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Fuck Jatt Starr, all my homies hate Jatt Starr.
Shit, I’ve been picking up too much of that millennial humor again…but I think you get my point.
We have in Jatt Starr a man of simultaneously great reputation and ill repute. A man who earned his place in the Hall of Fame, and not above stabbing his friends and so-called allies to prove exactly how he got in.
Over a year ago, you and I faced off at Bottomline…and like a damn fool, I underestimated your talents in the ring. I made the mistake of thinking you weren’t ready for the force of nature I was planning to bring. It’s a mistake that cost me dearly that night.
A mistake I’ve been wanting to rectify ever since.
I thought I got my fill of revenge at the beginning of the year, when I wrecked the hell out of you in the first week of the Maurako Cup, helping secure a victory that got me nearly to the finals down the line…but then you threw a shit fit about Zion’s comments at my expense, coming at me with that spear after that match was in the books.
I’m not a man who easily forgets, Jatthew…not by a long shot.
Not the fact that I was dragged into your beef with Zion, nor your Sir Simon Sparrow phase, as you kept hoping and insisting everyone would go along with the bit.
And eventually, people did just that…aside from Lee Best, and all of his cronies.
Mike Best, the rest of the Board, they all saw through that facade, they could sense the sneaky little bastard hiding behind the Sparrow masquerade…and they kept poking the bear.
Somehow, I’m not surprised that they managed to poke enough for you to drop the act, and go back to the same ol’ song and dance that you’re used to.
Same as it ever was.
And the funniest thing about all this?
None of that really mattered to me…not until you went after Joe Bergman.
I may be no Highwayman, I may not have the same emotional connection to the situation that those boys do…but I took that personally.
I don’t start shit, but I can tell you how this is gonna end.
Everyone who put their hands on my coach is on my shit list.
Jace Parker Davidson, Christopher America, GREAT SCOTT…hell, even Lee Best himself will get his due somewhere down the road…but right now?
It all comes down to you, Jatticus Starrcadia.
I’ve got you in my sights.
And after all the trash you spewed out your mouth last week about my dude, my trainer, the guy that’s helped me refine my craft the past few months?
You went and fucked around, Jattsky and Hutch…and at Chaos, you’re gonna find out.
You’re gonna find out exactly the kind of man I’ve become since we last faced off. No longer do I have distractions weighing me down…all I have is my focus, and my path.
A path that steamrolls right through the once-mighty Jatt Starr, a man whose head hasn’t been in the right place for months.
I’m starting to think that’s why you answered the call of Lee Best, when it really boils down to it…because whatever you thought you had going as Sir Simon Sparrow just wasn’t worth the hassle.
It’s always easier to go with the flow, then push against the tide. Either way, you’ve let yourself get carried away, pulled right back into the safe harbor that is Lee Best’s good graces.
And now, as you continue to do his bidding, it’ll be up to you to decide if selling your soul was worth the mess that’s coming your way as a result…and it’ll be up to me to beat a resounding “no” into that thick skull of yours.
Just like I took away that victory from you back in January, I’m gonna take away whatever pride you think you have left.
It’s fitting that we’ll be in the Best Arena, an atmosphere that brings strong nostalgic vibes for a Hall of Famer like yourself…because I’m gonna wallop you back to 2002.
And when you finally get your head screwed back on and come back to us, it’ll be the production you always dreamed of…Jatt to the Future.
Complete with a GREAT SCOTT to try and comfort you.
I know a thing or two about karma, Jattman, and that ol’ thing is gonna track you down…step by step, from town to town.
Because this ain’t Bottomline. I’m not gonna play around and lose sight of what I need to do.
I’m a damn fighter now, and I’m gonna lay waste to that kingdom you call Jattlantis, burn it all down to the ground, and watch you scratch and claw your way back to some semblance of sanity when I’m through with you.
I’m gonna make you look back on the night and wonder just what the hell went wrong, just what the problem ended up being…but I’ll tell you right now.
It’s me, Jatt, I’m the problem.
And I’m gonna make my problem your problem.
Because as much as I can’t stand you on any other given week, this happens to be the one where you really struck a nerve.
After that little stunt you pulled, I’m gonna put so many bumps in your road to ICONIC that you’ll be stuck out on the shoulder.
Four flat tires await you, Jattawan, and nobody’s gonna give you any spares.
And when the dust finally settles, I’ll finally put you in my rearview mirror…and I can move right on down the line.
Soon, I will take my place in the upper echelon, and when that day comes everyone will look back on the bodies I piled up to climb there.
And yours will be right alongside them, Jatt Starr.
11.16.22
Navy Pier
Chicago, Illinois
Xander Azula sits alone near the Centennial Wheel, his eyes drawn to the waters of Lake Michigan off in the distance this fine afternoon as he finds himself in a very introspective mood, reflecting on what has happened over the past couple weeks even in the midst of the Wheel continuing to circle ‘round to the amusement of its riders.
After finally dealing with the situation that was Kyle McRae, putting the sVo rookie down once and for all and sending him back to Vegas to deal with Jon Page’s wrath, it is time for the Fighter to pivot, and pivot hard as he begins to scramble for plans for ICONIC.
Last year saw him narrowly get into a ladder match, falling flat when it came right down to it…a situation Xander refused to find himself in again this year. Not when the match he’s been craving, itching for since March is within his grasp…or so he thinks.
A phone call coming in seems to throw a spanner into the works, as Xander presses the button to accept…the voice on the other end indiscernible, met with a glimmer of hope in Xander’s tone as he speaks.
“So, what’s the word? Did he accept?”
That hope seems to quickly fade away as the voice on the other end can faintly be heard, a mood that is reflected in Xander’s face dropping to a disappointed frown, brows furrowed and everything. Xander lets out a small sigh, nodding in acknowledgement as he speaks up again.
“Well hopefully Mike—”
Xander is interrupted by the voice, and his face looks much more stern now as he continues.
“Excuse me, I’m sorry. I hope Mr. Best comes around and takes me up on the challenge. If he won’t answer my call, I may have to beat on his door—or beat it out of his buddies—until he does the right thing. Yes, you can let him know I said that. I’m not afraid of whatever punishment he or his father wants to levy on me, not with what little time is left on the clock. Good day.”
Xander ends the call, angrily putting his phone back into his pocket as he looks over at the Centennial Wheel once more. Watching the way the people go around, he can’t help but think about the way things have come around for him this past year…and soon, he was about to reach the end of the ride.
But not before he settled some old business, first. Starting with Jatt Starr, and working his way down until he gets the fight he craves. Xander finally cracks a smile at this, realizing that his best chance of getting the CEO’s attention might well be to crack down on some old foes of his own…especially those aligned with the Son of GOD himself.
Whether they’re a Board, a Final Alliance, or a Family, Xander knew his targets…and he would plan his final acts accordingly. Confident in his newfound purpose, Xander rises from his seat, walking through the crowd gathering near the Wheel as he finally heads down the pier—presumably to reunite with his crew—as we fade to black.