guess which wrestler came in when others were burnt out to entertain the fans?  Guess who took signings and appearances when others dreaded it?  Me!  Guess which guy represents HOW around the world when management doesn’t ask him to do it?  Me!  I’ve spent almost a decade busting my ass for the company you put on the map.  I’ve carried shit riddled bags and paid my dues to this company.  I deserve some respect from your class of Hall of Famers.

I’m tired of each of you gaslighting me like I’m worthless.  Every chance you get, you attempt to define me.  For too long, I’ve let you Hall of Famers run roughshod over me.  It’s so easy to let you plow over me like I don’t mean anything.

I’m sick to death of you sputtering bullshit out your mouth and me not earning.  Oh, I’m gonna earn it.  I plan on knocking the greatest Hall of Famer to ever live off his damn perch.  Knocking one of the biggest mouthed jackasses in the Hall will cement me.  Your ego won’t let you see past your jealousy.  It’ll feed your delusions of grandeur, blinding you.

And like these videos, Jatt, I’ll come out of nowhere like a thief in the night.  I’ll bide my time, waiting for that overinflated ego to strike.  Hell you make mistakes all the time, right Rabbid?  Or is it Hugo?  Mario?

Funny how I can play that game mistaking you for your friends after you do it to me.  Wink, Wink!  Nudge, Nudge, Jaffew of Botchamania.

Trouble is, you’re the lazy one.  You’re off spewing toxic gentleman drama all over the place, you’ve missed life passing you by.  You’ve engrained yourself too much in it; you’re about to lose your daughter.  You’re sending her to a doctor in North Kaelrea.  Are you fucking mad, Jatt?  The Late Max Kael has taken TWO OTHER LEGENDS Kids there.  Call up Shane Reynolds and John Sektor.  Those idiots will tell you, if you do it; Gilda comes back a walking, talking, terminator.  She won’t be the daughter you love.

You could spend time with her in the hospital room.  You could pour your soul into making sure she heals, bud.  Sometimes the intangibles cure what ails you.  They say having your family and friends surrounding you while dying creates miracles.  What wise investments are you making with your time?

Making some ‘losers’ life a living hell by slandering it.  Not once have I spent time soiling your name until now.  I did it with purpose and measure, hoping to save you.   I’m desperate to pull your head out of your ass, buddy.  But in case you don’t believe me.  Here’s another piece of video.”


Tuesday, March 15th, 2022

7:55 PM

Daventry Island Medical Facility, Private Room

The Isle of Daventry

The soft, soothing sounds of Edelweiss echo from the expensive music box I bought.  The fluorescent lights emphasize the pearl exterior.  Making my way down the corridors the last time before March 2 Glory, my gut spoke loud.  Pulling out my check book, I lean against one of the walls.  Writing a $20K check felt like a kidney punch, but if it helped the Starr Family, it’s worth it. Once again sliding into the room, my melancholy tone shows.  I put my fedora against my hat seeing her pale body again.  I couldn’t hold back my tears; they rolled down my face like a waterfall.  Hovering over her bed, I gaze at Gilda’s still body.  Reaching into my pocket, I extract a key to the box and set it on the side.

The heaviness on my heart laid more this time.  Knowing the North Kaelrean doctors; they’d turn her into a machine.  Not my idea of an existence for sure.  Kneeling down and against her bed rail, I whispered.

“I’m sorry little one!  Sorry, I saw that in a movie and wanted to say it.  Wish I could have helped wake you up.  Between my adventures in the multiverse and trying to visit, I failed.  It’s too bad life isn’t a fairy tale.  Otherwise you wouldn’t become a cold hardened robot servant to Sutler Kael.

Fuck, I know that’s heavy to think about, but I tried saving your dad.  I’d hoped I could wait until cooler heads prevail.  He left me no choice this time.  Kicking your dad’s ass is the last piece of news I wanna tell ya. LIke I said, I wish we could have written that ballad.  Oh how the wrestling world would cackle.  But his skull’s too thick.  I promised I’d try everything to give you a fighting chance.   It’s the least I could do in Clara’s memory.  She’d have wanted me here encouraging another victim.

God, I hate doing this to your dad.  I looked up to him for years.  Such a jovial guy.  But he’s lost his soul and heart.  If I could bring him back, I’d do it.  Everyone misses Jatt.  They hate this Simon Sparrow dude.  He isn’t the same.  Anyways, you shouldn’t deal with my drama with him.  Not your problem right now.  But I wish you could break through to him.  Hell, I’m praying you wake up and remember all I’ve done.  If anyone could change his mind, it’s you.

Anyways, again, so sorry for pulling you into my drama with your father.  He’s a good guy and lucky to have you.  Hope to see you on the other side of the operating table.  Praying you have more of a fighting chance than Clara did.”

I blow a kiss and walk out of the room, leaving my memories of Clara behind.  Maybe she’s the angel Gilda Starr needs now.


“Jatty, Jatty, Bang, Bang–

I pray to God you know you’re entering my home domain.  Don’t be fooled by my bio.  Crown Point is where I live now.  It’s 45 minutes from where I grew up.   You might know the hard streets of Riverdale.  Spent a lot of time there in high school when my stepdad’s law firm failed.  People don’t take too kindly to lying aristocrats.  You damn well lucky you steppin’ into the Best Arena and not my neck of the woods.  You’d see bullets flying out of 45’s for the shit you’ve pulled on me the last month. That’s true street justice.

See I’m Zi-Guy the Chi-Guy.  Everybody from around these parts knows me.  I’m like the Seattle Seahawks with the 12th man.  I’m in my element and my zone.  Everyone watched me wrestle these parts for 15 years, busting my ass trying to get to HOW.

They all rooting for me this night, not your punk bitchy ass.  You might think I’m beneath you, but like I told you all along.  Let me teach you some Chicago style respect.  You won’t fuck with those who come from Chi Town no more.

I’m done with your bullshit, Jatt.  I’ve spent two years taking it like a nice guy.  I’m setting my boundaries and taking a pound of your flesh.  I won’t need to end your career.  When I’m done embarrassing you in front of my peeps; that’s punishment enough.  You’ll crawl on your knees begging for me to end the shame.  But I won’t do it.  We goin’ to war in that ring, brother.  And rather you like it or not, you’re coming home to Jesus.

I’ve waited for this damn match for nearly 2 years.  I’ve begged many officials to knock your teeth down your throat.  Now’s my chance to prove my worth as HOW’s work horse.  Now’s the time to make that damn investment in my career.

You’re entering a No Holds Barred match in my town.  It’s more gonna flow like a Chicago Deathmatch, if ya feel me.  Pizza cutters, light tubes, everything’s legal.  I’m gonna jam some barbed wire into your jaw and cut your ass when locking you in my lock.

Get your affairs in order, Jatt.  Because I’m about to make you walk down the streets of Chi Town wearing shame.  This has gone on too long.  And I promise you, you’ll become like the New York Jatts.  Always choking, and losing to the up and comers.

Now rally my crew, because I’m about to kill us a mockingbird.

It’s my time to run roughshod on the roster.  Taking down a great Hall of Famer is the first step.  So ready or not, here I come. Gonna find you and make you my bitch.  This is my story and I’ll define my career how I damn well want.”



After exiting Gilda’s hospital room the final time, a strange phenomenon occurs with Zion.  Colorful lights strobe in his eyesight. A faint voice echoes through Zion’s head while he looks around.  As his head snaps around, the voice grows louder.

“Pull it!  Pull the cord!”

His pulse hastens, sweat flowing down his palms.  The head shaking becomes more violent.

“You wanna do it.  After all, Jatt’s put you through the ringer.  Pull it!  They’ll be none the wiser.”

Zion drops to his knees, shrieks of apprehension echo throughout the room.  Darin’s hands go over his head as a feed cuts from an unknown location.  Slowly panning out to see a screen, a familiar voice makes a triumphant expression.

“Alright, we’ve fucked with him enough!  Excellent work!  He suspects nothing!  We left no marks after our successful injection.  That variant’s none the wiser to the plan.”

The camera whirls over to a desk, where we reveal Darin Adam Zion.  Now looking more akin to his multiverse counterpart, the madman folds his hands.

“I told that bastard.  This is my universe and he cannot have it.  If he won’t play nice, I’ll take it back with force.  The initial testing phase was successful.  Soon we’ll have full control of Zion’s frontal cortex.  Delusions of grandeur will melt his brain.  When that happens, I’ll take everything he loves away from him”

The evil Darin Adam Zion snaps his fingers, looking towards his henchmen with fury.

“Activate it at March to Glory.  Break that pathetic sycophant Jatt Starr in half.  Turn Zion’s feeble mistake into a promise that makes the rest of the roster tremble.  I want my damn throne in this universe back.  I’m the one who ruled HOW with an iron fucking fist.  One by one, I’ll destroy HOF members and wrestlers.   Until I get what I want:  my precious HOW World Championship.  Once I do, I’ll eliminate this moron I hold control over.”

With the snap of his fingers, the feed cuts out and everything fades to black.

[To Be Continued]