November 28th Refueled LXXXI
First Direct Arena
After the show went off air..
“LET-THEM-FIGHT! LET-THEM-FIGHT! LET-THEM-FIGHT!”
A wall of black stood between me and Bill at ringside as the Leeds crowd chanted for blood. They wanted it, we wanted it, but the EPU was standing in our way. Bill had crossed a line I didn’t think he’d dare cross. He’d stepped over the threshold of my company, my ring and interfered in MY championship defence. Take the blind anger I had during our scrap in Illinois and times it by a hundred. I was fucking rabid!
“Get the fuck off me!” I yelled at the EPU guard who was restraining me.
Thick armoured arms were wrapped around my chest so tight that I could barely get the words out.
“You used to work for me! Where’s your fucking loyalty?” I continued, desperate to get my hands on Bill, who I’d now lost sight of.
“You don’t pay our salary any more, bro. Sorry!” replied the one holding me back.
I continued to struggle but I was no match for the guard who was holding me. I froze as I caught a glimpse of Dickinson through the guards in front. A sudden surge of adrenaline coursed through my veins like a shot in the arm. I bent my knees and dug my heels into the thin padded floor beneath my feet. Summoning every bit of strength I had I pushed back and managed to drive the guard into a stack of EPU agents behind him, knocking them all down like bowling pins.
I heard the roar of the crowd as we all went over and I was there with them. I’d managed to free myself of the EPU’s clutches and was charging full pelt at the next formation. They braced themselves but I had the running start, dipping my shoulder and bouncing through them with a move the crowd would liken to one of their beloved ‘Leeds Rhino’s.’
I was free, sprinting towards Bill who could see me coming. His eyes lit up with fire. He wasn’t scared. He wanted it. He wanted to keep going and he wanted to fight, even though he was still being restrained and in no position to defend himself. There was no room for etiquette in that situation, I just wanted to beat him up.
A sharp pain suddenly punched me in the small of my back, causing my knees to buckle as I dropped to the floor like a pole-axed mule.
I was convulsing on the floor and every muscle in my body clenched and felt like the worst Charlie-horse one could possibly imagine. The pain was excruciating as every nerve in my body felt like it was on fire. It was amongst the worst pain I had ever felt in my life.
The bastards had shot me with a taser.
Even through the roar of ‘boo’s’ from the crowd and the barked orders of the guards, I could hear Bill’s redneck laughter bellowing amongst it. Laugh it up mother-fucker – I thought to myself.
The pain was short lived but it was enough to subdue me for the time being. I certainly didn’t want to go through that again and the wind had been completely taken from my sails.
I felt a sharp tug in my lower back as the guards yanked needles of the tazers out, before two sets of arms grabbed hold of each of mine and began escorting me around the ring and up the ramp with the tops of my boots dragging all of the way. I found myself feeling grateful for being so dehydrated from the match with Zion that I couldn’t have physically pissed my tights.
“Hahahaha, not looking so fucking classy now are ya, cowboy!”
As my body throbbed with pain the sound of Bill’s goading was all I needed for one last shot of adrenaline. I planted my feet and started swinging, catching one of the guards with an elbow in their skull helmet. The crowd was roaring once again as I tried to fight them off until one of the EPU held something out in front of my face.
I felt an initial sting in my eyes as they began to burn. My whole face contorted as my arms were yet again restrained. It took me a second to figure out what had happened but I’d taken a facefull of pepper-spray before so it didn’t take too long to get there.
The initial pain wasn’t too bad but thirty seconds later the pain of the taser seemed like a light tickle compared to the unbearable sensation I was now enduring.
“Hijos de puta! Me CEGASTE!” I yelled.
I was talking in full Spanish at that point, which loosely translated to ‘Mother-fuckers! You blinded me!’
It wasn’t just my eyes that burned – it burned my throat, nose, ears and neck. Imagine accidentally scratching your eye after touching something spicy. Now imagine that feeling times a hundred all over your face.
My instincts wanted my hands to reach up and claw my eyes out but thankfully the EPU had full control over those as they frog marched me up the ramp. I couldn’t see a thing but the muffled sound of the crowd told me that we’d gone through the curtain and were now in the back.
I could hear the EPU talking to one another, orchestrating a tactic to get us apart and separated. The basis of the plan was to get me back in the locker room and hold mer there until they got Bill off the premises. There was nothing I could do now even if I wanted to.
“Hahaha. Does it sting, princess? I bet it your pride stings more, huh? Hahaha,” goaded Bill, rubbing more salt into my raw, gaping wounds.
I could hear him but I couldn’t see him.
“YOU MOTHER-FUCKER!..I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU!…YOU WANNA FIGHT ME? HUH? YOU WANNA FIGHT ME IN MY RING?”
“YEAH! I DO YOU FUCK!”
His voice sounded more distant now, as though he was being taken away from me. I had no sense of my bearings or surroundings, and even my hearing was muffled by the effects of the pepper-spray.
“FIGHT ME AT ICONIC THEN! YOU AND ME…I DON’T GIVE A FUCK I’LL MAKE IT HAPPEN!”
I didn’t hear a reply over the noise from the EPU and the distance between us, but I know I shouted loud enough that those corridors would carry the message to him.
I found myself being shoved through a door.
“Keep him in here!”
I was crawling on my hands and knees as the door slammed shut, jumping to my feet and trying to open my eyes but they were already swelling shut. I needed to wash them so I was feeling around the walls to try and find my way to a sink.
“Here,” a voice said sternly from behind me. “Use this!”
The EPU guard thrust, what felt like, a plastic bottle into my hand.
“Gah,” I winced, the pain unbearable. “What is it?”
“It’s baby soap. Use it to wash your eyes.”
“Soap? You fucking crazy?”
“Trust me it works. Plain water will just make it worse,” he advised.
I was in no position to challenge his logic. I’d have done anything to ease that awful sensation. I finally fumbled my way to a sink and turned on the fawcet, squeezing a generous blob of soap into my left hand and mixing it with the cold water. I then began the process of scrubbing my eyeballs with the soapy water. As uncomfortable as it was I’m not too proud to admit that it was actually helping.
My hand wandered around in the blur for a towel and I eventually snagged one, pressing it hard against my eyes. My nose was running by this point and my eyes were crying, which caused more spray to run down my face.
My gag reflex started going and I could feel my stomach muscles cramping up. I began to dry heave in the sink. It was yet more pain as my stomach tried to eject content that didn’t exist.
It was never ending.
After I rinsed my eyes I tried to open them. The world was nothing more than a hazy white blur, as though I was standing inside of a steam room. My head began to throb as a migraine began to set in, so I stumbled over to the locker room benches and perched myself down, burying my face in the towel, which felt like it had been doused with sulphuric acid. The pain, the discomfort, it all made my anger towards Bill Dickinson rage even harder. If I’d have had a gun that night I’d have tracked him down and shot him in the face.
As I sat there seething, and feeling sorry for myself, I heard a delicate knock at the door. The door opened slightly and I could hear some mumbling.
“Who is it?” I croaked, my voice now sounding hoarse from the spray.
“It’s Blaire..” replied the guard.
“Let her in,” I sighed.
“I don’t think that’s..”
“Just fucking let her in!” I yelled, as loud as I could with my croaky voice. “I’m blind for fuck-sake, what am I going to do?”
I heard him sigh as the door creaked open a little further. A rush of air carried Blaire’s sweet scent straight to my nostrils, a pleasant replacement for what was burning in there previously.
I heard her say a polite thank you to the guard before she rushed over to me and gasped.
“Oh my God, your face!”
I hadn’t had the privilege of seeing it yet, but I knew it would be a red, swollen, mess.
“Are you okay?”
“Do I fucking look okay?” I barked. I was in no mood.
“Do you want me to get the doctor?”
“What do you want, Blaire?” I asked, holding the towel against my eyes as I rested my arms on my knees.
“I know this is the worst time, but I just heard you’ve challenged Bill Dickinson to a match at Iconic. Did you mean it?” she asked, with a rushed excitement in her tone.
Good ole’ Blaire, always first on the scene for the hot scoop. There was a reason she was the best backstage reporter we have, which wasn’t hard compared to Bare who is a useless coke-head.
“I absolutely meant it! That inbred fuck has pushed the wrong button now. He shows up on my show? In my ring? And fucks with MY championship match? Nuh-huh! Book it!”
I couldn’t see it but I could hear her scribbling fiercely on her pad and knew she was smiling from ear to ear. I could then hear the faint sound of my ringtone from inside my locker.
“Would you be a sweetheart and get me my phone?” I asked, suddenly having even more sympathy for our blind and presumed dead boss.
“Of course,” she replied.
“Thanks. The combination is 097.”
She got the padlock off the locker and opened it up.
“Who is it?” I asked. I was only going to answer that call for a select group of people.
“It says ‘McAvay.’ Is that Ray, McAvay?” she gasped, excitedly sensing another hot piece of info to report on.
“Give it here!”
I took the phone and blindly swiped my finger to answer it.
“Sektor! I just heard, “I am SO sorry!”
I cupped the receiver with my hand and looked in the direction of Blaire’s, blurry, silhouette.
“Gotta ask you to leave now, darling.”
“Oh, come on,” she sighed flirtatiously.
“Don’t get greedy. You got your scoop. Now be a good girl and run along,” I said, not caring about how patronising I sounded.
She let out a sigh and did as she was told before I went back to the call.
“You okay?” Ray asked.
“No I’m not okay, Ray! Your animal just interfered in my championship match and cost me a clean victory! Not only that but I’ve been tasered and sprayed with pepper-spray. So I am very far from fucking okay!” I croaked, my voice clamming up towards the end as my vocal chords went into spasm.
“He has really crossed the line this time. I’ve had enough of his shit! I can only apologise and I promise I will see to it that his suspension from competing is increased and he will be grounded in the states from now on.”
“NO!” I barked.
There was a pause on the other end of the phone.
“I’m sorry?” he asked, sounding confused.
“Don’t suspend him any further! He needs to be in that fucking cage at ‘Evening of Champions.’ Adam deserves his chance at vengeance just as much as I do.”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely. Punishing Bill will be punishing Adam and that’s not fair on the kid. He needs this.”
“Okay. But I promise he won’t be interfering in any more HOW shows. We have a good relationship with HOW and I don’t want him jeopardizing our deal with HOTv.”
I took a moment to reflect before continuing the conversation. I’d had time to simmer down and clear my mind a little bit and wanted to make sure that challenging Bill to a match at Iconic wasn’t a reckless and impulsive decision. It didn’t take me long to reach a verdict.
This match was happening.
“There is one HOW show you need to give Bill a hall pass for,” I began, feeling the whole body pain turning to anger.
“What? What are you saying?” he gasped.
“If Bill wants to fight? If he wants his shot at the big time? Then he can have it. Me and him at Iconic. Make it happen!”
“Are you crazy? John, don’t do this. You’re giving him exactly what he wants!”
“I know. But it’s what I want now. I’ll even put the LSD title on the line.”
“John, Bill is not..”
“Just DO IT!”
I lost a whole day because of that night. I should have travelled to Manchester the following morning so I could spend the rest of the day recovering. I knew I’d be defending the LSD championship again at the Lethal lottery, so I had everything mapped out. Bill had thrown all of that out the window.
When I eventually got back to the hotel in Leeds, I had finally started feeling better. That was until I took a hot shower which ended up re-activating the effects of the spray. It came back full-force and my ears turned red and eyes swelled shut.
The following day I was written off and resigned to my hotel room. I could barely see and every muscle in my body ached even harder than normal thanks to the taser. I was finally able to travel on Tuesday but was in no shape to train. That left me with three full days to prepare against an unknown opponent to try and retain my LSD championship.
It may have been my own lack of control that led me to receiving the full force of the EPU. Those boys don’t fuck around and I knew that from the time when I fucking commanded them. But Bill was the trigger and I wholeheartedly blame him.
I know Darin Zion will be feeling pretty hard done by. Bill had taken his chance to have a decisive ending to his championship shot away from him. I was going to win, but now Darin will never have that closure. He deserved it. He’d fought hard and trained hard and given me everything he had. Bill took that from us and I can only apologise. Perhaps the world will right itself and pull my number out the bag for Zion at the lottery. I know I swore that he wouldn’t get another shot, but I didn’t factor in an overgrown inbred prick interfering in our match and ruining a clean ending.
I’ll gladly give you another shot Zion.
For the second week straight I’ve been put into a situation where my mentality is being tested. It was a struggle to switch off from Bill and focus on Zion but I managed to do it. Now Bill has made that even tougher and I don’t even have a face to focus on for this title defence.
But it doesn’t matter.
See, there’s a general consensus that the champions are at a distinct disadvantage in these lottery shows. The stats show that a lot of championships have changed hands during lethal lottery’s. Even my old pal Jatt Starr has been given the impression that myself and Mike, as champions? Are ‘shitting bricks’ right now.
But that’s not true and let me tell you why.
You see, I know, that I am defending my championship on December 5th in Manchester, England. I know that. I don’t need any more information than that because ultimately it doesn’t matter who is put in front of me, because I am already prepared to go up another gear to make sure that I walk out with the belt.
Everyone else who isn’t a champion? They are at a disadvantage. They can prepare for the possibility of a championship match all they want. And they should be, I know that’s what I would be doing. But until they know that they are facing me? Which is precisely a few minutes before their music hits. Until they know that? They have no way of being mentally prepared to take on the greatest technical wrestler of all time.
It’s just not possible.
So I, John Sektor, have the advantage. Let’s not forget, I am fucking veteran. I am the wrestling machine. Adapting to all situations, styles and opponents is what I fucking do! This ain’t nothing new for me. I am already prepared and focussed to beat anyone. I’ve seen every wrestler we have and I know all their moves and I have them scouted.
Whoever pulls my number? When they are standing across the ring from me and the bell rings? The machine takes over. I go to work. I do what I do best and I fight tooth and nail to make sure that I walk out with the LSD championship around my waist.
I am more motivated than I ever could have been and I hate to say it, but that’s thanks to Redneck Bill Dickinson. Because of him I have a whole new reason to carry the LSD championship to Iconic.
I want to dangle my prize in front of his face like a proverbial carrot. I want him to smell the sweat that I’ve soaked into the leather. I want him to see his own reflection in the gold that I’ve polished because that is as close as he will ever get to a top tier prize in this business.
He has spent his whole career trying to get to where I am and he has failed. He will get a taste and I will rip it all back away from him as I embarrass him on the biggest stage in professional wrestling.
Iconic isn’t a stage for failures like Bill Dickison. It’s an amphitheatre for legends like me to showcase why I am better than them!
So all of you who are licking your lips right now and saying your prayers to your God’s in hope of pulling my number? Just remember..
..this is MY LSD championship!