Supreme Championship Wrestling

Shilo Valiant vs. Ace Marshall vs. Minerva vs. Jordan Majors vs. Ricky James vs. Holly Adams
SCW Adrenaline Championship
Chamber Match

2 RP Limit; no word limits
Deadline: 11:59:59 pm ET Sunday, November 7, 2021

Send in the Clown


Chapter 13 – Part 1: 

Looks like winning a shiny new briefcase wasn’t in the cards, eh? Perhaps that is for the best. I heard they just recycle the same old briefcases – only replacing them every few years at Target. Target, people! 

I mean, what did I really expect when you look at my teammates? A guy that needs a balding, obese man to tell him where to go and a woman that’s still crying over all her daddy issues. Is anyone really surprised that I couldn’t get out of round one? I mean, seriously, did someone roll a shiny dime along the ramp that caused Tsunami to go “oooo, shiny!” and run out and stay out or something?

But I digress, my frustrations with the element of Trios now being tainted with either a win by a team using “unicorn” in the name and the fact that the other team are now ‘switching partners’… well, let’s just say the ‘legitimacy’ of this tournament has dropped severely in my eyes.

But then again, must people don’t really care what the clown thinks, right?

What matters, truly, is whether or not people are entertained – well, and that I’m entertained. But that’s a topic I’ll get to later in the first promo.

Oh, that’s right! I said ‘first’. Better prepare yourselves, ladies and gentlemen. There’s gonna be two parts to this chapter and two promos to boot. Because I’ve got quite a lot to say about where things stand in the world I inhabit that is Supreme Championship Wrestling. 

But I’m getting ahead of myself, aren’t I? And it’s not like I have to worry about time or word limits in this particular chapter. Nope, I can go as slow as I want and talk as much or as little as I please…

Which, is, sort of… needed.

See, this particular chapter of my story… well, it’s a bit of doozy. 

Coming off Breakdown and the disappointing loss of first-round elimination from the now tainted Trios Tournament, I found myself disappointed. I had truly wanted to win the tournament this year – and, since it’s impossible now, I’m not going to lie. I was planning on using the Trios to do what I have wanted to do for nearly ten long years.

Headline Rise to Greatness one more time.

“Oh, Shilo! You can’t do that! The SCW management hate that! The boss hates that! It delegitimizes the Taking Hold of the Flame royale and whoever the champion is!”

Yeah, let me just rewind that thought process for a second. Last year, the “world champion” won ONE match to become champion and the royale winner won ONE royale after losing most of his matches. I’d have to have won three matches to get that contract shot. Secondly, the boss is currently on bedrest for pissing off a Shilo-ripoff one too many times. 

Besides, we all know it wasn’t about the world championship. Did I want to be world champion again? Hell, yes! If Cid Turner could do it, I sure as hell could. If David Helms could do it, I sure as hell could. If Chris Cannon – you get my point! It was the majesty of Rise to Greatness that I wanted to hold just one more time. To stand in the spotlight of the main-event for a fourth, and final, time. Yes, I am not arrogant enough to think I could pull off such a miracle more than once more. But that had been my driving force for so long – wanting that moment just one more time. And for many years, I believed it to be impossible. I thought that I no longer possessed the skill that I once did. Like CHBK, Christian Savior, and… Jason Zero… like so many others, I felt that I had lost my step and simply wasn’t ‘supreme’ anymore for Supreme Championship Wrestling. 

Holding the Adrenaline title for over six months this year, effectively becoming the longest singles champion of this year, had made me realize how much I still had to give this business and how much I could still take and enjoy. In a pleasant way, I had inadvertently proven myself wrong. Because this wasn’t some six months of ‘part sabbatical’ or filled with me cheating or using ambushes. No! Six months of defending the title and winning cleanly – because I was better than my opponent! Six months of going through tables and still fighting.

That was what resonated the most with me. The fact that I didn’t have to rely on cheap ploys or ambushes like so many other people in this sport, including at least half of the people in the upcoming chamber match.

And speaking of which!

My shock at that announcement a short time later was indeed just that. A shock. Up to this point, I had survived an Under the Big Top Match and a TLC match regarding the Adrenaline Championship. And to be clear, those had not been easy matches, given my physical state. There is nothing inherently ‘enjoyable’ about crashing through a table or ladder or being whipped around cage of mesh and string.

But an elimination chamber…

I shuddered at the possibility. The last chamber match I had been in was – interestingly enough – Under Attack eight years ago. After fighting of every member of a little group called the Coalition or something like that, the beast of a monster named Blitzkrieg bulldozed through me, effectively eliminating me last and taking the World title from me…

I’d like to go into more detail, but then I’d be digging into my promo material. The point is that, heading into Halloween, I had a lot on my mind. And it would be stupid to assume that I didn’t get into a worried debate with my soul-mate Marina about it.

Of course Marina was worried. She had every right to be. TLC and Under the Big Top were bad enough, but the chamber? That structure put those matched to shame. You could hide away like Holly Adams did in a TLC match. You could ‘bounce’ off the walls of a Big Top match. There were no such forgiving things in a chamber. It was you, the metal, the plexiglass and the individuals that wanted you dead. Simple as that. Don’t believe me? Go back to ANY chamber match in SCW history. You won’t find one person that competed in one that will shrug it off and say “well, THAT was easy!” – at least not in a way that’s believable. Chambers shave years off your career… and when you’re me, with a limited time – to the point where you count your career in MONTHS instead of years… of course Marina was worried.

Still, I couldn’t back out of it. I couldn’t just walk away from it. 

Truthfully? I hated that Holly Adams was the Adrenaline champion. I hated that she was touting it everywhere. I hated that she was bragging about a 100 day reign when over 30 of those days were because SCW had been on sabbatical! I hated that she was constantly whining on every show about ‘unfairness’ and ‘conspiracy’ and I hated how she was using the misfortune of someone she was ‘suppose’ to be helping to better primp her own ‘Life-Coaching Services’. 

Give me FUCKING SYREN over that blonde-haired crybaby! At least Syren threw a decent punch and didn’t run away or cry for help – granted, that help often came anyway, but there’s a reason she and I got “Match of All Time” at RTG X!

The point is that I needed to be in this match, even if it was just to ensure that the Adrenaline title left Holly’s hands and ended up in a more…entertaining pair. And there were a few I considered.

Jordan Majors, of course, was at the top of that list. The girl that was everything that Syren was now ‘trying to be’ and that Holly Adams could never be, she was a prime candidate. And, in truth, I’d be lying if I said that she didn’t deserve to have a title in her possession at this point in her career – had she even won a singles title before? I don’t think so.

Ricky James was next. Despite him being a parody of some politician I had heard of or something like that, he had actually proven himself rather decent – no, actually, rather good – in the TLC match. Hell, he had caught me and effectively cost me the Adrenaline title at Rise to Greatness, and he had won his fair share of matches. Plus, he had seemingly dropped the “AMURRICAN!” schtick, least I think he has from what I saw, and was trying shit on his own and I could respect that. Parodies and such had been my thing for a while with “Rubber Mask” and whatnot, but there was a reason they never lasted. Because they got old REALLY fast.

Of course, Majors and James were really the only two. I had no desire to see Minerva hold the title during her ‘daddy issues’ and even less of a desire to see Ace Marshall hold it when he could skip a match over a ‘broken penis’ or whatever and while Lexy was clamouring about conspiracies – yeah, because THAT was never done before.

You guys want to know why I never went that route? Why I never went the path of whining and crying about “conspiracies”? At best, I showed that the boss Mr. D. was using me to fulfill his own agenda in pushing newer talent – but the idea that everyone was against me. You know why I never did that?

Because it’s FUCKING dumb! Seriously, the idea that a whole management team with dozens and dozens of roster members would go out of their way to make one person’s life a living hell? Dumbest shit I’ve ever heard! Know why? Because if they wanted that person to suffer? They’d just fire them! Yeah! Go figure! What better way to stick to someone then to remove them from SCW. You take away their livelihood, strip them of any real celebrity status, and keep them off television. 

“Oh, Shilo! They need us! We make them money!” BULL-FUCKING-SHIT! 

Do you have any idea how dumb that sounds? We are all replaceable! Hell, look at me! I was once the most talked-about, entertaining main-event guy in SCW. 2011-2014 were considered the ‘Shilo years’ of who lead SCW! Soon as I left? Bunch of copycats came out of the woodwork. Ace, Giovanni, Ikiro Yoshiada, of course I can’t forget Aaron Blackbourne – all trying to be “the next Shilo Valiant” and get in on the ‘entertainment’ and ‘creative mind’ that I was. 

So, to think that SCW has some conspiracy going against one person when so many ‘alternatives’ exist – even if, like with Ace Marshall, they are weak-ass substitutes, is beyond stupid and why I never did it.

I don’t try to ‘copy other gimmicks’. I don’t try to ‘emulate anyone’. How many times do we have to see a blonde-diva declaring she’s ‘the fairest in all the land’ while touting she’s ‘God’s gift to wrestling’? Yeah, you know who I’m talking about. And trust me, I don’t want to waste my time here giving a list of every single superstar that’s fit that gimmick over the years, starting with Katie Steward and ending with that person because then I’d be here all day and I’m not here to bore you.

The point is that I am a trendsetter. I look for things that haven’t been done or new ways something can be done. That’s who I am. That’s why I tell my story this way rather than the way I use to. Because I’m not the same guy that was around in the “Shilo years”. I’m different. My style is different. I’ve had to adapt with the progression of time. From a change in mindset to dealing with physical limitations.

“Shilo…”

Speaking of which, I felt my head snap up from my musings to see… dark. Lots and lots of dark. Not total dark, mind you. I wasn’t in a pitch-black room or something. Rather, I was walking on the sidewalk – my brain finally acknowledging the feeling of concrete beneath my feet as I travelled. I could see the fences on some parts of the lawns next to me, along with houses and driveways and cars and people! Lots of people!

Little kids running around with their little flashlights darting left and right, up and down, to try and keep up with their owners’ movements. Same could be said of the plastic bags and buckets all the kids held. The streetlights offered adequate illumination and, given the small, confined space of the neighbourhood and streets, no one was choosing to drive their vehicles in this area, maintaining a safe and sound place for the children to enjoy Halloween.

Yeah, in case you haven’t figured it out yet, I was going trick-or-treating with my family. It was one of the things I preferred of my home in Guelph over the ritz that had been Toronto as part of Marina’s wealth as the Empress (long, long ago).

The small neighbourhood around Gordan Street? It was like a land onto ourselves. We kept to ourselves, dealt with only one another and those that lived around us and, while there were some events downtown and in the main districts, we weren’t bothered by the larger cities of Toronto, Mississauga, etc.

In a way, it reminded me of home… my real home. The one I never really left despite the years I spent away from it: The Kings of Shadows. The Underground.

I often found myself returning my memories of that place. A simpler time. Before invasions, made fathers and bitter men, deranged detectives, and slighted children. Was it chaos? Yes, but it was my chaos. It was my world – I mean that it was the world I knew. 

So to have a piece of that in some way… it was peace of mind that I didn’t realize I needed. Still, much like back then, to see so many children running around in costumes, laughing and yelling in excitement, so much like it had been back then down there.

Was I leaning against a fence? I turned my head a little and realized I had been – for how long I’m not sure. How long had it been since Marina had called my name? 

My answer to that question was her concerned face right next to mine. “Are you alright?” she asked, her hand finding mine and squeezing it strongly to the point some of my bones moved closer together – snug, but not painful. “Is it your knee?” she added.

“No.” I quickly assured her, pushing myself to my full height. “I…uh…I sort of got lost in thought.” I felt so stupid saying that, the embarrassment reaching just under my collar in a steady warmth. There she was, ever worried about me because of my bad knee, and there I was, worrying here, simply because I was off in LA-LA land with memories.

For a moment, she didn’t believe me. Even in the dark, I could see her eyes running over me, checking me for any sign of pain, discomfort or stiffness in my knee. When she found none, she merely gave a nod of her head, lopping her hands around my arm. 

“Come on.” She encouraged. “We’re going to lose sight of Memphis if we’re not careful.” She was quick to scan the small groups of children that were ahead of us. There were goblins, Harry Potters, Stormtroopers, vampires – none of those caught her attention. It wasn’t till her eyes settled on Spider-Man running around up one of the driveways that she quietly tugged my arm to follow her, which I obediently did. My eyes didn’t work so well in the dark – well, one of them didn’t, another parting gift from the pyro nearly ten years ago… the left eye a stark white-blue when my other eye (the undamaged one) was dark blue. I could still see out of the eye but the damage had left it discolored and far more difficult to see in the dark. 

Perhaps it was that that had prompted Marina’s choice of our costumes, as she stood there dressed as Sarah from Labyrinth with me coupling her as – Hoogle the dwarf, who else? I’m kidding. I was dressed as Jareth the Goblin King. Not a far cry from my own ‘personality’ on SCW television. Marina had done the wig up perfectly and even added a jock-cup of sorts for the meme-inducing one that Bowie had worn in the movie. Along with the crystal balls I had, I had a vague idea of what it was like to be Ace Marshall (to be constantly thinking of my genitals and how they are displayed). Still, I refused to say any jokes or one-liners like he would – not with so many children present.

As for Memphis? Well, he had been begging to play Spider-Man for months. It was his favourite character. And, I’ll admit, while Marina and I used bargain stores and Goodwill stores and even the Salvation Army up by Woodlawn Street, she had let me splurge a little on Memphis’ costume, using Etsy to get him a custom costume from a cosplay maker. Was it frivolous? A little, but damn, you should have seen my son’s face light up when he saw that costume. The quality and such – I was terrified that it wouldn’t fit (you know how clothing cuts are different) but, Marina and I were lucky and he looked damn good in the red and blue. Hell, some of his friends are already expressed their jealousy as they ran around in makeshift or low-grade store-bought costumes. Nothing wrong with that, but I was just happy that Memphis was happy.

Let me take a moment to discuss something with you. One thing that seems to be haunting a lot of wrestlers in the world of SCW that I inhabit – I kept hearing tales of ‘failed marriages’ and ‘poor parenting’. I mean, from Xander Valentine losing his offspring or our world champion Cid Turner supposedly having a kid or something like that. Not to mention certain wrestlers swapping partners like square-dancers…

My point is, out of the plethora of wrestlers that can’t seem to be both ‘wrestler’ and ‘family/partner’, I didn’t want to fall into that trap. When my son was born, much in the same way as when we had adopted Gwynplaine, I needed to be there as both a provider and wrestler. Marina, after Memphis’ birth, had quietly stepped away from the ring, choosing not to try the balancing act, but I had tried for a few years and failed, needing to step away for sake of health and family.

When I had returned over a year ago, my mindset had not changed, but my methods had. I wanted to be both a wrestler and a good father/husband/soulmate. It’s why I’ve let this nagging knee get to me as I have with the breakdowns and anxiety attacks. It’s not just because I feared it would end my career in SCW – before I wanted it to be over – but also because I feared of how it would affect my being a father and husband to my family. For those of you with children, try envisioning not being able to walk with your partner as I was in this chapter. Try imagining not being able to carry your kid when he gets tired or playing with him in the backyard.

Yes, Nomas’ news of surgery that would, basically, ‘fix’ my knee had given me a sense of ‘confidence’ that made me a little more, shall we say, fool-hardy, but Marina was not so convinced. While I had my reservations of the chamber, she was fucking terrified. She hid it well in front of our son but I knew it was there, constantly playing in the back of her mind. It was playing in my mind as well, but not to the same extent.

Still, I wanted to maintain a balancing act with my family and wrestling, which was why I was dressed in costume and helping my son go trick-or-treating. We had been walking around the neighbourhood for a good hour and a half and, as I said, the sun had long since set on us, putting the neighbourhood in nighttime darkness and relying on the street-lights for illumination, as well as the jack-o’lanterns and some lights on the house. We actually passed a house that, rather than be decorated for Halloween, had skipped the spooky holiday and already had Christmas lights up. Seriously! 

I felt Marina lean against me and I instinctively held her in my arms as we watched Memphis bound down off the current porch he was on, having already acquired his candy from that particular abode. His plastic bucket (shaped like a pumpkin complete with orange and black colors and a smiling face) was almost fill with the dollar-store/bulk-bought little candy bars of various brands and colors. We still had a number of houses to go, so the boy did not let up, rushing past to the very next house, leaving Marina and I quietly walk the few steps over to the next driveway.

What I wouldn’t give to have my son’s energy. Here, Marina and I were getting tired just from walking down a sidewalk, but he was rushing up and down like a triathlete with no signs being worn out. For a moment, I wondered if he was sneaking some of his candy – eating some of it to be placed in an eternal ‘sugar-high’. 

“He’s eventually not going to want to do this anymore.” Marina mused, her eyes on our son, earning a shrug from me.
“Soon as he realizes he can buy candy whenever he wants – that’ll be when we lose him.” I joked. “I mean, first he has to get a job and have money, but still…”

That seemed to set Marina off on another series of thoughts, for she became very contemplative, remaining in my arms, but not feeling overly present as we travelled down further the current sidewalk as Memphis darted from house to house.

It wasn’t until we had passed four or five more houses that I heard Marina’s voice again.

“Memphis said something the other day…” she whispered, turning to look at me. Despite my poor vision in the dark, I could still see the concern in her eyes.
“What happened?” I asked, my cast casting up to spy Memphis knocking on the door of the current house.
“Apparently, one of his classmates came in with an action figure of you.”
“Oh…” I chuckled at that. “I mean… was it a newer edition or like ‘antique’ style?”
“Does it matter?”
“I mean, a little?” I shrugged. “I don’t really look the same and, let’s face it, it’s not like SCW can compete with Marvel in toy-sales and whatever.”
“Apparently, the kid also brought Superman and was crushing you, that’s what got Memphis’ attention.”

“Well…” I huffed. “That’s a bit of an unfair fight. I mean, Superman can fly and shoot lasers out of his eyes. One of mine doesn’t even work right. He can leap tall buildings in a single bound… I can barely climb a tree…AND I left my kryptonite in my other groin-cup, so… hardly seems fair.” I spotted a kid running by us wearing a Superman-costume. “Unless I fought that one.” I pointed at the kid, Marina’s eyes following my direction. “I MIGHT be able to take him.”

Rolling her eyes, Marina offered me a small courtesy laugh. “It’s not that, Shilo.” She shook her head. “And it’s not about the chamber.” She added for my own sake – because that’s where my reasoning was going. Me getting my ass kicked? Outmatched? Easy Segway into the chamber right? But apparently that wasn’t what Marina was talking about.

“When he came home, Memphis said he wanted to be a wrestler like you… so he can have his own action figure one day.”

This is where she looked up at me and I saw the concern in her eyes – like borderline fear racing across those brown orbs. I could feel her hands tightening their hold on my shirt above my chest. To any onlooker, it looked like we were about to have a passionate kiss, but to me – it was like she was holding onto me for dear life.

And, in truth, I couldn’t blame her. It was one thing to watch your partner/husband/soulmate wrestle and endanger himself, that’s something she had come to terms with as she and I had worked through SCW together for the first five or six years. But this wasn’t about me – this was her baby boy. Her baby that wanted to enter a world – my world. A world that was, admittedly, whittling me down more and more with each match. A world that had scarred my face and eye, wrecked my knee and nearly destroyed our relationship of Solgemia. 

Remember that ‘balance’ I told you about? That wanting to be a good wrestler AND a good parent/husband? Well, hearing those words from Marina – seeing those notions in my head kicked the damn thing into overdrive. Suddenly, I was seeing my son being set on fire or put through four or five tables, or nailed in the knee with a wrench, or put through a table that was on fucking fire…

I cannot convey the panic that raced through me in those brief seconds of envisioning. Or the way my mind raced with denial up and down and in all directions. Yeah, it was WAY different to envision my son doing this then when I had to watch Marina do such things against the likes of Syren and Regan Street. 

But panicking? I couldn’t do that. Marina was worried enough with me in that damn chamber in another week or so – though now I had a firmer understanding at WHY she was so worried, having pictured my son there. So, as slowly as I could, I took a deep breath, exhaling it to try and press my concerns and sparks of anxiety down before offering her a comforting smile.

“He’s eight, Marina.” I offered, squeezing her tight to me. “I’ll bet he also wants to be Spider-Man when he grows up. Or an astronaut.”
“I guess, but…”
“Trust me.” I smiled. “Soon as he gets older, he lose interest in whatever I ‘did’ back when he was a kid. He’ll just see the beat-up old man that is his father, or even roll his eyes ‘My dad’s a wrestler?’ geez! See?” I offered with a bit of flourish.
“You think so?”
“Oh come on!” I laughed. “You think Hugh Jackman’s kids like hearing that their dad is Wolverine? Or Wayne Gretzky’s kids like hearing about their dad and hockey?” I shook my head. “He’s going to get tired of hearing about his old dad and mom and want to get as far away from wrestling as possible.”

She seemed to think about that for a moment, with me hoping my words made a degree of sense. Casting her gaze to the side to eye Memphis, it was like she was regarding him in study, as if she was picturing him ten or fifteen years down the round, a young boy on the verge of becoming an adult. Would he look more like me (I hope not) or more like her? Would he still be the polite boy with some quirks and tantrums (that he got from me – the manners from Marina) or would puberty transform him into something else entirely?

Neither of us could be sure, but…

“We’ve got time.” I whispered. “I mean, did you turn out the way your parents wanted you too?”
“I became the Empress.” She reminded me.
“Not anymore!” I countered. “You’re now a suburban mom!”
Her eyes widened for a moment before a smile cracked across her features. “I AM a suburban mom!” she agreed. “I’ve got a Parent-Teacher thing later this week!”
“Damn right you do!” I whispered, not wanting to curse in front of the kids too loudly.
“Memphis has hockey coming up!” she added.
“Yes, he does!”
“Hell, depending on how late it is tonight… I might even do…” her eyes fluttered at me. “A sudoku puzzle!”
“How suburban of you!” I teased before leaning down to kiss her forehead. “See? Kids don’t always end up like their parents. We’ve got a good decade before we have to worry about Memphis becoming a wrestler.” I added with a laugh. “I think he has a better chance of becoming Spider-Man than following me.”
“I hope so.” Marina sighed. “Not because of you – I mean – what you, what we’ve done in SCW-“
“I know what you meant.” I smiled.

The matter seemingly settled, Marina continued walking down the street with me, the two of us ‘chasing’ our son in his conquest for more and more candy. 

Still, Marina’s concern had brought a thought to my head, forcing me to watch Memphis as he continued his escapade. 

And, I’ll admit this to you guys, as I watched him… I saw something. A spring in his step or a gleam in his eye… I’m not sure what it was I kept seeing but it was something that he had that I use to have. Something that was just…there. Something that, when I had it, I was the greatest entertainer in SCW. The Blood-Stained Joker. The Necro-Merchant. The Showman of the Spotlight…

Something that I had not felt in many years…

But Memphis had it – whatever it was – I knew he had it. Which left me quietly begging the question. If my son had it… where did mine go?


****************************************************************


Well, well, well… Hello Chamber-combatants and soon-to-be-entertained!

Seems like we’re quite the collective here. We’re not only the individuals that have proven ourselves to belong in the realm of the Adrenaline championship one way or another, most of us are, effectively, the rejects of the Trios Tournament! Screw ‘the meek shall inherit the earth’! I saw “Rise up, rejects!” and let’s steal the show!

Because that’s the opportunity that we have when we come to Florida this Sunday for Under Attack! 

Don’t believe me? Are you all so distracted by the prospect of winning/keeping hold of the Adrenaline title that you don’t see what we’re part of? That wouldn’t surprise me considering you, Jordan Majors, and your latest debacle with a match becoming a match to decide the new, reborn Underground Champion, or you, Ace, that gets distracted when he hurts his dick or looked at a table for a few months.

But perhaps, as the more observant entertainer that sees all the angles and gimmicks, I can enlighten you all at what we are apart of. And it has to do with the metal-monstrosity that will soon surround us. 

The Chamber.

See, guys, Under Attack has been around the SCW airwaves for about 16 years. Longer than any of us have, including you, Ace. And for all 16 of those years, the demonic structure known by such names as ‘The Elimination Chamber’, ‘The Death Chamber’ or simply ‘The Chamber’ has remained. There has not been a time where Under Attack did not involve this metallic-structure at least once. It’s as iconic as the pay-per-view itself!

And that is what our match entails. We hold that history in our hands. While other matches are either forgettable or shrouded in controversy like the World title and the tournament that shunned us, WE are brought in to take part of this historic legacy. All for the Adrenaline championship.

Why am I fixated on that? Fixated on the chamber? Well, it’s a decent question, but, I think I should ask… how are any of you not?

Do you think, Jordan, that this match will be no more brutal that that match you threw against Kimberly Williams that crowned her the new Underground Champion? Do you think your simple ‘cage’ match with Syren years ago compares? Or perhaps your little tiffs with my old “House of Ruin” mate, Nicole Kinneck? Do you think those compare?

Or has that not crossed your mind? Are you still distracted, my dear, of your own curse? The inevitable choking that follows you everywhere you go. I mean, hate to break this to you, child, but you stand as the only combatant in this entire match to have NEVER held an SCW title. Hell, even Ricky James has held the television title at least once, hasn’t he? But you, despite your talents?

I am reminded of that old adage, “Always a bridemaid, never a bride…”. For regardless of how amazing you are, my dear, success seems to allude you when it counts. Whether it was coming second place in the Tag-League earlier this year, coming up shy when the world picked you at the End of the Year to challenge for the World title some time ago, being an ironwoman in Taking Hold of the Flame at one point – always so so close…but never truly succeeding. 

Tell me, Jordan, is THAT what haunts you more than this chamber? Do you believe that is your greatest fear and not this monstrosity? 

Heh heh heh… so naïve. 

You will not see such naivety from me, my dear. And unlike Ace Marshall, I won’t be downplaying and scoffing in this structure while my eyes tell I different story. My words are both entertaining and truthful, because you must realize what people like Ace Marshall and myself know. 

Do you want to know why this structure has survived nearly twenty years of repeated emergence in the world of SCW? Why it keeps coming back as a staple of Under Attack? 

Because there is no match deadlier than this. Than a handful of people locked inside this beast of a cage and told that the last one standing is the winner and NO ONE can leave…until there is one. Take it from someone that did more than just cage matches like you, Jordan. Who did more than a TLC match like you, Ricky James. Who did more than simply fight in an abandoned house like Minerva. 

Take it from a man that has done it all! Take it from someone that has lost more than just a title in this damned world that is SCW!

This match, the old lines ring true. It shaves years off your career. It endangers lives. It changes people forever. Those aren’t just lines Sharper, Knots and Lyman are going to throw around for ‘hype value’. They are true. The metal that can bash and cut. The plexiglass that can break in and fall on the occupant of a pod. The heights you can climb…and the heights you can fall… bother figuratively AND literally.

If you want to hear it said differently, why don’t any of you ask Ace Marshall?

Do you remember, Ace? Oh, relax! I am not ‘too concerned’ about bringing up the past few months of our issues. Because I’ve gotten what I wanted. My issues with so many people, locked in a chamber where feuds go to die. Where the board is cleared once and for all. So, whatever I feel I am owed from you, I will surely have the time to take from you inside this structure. Bit by bit. Bone by bone. Second by second.

So, on perhaps a lighter subject, if only marginally, why don’t you tell us how this structure changed you? Why don’t you tell us how you, the World Champion four years ago were silenced inside this chamber to the point where you were driven to become a cheerleader for years before you came back full-time…and even then… no world title, I see. So close back at RTG…but the Ace Marshall I knew…well, shall we blame you? Or was it this chamber that changed you, Ace? Was it this chamber that put you on the shelf? Made you old and cold? Or will you just scoff and dismiss as not caring – typical of a man that needs his own cheerleading squad just to show up to work.

You see, my friends, there is truly only two of us that know of the depths of cruelty this structure incites. Far more than Minerva and her Jackals, far worse than an Underground match, and far more life-changing than even… I can’t believe I am saying this… than the main-event at Rise to Greatness.

And the reason I am speaking about this to all of you, the ignorant: Majors, James, and Minerva is because I want you three to understand. I want you three to understand what is at stake and what is coming for us. I want to impress upon you all the absolute entertainment that is coming from this bloodthirsty structure and the real dangers all of you are in – that we all are in. Because I know how desperate all of you will be to win this match.

As I said, Jordan, you want to finally have that SCW title in your hands, don’t you? To stop being an ‘almost’ or a ‘never was’ and cross that threshold into the “champion” realm. I know Ace is desperate to forget how he failed back in July on the biggest SCW show of the year. I know Minerva wants something to distract her from her ‘daddy issues’ and ‘flower allergies’ it would seem and Ricky…well, you just seem happy to be here, so good for you…

Every one of us – every person I have named here – I don’t doubt that we’re all willing to kill each other to become Adrenaline champion. I do not doubt that even a little. We’ve all got our reasons and we’re all willing to do anything to get what we want…

But if that is all it is about to all of you:
A curse.
Winning a title.
Beating someone up.

I will tell you that it won’t matter what the hell you bring to this structure, you will fall and you will fail!

Are you kidding? You think this beast of a cage cares about your curse, Jordan? Your ‘eagerness’ to be a champion, Ricky? You think it gives a damn about you and your mental issues, Ace? Minerva?

This chamber wants our blood, our sweat, our tears, our broken bones, our shattered dreams, our very souls. Like a damn glutton, it wants it all and whoever can survive it will be the Adrenaline champion – a prize that borders on ‘consolation’ for all that was sacrificed for it. That isn’t a slam to the title I held for over six months – that’s just how high the price is to survive this chamber. And it’s the ONLY way that one of will survive this coming Sunday!

And then there’s me… the reborn ‘burning man’ of sorts. And really, with me, my reasons might even bring in a few laughs from all of you. See, I’m not in this for some curse. I’m not in this simply to win a title. I’m not in this to beat someone up that deserves it. I’m not even entirely in this for the entertainment!

What drives – what IS driving me – to step into this structure is the fact that I was once like most of you. Ignorant and believing myself to be untouchable. I believed that I could survive anything because I survived a little pryo to the face. Because I went through a royale from start to finish and won the damn thing. Because I did the impossible like headlining three Rise to Greatness main-events in a row.

Then... eight years ago, I stepped into the chamber… and part of me never left it.

Eight years ago, at this very pay-per-view, in this very chamber, I walked in as the World Champion against members of the Coalition… and I was the last one eliminated. I was destroyed by this structure and no matter how hard I fought, no matter how tough I thought I was, no matter how much pain and suffering I had endured up to that point of my life and no matter what I had accomplished… the chamber laughed at me as if to say ‘you haven’t experienced anything yet!’ before I was annihilated and left on the mat, no longer the World champion… And really, no longer the same Shilo Valiant.

Because you can check the history books. That loss was the beginning of the end for me! It was a slow descent from there, slow but steady. I never wore the World title again. I never fought in the chamber again. I couldn’t compete at that same level against the likes of Regan Street and Xander Valentine. The world saw it – Shilo Valiant was not the same. And further down I spiraled until…one day...I had to leave.

And for years I stayed away – abandoning that part of me to this hellish-structure. Until I… I almost forgot about it. I almost forgot about that part of me. That part of me I had lost inside the chamber. I was able to come back and wrestle again, even dominate the Adrenaline division longer than anyone has this year! 

But the Chamber calls again – like it’s just been waiting for me to return.

I should be afraid. I should be. Just like all of you should be. But I’m not. I’m actually sorry. I’m sorry that it took me so long to step back into it!

Because this Sunday, my ignorant friends, I will be more than happy to feed the chamber your curses and your dreams and your psychopathic mindsets… but I will not be feeding it anymore of me. And I will not be fighting just for my Adrenaline title or what I am owed.

I will be fighting the chamber and all within it for the part of Shilo Valiant that has been locked inside that chamber like a caged animal for eight long years! I will FREE Shilo Valiant this Sunday and emerge once more as the full, unrestrained showman that I was! 

And after all of that is done – after I have conquered the monster of the chamber and regained what I lost, I will then climb this chamber, title with me, and stand above it, its metal under my boots, and I will raise the title – the complete Shilo Valiant once more. Defiant, conqueror of this damned monster-chamber of metal, leaving it no other choice but to sourly feast on all of you as a consolation of its own!

That, my dear friends, is what awaits all of us and that, you ignorant fools, oh that will most surely… Make Me Laugh!



Oh! One more thing before I forget – For those of you wondering why I missed one particular person in my warnings here… don’t you worry…

WE will be taking care of her very soon…

Heh heh heh… HA! HA! HA!

HA! HA! HA!

Lost.



There’s no better word to describe Ricky James’ state of affairs right now, from a professional and personal standpoint.


The magical run of Ricky James, Ace Marshall, and Kandis came to an abrupt end on the October 28th episode of Breakdown in the semi-finals of the Trios Tournament. Though they only won one match together, their run as partners seemed much longer, at least to Ricky. Winning the tournament and the Trios contracts was the common goal shared by all the team members, but each team member had their own agenda.


Ace and Kandis never saw eye to eye, and that was apparent to everyone on the planet not named Ricky James. Some people could have believed the two would set aside their differences for a common goal. And they seemed to for the most part. But only someone as naive as Ricky James thought that the “bond” he had with his teammates meant anything.


Ricky thought he had a new best friend in Ace Marshall. The two had gone out drinking together. Ace gave Ricky advice. Ricky truly thought Ace Marshall of all people was being genuine and kind to him. So yes, their team lost, but Ricky felt despite this, he had a new friend. 


A new friend was very important to Ricky as he has continued to struggle to distance himself from his old “friends” Lucy Huckabee Sanders and Rudy Powell. Ricky did not have much when he came to America. Lucy was his one and only friend. She brought him to America and gave him this opportunity to succeed in SCW. As we’ve stated before, Lucy took care of most facets of Ricky’s life, quickly getting him up to speed with the American lifestyle - or at least her version of it.


Lucy even married Ricky, which would prove to be the beginning of a very interesting relationship. It has been a sexless marriage, and a marriage lacking any sort of physical contact up until recently. Ricky somewhat understood the marriage was not a traditional marriage. The two were not madly in love. It was a “business decision”. But Ricky had chosen to view Lucy’s actions as incredibly kind acts, those one would only do for someone they loved. Though Lucy didn’t show it with her emotions, it was clear to Ricky she did care for him. This caused Ricky to fall for Lucy, which had blinded him to her manipulation.


In recent months, Ricky caught on to Lucy. What made the manipulation very apparent was the addition of Rudy Powell, sweaty con man “attorney”, to their group. The Silent Majority became too ridiculous for even someone as naive as Ricky to buy into. Ricky would eventually abandon Lucy and Rudy, or at least do everything he could to. Despite his desire to distance himself from them, Ricky still found himself drawn to Lucy. He still loved her.


The relationship between Lucy and Ricky took an interesting turn when Kandis decided to “work her magic” on Ricky James. With a Trios contract in site, Kandis offered her “services” to Ricky, in hopes that she could weasel a second Trios contract out of him if their team were to win. Kandis was seen by Lucy flirting with Ricky backstage. Lucy knew something was going on. Though she had rarely shown Ricky emotion in the past, this Kandis situation struck a nerve with Lucy. She began to show obvious signs of jealousy. Ricky, with a newfound sense of confidence after the first round Trios win and with the attention Kandis was showing him, called Lucy out on this. Lucy and Rudy, fearing they had completely lost control over Ricky, devised a plan for Lucy to “apologize” to Ricky and then seduce him. This plan backfired as Lucy refused to go all the way with Ricky and eventually blew her own cover. Seeing Lucy’s actions as ingenious, Ricky was enraged and immediately thought to call Kandis, before instead calling his “buddy” Ace for advice. An obviously preoccupied Ace told Ricky to essentially “go for it”, not realizing or caring that Ricky was actually talking about Kandis. This then led to Ricky publicly accepting Kandis’ “offer”, which put Lucy in tears.


Unfortunately for Ricky, the offer never came to fruition as his team lost their semi-finals match to Asher Hayes, Tommy Valentine, and Kennedy Street. Lucy Huckabee Sanders couldn’t help but get involved in the match. Much like many previous matches in Ricky’s career, a circus of distractions caused him to lose focus, with Ricky ultimately taking the pin. His team lost. There was no more need for Kandis to give Ricky attention or for Ace to give him the time of day. Their magical run was over. This was very apparent to Ace. Kandis had her own issues to deal with, especially being on opposite teams as Tommy. In an instant, Ricky quickly lost his two new “friends”.


Kandis was finished with Ricky the moment they lost. Everyone besides Ricky knew this. Ace as well. Ricky slowly regained his bearings as Breakdown went off the air. The teams made their way to the backstage area. Ricky looked around in the ring, still trying to process what just happened. Ace was gone. Kandis was gone. And Lucy was also gone. With some help from SCW officials, Ricky James made his way out of the ring and slowly back up the ramp to the backstage area. 


After making his way through the curtain, still wincing in pain, Ricky James looked around his teammates. He spotted Kandis, who seemed to be on a mission, likely to go meet up with Tommy.


Ricky: KANDIS!


Ricky yelled out. Kandis briefly turned around and looked Ricky up and down before scoffing and rolling her eyes. She then turned back and continued on to meet with Tommy. Ricky stood there, a bit confused. Ricky thought he actually may have had something with Kandis. Everyone else knew her game. In Kandis’ defense, she always did this, and was very clear to Ricky what the terms of the “agreement” were. Still, with all the built up sexual tension between Ricky and Lucy, Ricky James had hoped there was something there with Kandis - or at least any woman for that matter. Not only had Ricky James lost the match - he had lost his opportunity to sleep with Kandis after already seemingly ending all hope he would ever sleep with Lucy.


One thing Ricky James has never lost in his life is his virginity. This was becoming apparent to some people. Ace Marshall had already figured it out. Ricky tried to play it off like he had had sex before, but the reality was he hadn’t. His best chance may have been winning this Trios Tournament, especially now that it seemed highly unlikely he would ever get there with Lucy. Ricky lost this chance, and Ricky found himself lost when it came to his love life.


As Ricky realized the door with Kandis was slammed shut, he tried to contact his “buddy” Ace. Ricky wasn’t really sure what he wanted from Ace - whether it was career advice, advice on women, or something else. He just needed someone to talk to. Ricky grabbed his phone and tried calling Ace. Nothing, nothing at all.


Ricky sighed and made his way to the locker room to shower, change, and gather his things. By the time Ricky was ready to leave the arena, he had made multiple phone calls and sent multiple texts to Ace. All were ignored. It seems everyone else was right about Ace. He never really cared about Ricky, but in Ricky’s eyes, he had just lost another friend.


Ricky hadn’t heard from Lucy or Rudy, but he hadn’t really cared until he realized he was alone again. Kandis and Ace had abandoned Ricky. Was Rudy right? Wow. The fat, sweaty lawyer finally got one right. Ricky began to think about this and started questioning everything that happened leading up to this Trios loss. He began to go back to the conversations he had with Ace and Kandis, and then back to the meetings with The Silent Majority. Was Ricky right when he compared Kandis and Ace to Lucy and Rudy? No, Ace and Rudy are nothing alike, nor Kandis and Lucy. But with respect to how they treated Ricky, there are certainly parallels. Ricky James, as has been the case his entire career in SCW, was being manipulated.


Ricky continued to ponder all of this as he went through the motions of leaving the arena. As Ricky walked out of the arena loading dock to his rental car, he was greeted by a group of fans hoping to catch wrestlers as they left. Ricky heard a few cheers from some young fans. A little sliver of something good for Ricky on an otherwise terrible night. Ricky smiled and waved to the young fans as he continued to walk to his car. After a few more steps, a couple other fans, probably in their 20s, yelled out to Ricky.


Fans: Hey Ricky James!


Ricky stopped and turned back to the fans. If this was the only good thing that would happen to Ricky all night, he was going to fully embrace it. Ricky smiled in anticipation.


Fans: YOU FUCKING SUCK!


The fans then bursted out in laughter as Ricky immediately frowned. One of the fans flipped Ricky off, continuing to laugh. Ricky turned, dropping his head in shame, as he continued on to his vehicle. It was going to be a long trip back home for Ricky. Ricky had lost the match, his wife, his partners, and now, apparently, the respect of some fans.


Fortunately for Ricky, the next SCW event is in his home state of Florida, with some extra time to prepare. Ricky would need all the time he could have to prepare for the upcoming Elimination Chamber match for the Adrenaline Championship. While the extra time was good from a professional standpoint, it was not good for Ricky’s personal life, as there was more time for him to sit back and dwell on his sad state of affairs without the convenient distractions of traveling to another city for another Breakdown.


---------------------------------------------


Saturday October 30th, 2021
Residence of Ricky James
Boca Raton, Florida


Two days after Breakdown, Ricky James is back home. Lucy Huckabee Sanders, who had been staying with Ricky after being dumped by her other “husband”, was nowhere to be found. Lucy had access to the home, and had apparently removed all of her belongings before Ricky was able to return. She was nice enough not to take anything belonging to Ricky, but the removal of her items and ALL of her items was very calculated.


Ricky kept to himself since returning, not that he had much of a choice. Ace still had not answered him. Ricky finally got the message with Kandis. He could not bring himself to contact Lucy, either. Despite being initially surprised that all of her belongings were gone, Ricky had a feeling this was coming with Lucy. 


Ricky was all alone. He hadn’t walked out of his house since returning in the early hours of the morning on Friday the 29th. Starting to feel a bit of cabin fever, Ricky decides to step outside for some fresh air. He takes a few steps out into the front of his house, tilts his head back, and lets out a deep breath.


“WELLLLL WELLLL WELLLL”


Ricky quickly turns and sees his neighbor, Joe, whom he had been ignoring for months. Joe has a cane in one hand and a glass of whiskey in the other.


Joe: If it ain’t Ricky James….IF THAT IS YOUR REAL NAME!


Ricky looks a bit confused, but is friendly with Joe.


Ricky: Joe! Sorry, I’ve been so busy with traveling, man. How’ve you been?


Ricky tries to move closer to shake Joe’s hand, but Joe very defensively steps back and puts his cane up to stop Ricky.


Joe: MOVE ANY CLOSER AND I’LL CALL ICE!


Ricky laughs, thinking Joe must be drunk.


Ricky: Joe, come on. Stop messing with me.


Joe suspiciously looks Ricky up and down before shaking his cane at him.


Joe: I seen ya on the television, Ric….


Ricky quickly realizes he hasn’t talked to Joe since his “change of heart”. Ricky now fully embraces his Mexican background when he comes to the ring each week. Ricky attempts to explain himself, but Joe stops him.


Joe: I ain’t wanna hear it, Ric! Ya last ya damn mind boy! What’s this Mexico crap?! You’re an illegal?!


Ricky: Joe I….


Joe: You stay away from me right now! I ain’t given ya no handouts! Get the hell away from me!


Joe continues to shake his cane at Ricky while stepping towards his front door. Ricky puts his hands up to try to calm Joe, but to no avail.


Ricky: Joe, I can explain…


Joe shakes his head as he backs into his house before slamming the door closed. Ricky struggles to make any sense of the situation.


Another person in Ricky’s life lost. Sure, Joe wasn’t actually a “friend”, but for a long time, Ricky did consider him to be a role model. Ricky had distanced himself from Joe even sooner than The Silent Majority, as Joe and Lucy never saw eye to eye. It was probably a good thing for Ricky to distance himself from Joe, but in a time like this, perhaps Ricky could have used a familiar face to talk to. 


With Ricky embracing his Mexican heritage, the door for Joe was slammed shut as well. Joe was stupid enough to believe Ricky was born and raised American. He would not give any immigrant the time of day, however.


Ricky had literally no one. Ricky had lost his Trios match. Lost his partners. Lost his wife. Fans were starting to turn on him. He even lost his neighbor. Now Ricky James was a lost soul.


After the interaction with Joe, Ricky makes his way back into his home. He goes into his bedroom, now covered in both Mexican and American flags, and lays down on the bed.  He sits back and sighs.


“You’ve got nobody, Ricky. Nobody likes you anymore. How the hell am I supposed to go into the Chamber Match with nobody in my corner?”


Ricky rolls out of bed and goes into his bathroom. He takes a long look at himself in the mirror.


“Look at you. You’re a loser.”


Ricky slaps himself in the face. He continues to stare. He doesn’t know how he ended up in this situation, but he hates the man he has become. After a few moments, Ricky storms back into his room. He looks around at all the flags briefly before violently ripping them off his walls, beginning with the Mexican flags. He starts tearing the flags into pieces and stomping on them as they fall to the ground. He looks around at the American flags and pauses a moment, almost as if he wants to leave them intact. Ricky then lets out a scream and proceeds to pull the American flags down as well. After completing the desecration of two countries’ flags, Ricky opens his closet and pulls out his pair of wrestling tights, half Mexican flag and half American flag. Ricky stares at them for a moment before deciding he wants to destroy them as well. 


Unbeknownst to Ricky, the windows of his house were open. A suspicious looking black vehicle is parked across the street from his house. A bald man sits in the driver’s seat with a pair of binoculars looking right into Ricky’s bedroom window. Keeping one hand on the binoculars, the man grabs a Mountain Dew in a Taco Bell cup from the cupholder, slurping the drink as he continues to spy. The man lets out an “ahh” as he places the drink back down and licks his yellow and brown teeth. 


Meanwhile, Ricky James makes his way back outside to the front of his home, tights in hand. He carelessly tosses the tights down in the yard before heading to the back of his house. A few minutes later, Ricky emerges with a cheap fire pit. He slams the pit down in his front yard and goes back. He comes back with some firewood and drops the wood in the pit. He then goes to the back a third time, this time returning to the front with a can of gasoline and a lighter.


The man in the black vehicle (if you haven’t figured out it’s Rudy Powell by now, I don’t know what to tell you) continues to spy on Ricky, no longer needing binoculars to see the crazed man in his front yard about to start a fire. Rudy uses some already greasy napkins from Taco Bell to wipe his forehead as he bites into his Cheesy Gordita Crunch, getting cheese and taco shell fragments all over his suit.


Ricky, the furthest thing from a Boy Scout, struggles to get a fire going. He eventually is able to get the wood to catch. Dissatisfied with his fire, Ricky grabs the gasoline and pours some on it, nearly blowing himself up as flames quickly shoot up in front of him. Ricky smiles in admiration at the massive fire he has started, still somewhat contained in the pit, however. He then turns and looks back to his tights. He walks over to the tights and slowly picks them up.


Rudy Powell, who had been enjoying the show, quickly realizes what Ricky is about to do. He doesn’t think much of it until Ricky holds the tights up. Rudy’s eyes go wide as he sees the American flag portion of the tights get dangerously close to the flames. Rudy quickly exits his vehicle, bringing a mess of Taco Bell with him out of the car. Rudy then attempts to charge toward Ricky’s front yard as Ricky is about to burn his tights.


Rudy: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! AMERICAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!


Rudy stumbles in the middle of the street and falls to the ground. Though he didn’t even come close to Ricky’s lawn, the distraction was enough to stop Ricky from burning the tights. Ricky quickly looks over to see the sweat, greasy, cheesy attorney moaning in the middle of the street. Seeing Rudy on the ground moaning has become a familiar site for Ricky, so he immediately knows who it is. 


Ricky: Are you fucking kidding me?!


Ricky drops the tights and walks over to Rudy, who flails around on the ground.


Ricky: Rudy, what the hell are you doing?


Rudy’s breathing eventually returns to a normal level. He looks down at himself and grabs part of his Gordita Crunch, shoveling it into his mouth. Ricky rolls his eyes. Rudy then slowly makes his way back to his feet and tries to wipe himself off.


Ricky: Again, Rudy….what the hell are you doing?


Rudy: Saving you from doing something stupid, Ric. As I always do.


Ricky again rolls his eyes, but considering his current state of affairs, he actually gives Rudy the time.


Rudy: Ric, there’s no need to panic. No need to abandon ship. I’m your lawyer, remember? We will get that Trios match thrown out. Don’t worry about it.


Ricky: I actually am over it, Rudy. I’m over all of this.


Ricky glances back to the fire, which has died down a little but is still going strong, and looks at his tights, which are on the ground just by the fire. 


Rudy: Doesn’t look like you are, son. I’m here for you, though.


Ricky scoffs.


Rudy: I know they abandoned ya, kid. I tried to tell you about Communist Kandis and that traitor Ace. But don’t you worry. Papa Rudy is taking care of it.


Ricky isn’t buying it. 


Ricky: And where the hell is Lucy?


Rudy begins laughing, which does not sit well with Ricky. Ricky looks like he is about to knock Rudy’s lights out, but he restrains himself.


Rudy: You expected to see Lucy after that stunt you pulled? Forget it, Ric. She’s a woman. She isn’t going to just let that slide.


Ricky: Well it seemed like she had no problem getting involved with me during my match…


Rudy: Yeah, she got a little carried away there. WOMEN, right Ric? You can’t keep em leashed up ALL the time.


Rudy tries to playfully elbow Ricky, who is not amused.


Ricky: And what the hell was up with that hotel room stunt, huh? I know she was working with you…


Rudy smiles.


Rudy: Ahh yes. You’re still not over that either. I know that’s why you pulled that little stunt with the press conference. 


Ricky: It wasn’t a stunt, Rudy. I thought Lucy was into me. I believed her. When I found out it was all one of your little charades, I just….


Rudy continues to smile and oddly nods his head in agreement.


Rudy: You love Lucy, Ric.


Ricky gets defensive.


Ricky: No, no I don’t. Not anymore. I thought I did. But when she pulled that…


Rudy: You tried to get back at her.


Ricky tries to stop Rudy, but starts to realize Rudy is actually correct.


Rudy: You weren’t ever gonna fuck Kandis, Ric! You wanted to get back at Lucy!
Ricky doesn’t interject. Holy shit, Rudy Powell is speaking some truth.


Rudy: Besides…


Rudy looks Ricky up and down.


Rudy: You ain’t MAN enough to fuck her anyway.


This initially enrages Ricky, but he is quick to calm himself. Rudy is somewhat right. Ricky may have THOUGHT he would have slept with Kandis - especially when he wanted to spite Lucy. But would Ricky ACTUALLY go all the way? He hadn’t gone all the way in his life. He had flirted, kissed, made out. But when it came to having actual sex, Ricky had no experience. All this runs through Ricky’s head as he suddenly looks incredibly defeated. He drops his head in shame as Rudy continues to grin. Rudy, well aware of how vulnerable of a state Ricky is in, tries to cheer him up in his own weird way, patting Ricky on the back.


Rudy: You will be one day, though, Ricky. It happens to some of us. It all depends on the man. Some guys do it young. 14, 15, even 13 year olds. Other guys just wait for one reason or another. If you can believe it, Rick, I was a late bloomer myself.


Under normal circumstances, Ricky would fire back with a sarcastic joke at the expense of the disgusting lawyer, but Ricky is too ashamed of his own shortcomings to speak.


Rudy: Ric, I know you thought Ace Marshall was your buddy. He was going to get you all the pussy you wanted…


Rudy stops and makes a strange noise, drifting off into some weird trance again. Ricky is still too depressed to notice. Rudy “finishes’ after a few minutes.


Rudy: Ahhh where was I? Oh yeah. Ace ain’t gonna help you, pal. But Papa Rudy, he’s here for you. I’m not just an attorney. I’m not just a manager. You know I can help you in the ring, but I can also help you in the sheets. You got lady problems, I’m your guy, Ric. Remember that.


Ricky continues to have difficulty processing everything going on. Rudy meanwhile rifles through his pockets and pulls out a slip of paper. He grabs Ricky’s hand and puts the slip of paper in it, closing Ricky’s hand around it. Ricky just allows Rudy to do what he pleases.


Rudy: Take this, Ric. It’s a special phone number. Nobody else has it. Well, none of my legal clients. Not even Lucy. You call this number when you’re ready to talk. Papa Rudy will solve all your issues….


Rudy slowly backs away toward his vehicle as Ricky just stands in front of his house in silence, holding the slip of paper in his hand. 


----------------------------------------------------------


Sunday October 31st, 2021
Palms Plaza Olive Garden
Boca Raton, Florida


A very unsure looking Ricky James makes his way into the Olive Garden in Palms Plaza. A very friendly hostess greets him as he walks in.


Hostess: Dining in? How many?


Ricky finds himself distracted with the hostess. He looks her up and down and begins to have some sexual thoughts about her before quickly snapping out of it.


Ricky: Uh...I’m meeting someone. It’s uh…


Ricky pulls a slip of paper out of his pocket and struggles to read it.


Ricky: I’m meeting a, Mr. Washington?


The hostess thinks nothing of the fact that Ricky clearly has no idea who he is meeting. She just nods and smiles.


Hostess: Ah yes he was expecting you. Right this way, sir.


The hostess then escorts Ricky as far away from the front of the restaurant as possible to a booth. A man is waiting in the booth, but a menu is covering his face.


Hostess: Here you are, sir. A waitress will be over to you shortly.


Ricky looks around confused but reluctantly has a seat in the booth across from the man.


Ricky: Mr. Washington?


The man slowly lowers the menu to reveal it’s just Rudy Powell. Rudy has a massive grin on his face as sweat pours down his forehead onto the table. Ricky tries not to make a scene but attempts to get up quickly. Rudy grabs Ricky by the hand.


Rudy: Sit down, son.


Ricky: Rudy I thought you -


Rudy: Yes, you thought you were meeting Mr. Washington as we discussed. Let me tell you a little secret, though.


Rudy leans in close to Ricky and loudly (as only Rudy can) whispers.


Rudy: I AM Mr. Washington!


Rudy then puts one finger up to his mouth to say “Shhh”. The stench of Rudy’s breath is so foul that not only Ricky, but also others at nearby tables notice and try to waft the smell away. Ricky reluctantly plays ball with Rudy, loudly whispering back.


Ricky: Is this some sort of joke?


Rudy: I knew I wouldn’t get you here if you knew it was me.


Ricky: Well maybe you’re smarter than I thought…


Ricky anxiously looks around, but seems to have accepted his fate. He is about to have a lunch date with Rudy at one of Rudy’s favorite restaurants. Rudy tries to ease Ricky’s tension.


Rudy: Relax, bud. We’re in public. No funny business. 


Ricky: Why the hell are we meeting here?


Rudy: No one will suspect anything here. Had to go some place where people don’t know who I am…


One cue, a waitress comes to the table and drops off a glass of ice.


Waitress: Your usual, Mr. Washington?


Rudy smiles.


Rudy: Yes, dear. Extra meatballs, of course.


The waitress smiles and nods before turning to Ricky.


Waitress: And for you sir, can I get you something to drink? Or are you all set to order?


Before Ricky can answer, Rudy cuts him off.


Rudy: Get my buddy a glass of ice and he’ll have what I’m having.


Ricky: I’m actually not reall-


Rudy slams his hand down on the table and awkwardly smiles at the waitress, who now seems a bit frightened. 


Rudy: We’ll just take another round of what I’m having, thanks sweetie.


The waitress looks unsure but nods and grabs the menus from the table before walking away. Rudy looks around the restaurant suspiciously. 


Ricky: What the hell is going on here?


Rudy takes one more look around and carefully pulls a 2 liter of Mountain Dew out of his jacket in the booth. He pours Dew into his glass of ice. Ricky has no idea what to make of the situation.


Rudy: They only serve Coke products here...you need some?


Rudy goes to pour some Dew in Ricky’s glass, but Ricky shakes his head.


Ricky: No, I’m good. I don’t drink that stuff.


Rudy puts the 2 liter away and then slugs down some Dew. He lets out a loud “ahhhhh” before grinning at Ricky and doing a terrible Matthew McConaughey impression.


Rudy: Be a lot cooler if you did….


Ricky looks repulsed as Rudy laughs.


Ricky: Can we just get down to business here?


Rudy takes another sip of Dew as Ricky pleads with him. After another “ahh” and wipe of his brow, Rudy nods his head.


Rudy: Yes, of course.


Ricky: So there is no Mr. Washington. You don’t have a guy that can help me. It’s just you….


Rudy grins.


Rudy: Do you have any other option?


Ricky sighs.


Rudy: You need someone, Ric. We all know that. You tried to go off on your own and look at what happened. You got too much going on, kid. That’s why you need me.


Ricky still seems skeptical but allows Rudy to continue.


Rudy: You got a big match next week. Adrenaline Championship. Now I know what you’re thinking. 5 other people? Conspiracy, right?


Ricky: Actually I’m not -


Rudy: RIGHT! It IS a conspiracy. But I flipped it on that O’Liar character. Unfortunately this was the only way I could get you into a title match. So I agreed with his little charade. He thinks I’m going to play ball. But I got a plan.


Ricky rolls his eyes.


Ricky: Oh yeah, what’s that?


Rudy: Well first off, you’re entering the match last. 


Ricky: How are you going to make sure that happens?


Rudy: Ohhh I have my ways….


Rudy pulls out his wallet and starts flashing $1 bills.


Rudy: Mr. Washington can be VERY persuasive. 


Before Ricky can respond to Rudy’s lunacy, a waitress arrives with breadsticks and salad. Not one second after placing the breadsticks down, Rudy nearly swallows one whole. The waitress places the salad down and grabs a cheese grater. 


Waitress: Cheese on the salad?


Rudy (half audible with breadstick in his mouth): What do I look like, a sissy? Hell yes I want cheese!


Waitress: Alright, just say when to stop...


The waitress nods and begins grating cheese. She puts a reasonable amount of cheese on before turning back to Rudy.


Waitress: Just say when….


Rudy nods and grins, having just finished a second breadstick. The woman continues to grate, and the lettuce of the salad is becoming less and  less visible. With a mountain of cheese on top of the salad, the waitress stops and looks at Rudy.


Rudy: Uhhhhh, I never said stop…


Waitress: Sir I….


Rudy gives the waitress a stern look. She frightenedly empties the entire cheese grater onto the salad, now to the point where cheese is falling out of the bowl. 


Waitress: I’m so sorry, I’ll have to get more cheese -


Rudy: Alright, toots.


Rudy winks at the waitress, who looks appalled. She quickly walks away from the table. Ricky doesn’t say much, just looking at the salad in amazement. Rudy helps himself to a few handfuls of grated cheese with maybe a piece or two of lettuce and a tomato sneaking into his bowl.


Rudy: So where were we?


Ricky: The chamber…


Rudy: Oh yea. Totally unconstitutional. And unsafe. We know that thing ain’t structurally sound. But we are going to beat them at their own game, Ric. You see, not only will you be the last one to enter...they'll also have some “difficulty” opening your pod. The clock will hit zero, crowd goes nuts, but NOPE! Ricky doesn’t enter the match.


Ricky: Rudy I have to enter the match if I want to win…


Rudy: Don’t worry - the pod will be broken just until one opponent is left. Then POOF it magically opens, and you’re left with just one broken down Ace or Shilo to beat.


Ricky: Or Holly, Jordan, Minerva…


Rudy, his third breadstick now in his mouth, starts laughing uncontrollably, spewing breadstick crumbs all over the table. Ricky manages to duck as a large piece of breadstick projectiles over his shoulder onto the adjacent table. Fortunately, the table is empty. Rudy finally regains his composure.


Rudy: Ric, let’s be honest here. A woman is not going to be in the final 2 of the chamber with you.


Ricky: Are you kidding me, Rudy? Did you not see the Scaffold Scramble or the TLC Match at Rise to Greatness? A woman beat me both times…


Rudy: Hey look pal, I know you got issues with women. We’ll get to that later. I’m just saying when it’s down to Ace or Shilo, he’ll be beat down so bad, you should easily be able to pick up the scraps….


Rudy notices the scraps of breadstick on the table and begins vacuuming them up with his mouth.


Ricky: And I’m telling YOU that I’ve been in the ring with Holly and Jordan before. In these types of matches, too. They are no slouches and can hold their own with anybody…


Rudy, now with a fourth breadstick in hand, starts laughing again.


Rudy: Oh yeah, the guy who loses every big match he’s ever in knows more than ME! AHAHAHAHAHAHA


Ricky quickly gets annoyed with Rudy and starts to stand up. Rudy stops laughing.


Rudy: Whoa whoa whoa, you want my help or not?


Ricky stops, sighs, and ultimately sits back down. Rudy grins.


Ricky: I mean…I want to win of course. I just don’t think I should have to cheat to do it. 


Rudy: Ric, it’s not cheating. It’s a “chamber malfunction”. And you entering last? “Random draw”. It’ll just be rigged like the 2020 election.


Ricky stops to think. He’s wanted to get rid of Rudy for months now, but with all the people in his life both in and out of SCW abandoning him, he’s realizing Rudy may be his only ally. Ricky takes a deep breath and then looks at Rudy, who has just finished emptying the rest of his 2 liter into his glass.


Ricky: Okay. Fine. I will give you a chance. One chance to work with me at Under Attack.


Rudy: You won’t be sorry, Ric.


Rudy grins again and winks at Ricky before polishing off the salad drowning in cheese.


Rudy: Where the hell is that waitress?


Rudy looks around the restaurant but Ricky snaps in his face to keep him focused.


Ricky: Hey! Rudy! Stay on topic here. Okay, we’re set for next Sunday….I think. You said you could help me with the ladies?


Rudy: Oh yeah….


Rudy reaches deep into one of his coat pockets and pulls out a pill bottle. Ricky looks apprehensive. Lucy Huckabee Sanders had previously given him unknown “medication” to help Ricky deal with visions he was having, but they really served as more of a sedative to keep Ricky under her control. He has since abandoned taking those pills and has dealt with his issues on his own. Still, Ricky wasn’t having much luck dealing with women on his own, so he keeps somewhat of an open mind.


Rudy: These babies...they’ll get ya goin. When you meet a nice lady out that you want to bone, excuse yourself to the bathroom and pop one of these Bad Larry’s. 


Rudy opens the bottle and empties a few large red pills on the table.


Ricky: Yeah I’ve heard of….wait, aren’t those usually blue?


Rudy: I prefer the red pill, Ric.


Rudy winks at Ricky, who doesn’t pick up on the reference.


Rudy: Go ahead, take a couple just to try. See what they do to ya. I’d advise waiting till you got your lady you want with you, but if you wanna have a really fun night with ole’ Palmela Handerson, these will do the trick too.


Ricky looks confused, again not understanding Rudy’s reference. 


Rudy: In fact, these puppies work so well, I don’t even need to use my hand anymore.


Ricky still looks confused. Suddenly Rudy leans back in his seat and closes his eyes. He begins mouthing the words “ohhh yeah”. He enters another “trance” and begins gyrating in the booth. Ricky quickly becomes repulsed.


Ricky: Oh God….


Rudy continues in his sick fantasy, ignoring Ricky. Ricky grabs the few pills off the table and pockets them before standing up and getting ready to leave, not wanting to be seen with Rudy out in public any longer.


Ricky: Alright Rudy well...thanks. I will be in touch. See you Sunday….


Rudy: Ohhhhh yeaaaaaa


Ricky looks disgusted by Rudy as he makes his way out of the restaurant, leaving the perverted, sweaty, greasy, cheese and breadstick crumb-covered attorney behind.


Ricky James just made a deal with the devil. It seems Ricky does need somebody afterall. He would rather work with Rudy Powell than have nobody by his side. While he thought he was on his own after the big win against Gavin Taylor and the first round Trios win, there were still people in Ricky’s life. Lucy and Rudy were still around for the win over Gavin. Come Trios, Ricky essentially replaced Lucy and Rudy with Kandis and Ace. Again, they are nothing alike, but Ricky still needed a male and female figure around him to really bring out his confidence. A week after thinking he was fine on his own, Ricky James has come to the realization that he will always need someone by his side, even if that someone is Rudy Fucking Powell.


---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ah, welcome to part 2 of this chapter. I must admit I am somewhat surprised at your return. It’s not that I consider myself a boring storyteller in any regard, but when comparing my simple narrative to tales of massively large rubber dildos and reality shows so over-the-top and poor that it would make Jersey Shore look like a masterpiece, a ‘slice-of-life’ story from an old man like myself may be considered ‘plain’ to some.

Nevertheless, I try to be entertaining in my own way. I always have. So thank you for returning.

We are not much further ahead in time from part one of this. In fact, very little time has passed at all, a few days at mot, though it certainly felt longer to me at the time.

The night of trick-or-treating with my family had left me in a strange mood afterwards, and I found myself restless night after night, my brain turning over multiple concepts and thoughts in my head as the days wore on and dipped into the beginning of November.

I am referring to thoughts of a large, metal cell and six combatants fighting for utter destruction and elements of fear of scaring and being scared. Not a far deviation form reality when you consider what I had been doing in part one, observing the reactions of children as they scampered across my neighbourhood.

You have to understand: I truly like Halloween. That is to say, I enjoy the elements that Halloween represents. For a man in a mask, that shouldn’t be a surprise to you. But it’s not about candy or mischief.

No, I enjoy Halloween for the same reason one enjoys Christmas. It is a time to release the mind’s hold on reality, and allow yourself to drift into the elements of fantasy and horror much as you would drift into the joys of magic and kindness in December. Halloween had always fascinated me for its eeriness, darkness and, sometimes, downright horror. So, to be thinking about being afraid and scaring others, to be thinking about metal confines and blood – it had felt natural to me, but it also felt unnatural as well.

If you heard my promo and its warped twisting voice – no doubt you recognized the other voice that had joined me – then you know that I, myself had been haunted by the Chamber. If you have followed my career up to this point, you know all about me and my history with it and my various injuries and history for what its worth, and history is never worth much when you think about it. You also can appreciate where my mind has been since Cian O’Dwyer – aka Mr. CODfish – had announced it and how quickly my desires had changed from simply ‘entertaining’ to needing to dominate this match for my own sake.

Keep in mind, I was still acutely aware of my own limitations the entire time. I was still holding off the surgery needed to repair my knee, leaving me with a glaring weakness that I knew someone like Ace Marshall, Minerva, or, especially, Holly Adams would take advantage of and it would not take much for one of them to try and take me out of the equation when I had been on a relative ‘hot-streak’ as it were for the majority of this year, while the rest of them were in a bit of ruts, of sorts, excluding the current Adrenaline champion.

To be fair, I wasn’t entirely worried about Holly Adams. Certainly, she and Ace were enemies I knew far better than Minerva, but despite her desperation in her matches, Holly was much like the children I had observed tonight, running around, desperate for attention and not caring how she got it. She lacked a killer instinct that kept me alive in the darker years of my career, my years as “The Blood-Stained Joker” rather infamous in the annuls of SCW’s Hall of Fame.

To put it simply: Pain was not my concern in this chamber. I could deal with pain. And I wasn’t afraid of Holly – in fact I had enjoyed the little games I had played on her the last few weeks, giving the overconfident brat a taste of what Shilo Valiant was truly capable of in the mad, mad world of SCW. In a way, it had made me feel like my old self again – when I was younger and running around SCW like it was my own playground. When I had haunted superstars left and right in my never-ending pursuit of entertainment. When I had laughed and mocked individuals that thought themselves above the entertainment and thought they could out-perform me with cheap jokes involving clowns and make-up and a twisted form of ‘necrophobia’ or ‘necrophiliacs’, things I expected whenever Holly got around to me in whatever promo she would throw together or whatever interviewer she had managed to bribe and direct.

Losing didn’t frighten me either, at least not in the way you would think. Losing to the likes of Jordan Majors, who I actually respected, if you can believe that, and Ricky James was not something that bothered me. In truth, I very much liked the idea of Jordan Majors becoming the Adrenaline Champion, though I certainly wanted the title back in my possession. But Jordan was direct and very passionate. The fact that she could jump from an underground-type match into a chamber match like this seemed the most natural of all of this – at least when considering Ricky James being thrown in and Ace Marshall being added when a ‘hurt dick’ could slow him down. Minerva, well… she was a Rachael Foxx or Tatum Lee kind of woman, so it wasn’t a stretch to see her in something like this.

But Jordan, I felt, was much like the little girls in superhero costumes – in fact, everyone in this match had come to mind, for I had seen them in my mind as I had walked my son through my Guelph neighborhood in his search for candy.

You had the heroes like Wonder Woman – Jordan Majors – believing themselves to be symbols of virtue or perhaps pillars of inspiration of ‘truth, justice and the American way – or in my case, Canadian way’.
You had the monsters like Dracula and the Frankenstein creature and the Wolfman – Minerva – there was really no need to explain that after her ‘burner’ of a match with Chris Cannon months ago.
You had the over-the-top characters like Kylo Ren and Rick from Rick and Morty – Ace Marshall and Ricky James. Children merely clinging to ‘what was currently popular’ in order to ‘seem’ popular.
And, no less ‘attention-seeking’, you had the girls dressed as Hollywood-stars or divas with their wigs and high-heels – tripping and fumbling along the sidewalk as they tried to pretend to be bigger than they actually were.

You can see why Jordan was my first choice to become Adrenaline champion after such a selection, and I envied the position she was in, though she was probably not even aware of it. Part of me had even considered, if I could, indeed, steal the show within the chamber, contemplating the element of joining in on this ‘underground world’. Was that something I preferred in the workings of the CODfish over my former Captain Drakey? Was CODfish inadvertently giving me a possibility should all my hopes be swallowed up with the chamber? A man that had run through the Big Top, TLC, and the Chamber now able to join a league of such a world?

I couldn’t imagine Marina being thrilled with that prospect, but I had to admit, the re-emergence of the Underground title did entertain me a little, given my previous title matches where I had defended the Adrenaline title.

As you can see, my mind had been in a rather tumultuous state by the time I rested a few nights into the month of November, and I think, given all of that now, it’s best if you hear of the dream I had that night, after we had put Memphis to bed.

Dreams can be as real as life sometimes – or at least that what it seemed to be afterwards.

Truthfully, it took sometime before I fell asleep, as I said, my mind was tossing and turning with thoughts of the chamber and the adrenaline title and even the underground championship in some regards. But I was also fixated on Marina’s concerns from a few days ago. If you recall part one of this chapter, you’ll remember how Marina had been approached my Memphis a few days prior to Halloween, my eight-year old son telling her that he desired to be a wrestler simply because one of his classmates had brought in an old action figure of me. The notion had unnerved Marina, whose constitution was better than mine, I could admit. And I would be lying if I said that it hadn’t unnerved me as well.

I had talked it over with her to the point where she was settled down, allowing it to leave her current mind as the days followed until she could go to bed with me fall asleep far faster than I did, for I could hear her slow breathing as I, myself, finally drifted off to sleep.

The dream started off with me in the ring, wearing my full-face mask this time. The one I had worn during my ‘resurrection’ from the pyro and in the declining years of my career before retirement. I could see myself running around the ring, darting and jumping like I was 24 again. I could see myself using the chamber, which surrounded me, to my full advantage, hanging from the metal, slamming opponents into it. Now, this certainly wasn’t the current me, slowed down by a bad knee and years of wear-and-tear. No, this is young Shilo of years and years past! The most entertaining person in all of SCW. A man that I longed to be, that I hoped to find somewhere within the depths of that chamber in a week’s time.

I could see the faces of Ace Marshall and Holly Adams as I steamrolled over them. I could see the begrudging respect in Jordan’s eyes as I used my experience, many years more than her, to my advantage. The shock and surprise from Minerva as I refused to cower in fear of her. There was no doubt about it. This Shilo Valiant was winning the chamber match – I could tell just by watching him.

Until something happened.

Before my eyes, I watched myself become more and more sloppy. My movements became less coordinated, less creative, less experienced. And before I knew it, I was watching myself getting slammed and overpowered by Ricky James, or thrown into one of the pods by Ace Marshall. Minerva tied my knee up in the ropes and proceeded to stomp and kick at it like a vulture cleaning a carcass.

Never had I seen such a beatdown in my career. A literal four-on-one that served one purpose. To put the individual on the shelf permanently. I was witnessing my own destruction piece by piece within the chamber, or at least I thought I was from my ‘viewpoint’. But where was Holly? Where had she disappeared off to?

No sooner had the name been thought then I saw her – the current champion appearing as if I had conjured her out of thin air. She was looking down at ‘me’ with a glare and a smirk, as if I was little more than the scum under her shoe – which wasn’t a stretch considering her arrogance in her promos. The others had backed away and there she was, which, again, didn’t surprise me. Now that the work was done, she was there to collect the spoils and take the glory for herself.

And yet, she had not pinned me or gone in for the kill – I could see the workings of her mind as she knelt down beside me, her fingers tracing over the etched ‘smile’ of the mask I wore. With an exaggerated flourish, she had ripped my mask off and held up to the world as if it was some kind of trophy. In truth, the action only confused me. Why would she think taking my mask off would do anything? I wasn’t reliant on my mask. In fact, I had often been seen without it. I wasn’t a luchador fighter, needing my mask on and never removed. My mask was simply part of my attire, no different than my shirt or pads. If it fell off or was destroyed, I’d keep going…

My rationale stopped as I observed myself lying in the ring, unconscious from the beatdown… and saw the face of my eighteen-year old son, Memphis. Don’t ask me how I knew it was him. I knew. I knew this young adult was my little baby boy…

I awoke with a gasp, a jerking sensation that pulled me from that nightmare into the darkness of my own room, my heart beating hard within my chest and my eyes unable to see anything.

I lay like that for what felt like hours, unable to move and barely able to think beyond that last image of seeing my son in my own attire, broken and bloodied and beaten in the ring by those… bastards.

Despite myself, I could not help the lance of white-hot rage that pierced me and filled me. Such rage at Ace Marshall for laughing at my son. Such anger at Jordan for doing nothing to help the innocent boy. Such fury at Minerva for taking delight in his pain. Such bitterness at Ricky for merely joining in, reverting to his mindless-sheep concept that he had followed when he had first come to SCW with his ‘political entourage’. And fuck Holly Adams! How DARE she take delight in the onslaught my boy! How DARE she hide away like a damn coward and then promenade her ‘work’ as if she had done it herself! How DARE she disrespect my family so!

I’m going to kill that little bitch! my brain kept whispering in the dark, my hands clutching the blanket that I lay on top of as tightly as possible.

To be clear, I knew this anger was not entirely accurate or even properly directed. What I had experienced was a nightmare, brought on by discussion with Marina about Memphis wanting to follow in my footsteps. My dislike of such a notion had, clearly, leaked into my subconscious and transformed my dream into a nightmare. The fault of that lay with me and not with any of my future opponents.

But, the truth was that I did not like Holly Adams. I was sick of Holly Adams.

For weeks, the woman had bragged that I was afraid of her – avoiding her as if terrified of her ‘greatness’. Then, when I soundly defeated her inside the Big Top, she had scoffed at me and the Adrenaline title, saying on her ‘Talk Show’ that the title was nothing to her, only to come right back the second she was handed a second chance at it and, now that she had it, she was praising herself as the second coming of-

My jaw clenched tightly as I lay there. At least with Ace, there was some KIND of reason to gloat. Some reason to be obnoxious and aloof in the past. He had the accolades to back it up. But Holly needed to be brought down a peg. She needed to be humbled. She needed to be broken down.

It was a dark thought, one that I rarely entertained – breaking another superstar – but when it came to the current Adrenaline Champion, it had been a destination that my mind had often taken. And I’d be lying if part of it wasn’t pride-related. Not so much losing the title to her – that had happened in a war with three other superstars in a TLC match. I felt no shame in coming up short there. No, the fact that Holly, knowing the score was now tied between us at one apiece had done all she could to dismiss me from the table. To erase me as she had Datura-

My eyes narrowed in the dark. The pathetic little coward. She knew she could not beat me one on one and had rushed off the second she had the title to keep as far away from me and Datura as possible. She was terrified. She was scared. This was a match beyond anything she had done before – the very notion brought a smile to my face.

You can imagine the mixed emotions I felt in that moment when I realized that anyone, even if it wasn’t me, could win the Adrenaline title in my mind – as long as Holly Adams no longer had it.

When had I allowed such a superstar to get under my skin? When had I allowed someone’s actions and words affect me so? For fuck’s sake, Ace had LITERALLY set me on fire by putting me through a flaming table and I didn’t care about that. CHBK had low-blowed me at Rise to Greatness once, didn’t bother me. Jason Zero had, apparently, burned my face – okay, I minded that! – but in comparison to those, what Holly was doing was nothing. Old jokes and lines that Syren had used in 2009 – proving her lack of creativity and lack of deserving of being the Adrenaline champion in my mind.

So why the hell did it bother me so much?!

That seemed to quell my anger a little, my energies, what little remained from my restless sleep, being used to try and answer that question. Was it because Holly was so much like Syren, someone I detested since my arrival in SCW twelve years ago? Was it because of her arrogance? Her smugness? Was it because I actually felt bad at how she bullied people? Was it because she reminded me of bullies Marina and I had to deal with in the past? Like Maverick bullying Muskrat? Or, more recently, some of the bullies at Memphis’ school wanting to bully “the son of Shilo Valiant”?

Or was it something far more recent?

Immediately, my mind flew to the most recent set of allegations coming out of SCW. For those of you that have Twitter, you know what I am talking about. For those that don’t, I’ll take a moment to enlighten you. Recently, Asher Hayes was suspended by SCW due to drug-related charges, forfeiting not only his place in the Trios Tournament but also his spot in the fatal-fourway for the World title. What does that have to do with me? Very little in terms of Asher Hayes.

In fact, the bastard had had issues with drugs when I had first entered SCW in 2009, going so far as to challenge me as soon as I entered to primp himself, and his run with the United States title at the time, up. After I soundly defeated him and took said title away? Well, he disappeared from SCW for years. The fact that drugs have returned where he is concerned? It didn’t surprise me very much, but beyond my history with him, it didn’t concern me.

And yet, I watched as Holly Adams raided the ‘Twitterverse’ as it were, screaming and denying the allegations and evidence. Stating up and down that it was a lie and mentioned herself and her “Life Coaching” services. In fact, there wasn’t a tweet in her entire ‘response’ to the allegations that didn’t involve her mentioning either herself or her ‘services’.

But if her ‘services’ were any good, why would this even happen in the first place? If she truly cared about Asher and supporting his life…

I almost laughed at that – a bitter laugh – but I stopped myself to avoid awaking Marina. Of course Holly didn’t care about Asher, or Cid Turner, for that matter. Holly cared about herself and using anyone she could to get herself ahead. It was why she had immediately joined Infamous upon her ‘return’ to SCW and, as soon as someone else was closer to bigger things, she dumped them and aligned with Cid and Asher. Now that Asher was paying for his ‘choices’, she was doing damage control for herself primarily and Asher secondary. The whole event, which should have been about Asher’s “innocence”, she made about her and her ‘legal team’ – I almost laughed when I read the whole “Holly Life Coaching Services – GOTTA INCLUDE THAT TRADEMARK” and a website that lead to a picture of Bree Lancaster eating pizza and nothing else.

Oh yeah, this woman truly cared about her clients, when she wasn’t body-shaming everyone on twitter.

Was that it? The fact that I actually felt sorry for Asher and could relate to him? That someone was using his issues with drugs – something I had once had with Necro – for their own benefit and self-promotion? Was it because I found the idea that such a person, such an uncreative, pathetic bully was now representing the Adrenaline division repulsive?

“When did I care how SCW was represented?” I whispered to the dark. For so many years, I hadn’t. I cared about the entertainment. Long as it was entertaining, anything could happen for all I cared. Fires burning, people cursing, crocodiles crawling across the rampway, hell, even mysteries of vehicular attacks, long as it entertained, I didn’t care…

But this? What Holly was? Dodging matches with ‘fake injuries’? Crying for help in a singles match? Pinning inexperienced housewives? Bringing a mass of reality-show stars onto the scene to bitch and whine? Using the same “Starbucks” joke every single night? And now, taking advantage of a man with clear drug-issues?

This wasn’t entertaining! It was disgraceful! And I worked there! I worked where this kind of shit was being served as ‘part of the show’. Part of the entertainment! And what did Holly say about all of this? “You’re welcome”? As if the SCW Universe was supposed to be grateful for such a person and such acts? How the hell was SCW supposed to be grateful? How the hell was I supposed to be thankful?! I had given them Under the Big Top Matches, TLC matches, Tables on Fire matches. What had she given them? Scandals, excuses, and ‘beauty’ tips/body-shaming on Twitter?

I exhaled slowly, my anger with the current champion finally making sense. My desire to see her dethroned as the Adrenaline champion, even if it wasn’t me, understandable to me. I felt my back relax against the bed mattress I shared with Marina. I felt my muscles slack a little, the stress leaving me slowly bit by bit. At least now, I could rationalize my need to hurt her in the chamber. Repeat that same look of helplessness and desperation I had seen in her eyes while wrestling in the Big Top.

I smiled at the memory, feeling my body relaxed further. Now that I knew the source of my hatred of Holly, oh, let me tell you, how I earned to see THAT look on her face again. That look of anger, then frustration, the absolute fear…

I had seen glimpses of it with my little ‘games’ I had played with her involving Datura-look-alikes. But in truth, that night in the tent of the Big Top? I kept replaying it in my mind, replaying that expression that I needed to see in a few days when I went digging for that ‘lost part’ of myself.

Let me make this clear – I truly believed in what I had said in my last promo. I’m not sure if it was losing the World title or being beaten badly in the chamber and then thrust out of the spotlight for a time, fighting the likes of Collin Cole as a substitute, but I truly believed that something had changed in me due to that chamber match eight years ago. Something had been taken from me.  While others could emerge from this match as better superstars – maybe even jumping to main-event-capable level (as I hoped for Jordan Majors and Ricky James), I had become something less. Or at least, that was the start of me becoming less.

And that hadn’t changed. I still believed that I wasn’t anywhere near what I was before that chamber match. I knew that I wasn’t as good as the old Shilo Valiant. I knew I wasn’t as smart or confident as the old Shilo Valiant.

Did I truly believe that I could be that Shilo Valiant again just by winning a chamber match and regaining the Adrenaline championship? Or even by dominating and outperforming everyone else within the chamber?

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t, because a small part of me did.

To put it in a better way, a small part of me was hopeful. Hopeful that, in-between Minerva and Ace acting like psychos, and Jordan being the best wrestler in the chamber, and Ricky being the wildcard and Holly hiding and waiting to steal a victory… as well as all the pain and aches that I knew were headed my way… part of me was hopeful that somewhere amidst that chaos… I’d find that part of me somewhere in the chamber.

I could almost imagine it. Old-man Shilo, The Man Who Laughs, being thrown around like a sack of candy this way and that. Being slammed against metal and pods and who knows what else? My body in more and more pain with each passing second… and I would see him.

The Shilo Valiant that had been locked in this chamber with the help of Blitzkrieg and Coalition. The prisoner of the chamber, locked in there these past eight years. I could imagine him looking at me, his face in that full mask of the eternally smiling one. He’d tilt his head at me, shake his head amusingly at the sight of this old man and he’d say…he’d say….

“What took you so long?”

The sound of movement within the house caused my eyes to snap open, once more meeting darkness. Quickly, my eyes shot over to the digital clock on the nightstand. Only an hour had passed since I had last checked in my mental ranting against Holly. Had I fallen asleep? Was that why I could see my ‘lost self’ in the chamber? Another short dream?

The sound came again and I was quietly on my feet. I heard Marina move a little but, otherwise, gave no sign of awakening. For a second, I mentally prayed that she was having far more pleasant and worthwhile dreams than I had had the last few nights, including tonight. Reaching down, I picked up the t-shirt I had left on the floor, throwing it over my frame to add to the sleep pants I wore and tiptoed out the door.

I heard the movement again, this time sensing more of a direction to the source as I moved down the hall. For a moment, I stopped, trying to piece together what the sound was. It was sharp, then dull, like scarping of something. I heard it a fourth time before understanding what it was like – the sound was like a plate being dragged across a table or counter!

My feet had barely hit the bottom floor before I heard the sound again, causing my feet to continue towards it.

At this point, you’re probably wondering why the hell I’m not describing my fear. After all, someone was clearly in the house, moving about. Robbers, intruders, there is a whole list of possibilities that could be used to identify the source of this sound. And the reason for such little mention of fear is simple: there wasn’t any.

Yes, there was a possibility that the sound was that of some kind of intruder and I was just being stupid for thinking otherwise. There was a possibility that I was, unknowingly in my ignorance/arrogance, walking towards my doom – and I don’t mean the same way as I was heading towards Under Attack. There was a chance that I was making a mistake in not being afraid.

But you have to understand… I have an eight-year old kid. An eight-year old kid that had, just recently, acquired a large bucket of candy bars and other delectable treats…

And sure enough, as I turned the corner to enter the family room/kitchen area, I spied him. My eight-year old son, small as he was, standing on the counter with a drawer open, reaching up on his tiptoes to try and reach the plastic, pumpkin-shaped bucket that held all his candy from Halloween. His fingers were just grazing it and I could see, from my spot, his tongue stuck out in effort as he stretched and stretched. The plates that the bucket stood on top of were pushed and pulled in his little attempts to acquire the bin, hence the sounds I had heard, and with the pyjamas of Spider-Man’s costume, he actually looked a little like the wallcrawler as he tried to reach.

It was adorable beyond words, and I immediately regretted not having my phone with me to take a photo and show Marina for later.

For a moment, I considered my options as I watched him. I could sneak out, grab Marina and show her and risk him either acquiring the candy and running back to his room or having an accident with the plates…

With a silent sigh, I was behind him without even noticing. I watched him stretch a few more times, trying so hard to conquer this task, that he barely noticed my hands going under his armpits and lifting him up until he was being lifted off the counter.

“Here, let me help you with that.” I spoke quietly, lifting him the small distance so he was now eye-level with the bucket of candy. If anything, I felt like Rafiki in the Lion King, hoisting young Simba up to the wildlife of the safari below. BEHOLD HIM! “Grab me one too while you’re at it.” I added with a whisper.

“But it’s mine, dad.” Whined the boy, causing me to shrug and immediately turn him away before he could grab a bar.
“Okay. If you don’t want my help-“
“No! No!” he cried out, causing me to laugh a little as shushed him.
“Easy!” I playfully chastised. “If we wake up your mom, we’re gonna have to share with her too.”

The very notion of surrendering ONE more candy bar to someone else made the boy’s eyes grow wide and he was, suddenly, quieter than I had ever seen him. With silent movements, I swung him back around towards the open drawer, lifting him so he could reach into the basket. His hand fidgeted around a little bit until he withdrew, holding two of the small candy bars in his hands. A Wunderbar and a Caramilk. Both great choices. Lowering him down back to the counter, he was quick to hand me the Caramilk.

“Nice work.” I whispered, holding my fist out so he could ‘pound it’ with his own before we, quietly, unwrapped and ate our candy.

“Oh, Shilo! How could you give your kid chocolate so late at night?! You’re being a bad father.” Yeah, if you’re thinking that… fuck you, I’m awarding my son for effort and creativity. I KNOW he got that from me.

“You’re lucky I found you and not your mom.” I whispered, leaning against the counter Memphis stood one. “I’m pretty sure she told you only one piece of candy before dinner tonight.”

For a moment, the boy looked at me with an expression that I could only classify as ‘guilt’, shuffling from one foot to the next. He didn’t have a response for me. I mean, what could he possibly say? Deny it when I caught him? Apologize when I was eating candy too?

A scoff and a smile escaped me as I reached over and mussed his hair. “Don’t sweat it, kid.” I shook my head. “I’ve broken a rule or two, as well. Of course if you tell you’re mother, I’ll deny.”

He nodded his head as he finished off his chocolate, casting his eyes up as I closed the drawer door, thus preventing his acquiring more. “Only one.” I told him. “Or I’LL get in trouble with mom.”

Reaching out, I plucked the boy off the counter again, this time cradling him in my arms as I made my way out of the kitchen and towards the steps that lead to the basement, where his room was.

“So, you couldn’t sleep?” I asked, earning a shrug from him.

For a moment, having him cradled like this, my mind flashed back to my nightmare. Seeing him curled up after the beatdown he had suffered, with the grinning glares of Holly and the others boring down on him.

“So…” I tried. “Mom told me that you told her you want to be like me.” He looked up at me. “You know…” I explained. “A wrestler.”

He gave a yawn in my direction, the late night catching up with him after the thrill of the ‘heist’ was gone, before nodding his head.

“Can I ask why?” I slowly spoke, unsure of what words to use.
“Cause you have an action figure.” Memphis replied. “And you get to wear masks all the time. And my friend said you get to beat up bad guys.”

Well, when he put it that way, that DID sound like a pretty fun job! It was like I was a superhero or something – and, yes, people, in that moment, I wished it was so.

“I mean…that’s one of the ways to look at it…” I spoke slowly as I stepped into his room, a decent size, and placed him in his Marvel-bedsheet bed. “But, Memphis…” I sighed before turning my head. “Do you see the scars on my face?”

Carefully, so as not to startle him, I showed him the side of my face that still bore the scars of the pyro, earning a nod from my son. “And how I wear a metal brace on my knee all the time?”

Another nod.

“And how my eye is ‘weird-looking’?” I used the words I had heard from him at one point to describe my discolored eye, earning a third nod. “All of this came from being wrestler for me.”
“Really?” he asked, his eyes widening.

“Yeah.” I sighed. “See, your friends don’t really get how hard and dangerous it is to be a wrestler. We’re constantly getting hurt and put in these things called matches that can be downright dangerous.” I refused to tell him the details of the chamber – he didn’t need nightmares.

“And it takes a lot of work, time, and training to be able to take all of that on. And even then, it’s still possibly that bad things can happen.”

The little Spider-Man said nothing, though I could see the confusion on his face and in his eyes.

“See…” I tried, reaching out to caress his head to calm him. “I wrestle so you have the choice to do more than that. I wrestle because, unlike you, I didn’t have the good grades or the education that you do. Wrestling is really all I know and I didn’t want that to be the case for you. Mother feels the same way.”

I couldn’t tell him the world that I knew – the Underground. I couldn’t tell him what I had known outside of wrestling was dark tunnels and the drug known as Necro. Memphis didn’t need to know that – we had left that life behind to give him the chance neither Marina and I had. The chance that we had failed to give Gwynplaine.

“When you become an adult, we wanted you to have all the choices in the world. All the opportunities to do whatever is you want. Go wherever you want, learn whatever you want. Do you understand?”

He was silent for a moment, his head rested against the pillow, as if, even in his increasingly drowsy state, he was contemplating my words the best he could. Slowly, he nodded his head, which was more than enough for me.

Leaning down, I kissed his forehead before tucking him further into his bed with the blanket covers. A few steps later, as I stood by his door, I heard him.

“Hey dad?”
I turned to face my boy. “Yeah, son?”

There was moment of quiet before I heard him speak. “If…even when I grow up… I still want to be a wrestler… will you and mom let me?”

…

Yeah, I stood there for a few minutes, unable to say a word. Again, guys, I want the best for my son. And I couldn’t say ‘no’ to him about this. I’m many things to my opponents. Realist, sarcastic, hell I’ll bash anything and anyone within reason for entertainment. I almost laugh myself out of the chair when I saw Holly’s Halloween costume as Cinderella – when she was really more like the evil step-sister or the whiny cat from that movie.

But I didn’t want to just say ‘no’ to Memphis over something he wanted, even if it terrified me to the core. No…let me rephrase that. I WANTED to say ‘no’. I wanted to shoot the idea down because I never wanted to see my nightmare become a reality. I WANTED to deny him this, for his own good!

But I couldn’t… anymore than Marina could stop me from wrestling.

“If…” I breathed. “If you graduate from high-school with good grades… and you STILL want to wrestle…” another shaky breath came in and out of me. “If that happens…we can talk about it, okay? I’m not saying ‘yes’, okay?! But we’ll…we’ll talk about it.”
“Okay.”

Memphis smiled at me before closing his eyes and turning on his side. Quietly, and quickly, I shut off the light to his room, leaving the door open so the night light in the basement could illuminate a little space for the kid.

My return to my own room was slow, taking each step quietly and snail-paced, somewhat for my knee but also to collect my own thoughts. And those thoughts were in conflict.

Did I still believe that my son’s desire to follow in my footsteps was little more than a ‘childish phase’ he was going through? Absolutely. I was certain, as he grew up, that he would see the damage that my career had done to me and that there were better options. Hell, the poor lad didn’t know about people like Shawn Winters and Christian Savior, who had been forced into retirement due to injuries and such, but he would see that in due time.

Still, there was now that lingering doubt. Memphis had shown such earnest excitement in his eyes at the prospect of being like his dad. You’d imagine that most parents would be thrilled at that notion, to have their children following after them.

It terrified me.

It shook me to my core as I tried to resettle into bed, careful not to disturb Marina.

For anyone else, it didn’t matter what they did. Let Ace play with his sex toys, Minerva make her appeals to various gods of death or whatever is she did, let Jordan continue to try and be the same level as David Helms was, and let Ricky switch his gimmick like Jason Zero, while Holly kept trying to be Syren while denying it.

I could deal with them all and I would… but even so. Even if Shilo Valiant was the most entertaining person in SCW, perhaps all of wrestling. Even if Shilo Valiant was good enough and smart enough to survive the chamber for the first time in his career. Even if I was driven enough to not only regain my title but my lost self in the process….

Even if I was ready to become the full ‘Shilo Valiant’ once more…

I would never wish that identity on my precious son… Not for all the laughs in the fucking world…


****************************************************************




The camera pans in to reveal the twisted, warped carnival. A broken Ferris-wheel, ripped posters ‘attactions’, the sound of rusty chains and abandoned rides… the home of a particular showman. The wind can be heard blowing a little until all is suddenly quiet as, in the moonlight, a figure in familiar clothes appears.

Before the viewers’ eyes stands Shilo Valiant, but not The Man Who Laughs… for instead of his half mask, Shilo Valiant wears an older mask. A mask that covers his full face with eyes black and a smile painted on the mask – similar to the mask he wore eight years ago as “The Spotlight Showman” and “The Blood-Stained Joker”.

Ah, ladies and gentlemen… welcome once more to my Carnival of Rust… he declares with a flourish, holding out his arms in presentation of his world. However, before the camera can move, Shilo holds up his arm towards his audience.

Now, before we proceed and before we get too carried, I must bear the brunt of a responsible man, not as an entertainer! I must! You see, I am many things. A clown, a jester, a con-artist – oh the list is massive, but when I make a mistake. When I say something that is just plain wrong… well, then I must do all I can to correct that little matter. For your sake as well as my own and for the sake of entertainment!

You see, ladies and gentlemen. In my prior promo, when I was deep in my own reflection and my own analysis of myself, opting to understand most of my opponents and warn them of the upcoming dangers of the chamber for their own sake – I said something that was just…unfair.

I declared that Jordan Majors, perhaps the most passionate person in this match – dare I say the most deserving to WIN this match - was suffering a curse. That she was someone that often failed to acquire a title, coming up short usually in the final moments…

It would seem that my words were taken as “Jordan Majors has never held a title”…and I must confess, I believed as much. I truly did. And for that, Jordan Majors, I am sorry.

For a moment, Shilo lowers his arm and nods his head. I am sorry for believing that such a thing was possible when considering the years you have been here and what few accolades you have achieved compared to the rest of us. I am sorry that I took a nap and missed the- what? 30 days you were a champion? I am sorry that, while that may be seen as a bit of a slip, it changes nothing about the truth I spoke. Because, let’s face it, nothing else I said was wrong was it? You want that curse broken, don’t you? To stop being ‘so close’ and actually achieve success? To come back to that champion’s world…

Why am I bringing this up? Because Jordan… I want the same thing for you. I do. I want you to be the one to do what I may fail to do here tonight. Despite your choking issues, I want to see something of the woman that has entertained me all year with her wars of brutality with the likes of Nicole Kinneck and Brittany Lohan. I want to see the woman that is willing to go the extra mile while our champion fakes an injury when she takes a step. You say you are tired of pretending? You say you’re tired of failing or coming up short…

I say…is that a joke? Failing is part of becoming one of the best in SCW!! You want proof? Look at me! the clown gestures to his masked face. You fail? You laugh it off and turn it around! You say you’re going to be a thief in the night? You’re gonna take this match for you? I say… heh heh heh… it’s about FUCKING time! a laugh escapes him. But it will take more than your frustrations and your bitterness to take me down, Jordan… but consider me interested in seeing if you can…

So, please, Jordan… accept my apology for the perceived slip… and get that head out of your ass while you’re at it and come at me and the rest of us with all you fucking have like you promised – because I’d hate to be disappointed by you once again! The clown jerks his head a little, as if he is secretly winking at the camera despite his mask.

Taking a deep breath, though his ‘features’ do not change, Shilo tilts his head. Okay… now that we got that little issue out of the way…

Then…there was one…

With a snap of his fingers, the scene changes from the entrance of the Carnival of Rust into its interior. Standing by a stalled, rusty, and abandoned merry-go-round, Shilo leans against the scratched and discolored white-horse.

Holly Adams… he chuckles a little. I imagine you are just so giddy after my last promo! After all, I’m giving you what you want! I’m making the rest of this promo all about you! Not just a one-liner like Ricky James would or perhaps a few lines from Ace and Jordan in a perpetual list of competitors or even the silent-treatment from Minerva.

No, no, no, my dear! I am giving you what you’ve always wanted. The attention! The spotlight! I’m talking about you!

The showman is silent as he holds a hand out towards the camera, to his own ‘focused-guest’.

Tell me. Does that make you feel better, Holly? Does it fill you with joy? To know that you are my focus? Or are you too busy to enjoy it? Shilo lowers his arm, his fingers curling into a fist.

I mean, it must have been an exhausting month for you, hasn’t it? Putting out metaphorical fires, trying to do damage control… trying to save face? Trying to keep your one good client, Cid Turner, on your side?

I imagine it must be hard. After all, Holly… it really is your fault over what happened to Asher. Shilo slowly shakes his head, as if admonishing the current Adrenaline champion.

I mean, what kind of Life-Coach misses the cues of that? What kind of Life Coach lets her own client lose everything in a second? What kind of Life-Coach cares more about her own brand and name that she buries her client’s name in tweets about her own ‘good nature’, ‘lawyers’, and what not?

Better yet, what kind of human being let’s their supposed ‘friend’ fall that far? again, Shilo shakes his head.

But you wanted the attention, didn’t you? Just like you ‘wanted’ challengers for the Adrenaline title, right? You were laughing and mocking so many of us, right? Demanding to face challengers, demanding spotlight, demanding attention-

Now, you have challengers. Several in fact.
You have spotlight, thanks to me.
And you have attention – all of mine…

So why are you still whining, Holly? Why did you whine on Twitter “This wasn’t what I meant!”?

Shilo chuckles. I suppose the old adage rings true, doesn’t it? Be careful what you wish for.

Spinning around one of the pole, Shilo reaches a golden-orange horse, as dilapidated as the last. You wanted to be the champion, Holly. You wanted to hold an SCW title legitimately, rather than only having your little “I’ve held every title in SCW with my two hands!” BS to sustain you, didn’t you?

Problem is… you got greedy. You thought you could dictate the terms of your first, and only, championship reign here in SCW. That you could call the shots.

Why? Because I did?

The idea causes Shilo’s head to lower before his shoulders start to shake, the Man Who Laughs unable to hold back his laugh. Heh heh heh…

Let’s make things adamantly clear here, Holly. There is a fundamental difference between you and I. And the reason I was able to call the shots is because the shots I called benefitted SCW. My calls entertain people. My calls bring in viewers. My calls excite people. I brought in the Big Top to the Adrenaline Championship while you were playing photoshop on Twitter. I put the Adrenaline belt in TLC while you were forging ‘title-shot contracts’ for Asher Hayes. While I entertained this federation with wars with Ace Marshall and Lexycorp, you were making ‘Forehead’ jokes. Riveting…

See, that’s the difference, Holly. That’s what happens when you spend nearly a decade proving yourself in this federation and spend six months proving yourself as Adrenaline Champion vs you whining and crying over every little thing – but you want us to praise you – to ‘thank you’ as you said on twitter - for making it to day 100?

HA! HA! HA! When you reach day 180, let me know and I’ll bake you a fucking cake! With 180 candles! Swinging around the many horse-poles, Shilo’s sing-song voice echoes throughout the carnival.

”Out the candles, shall we blow – make your wishes one and all! Will these prayers still come true? What of those will come for you?”

Turning around, Shilo crosses his arm, standing against a light-blue horse that looks rather like a unicorn, though half of the horn is withered off. Tell me something, Holly… out of all your TWO title defences… how many main-event matches was that? Better yet, how many former World Champions did you face? How many main-event superstars did you contend with?

See… I don’t think you truly understand what you’ve gotten yourself into, Holly. You were too busy bragging on Twitter to realize that, for the first time in your entire reign as Adrenaline champion, you’ve got a former world champion breathing down your neck. And not just one! Oh, no! You’ve got two in me and Ace! Add Jordan Majors to the mix and it’s THREE former Adrenaline Champions…

And let’s be clear, sunshine. Last time you and I fought one-on-one – the last time you and I fought in a chamber…you couldn’t even handle me. the grin on Shilo’s mask appears more wicked as lights seem to shift and move on the merry-go-round.

Or is this going to be one of those times where you disregard such odds and logic and very real threats and hire an interviewer or a broadcasting station and say whatever comes out of your mouth while they run around, throwing up ‘disclaimer’ signs left, right and center? Because that was hilarious last time you did that...

Hilarious and sad. Shilo shakes his head as swings around to sit on top of a brown and headless horse.

Because let’s face it, Holly. This…tonight… this is unlike anything you have dealt with before. This is unlike anything you have prepared for. You can’t hide once that pod opens, can you? You can’t get help from your ‘tv-girls’ or whatever friends you manage to still have… and do you think Cid is going to help you at this point? When he’s doing what you SHOULD be doing in helping out Asher in the Trios? the showman slowly moves his head left to right.

No, Holly, you are very much alone in a chamber with five- the lights suddenly al shift to blood-red, enveloping Shilo-SIX!- before instantly changing back to normal other beings. And so much of our attention… will be on you.

Shilo turns his head back to the camera. But none moreso than my attention. Because let’s be honest, this is about so much more than taking the Adrenaline title from you. I wager at least three of us could do that in a one-on-one match with you, and I include Jordan Majors in that statement. If I wanted to just take the title from, I’d have done it long ago.

Oh, no, Holly. There is a reason that I left you out of my warning for the chamber. Why I only warned the others and not you about what was headed their way…

It’s because, at the risk of being mocked… I don’t want this to be THEIR end. Hopping off the horse, Shilo strolls around the ride’s frame.

Yes, surprising, isn’t it? But all the others? I am entertained at the notion of facing them.

Reaching up with his gloved hand, Shilo brushes his hand against some of the different ‘horses’ he passes as he continues to speak.

Imagine what Ace and I could do in another crazy match?
Imagine the wrestling entertainment Jordan and I could have!
The psychotic swings Minerva and I could pull off!
The random and odd matches Ricky and I could do!

For a moment, Shilo sounds almost wishful, as if he is envisioning such wars filling the SCW airwaves.

Facing them after this? It intrigues me. Facing them after this match? The idea entertains me.

But you? The woman that dodged me with a fake injury? The woman that called me a coward and then tried to run away from the Big Top? The woman that hid away throughout most of TLC? Heh heh heh.

Shilo’s tone suddenly drops, the laughter in his voice gone in a flash. That doesn’t. Truthfully, Holly, I have given you three chances to take me down. Three chances to utterly destroy me, Three chances to entertain me… and you’ve failed all three times. And in my world, Holly – three strikes and you are out.

And that… is exactly what will happen. I…we…will be taking you out.

Suddenly stopping Shilo’s eyes settle on one last horse – though it looks more like a demon! For this horse is a skeleton of one, filled with marks etched into the bones. The eyes are sockets, much like Shilo’s mask and the teeth are more like fangs – a thing of nightmares to behold! And yet, the Man Who Laughs swings on top of it to sit on its back.

You heard me right, Holly. I said ‘we’ and I don’t mean the other combatants.

The lights flash red once more before turning back to normal. See, I didn’t need to tell you about the terror of the chamber, Holly. Because you know – oh, how you know… there is something perhaps far deadlier coming for you…

You’ve seen it…you’ve heard it… you’ve imagined it over and over again, haven’t you?

Reaching over with his hand, Shilo slowly pets the skull of the ‘horse’. The moment where you hear the words of dread…

“The car’s on fire, and there’s no driver at the wheel…
The sewers are all muddied with a thousand lonely suicides…
And a dark wind blows.”

His voice seems to warp and change in pitch as strange, oddly familiar music begins to play from, seemingly everywhere as the lights are red once more… ”The government is corrupt and we’re on so many drugs with the radio on and the curtains drawn. We’re trapped in the belly of this horrible machine, and the machine is bleeding to death. The sun has fallen down, and the billboards are all leering, and the flags are all dead at the top of their poles."

The lights return to normal, still eerie, but the jester merely chuckles. Much like everything else, Holly Adams, as you’ve said before “This is not what you meant…” but, oh!, it is what you fucking deserve!

And since I’ve given you everything you’ve wanted in this promo…I think I’ll finish the job and give you what you deserve at the chamber… or rather…maybe it will be ‘who’ you deserve at the chamber… a familiar, feminine scream is heard, faint but still very clear as Shilo reaches up to caress the mask her wears, his fingers almost digging into the smooth material.

Because maybe, while I’m searching for that lost part of ‘Shilo Valiant’ within the chamber, maybe…just maybe… I will dig deeper and find someone else. Someone that’s been itching to see you again. Someone that’s been DYING to stand before you again… Someone that would, in your own words, make a hell of a barista…

But in my own words, someone that will make an even better Holly-destroyer!

Slowly, Shilo lowers his hand down as he turns his entire attention back onto his ‘audience of one’. Do you understand, Holly? Do you understand why I can believe in Jordan Majors? Why I can laugh at the ignorance of all of them and why I made you my little plaything the last few weeks? Apart from the fact that it’s entertaining and fun…

It's because I know…just as you know deep down… that your time as Adrenaline Champion? Your time of running away from your demon? Is up. Shilo hops off the skeleton-horse as the lights slowly fade to the bloody-red once more.

Tonight, Holly, not only will your adrenaline reign end… but your demon – your “Starbucks” monster… she may just find you. Shilo’s hand reached ups to his mask…

And that, Holly Adams…that will surely… surely-

He rips off the mask, revealing a face under the lights! A face that looks like a tattooed woman, black eyes boring into the camera…into Holly Adams…Make US Laugh!

The lights flash once more before the mask is put back on and Shilo’s voice is heard from the showman once more. You’re welcome, Holly… You are SO VERY welcome… Heh heh heh! HA! HA! HA! HA!

The howling laugh echoes through the Carnival of Rust as the camera slowly, hauntingly, fades entirely to black.