The Road So Far Pt. 9

The Road So Far Pt. 9

Posted on May 22, 2024 at 9:15 pm by Noah Hanson

Busy, busy, busy can’t believe how busy I have been. Beating Mike Best and Teddy Palmer, exposing Palmer as a fucking fraud. The dude talked about how he was gonna do all these bad things to me and then…nothing. Dude, if you’re gonna make claims like that at least have the balls to try and back it up.


Really bad week for Palmer altogether because not only did he lost back-to-back matches to me but then he got destroyed and sent to the ICU and then kicked out of the alliance altogether. Hell, that is a great day for the rest of the roster if God is weakened in any way. Losing a member is a good thing.


Right now, I am on cloud fucking nine, watching ol’ Mikey struggle with Witless was the absolute icing on the goddamn cake. Is this struggling after all this time on the top of the fucking mountain? I have for fucking show after fucking show listen about how great this fucker is, and he has nearly shitted the bed on multiple occasions. Being saddled with Palmer was bad enough, the dude doesn’t even have the balls to phone it in.


I guess we can wait till Palmer wakes the fuck up in the ICU and then we can decide if he can grab a hold of those balls, put them in a man’s purse and try to revive his career. So do yourself a favor though dude and just steer clear of me and Sektor. Those names are just bad news for you all together.


I looked at the match sheet and saw I drew Bobbinette Carey. Have to admit I got a few goosebumps here. Hall of Famers held all kinds of titles, known all over the country. Another missing stick for me is to try and see how I stack up against someone as decorated as yourself.


But truth be told, I have no issues with you. No bad blood, no problems, hell I don’t think we’ve even passed each other anywhere during the shows. Maybe we run in different circles, maybe I just don’t venture very far from my dressing room? Whatever the reason, let’s just keep it simple and basic. No bad-mouthing you, there’s no reason for it when nothing has happened between us to warrant it. No toxic masculinity, no bullshit. How about we just go out there and show the rest of the roster what two stars can do when there is no hostility to be seen anywhere?


And I am going to apologize now Ms. Carey, not trying to downplay our match or you personally but there is only one person on my mind.


Mike Best.


And that really should come as no surprise to anyone. I eat, sleep, and dream about Mike. I know the last one sounds creepy, but it is fact. I go to sleep thinking about fighting that man, smearing his blood all over me as a sorta of badge of honor. See Mike I know you’ve done everything there is to do, hell you beat my ass a few times the last time I was here.


 In my mind that was a lifetime ago. I look at you now and you haven’t evolved, you haven’t adapted. You’re still the same steaming pile of dog shit that you were ten years ago. That’s why you won’t be able to break me the next time we meet. You wanna try and bury me? I fucking dare you to try it. I welcome the incoming onslaught cause I know it is coming. Might not be the next show or next week, but soon, very soon boy. You can fucking count on it.


And all of you in the back had better be paying close attention. The days of walking over Noah Hanson to get to greener pastures and title shots are over. This guy is coming after every one of you as soon as this deal with Mike is put to bed.


Lexi Gold, sorry about that, really I am but you needed to learn a lesson. One that needed to be taught in person. Yeah, I know people are bitching and moaning about attacking her from behind. Get the fuck over it. Life isn’t always gonna deal with you face to face. Sometimes you get blindsided and that is exactly what happened. It’s called an attention-getter, I hope that you’re  laser-focused from here on out. You talk about all these companies you work for but how about you do this? How bout you just stay in this place and show some fucking dedication. Don’t be Darin Zion…


I keep waiting for Darin to snap out of it. I look at the pics of myself, Hollywood, Boyd, and Zion and I just wonder when he is gonna see the damn light. But he keeps running his mouth on Twitter, backstage, and just about every other place you can think of. But Zion has failed to back it up in the ring, barely doing anything of merit. All I can do is shake my head and wonder what has happened to the kid. This dude used to be one of the most talented up-and-coming wrestlers in the business but now all he seems to want to do is be a low-level lackey.


And there is one last thing that needs addressed and that is the fact a lot of people around are full of shit. People talking about respect like they’re justified in all the crap. See in this business it’s not about what you’ve done in the past. Doesn’t matter about the titles, Hall of Fame inductions, what you’ve done in any other mother fucking company. The only thing that matters is right here, right now. Believe me, if there is anyone who knows a thing or two about nothing else mattering, it’s this guy. Nothing I did anywhere I went meant a damn to people around here.


Only HOW matters, if you haven’t made it here then you might as well be dead and buried. Being told that your history in this business doesn’t matter time after time, kinda of like a hammer and nail takes a toll on a person. But now I don’t care, I don’t care what the fans, the people backstage, the dirt sheet writers, I don’t give a fuck what they think.


One term that always rubbed me the wrong way is the term “fisher price”. Just about any company besides HOW was always looked down upon and that always bothered me. After all these years it shouldn’t, I should be able to brush that shit off my shoulders but time and time again when that term is thrown at me it gets me a little pissed off.


Looking towards the pay-per-view has me wondering if I might be able to compete in my first-ever Wargames. Don’t let that dipshit Evan Ward tickle yer testicles calling it Wardgames. The dude is a fucking clown, still thinking that he is gonna have some sorta play in all this. Wargames is gonna be where I make my fucking name be heard loud and fucking clear.


I have had it with everyone around here. You people should all be fucking ashamed of yourselves. All of you people are just trash, clearly the dirtiest, filthiest, and most unreachable type of degenerates in this country. What else could one expect from Chicago, the literal cesspool of vileness in the country? The fact that I have lowered myself to levels that I never thought I could reach just speaks volumes about the people in this company and watching it.


And make sure you don’t confuse me with my friend Brian Hollywood. There are a lot of differences between the two of us. Brian wants to cleanse this place like he wants to save this place, these creatures. Me…I want to burn this fucking place to the ground. I want to look Lee straight in the face and see what this “fisher price”, “hitman”,” movie star”, and “entrepreneur” does to his precious little boy. His “Son of God” as he always calls himself is nothing more than a product of his reflection. Lee has been living his life through Mike for years and now when someone who might be hungrier, angrier, and more determined on one and only one goal.


You can only keep me and your boy apart for so long, Lee. You can’t protect him forever. You can try, and you can do your damnedest to keep us away from each other but mark my words there is only one way this ends up.




For all involved…it will only end badly, it is destined to be this way. When Mike and Jace went the route, they did, and I reacted the way I did there was only gonna be one outcome. Mike and his “apology” just expedited everything. I was ready to ride all this out and wait my turn but now fuck all that. I deserve to have a shot at him, one-on-one just because of what happened the first time.


But in typical Lee Best scheduling 101 he wants to do as little as possible for ol’ Noah Hanson. But that is fine and dandy buddy boy, you keep putting up those walls, you keep making those excuses and I will still be there. Mike will be seeing me in his rearview for a long time and there isn’t a damn thing you can do about it.


Fate…guided all of this to this point and time.


Destiny…made sure that everything lined up nice and neat.


So, Carey, there is nothing personal here. I don’t hate you; truth be told I only know so much about you. I am sure you’ll bring the fight to me and for that, I am sure. Hall of Famers are usually some of the most talented, skilled fighters in the industry. So, I expect nothing but the best from you. Hit me with everything you have, maybe one of your ex-husbands, maybe a lover that did you wrong. Whatever it takes to draw out that warrior that resides deep in you, longing to come out once more.


Fighting pretenders like Kostoff, Scottywood or Darin Zion are only gonna do so much for you. You deserve more, you deserve a fight worthy of someone of your stature. That is where I come in, someone willing to trade punches with you. Someone willing to bleed if need be. Just trust me, you need to feel alive again, you need to fight again. What you don’t need is that freak show Evan Ward.


He doesn’t appreciate you. He wants to mock you. Behind your back, he thinks he’s better than you. He thinks that he can wind you up like some kinda of doll and watch you do a little dance for him. I’ve seen guys like this before, murders and killers are usually who end up like this. Ward has a handsome face but, in his head, all that is heard is “Helter Skelter”. Keep your distance from a person like him, Carey. It’s for yer own good.


With me, everyone gets what they see right in front of them. No more games, no more stupid shit that people around here just don’t fucking get. People in this place are just trash; they don’t deserve people like us, people who can entertain them without them needing to go down a dark path.


I’ve grown tired of trying to please people around here. You people made me this way and no you’ll have to deal with the consequences.


To hell with all of you…


Chicago, IL 

Best Arena

Medical Room


Noah is shown sitting on a table, getting his jaw checked out after eating a superkick from Lexi Gold. Noah looks a bit irritated as the. medic looks over a few things and then shakes his head.


“Why are you here again Noah?” The medic curiously asked as he looked over his notes.


“Did you see what Lexi did to me?” Noah barked. “She hit me on my moneymaker!”


“Uh thought you didn’t do that sorta thing anymore?” The medic asked. “You don’t act anymore?”


Noah shook his head. “Only occasionally.”


“So, you don’t need to worry about the ol’ moneymaker, right?” The medic asked.


Noah looked a bit put off by the comment. “No one wants to go to work and get maimed on the job, but I guess around here that is just the way to go. Does this face look like it would look good missing an eye or some teeth? No. I might have some of the best plastic surgeons on my golf scramble team, but I don’t want to get injured like that anymore. So again, is there any deep tissue damage?”


The medic looks all over the jaw and looks at his notes and then places the notes on the desk. “Would you get the hell outta here! You’re fucking fine! Bothering me with bullshit like this and you weren’t even brought back here when you were blasted with that cinder block!”


Noah visibly gasped at the words that came out of the medic’s mouth. He reacted like each word was a punch and Noah started to look dizzy. “I don’t feel so good….”


“Can you quit acting; you were never really that good with drama. Never really your strong suit. Now horror or action, you were made for those, but you need to work on your delivery if you want to do serious drama again.” The medic explained, not seeing that Noah was visibly shaken by the previous statement. “Noah, are you ok?”


“Huh?” Is all that Noah could manage to spit out.


“Noah?” The medic asked as he looked at Noah in the eyes and Noah just had a blank stare in his eyes. The medic snapped his fingers in front of Noah and then some smelling salts and nothing but a blank stare. After a few tense moments, Noah finally snapped out of it and now looked angry.


“How long have I fucking been sitting here?” Noah growled and then looked around with his expression a mixture of confusion and anger. “Am I good to go?”


“I guess?” The medic replied, looking even more confused than Noah. “Can I get the number of your doctor?


“Why?” Noah asked, his anger level growing. 


“I just wanna ask him a few questions.” The medic replied. 


Noah reached over and grabbed a small piece of paper and pen and jotted down the number. “Now can I go?”


The medic looked at the number and nodded his head. Noah climbed down off the table and was seen mumbling something to himself as he exited the room. The medic pulled out his cell and entered the number, a few rings later a lady’s voice could be heard. “Is this Dr. Wendy Wollet? Noah Hanson’s doctor? I think we need to talk…”