Post by tristan on Jan 14, 2013 10:42:32 GMT -5
- "The egotistical, arrogant, cocky son of a bitch is about to mow over the M.P.W. like the Mexican's that mow my lawn." - THE Tristan Slater
I wish I could sit here and say that I am not a front runner to leave the Rumble Match at Army of One... but that's a lie. It seem's that one of the many things I'm great at revolves around garnering attention. It's not that difficult, especially within an organization which bears no real big fish in this very small pond. Yet now is the time for me to step up and show the world that while I'm a cocky, arrogant, son of a bitch... I'm one of the few few people on this planet that can actually back everything I say up.
Last Thursday Night on T.N.T. I shocked the world by putting one of your M.P.W. attornies through a table before shredding the contract that was offered. Was it a slap in the face to this company? Absolutely, but is it going to stop me from running over each and everyone of you who have entered this Rumble? Nope!
There's no shame in placing second... at least not to THE Tristan Slater.
It's been a wild and crazy several days revolving around THE Tristan Slater as the road to Army of One is in full swing. Hoards of the so called "best" this company can produce have all thrown their names into the hat. Names like Drake Hunter, a tool bag that's going to be one of the many who eat his words when I'm the man who's left standing. Honestly, that's the only name that remotely has a shot at giving me a run for my money and even with him I'm playing nice in a cheep way to try and give him some sort of credibility.
Anyhoo.
Our scene opens where Wilson Baldwin, agent to THE Tristan Slater is shown sitting next to THE Tristan Slater in the back of Tristan's limo. They're in route to an Army of One Press Conference, yet they're not alone as a voice from off camera is heard making a statement.
The Voice- "You did exactly what you said you would."
Like there should be a doubt. I kicked off the program last Thursday Night and there wasn't another segment that could touch it with a ten foot pole. It was predictable that Ash would drop his precious X-Core title for the opportunity to carry the M.P.W. World Heavyweight Championship, but who could have predicted that I would rip up that piece of crap contract while embarrassing the M.P.W. in the process.
The Voice- "Now, now you've got to parlay this into a huge vitory come Army of One."
As I sit in silence, starring across at my benefactor I know fool well that my goal is to win. I'm not here to do anything else but put fist to faces.
Wilson Baldwin- "Do you know who you're talking to? This is THE Tristan Slater and he is the Best in the World today."
The serious nature to the tone of Wilson brings a sly smile across my face as he continues.
Wilson Baldwin- "We've scouted our opponents, we've sat back and listened to all the penty, mindless insults about my clients "name" by the Number Two Man in this company, or so how the M.P.W. ranks him... basically what I'm getting at is this. We're ready for Army of One, more importantly THE Tristan Slater is ready for Army of One."
It's truly going to be an amazing debut if there ever was one. Who would have thought that all this build towards this one event, headlined by the Rumble Match it self would all be for nothing when the plans are spoiled by a man not even under contract. Drake Hunter compared me to Trey Baxter, apparently we're both about as ego driven as they come... but what that stupid son of a bitch doesn't know is that even in an attempt to cut me down all you did was give me more credibility by comparing me to the M.P.W. Wrestler of the Year. Nice job, rook, oh and by the way... He's a former World Champion, where's your gold?
The Voice- "As of now there are thirteen people, Mr. Slater included, who are buying for this opportunity."
I lean forward placing each elbow on it's respective knee as I finally break my silence.
THE Tristan Slater- "They're not buying for shit."
I softly, yet serious state.
THE Tristan Slater- "Maybe you're not as familiar with me as you thought."
The blank expression that was once etched firmly across my face as disappeared and been replaced by a look of utter seriousness and determination as thoughts of tossing each and every piece of talent who's involved in this contest over that top rope and out to the floor.
THE Tristan Slater- "I don't make false promises and I sure as shit don't profess in being the Best in the World just because it's a "popular" thing to do nowadays... I do it because it happens to be true."
I mean seriously look at the competition this week and tell me where ANYONE other than Drake Hunter and Bliss haven't been the two shining stars until I dropped this dime piece?
THE Tristan Slater- "Throw your Bliss at me and I'll pimp slap her with a handful of baby powder, bring Drake Hunter so I can expose him as the glorified slightly better version of Peter Gilmour that he actually is."
If any of you think I'm walking into this contest to lose or if I'm going to be that guy who's here to help you make a name for yourself than your sadly mistaken. Hell, the only thing any of you have going for you revolves around how you lose this contest. Any retard can throw someone over the top rope. It doesn't take talent to do that folks, but imgine if you will if this was a pin fall or submission style elimination match. Now there, there's something to brag about. This, this on the other hand is more of an easy way for the losers... and by losers I'm talking about all of you... it's just an easy excuse for you to make so you don't feel so about about sucking.
The Benefactor- "The only thing I'm concerned about is how the roster is going to react to you. I know you're already turning a few heads, but with some of the things you've said in the week you've been on TV isn't going to make you any friends."
Leaning back in my chair I come to the realization that I don't need friends. I'm not here for them, I'm not here to make them, and I sure as fuck don't plan on carrying any of them.
The Benefactor- "Anyone can get lucky and throw someone over the top rope, yourself included."
I'm shown rolling my eyes at the statement as the Benefactor continues.
The Benefactor- "What guarantee's can you give me that you won't fall victim to the numbers game?"
Wilson Baldwin- "My client isn't in the business for guarantee's... he's in the business of professional wreslting. Remember this, you came to us not the other way around. The sheer notion that you're even implying that the roster in M.P.W. are capable of eliminating THE Tristan Slater is nothing short of insulting."
Wilson cuts his eyes towards me before placing his right hand on my left shoulder.
Wilson Baldwin- "Need I remind you that you're speaking to a man who's Professional Record on United States Soil is a comfortable 30 and 3. This man's shoulders have only been put down for a three count twice in his career, less than anyone else in this profession! He's the guy who's going to have the entire world talking come the close of Army of One."
Wilson removes his hand from my shoulder before turning his attention towards the Benefactor.
Wilson Baldwin- "Make no mistake about it when I tell you that nobody will remember anything about this Pay-Per-View other than it being simply known as the night in which THE Tristan Slater has arrived."
Gives me goosebumps knowing that here I sit, firmly in the drivers seat walking into Army of One. Everyone involved as dreams of challenging for the World Title dancing in their heads, everyone is blinded by the nature of the contest when everyone should be focused on the biggest threat ANY of you have ever fucking seen. It's your ignorance that will lead you all to failure and it's my intelligence that will bring me to the top of this company FASTER than any man before me.
THE Tristan Slater- "I'm going to give you what you want. I'm going to give you the destruction that you so desperately crave... and I'm going to win this Rumble, but just remember that the reason you came to me to solve your problems revolves around YOU not being able to do it yourself."
Stinging words from your next Army of One Rumble winner.
The Benefactor- "Let's not get to far ahead of ourselves here."
Wilson Baldwin- "No."
The Benefactor- "No?"
Wilson Baldwin- "How about you not get to far ahead of yourself. Look, we don't need this. You do. We're not the ones with a score to settle. You are."
Ouch.
Wilson Baldwin- "So, do yourself a favor and sit back on the side lines and let us do our fucking job."
THE Tristan Slater- "The M.P.W. isn't ready. Nobody is."
With those closing words the limo comes to a stop outside of the venue set to host Thursday Night's Army of One Event. Thousands of fans have gathered today for a press conference in which they assume all their favorite M.P.W. stars are going to speak at... yet in actually we're here today because Tristan called the Press Conference, stupid fans.
THE Tristan Slater and Wilson Baldwin are shown exiting the limo to a loud reaction from the fans who have gathered. This isn't fancy folks, this is nothing more than a stage set up at the bottom of the stairs which lead up to the area with a podium, microphone, and sound system.
Just as soon as THE Tristan Slater steps foot outside of the limo his entrance music is heard hitting the loud speakers
The fans, fickle as usual, pop for the theme song as Wilson leads me towards the stage through the sea of people. I feel hands all over my body as they try and touch greatness in it's human form. There's police present towards the front of the stage. They intervien and help me towards the stage along with Wilson. Finally we reach the stage. Looking out across all the fans it's good to know I can draw this with an hour's notice.
Wilson stands in front of the podium as the music fades away leaving a solid ovation from the crowd as Will begins to speak.
Wilson Baldwin- "Ladies and Gentleman, my name is Wilson Baldwin and I represent THE Tristan Slater, the best in the world today."
Naturally the crowd panders and gives into the cheep pop.
Wilson Baldwin- "In three days time my client is going to make history by being the only man to win the Army of One Rumble match, not only that, but he's going to be the only winner who isn't under contract. Now, it's being billed as a Rumble Match and we all know Drake Hunter is looked at as the odds on favorite."
Another cheep pop for the mention of Hunter's name.
Wilson Baldwin- "How can you take a man like that seriously when he's not even aware that this ISN'T comprised of thirty men? Hell, as of this moment there's not even HALF that many names involved and that's HALF the roster!"
They say ignorance is bliss.
Wilson Baldwin- "Drake Hunter, a guy who's been here since day one and has yet to taste the M.P.W. World Title and is looking at this as his spring board to that very contest."
Wilson point towards me with his right arm while he states.
Wilson Baldwin- "That man right there... that man, he's your road block. He's the man who's going to be that "NOBODY" you claimed is going to be able to stop you. That man, he's the man who's hear to stop each and every one of you before winning this rumble, winning the World Title for know apparently reason other than he can."
Some boo's start to trickle out throughout the crowd as I start to applaud Wilson's statement.
Wilson Baldwin- "Ladies and Gentleman I give to you my client, I give to you the new face of Millinium Pro Wrestling, I give to you... THE Tristan Slater!"
As I step towards the podium Wilson and I exchange a handshake. There's a mixed reaction as I grace the stage before removing the microphone from it's holder. I make my way around the podium before taking a seat on the stage it self in front of the podium. Listening to the crowd's reaction I debate mentally on just what I want to say as my first words to what will not only end up being a hostile crowd but a hostile federation once I'm threw having my way with it. Several seconds pass before I slowly raise the microphone to my lips.
THE TRISTAN SLATER- "Ladies and Gentleman I'm not here to try and convince you of anything."
Unlike my opponents for the Army of One Rumble match.
THE TRISTAN SLATER- "I'm not here to cram my accomplishments down your throat, and I'm not here to try and present myself as something I'm not."
I'm the game changer that this federation feverishly needs. I'm the fresh face who is more than capable of hoisting this company up on his back if needed or even wanted to out of boredom if anything else.
THE TRISTAN SLATER- "Some of you know me, some of you don't. The one's that know me know just how big a threat I am and are quivering in fear while the one's who don't just assume that I'm all hype and will look past me as if I'm just some random noob thrown into place just to be a body in this Rumble."
Dumbasses.
THE TRISTAN SLATER- "Well, I've got news for all of you, you see there are forces at work right now that are far greater than any of you could even dream. I've been brought here because none of the talent on this roster is capable of carrying a ship."
The crowd starts to slowly begin to turn on me as I continue.
THE TRISTAN SLATER- "I've been brought here not to fail, but to succeed like I've done throughout my entire career. Thursday Night is just the genesis, the beginning if you will of the NEW M.P.W regardless if any of you choose to believe it or not, you can sit here and try to tell me I'm wrong, you can try to stop the revolution from being televisied, but one way or the other I will deliver on what I've set out to accomplish and I will be the man who's left standing in the center of that ring when all of this is said and done."
Louder boo's start to ring out from throughout the crowd as I pause for a moment before looking around at the crowd that I can see from my seated position.
THE TRISTAN SLATER- "This is hardly a Rumble to begin with when you look at the names involved. Jason X? You can't be serious. Or what about El Cunado? If these guys wrestled in organzations I've wrestled in they'd be lucky to score themselves a fucking dark match!"
At least they're a little bit better than Chicken.
THE TRISTAN SLATER- "Chicken and Ian Andrews anyone? If either of these guys where to win this Rumble you might as well close this federation because you're showing the world just how seriously you take your product."
Four of the thriteen or forteen involved in this Rumble are complete and total non factors. That's the problem with the logic behind this stupid contest to begin with. It would be a different ball game completely if there where actual names in this contest that actually could go on and reap the rewards for actually winning it.
THE TRISTAN SLATER- "When you look at the talent pool this Rumble comes down to two people, count them... two. Me... and Drake Hunter."
There's another pop at the mention of Hunter's name which draws a quick smile from yours truly before I continue.
THE TRISTAN SLATER- "Yea, the guy who couldn't come up with anything more clever than failing at witty plays on the word "THE" that's attached to my name."
It almost makes me wonder if I'm dealing with a kid.
THE TRISTAN SLATER- "This is who this Rumble was built around. It was meant to be a contest where the work horse of this federation finally gets what he deserves, a shot at the MPW World Heavyweight Championship."
All the hard work, all the dedication, the months f trails and tribulations comes down to this one night, this one contest doesn't it, Hunter? Your reputation rests on you walking out with this victory... but then I showed up.
THE TRISTAN SLATER- "Unfortunately Drake, while you thought this was your time and while you think you're going to walk all over everyone involved in this Rumble I'm the guy who is just BETTER than you! I'm more arrogant than you could dare dream, do you think that attaching your name to this federation like Millinium Punk Wrestling is ground breaking? Do you think you're being cocky by trying to make a play on words? Do you think that it's never been done before? Think again homie because it's the work of an amature!"
You're not the only one who can make name jokes.
THE TRISTAN SLATER- "I hope to God you're the final man who stands between me and victory because it's only going to make my debut in MPW that much sweeter to know that I'm the guy who is responsible for snatching everything that you've worked so hard for away from you. It's going to make my victory that much sweeter because you're so deadset that you've got this in the bag you didn't even bother to do your homework on me. It's going to make my victory that much sweeter simply because you've worked so hard for so long and I'm just walking in the front door doing more in one night than you've done in your MPW career."
Make no mistake about it Hunter you're who I've got my targets set on making sure I destroy for nothing more than my own gratification.
THE TRISTAN SLATER- "You all might as well face it now and go ahead and learn how to deal with it because the dawning of a new era is upon us... and it's the era of THE TRISTAN SLATER!"
I drop the microphone to the stage before getting to my feet where I join Wilson Baldwin as the scene slowly fades to black leaving us all wondering just what is going to happen come Army of One when all these talents occupy one ring all wanting to leave with a hard earned victory.
... but who is this Benefactor? Who is the person responsible for condemning each and everyone of you to pure failure? Will history be made at Army of One? Will the only man not under contract with this federation be the man who secures himself a shot at either Clash or Ash? Tune in Thursday Night in which all your questions just might get answers.
End Scene.
Ego Trip 101:
I can't believe that I've been reduced to coming to a second rate federation that's filled with second rate talent simply because I drop a few pipe bombs here and there. M.P.W. isn't ready for a star of my caliber. M.P.W. isn't ready for the proverbial shitstorm that I'm prepared to bring with me.
... oh wait.
Perhaps before I start slamming this company if might be beneficial for all of you to know just who the hell I am.
My name... is THE Tristan Slater, and I'm the guy who's going to sky rocket to the top of this federation without so much as breaking a goddamn sweat. Now, just for your own edification allow me to give you a quick background on just who the hell you're all dealing with come Army Of One. I've wrestled all over the world, attaining World Title after World Title after World Title at the expense of whoever the fuck is placed in front of me.
I don't play the political game.
I don't run or hide from challenges.
I step to the plate and knock it out of the park on a weekly basis with style and passion that most of you will NEVER attain. I've been brought to the M.P.W. by a benefactor who at this time will remain nameless, and the reason I've been brought here is to accomplish one simple goal. Domination. My reputation in this business is being a proverbial "loose cannon" who doesn't work within the system. I'm the guy who's going to tell you how it is regardless if you or anyone else likes it or not. My job isn't to be liked by the masses or even by my peers. My job is to set out and own whoever has the balls to step to the plate, and I happen to do it nicely which you're all going to witness first hand.
I haven't been in the federation a week and already I've garnered the spotlight with my actions on T.N.T. this past Thursday Night. Twas a night that was suppose to see the inking of my M.P.W. contract, yet just when you think you've got the answers... I change the fucking question! Instead of inking a multi-million dollar deal I opted to go the polar opposite direction by putting that stupid suit through the very table that was suppose to witness pen to paper and my official signing to the M.P.W.
Why?
Why didn't I sign the contract? It's an obvious question that you shouldn't be ashamed to ask yourselves. I didn't sign the contract because unlike most of you, I refuse to let a suit handle business when the owner of this company was just on the other side of that goddamn curtain. If I wanted to deal with attornies or anyone else for that matter I would have went to them... and not the head of this company. So, the real question is why didn't you come out and handle business yourself? Why did YOU send a suit to try and hype me and my arrival up as opposed to doing it your goddamn self? Ah, now there are some quality questions that need to be answered. Another question that's on the hearts and minds of most of the general public rests with how a man such as myself, a man who's NOT under contract nor even obligated to give two shits about this organziation, allowed to compete in the biggest Battle Royal of the Year? Not only compete, but what happens when I win? Let's not kid ourselves, if anyone who throws their name into the hat thinks they're going to walk out with their arms raised in victory is about as stupid as all the sheep that has paid their hard earned money to watch this crap you all call programming!
Have I made any friends yet?
I didn't think so.
There's your overview of THE Tristan Slater, the man who will make history come Army of One by competing and winning his first contest which will catapult me exactly where I belong... wrestling for the World Heavyweight Championship... but what about the competition? What about who can and will sign up to take part in this party? You can't have proverbial smack talk without smacking the shit out of possible opponents now can we? Where to start? Ian Andrews sounds like a good spot since he's the first to speak out and take part of the Rumble Match it self.
I'm going to be brutally honest here, Ian.
Your promo for this contest was the first promo I chose to even so much as watch since the rumors of me possibly joining this roster was even discussed, and once I saw how you placed all of five minutes into cutting the actual promo it self I figure you'll last maybe two minutes in the Rumble Match it self. Do you even realize what it takes to get to the top of this business? You've got to eat, drink, sleep, shoot, shit EVERYTHING Professional Wrestling! You, you're a disgrace to anyone who laces up the boots my dear friend. You're promo was about as entertaining as a fart in the fucking wind, but yet it's your DESTINY to win this contest? Tell me you're not delusional enough to buy into the bullshit you're speaking. Tell me that you've got more common sense than to think someone like you, someone who puts minimal effort into entertaining the masses isn't retarded enough to think that he stands a fucking chance against a talent of my caliber. Son, I'll bitch slap you so fucking hard you're mama will feel it! You're what I refer to as bottom feeders to this business. Face it kid, your job at Army of One is simple...
You're there to make everyone else look good.
So while you hope and dream of destiny... I snatch it by the fucking horns.
What a joke.
Is this it M.P.W? Is this the level of competition I've been reduced to wasting my time on? Because if everyone is else is as meaningless as this piece of shit than this is going to be WAY easier than even I thought to begin with.
... but if it couldn't get any worse... it did. I saw a Chicken Promo.
The fuck does this place get these fuckers, off the side of the street? Is there such thing as REAL competition within this federation? It's seems everyone is on the Ash parade and even he is fucking as beatable as they come! Back to fucking business. Chicken, you're a runt if there ever was one. When I take a look at you I snicker to myself because not only you but your sheer logic has more flaws than an episode of The Bachlor. I could take the time and verbally ass rape you, I could make you feel about the size of a fucking ant when compared to someone of my talent and abilities... but why waste the time?
You want to enter in at Number One?
Shouldn't that be reserved for someone of my caliber? Shouldn't I be able to say that not only did I walk in as the Number One Entrant, but I kicked the shit out of each and everyone on this godforsaken roster? Yet we're all suppose to think that someone who's all of five foot five and a buck fifty soaking wet is going to win this thing? Yeah right, perhaps if I dropped a hit of acid, drank a gallon of vokda, and blind folded myself. Face it. You're looped in with whoever the fuck I slammed first because you're both a couple of bodies put in place to fill a little space. Sorry to put a damper on your plans.
Who else is there?
Taufik?
The fuck where your parents smoking when they named you?
Nevermind, don't answer that.
Why in the blue hell should you win this Rumble? What do you bring to the table in the slightest form other than a wack name and even wacker in ring abilities? Surely you don't think you're strike fear into the hearts of the masses do you? Wait. You probably do because you're a midget with a shaved head trying to play Billy Badass. News Flash son, I'm THE Tristan Slater and I'm as big and as bad as they come. Trust and believe I'll be looking for you specifically come Army of One just for nothing more than to slap the retardedness out of you! Maybe, just maybe I'll be able to accomplish that feat, yet if not I'll take solace in being the man who ends your hopes and dreams of one day challenging for the M.P.W. World Heavyweight Championship.
Andre Dixon is another name on the roster whom I'm actually somewhat familiar with. Don't they refer to you as Andre "The Morning After Pill" Dixon elsewhere in this business, mainly because with you it's never known if you're going to be up to potential or if you're going to flake out? Yet here you are, in the bush leagues competing against a federation full of nobodies trying to profess yourself as the be all end all of this business. You're funny, but not in an entertaining way. I'm sure that SHOULD you rear that big ugly head of yours you'll no doubt try and pinpoint yours truly simply because you know just how much of a threat I actually am. So, for that reason only I'll issue you a common curtousy by telling you that SHOULD you enter and SHOULD you look to make a statement at my expense... I'll embarrass you harder than holding a World Title for what? A week? Good job.
Let me guess...
I still haven't made any friends?
Good! Don't need em' because when you're a natural born LEADER... or GOD, right Bliss?
Oh how I have salavated over just how bad I'm about to tear you apart verbally before imposing my will... physically.
While appreciate you thinking you know just who the hell I am and what the hell I think I am, I feel the need to thank you for proving beyond any shadow of a doubt why the entire world classifies girls like you as "dumb blondes". Yes, I'm exceptionally gifted as a "talker" but more so as a Professional Wrestler. You can run around and flash photos of "Thor" and tell the entire world what I think about myself... but hey, it's not my fault I'm the Best In the World. I was born this way.
All that being said. Let's get to business and the brass tax of this entire situation shall we.
You're bitter.
You're bitter because you're well aware that this Rumble Match is GOING to be won by a man who's so much better than each and everyone of you that they don't even have to compete under the formality of a contract. Yeah, it's a hard pill to swallow isn't it? Do yourself a favor and bury your head in the fucking sand now and save yourself the embarrassment of ever trying to step to the plate and mention my name from those vivaciously sexy DSL's right above your chin or I might be tempted to skull fuck you so hard your mama's, mama's, mama's going to be gaging from six feet under! Bitch I'm not the one to play with! I've slapped around pieces of 12th street trash like you like you owe me money... wait, does that mean I'm your pimp? I digress. My point is real simple. It doesn't matter how you look at this situation from any which angle you choose to, but if our paths cross inside this Rumble I won't have a problem in showing you first hand when I send you sailing over the top rope and back out to the street where tramps like you belong.
Damn.
I kinda feel bad about that one... not really.
Moving on.
Who else we got? T.J. Pain?
What the fuck ever! The whole badass gimmick is pretty plaid out bro, and before any of you are stupid enough to think I'm looking at myself as a badass then you're A) As dumb as Bliss and B) Are to stupid enough to realize that's not just sheer "talk" when you're actually able to back it up... unllike you, T.J.
You're the resident door mat.
While yes, you're most certainly attain mid card status in just about any organziation you choose to hang your hat but you'll never be a man who wins a World Championship. Sorry, the truth fucking hurts. You're just another body, but unlike most, you're a body who will put up a fight before finding himself a victim to the game. You're just not a Main Event player... I am. I honestly am shaking my head in disgust at the lists of talents who are joining this Rumble. It's truly a disappointment, at least in my eyes. Sure, people will pander at the showings a virtual unknown might have, they'll praise the whole "numbers" of it all... but what it all boils down to is this.
... you ready?
God Given Talent... thanks, Bliss
The talent that was given to me by GOD himself puts me in a class all ALONE!
None of you, and I mean NONE OF YOU are capable of knocking on my door... let alone walking into my house and by my house I'm NOT talking about the fucking M.P.W....
I'm talking about... a wrestling ring.
Make no mistake about it boys and girls, that ring IS my house. I fucking OWN it each and every time I step foot in it. My reputation preceeds me and now it's time to nut up and live up to the hype that surrounds me. There's a reason why my benefactor hand selected yours truly to walk into this federation and catapult myself straight to the top... because he KNOWS I'm capable of doing it! I don't care what Tom, Dick, or Hary walking around behind that curtain has to say, let alone THINK about how they're going to out last us all... because that's all sheer fantasy, but do you want to know the reality? The reality rests in one thing... You're all just place holders until I grace that ring. I hope you're all prepared to be cast to the side like the supporting players you are because the new face of M.P.W. has just arrived... his name is THE TRISTAN SLATER.
I'd be foolish to sit here and think that the stupid name "Army Of One" is going to apply in this instance, oh no.
I'm pretty sure that some of the things I've said has struck nerves and then there's going to be some stupid, unoriginal piece of monkey crap that's going to lead a revolution to try and send me sailing over that rope and out to the floor, and yes, like sheep you're going to try and make that my shinning moment of the Rumble it self. After all, I'm an unknown talent who's competing without a contract. For all you know I could be sent here by another "organization" for the sheer purpose of pulling the plug off the life support system that this organzation runs on.
To much?
Put those thoughts to bed because as much as I'd LOVE for that to be the case.. it's not. The benefaction in which I refer to is someone who's already here, who's already on the M.P.W. roster. Ouch. Sucks to be all of you.
As I move through the list of people who aren't shit, Drake Knight... whish I could have made it through your schpill that was really nothing more than an 80's style promo bit... only it was missing that cheesy back drop. You're a non factor. Sure you got size, but that's all you are. I mean, my left nut has more charisma than you! I don't know what's more boring, you... or a book on tape.
Shaun Cross. Non factor.
Aaron Cruz? Really? Do I even need to address that? Didn't think so. Non factor.
Jimmy Fatal? Guy's got a better shot drinking a liter of a whiskey in in 5 minutes than he does as eliminating me!
... but oh, there's Drake Hunter.
Oh, my, my... Aren't you just... a major let down.
My beenfactor gave me a heads up on you and at time you're about to bust through that "glass ceiling"... and like usual, this isn't your time. I can appreciate you giving me so much of your "time" this week. Thanks for giving me INSTANT credibility you dumb fuck! I would shovel through most of that bullshit and fire it right back at you... but what's the point? Smart monies on you and I coming to blows, perhaps as we roll down into the final two... and while you might take exception to me stepping into the M.P.W. and taking away your precious spotlight, unfortunately you're just going to have to eat shit and like the taste of it on this one buddy because I can assure you and everyone else on this roster of ONE thing. When the smoke clears and the sust settles history will be made... it's going to be made when I outlast you all and defeat you on YOUR turf!
No offense bro.
... but uh... I've heard the whole "THE" references before, not only have I heard them but I've heard better things from dumber people. It attempt at being witty and clever completly failed with flying colours... but you'll understand exactly what THE stands for the moment you're sent over the top rope and out to the floor. A new spark has been lit for this company regardless if any of you like it or not. For those who have yet to throw their name into this contest, and to those who are even thinking about it... don't bother because you're wasting your time.
The measuring stick'sjust changed around here... and you're looking at em'.
.. now, pick your jaws up off the fucking floor.
I wish I could sit here and say that I am not a front runner to leave the Rumble Match at Army of One... but that's a lie. It seem's that one of the many things I'm great at revolves around garnering attention. It's not that difficult, especially within an organization which bears no real big fish in this very small pond. Yet now is the time for me to step up and show the world that while I'm a cocky, arrogant, son of a bitch... I'm one of the few few people on this planet that can actually back everything I say up.
Last Thursday Night on T.N.T. I shocked the world by putting one of your M.P.W. attornies through a table before shredding the contract that was offered. Was it a slap in the face to this company? Absolutely, but is it going to stop me from running over each and everyone of you who have entered this Rumble? Nope!
There's no shame in placing second... at least not to THE Tristan Slater.
It's been a wild and crazy several days revolving around THE Tristan Slater as the road to Army of One is in full swing. Hoards of the so called "best" this company can produce have all thrown their names into the hat. Names like Drake Hunter, a tool bag that's going to be one of the many who eat his words when I'm the man who's left standing. Honestly, that's the only name that remotely has a shot at giving me a run for my money and even with him I'm playing nice in a cheep way to try and give him some sort of credibility.
Anyhoo.
Our scene opens where Wilson Baldwin, agent to THE Tristan Slater is shown sitting next to THE Tristan Slater in the back of Tristan's limo. They're in route to an Army of One Press Conference, yet they're not alone as a voice from off camera is heard making a statement.
The Voice- "You did exactly what you said you would."
Like there should be a doubt. I kicked off the program last Thursday Night and there wasn't another segment that could touch it with a ten foot pole. It was predictable that Ash would drop his precious X-Core title for the opportunity to carry the M.P.W. World Heavyweight Championship, but who could have predicted that I would rip up that piece of crap contract while embarrassing the M.P.W. in the process.
The Voice- "Now, now you've got to parlay this into a huge vitory come Army of One."
As I sit in silence, starring across at my benefactor I know fool well that my goal is to win. I'm not here to do anything else but put fist to faces.
Wilson Baldwin- "Do you know who you're talking to? This is THE Tristan Slater and he is the Best in the World today."
The serious nature to the tone of Wilson brings a sly smile across my face as he continues.
Wilson Baldwin- "We've scouted our opponents, we've sat back and listened to all the penty, mindless insults about my clients "name" by the Number Two Man in this company, or so how the M.P.W. ranks him... basically what I'm getting at is this. We're ready for Army of One, more importantly THE Tristan Slater is ready for Army of One."
It's truly going to be an amazing debut if there ever was one. Who would have thought that all this build towards this one event, headlined by the Rumble Match it self would all be for nothing when the plans are spoiled by a man not even under contract. Drake Hunter compared me to Trey Baxter, apparently we're both about as ego driven as they come... but what that stupid son of a bitch doesn't know is that even in an attempt to cut me down all you did was give me more credibility by comparing me to the M.P.W. Wrestler of the Year. Nice job, rook, oh and by the way... He's a former World Champion, where's your gold?
The Voice- "As of now there are thirteen people, Mr. Slater included, who are buying for this opportunity."
I lean forward placing each elbow on it's respective knee as I finally break my silence.
THE Tristan Slater- "They're not buying for shit."
I softly, yet serious state.
THE Tristan Slater- "Maybe you're not as familiar with me as you thought."
The blank expression that was once etched firmly across my face as disappeared and been replaced by a look of utter seriousness and determination as thoughts of tossing each and every piece of talent who's involved in this contest over that top rope and out to the floor.
THE Tristan Slater- "I don't make false promises and I sure as shit don't profess in being the Best in the World just because it's a "popular" thing to do nowadays... I do it because it happens to be true."
I mean seriously look at the competition this week and tell me where ANYONE other than Drake Hunter and Bliss haven't been the two shining stars until I dropped this dime piece?
THE Tristan Slater- "Throw your Bliss at me and I'll pimp slap her with a handful of baby powder, bring Drake Hunter so I can expose him as the glorified slightly better version of Peter Gilmour that he actually is."
If any of you think I'm walking into this contest to lose or if I'm going to be that guy who's here to help you make a name for yourself than your sadly mistaken. Hell, the only thing any of you have going for you revolves around how you lose this contest. Any retard can throw someone over the top rope. It doesn't take talent to do that folks, but imgine if you will if this was a pin fall or submission style elimination match. Now there, there's something to brag about. This, this on the other hand is more of an easy way for the losers... and by losers I'm talking about all of you... it's just an easy excuse for you to make so you don't feel so about about sucking.
The Benefactor- "The only thing I'm concerned about is how the roster is going to react to you. I know you're already turning a few heads, but with some of the things you've said in the week you've been on TV isn't going to make you any friends."
Leaning back in my chair I come to the realization that I don't need friends. I'm not here for them, I'm not here to make them, and I sure as fuck don't plan on carrying any of them.
The Benefactor- "Anyone can get lucky and throw someone over the top rope, yourself included."
I'm shown rolling my eyes at the statement as the Benefactor continues.
The Benefactor- "What guarantee's can you give me that you won't fall victim to the numbers game?"
Wilson Baldwin- "My client isn't in the business for guarantee's... he's in the business of professional wreslting. Remember this, you came to us not the other way around. The sheer notion that you're even implying that the roster in M.P.W. are capable of eliminating THE Tristan Slater is nothing short of insulting."
Wilson cuts his eyes towards me before placing his right hand on my left shoulder.
Wilson Baldwin- "Need I remind you that you're speaking to a man who's Professional Record on United States Soil is a comfortable 30 and 3. This man's shoulders have only been put down for a three count twice in his career, less than anyone else in this profession! He's the guy who's going to have the entire world talking come the close of Army of One."
Wilson removes his hand from my shoulder before turning his attention towards the Benefactor.
Wilson Baldwin- "Make no mistake about it when I tell you that nobody will remember anything about this Pay-Per-View other than it being simply known as the night in which THE Tristan Slater has arrived."
Gives me goosebumps knowing that here I sit, firmly in the drivers seat walking into Army of One. Everyone involved as dreams of challenging for the World Title dancing in their heads, everyone is blinded by the nature of the contest when everyone should be focused on the biggest threat ANY of you have ever fucking seen. It's your ignorance that will lead you all to failure and it's my intelligence that will bring me to the top of this company FASTER than any man before me.
THE Tristan Slater- "I'm going to give you what you want. I'm going to give you the destruction that you so desperately crave... and I'm going to win this Rumble, but just remember that the reason you came to me to solve your problems revolves around YOU not being able to do it yourself."
Stinging words from your next Army of One Rumble winner.
The Benefactor- "Let's not get to far ahead of ourselves here."
Wilson Baldwin- "No."
The Benefactor- "No?"
Wilson Baldwin- "How about you not get to far ahead of yourself. Look, we don't need this. You do. We're not the ones with a score to settle. You are."
Ouch.
Wilson Baldwin- "So, do yourself a favor and sit back on the side lines and let us do our fucking job."
THE Tristan Slater- "The M.P.W. isn't ready. Nobody is."
With those closing words the limo comes to a stop outside of the venue set to host Thursday Night's Army of One Event. Thousands of fans have gathered today for a press conference in which they assume all their favorite M.P.W. stars are going to speak at... yet in actually we're here today because Tristan called the Press Conference, stupid fans.
THE Tristan Slater and Wilson Baldwin are shown exiting the limo to a loud reaction from the fans who have gathered. This isn't fancy folks, this is nothing more than a stage set up at the bottom of the stairs which lead up to the area with a podium, microphone, and sound system.
Just as soon as THE Tristan Slater steps foot outside of the limo his entrance music is heard hitting the loud speakers
The fans, fickle as usual, pop for the theme song as Wilson leads me towards the stage through the sea of people. I feel hands all over my body as they try and touch greatness in it's human form. There's police present towards the front of the stage. They intervien and help me towards the stage along with Wilson. Finally we reach the stage. Looking out across all the fans it's good to know I can draw this with an hour's notice.
Wilson stands in front of the podium as the music fades away leaving a solid ovation from the crowd as Will begins to speak.
Wilson Baldwin- "Ladies and Gentleman, my name is Wilson Baldwin and I represent THE Tristan Slater, the best in the world today."
Naturally the crowd panders and gives into the cheep pop.
Wilson Baldwin- "In three days time my client is going to make history by being the only man to win the Army of One Rumble match, not only that, but he's going to be the only winner who isn't under contract. Now, it's being billed as a Rumble Match and we all know Drake Hunter is looked at as the odds on favorite."
Another cheep pop for the mention of Hunter's name.
Wilson Baldwin- "How can you take a man like that seriously when he's not even aware that this ISN'T comprised of thirty men? Hell, as of this moment there's not even HALF that many names involved and that's HALF the roster!"
They say ignorance is bliss.
Wilson Baldwin- "Drake Hunter, a guy who's been here since day one and has yet to taste the M.P.W. World Title and is looking at this as his spring board to that very contest."
Wilson point towards me with his right arm while he states.
Wilson Baldwin- "That man right there... that man, he's your road block. He's the man who's going to be that "NOBODY" you claimed is going to be able to stop you. That man, he's the man who's hear to stop each and every one of you before winning this rumble, winning the World Title for know apparently reason other than he can."
Some boo's start to trickle out throughout the crowd as I start to applaud Wilson's statement.
Wilson Baldwin- "Ladies and Gentleman I give to you my client, I give to you the new face of Millinium Pro Wrestling, I give to you... THE Tristan Slater!"
As I step towards the podium Wilson and I exchange a handshake. There's a mixed reaction as I grace the stage before removing the microphone from it's holder. I make my way around the podium before taking a seat on the stage it self in front of the podium. Listening to the crowd's reaction I debate mentally on just what I want to say as my first words to what will not only end up being a hostile crowd but a hostile federation once I'm threw having my way with it. Several seconds pass before I slowly raise the microphone to my lips.
THE TRISTAN SLATER- "Ladies and Gentleman I'm not here to try and convince you of anything."
Unlike my opponents for the Army of One Rumble match.
THE TRISTAN SLATER- "I'm not here to cram my accomplishments down your throat, and I'm not here to try and present myself as something I'm not."
I'm the game changer that this federation feverishly needs. I'm the fresh face who is more than capable of hoisting this company up on his back if needed or even wanted to out of boredom if anything else.
THE TRISTAN SLATER- "Some of you know me, some of you don't. The one's that know me know just how big a threat I am and are quivering in fear while the one's who don't just assume that I'm all hype and will look past me as if I'm just some random noob thrown into place just to be a body in this Rumble."
Dumbasses.
THE TRISTAN SLATER- "Well, I've got news for all of you, you see there are forces at work right now that are far greater than any of you could even dream. I've been brought here because none of the talent on this roster is capable of carrying a ship."
The crowd starts to slowly begin to turn on me as I continue.
THE TRISTAN SLATER- "I've been brought here not to fail, but to succeed like I've done throughout my entire career. Thursday Night is just the genesis, the beginning if you will of the NEW M.P.W regardless if any of you choose to believe it or not, you can sit here and try to tell me I'm wrong, you can try to stop the revolution from being televisied, but one way or the other I will deliver on what I've set out to accomplish and I will be the man who's left standing in the center of that ring when all of this is said and done."
Louder boo's start to ring out from throughout the crowd as I pause for a moment before looking around at the crowd that I can see from my seated position.
THE TRISTAN SLATER- "This is hardly a Rumble to begin with when you look at the names involved. Jason X? You can't be serious. Or what about El Cunado? If these guys wrestled in organzations I've wrestled in they'd be lucky to score themselves a fucking dark match!"
At least they're a little bit better than Chicken.
THE TRISTAN SLATER- "Chicken and Ian Andrews anyone? If either of these guys where to win this Rumble you might as well close this federation because you're showing the world just how seriously you take your product."
Four of the thriteen or forteen involved in this Rumble are complete and total non factors. That's the problem with the logic behind this stupid contest to begin with. It would be a different ball game completely if there where actual names in this contest that actually could go on and reap the rewards for actually winning it.
THE TRISTAN SLATER- "When you look at the talent pool this Rumble comes down to two people, count them... two. Me... and Drake Hunter."
There's another pop at the mention of Hunter's name which draws a quick smile from yours truly before I continue.
THE TRISTAN SLATER- "Yea, the guy who couldn't come up with anything more clever than failing at witty plays on the word "THE" that's attached to my name."
It almost makes me wonder if I'm dealing with a kid.
THE TRISTAN SLATER- "This is who this Rumble was built around. It was meant to be a contest where the work horse of this federation finally gets what he deserves, a shot at the MPW World Heavyweight Championship."
All the hard work, all the dedication, the months f trails and tribulations comes down to this one night, this one contest doesn't it, Hunter? Your reputation rests on you walking out with this victory... but then I showed up.
THE TRISTAN SLATER- "Unfortunately Drake, while you thought this was your time and while you think you're going to walk all over everyone involved in this Rumble I'm the guy who is just BETTER than you! I'm more arrogant than you could dare dream, do you think that attaching your name to this federation like Millinium Punk Wrestling is ground breaking? Do you think you're being cocky by trying to make a play on words? Do you think that it's never been done before? Think again homie because it's the work of an amature!"
You're not the only one who can make name jokes.
THE TRISTAN SLATER- "I hope to God you're the final man who stands between me and victory because it's only going to make my debut in MPW that much sweeter to know that I'm the guy who is responsible for snatching everything that you've worked so hard for away from you. It's going to make my victory that much sweeter because you're so deadset that you've got this in the bag you didn't even bother to do your homework on me. It's going to make my victory that much sweeter simply because you've worked so hard for so long and I'm just walking in the front door doing more in one night than you've done in your MPW career."
Make no mistake about it Hunter you're who I've got my targets set on making sure I destroy for nothing more than my own gratification.
THE TRISTAN SLATER- "You all might as well face it now and go ahead and learn how to deal with it because the dawning of a new era is upon us... and it's the era of THE TRISTAN SLATER!"
I drop the microphone to the stage before getting to my feet where I join Wilson Baldwin as the scene slowly fades to black leaving us all wondering just what is going to happen come Army of One when all these talents occupy one ring all wanting to leave with a hard earned victory.
... but who is this Benefactor? Who is the person responsible for condemning each and everyone of you to pure failure? Will history be made at Army of One? Will the only man not under contract with this federation be the man who secures himself a shot at either Clash or Ash? Tune in Thursday Night in which all your questions just might get answers.
End Scene.
Ego Trip 101:
I can't believe that I've been reduced to coming to a second rate federation that's filled with second rate talent simply because I drop a few pipe bombs here and there. M.P.W. isn't ready for a star of my caliber. M.P.W. isn't ready for the proverbial shitstorm that I'm prepared to bring with me.
... oh wait.
Perhaps before I start slamming this company if might be beneficial for all of you to know just who the hell I am.
My name... is THE Tristan Slater, and I'm the guy who's going to sky rocket to the top of this federation without so much as breaking a goddamn sweat. Now, just for your own edification allow me to give you a quick background on just who the hell you're all dealing with come Army Of One. I've wrestled all over the world, attaining World Title after World Title after World Title at the expense of whoever the fuck is placed in front of me.
I don't play the political game.
I don't run or hide from challenges.
I step to the plate and knock it out of the park on a weekly basis with style and passion that most of you will NEVER attain. I've been brought to the M.P.W. by a benefactor who at this time will remain nameless, and the reason I've been brought here is to accomplish one simple goal. Domination. My reputation in this business is being a proverbial "loose cannon" who doesn't work within the system. I'm the guy who's going to tell you how it is regardless if you or anyone else likes it or not. My job isn't to be liked by the masses or even by my peers. My job is to set out and own whoever has the balls to step to the plate, and I happen to do it nicely which you're all going to witness first hand.
I haven't been in the federation a week and already I've garnered the spotlight with my actions on T.N.T. this past Thursday Night. Twas a night that was suppose to see the inking of my M.P.W. contract, yet just when you think you've got the answers... I change the fucking question! Instead of inking a multi-million dollar deal I opted to go the polar opposite direction by putting that stupid suit through the very table that was suppose to witness pen to paper and my official signing to the M.P.W.
Why?
Why didn't I sign the contract? It's an obvious question that you shouldn't be ashamed to ask yourselves. I didn't sign the contract because unlike most of you, I refuse to let a suit handle business when the owner of this company was just on the other side of that goddamn curtain. If I wanted to deal with attornies or anyone else for that matter I would have went to them... and not the head of this company. So, the real question is why didn't you come out and handle business yourself? Why did YOU send a suit to try and hype me and my arrival up as opposed to doing it your goddamn self? Ah, now there are some quality questions that need to be answered. Another question that's on the hearts and minds of most of the general public rests with how a man such as myself, a man who's NOT under contract nor even obligated to give two shits about this organziation, allowed to compete in the biggest Battle Royal of the Year? Not only compete, but what happens when I win? Let's not kid ourselves, if anyone who throws their name into the hat thinks they're going to walk out with their arms raised in victory is about as stupid as all the sheep that has paid their hard earned money to watch this crap you all call programming!
Have I made any friends yet?
I didn't think so.
There's your overview of THE Tristan Slater, the man who will make history come Army of One by competing and winning his first contest which will catapult me exactly where I belong... wrestling for the World Heavyweight Championship... but what about the competition? What about who can and will sign up to take part in this party? You can't have proverbial smack talk without smacking the shit out of possible opponents now can we? Where to start? Ian Andrews sounds like a good spot since he's the first to speak out and take part of the Rumble Match it self.
I'm going to be brutally honest here, Ian.
Your promo for this contest was the first promo I chose to even so much as watch since the rumors of me possibly joining this roster was even discussed, and once I saw how you placed all of five minutes into cutting the actual promo it self I figure you'll last maybe two minutes in the Rumble Match it self. Do you even realize what it takes to get to the top of this business? You've got to eat, drink, sleep, shoot, shit EVERYTHING Professional Wrestling! You, you're a disgrace to anyone who laces up the boots my dear friend. You're promo was about as entertaining as a fart in the fucking wind, but yet it's your DESTINY to win this contest? Tell me you're not delusional enough to buy into the bullshit you're speaking. Tell me that you've got more common sense than to think someone like you, someone who puts minimal effort into entertaining the masses isn't retarded enough to think that he stands a fucking chance against a talent of my caliber. Son, I'll bitch slap you so fucking hard you're mama will feel it! You're what I refer to as bottom feeders to this business. Face it kid, your job at Army of One is simple...
You're there to make everyone else look good.
So while you hope and dream of destiny... I snatch it by the fucking horns.
What a joke.
Is this it M.P.W? Is this the level of competition I've been reduced to wasting my time on? Because if everyone is else is as meaningless as this piece of shit than this is going to be WAY easier than even I thought to begin with.
... but if it couldn't get any worse... it did. I saw a Chicken Promo.
The fuck does this place get these fuckers, off the side of the street? Is there such thing as REAL competition within this federation? It's seems everyone is on the Ash parade and even he is fucking as beatable as they come! Back to fucking business. Chicken, you're a runt if there ever was one. When I take a look at you I snicker to myself because not only you but your sheer logic has more flaws than an episode of The Bachlor. I could take the time and verbally ass rape you, I could make you feel about the size of a fucking ant when compared to someone of my talent and abilities... but why waste the time?
You want to enter in at Number One?
Shouldn't that be reserved for someone of my caliber? Shouldn't I be able to say that not only did I walk in as the Number One Entrant, but I kicked the shit out of each and everyone on this godforsaken roster? Yet we're all suppose to think that someone who's all of five foot five and a buck fifty soaking wet is going to win this thing? Yeah right, perhaps if I dropped a hit of acid, drank a gallon of vokda, and blind folded myself. Face it. You're looped in with whoever the fuck I slammed first because you're both a couple of bodies put in place to fill a little space. Sorry to put a damper on your plans.
Who else is there?
Taufik?
The fuck where your parents smoking when they named you?
Nevermind, don't answer that.
Why in the blue hell should you win this Rumble? What do you bring to the table in the slightest form other than a wack name and even wacker in ring abilities? Surely you don't think you're strike fear into the hearts of the masses do you? Wait. You probably do because you're a midget with a shaved head trying to play Billy Badass. News Flash son, I'm THE Tristan Slater and I'm as big and as bad as they come. Trust and believe I'll be looking for you specifically come Army of One just for nothing more than to slap the retardedness out of you! Maybe, just maybe I'll be able to accomplish that feat, yet if not I'll take solace in being the man who ends your hopes and dreams of one day challenging for the M.P.W. World Heavyweight Championship.
Andre Dixon is another name on the roster whom I'm actually somewhat familiar with. Don't they refer to you as Andre "The Morning After Pill" Dixon elsewhere in this business, mainly because with you it's never known if you're going to be up to potential or if you're going to flake out? Yet here you are, in the bush leagues competing against a federation full of nobodies trying to profess yourself as the be all end all of this business. You're funny, but not in an entertaining way. I'm sure that SHOULD you rear that big ugly head of yours you'll no doubt try and pinpoint yours truly simply because you know just how much of a threat I actually am. So, for that reason only I'll issue you a common curtousy by telling you that SHOULD you enter and SHOULD you look to make a statement at my expense... I'll embarrass you harder than holding a World Title for what? A week? Good job.
Let me guess...
I still haven't made any friends?
Good! Don't need em' because when you're a natural born LEADER... or GOD, right Bliss?
Oh how I have salavated over just how bad I'm about to tear you apart verbally before imposing my will... physically.
While appreciate you thinking you know just who the hell I am and what the hell I think I am, I feel the need to thank you for proving beyond any shadow of a doubt why the entire world classifies girls like you as "dumb blondes". Yes, I'm exceptionally gifted as a "talker" but more so as a Professional Wrestler. You can run around and flash photos of "Thor" and tell the entire world what I think about myself... but hey, it's not my fault I'm the Best In the World. I was born this way.
All that being said. Let's get to business and the brass tax of this entire situation shall we.
You're bitter.
You're bitter because you're well aware that this Rumble Match is GOING to be won by a man who's so much better than each and everyone of you that they don't even have to compete under the formality of a contract. Yeah, it's a hard pill to swallow isn't it? Do yourself a favor and bury your head in the fucking sand now and save yourself the embarrassment of ever trying to step to the plate and mention my name from those vivaciously sexy DSL's right above your chin or I might be tempted to skull fuck you so hard your mama's, mama's, mama's going to be gaging from six feet under! Bitch I'm not the one to play with! I've slapped around pieces of 12th street trash like you like you owe me money... wait, does that mean I'm your pimp? I digress. My point is real simple. It doesn't matter how you look at this situation from any which angle you choose to, but if our paths cross inside this Rumble I won't have a problem in showing you first hand when I send you sailing over the top rope and back out to the street where tramps like you belong.
Damn.
I kinda feel bad about that one... not really.
Moving on.
Who else we got? T.J. Pain?
What the fuck ever! The whole badass gimmick is pretty plaid out bro, and before any of you are stupid enough to think I'm looking at myself as a badass then you're A) As dumb as Bliss and B) Are to stupid enough to realize that's not just sheer "talk" when you're actually able to back it up... unllike you, T.J.
You're the resident door mat.
While yes, you're most certainly attain mid card status in just about any organziation you choose to hang your hat but you'll never be a man who wins a World Championship. Sorry, the truth fucking hurts. You're just another body, but unlike most, you're a body who will put up a fight before finding himself a victim to the game. You're just not a Main Event player... I am. I honestly am shaking my head in disgust at the lists of talents who are joining this Rumble. It's truly a disappointment, at least in my eyes. Sure, people will pander at the showings a virtual unknown might have, they'll praise the whole "numbers" of it all... but what it all boils down to is this.
... you ready?
God Given Talent... thanks, Bliss
The talent that was given to me by GOD himself puts me in a class all ALONE!
None of you, and I mean NONE OF YOU are capable of knocking on my door... let alone walking into my house and by my house I'm NOT talking about the fucking M.P.W....
I'm talking about... a wrestling ring.
Make no mistake about it boys and girls, that ring IS my house. I fucking OWN it each and every time I step foot in it. My reputation preceeds me and now it's time to nut up and live up to the hype that surrounds me. There's a reason why my benefactor hand selected yours truly to walk into this federation and catapult myself straight to the top... because he KNOWS I'm capable of doing it! I don't care what Tom, Dick, or Hary walking around behind that curtain has to say, let alone THINK about how they're going to out last us all... because that's all sheer fantasy, but do you want to know the reality? The reality rests in one thing... You're all just place holders until I grace that ring. I hope you're all prepared to be cast to the side like the supporting players you are because the new face of M.P.W. has just arrived... his name is THE TRISTAN SLATER.
I'd be foolish to sit here and think that the stupid name "Army Of One" is going to apply in this instance, oh no.
I'm pretty sure that some of the things I've said has struck nerves and then there's going to be some stupid, unoriginal piece of monkey crap that's going to lead a revolution to try and send me sailing over that rope and out to the floor, and yes, like sheep you're going to try and make that my shinning moment of the Rumble it self. After all, I'm an unknown talent who's competing without a contract. For all you know I could be sent here by another "organization" for the sheer purpose of pulling the plug off the life support system that this organzation runs on.
To much?
Put those thoughts to bed because as much as I'd LOVE for that to be the case.. it's not. The benefaction in which I refer to is someone who's already here, who's already on the M.P.W. roster. Ouch. Sucks to be all of you.
As I move through the list of people who aren't shit, Drake Knight... whish I could have made it through your schpill that was really nothing more than an 80's style promo bit... only it was missing that cheesy back drop. You're a non factor. Sure you got size, but that's all you are. I mean, my left nut has more charisma than you! I don't know what's more boring, you... or a book on tape.
Shaun Cross. Non factor.
Aaron Cruz? Really? Do I even need to address that? Didn't think so. Non factor.
Jimmy Fatal? Guy's got a better shot drinking a liter of a whiskey in in 5 minutes than he does as eliminating me!
... but oh, there's Drake Hunter.
Oh, my, my... Aren't you just... a major let down.
My beenfactor gave me a heads up on you and at time you're about to bust through that "glass ceiling"... and like usual, this isn't your time. I can appreciate you giving me so much of your "time" this week. Thanks for giving me INSTANT credibility you dumb fuck! I would shovel through most of that bullshit and fire it right back at you... but what's the point? Smart monies on you and I coming to blows, perhaps as we roll down into the final two... and while you might take exception to me stepping into the M.P.W. and taking away your precious spotlight, unfortunately you're just going to have to eat shit and like the taste of it on this one buddy because I can assure you and everyone else on this roster of ONE thing. When the smoke clears and the sust settles history will be made... it's going to be made when I outlast you all and defeat you on YOUR turf!
No offense bro.
... but uh... I've heard the whole "THE" references before, not only have I heard them but I've heard better things from dumber people. It attempt at being witty and clever completly failed with flying colours... but you'll understand exactly what THE stands for the moment you're sent over the top rope and out to the floor. A new spark has been lit for this company regardless if any of you like it or not. For those who have yet to throw their name into this contest, and to those who are even thinking about it... don't bother because you're wasting your time.
The measuring stick'sjust changed around here... and you're looking at em'.
.. now, pick your jaws up off the fucking floor.