Meltdown 153: Xander Vs PC Stevie Broon

[Hyorinmaru]

RP Deadline is Tuesday August 21st at 11:59pm EST

**EXTENSIONS AVAILABLE UPON REQUEST**[/Size]​

 

[Dave]

PC Stevie Broon
In...
S-taking Out The Trash!​

Tonight was the night of the stake oot on Janice's bin. Truth be told, my polis career had reached higher highs than this. But let me make it abundantly clear, it had reached some terribly low depths too. Ah once went to a noise complaint in North Lanarkshire that was later explained to be a 'scat party'. As far as watching a couple ae bins go, it's better than being up tae mah baws in soft shite. Agreed, it wasn'ae the most exciting jobs for a grizzled ex-polis but a score in mah back pocket for doing the work, and the chance to be doing something worthwhile wi' mah time was enough for me to take the job. Plus, nobody is gonnae be callin' me a poolis for the next 3 months here.

WZCW wasn't exactly hitting the high gears either. Ah felt as though ah was doin' great work in the ring but it wasn't really gettin' noticed. Travellin' across the world wi' a part time job was frustratin' enough without getting constantly overlooked for a WZCW title, especially after some massive wins in a row.

At the very least, ah had this to look forward tae for the last couple of days since ah got back tae Scotland. Janice was very keen for me to come round her hoose and watch her back garden. Ah had first thought that was a euphemism but later decided that it probably, and thankfully, wasn'ae.

When ah arrived at the residence, ah had to have a word wi' maself, if ah'm being honest. Here ah was, a hardened ex-polis that wrestled with the very darkest demons of the Glesga underworld, a guy that fucked up more tramps than heroin – stakin' oot a couple aw bins on a dreary Wednesday night. Honestly though, anythin' was better than nothin' right now and until WZCW started handin' oot the royalty cheques like they were supposed to, it was money in mah pocket and a sense of adventure that ah was getting' nowhere else. Ah chapped the door and oot came Janice, cryin' her eyes oot and holdin' a wee hankey up to her face.

Big Janice: Aw, Stevie! Come in, pal. I didn't think you'd come.

Me: Nonsense, darlin', Stevie Broon is a man ae the people and he'll no see good people getting' harassed for nae good reason. Whoever is tryin' tae take your wheelie bin is gonnae wish he hadn't started all this in the first place, hen, you mark Stevie's words!

Big Janice: Aw you're an angel, Stevie. I've been worried about this for weeks. Every Wednesday night, I put ma lights off and then I can hear them outside. I chained it up a few weeks back but I can hear them tusslin' wi' it out ma back, ye know? I'm just worried that they try to come into the house one night and am here maself.

Me: Don't you worry yersel' Janice. Ah seen it all before. Trust me, whatever is goin' on here won't be goin' on for much longer, hen. Listen, you get yersel tae bed for the night and when you wake up, Stevie will have got to the bottom of this whole thing.

Big Janice lightened up a wee bit as a comforted here. She nodded he heed at me and threw herself in to mah arms. Truth be told, ah could have done without the tears on mah good pink velvet shirt but that didn't stop her. After a couple ae seconds ae greetin' she pulled herself away and headed towards the stairs.

Big Janice: Thanks so much, Stevie. You're brilliant, honestly!

Me: Nae need tae thank me, darlin', this is what gets Stevie harder than diamonds, doll. Away ye go...

Big Janice gave me a final nod ae her heed and proceeded up the stairs. Wasting nae time, I headed oot the front door and felt the bolt close on the door behind me. Ah headed back tae the motor and pulled the driver's side door open; threw masel into the driver's seat and pulled around the back ae the building. In the upstairs window, ah seen the shadow of Big Janice moving behind a curtain, illuminated by a small lamp she on in the bedroom. Ah watched for a few minutes before the light went off and the stake oot officially started. Truth be told, ah didn't think this would be up tae much but as soon as the light went off, ah felt the good old goosebumps crawlin' up mah spine. It was GO TIME!

Ah looked doon at the clock on the dashboard ah mad trusty Ford Focus – 21:52. Now the worst part ae any stake oot commenced, the waiting aboot. Ah cracked mah neck from side to side and looked doon at the passenger seat. On it, the bag that would fulfil mah evening's entertainment. Opening it up, ah fetched mah BLT sandwich and the accompanying Milky Way. I unwrapped the nougat chocolate beast and stuffed the whole thing into mah mouth as if it was gonnae melt within seconds. Ah plunged mah hand back into the back and pulled oot mah Irn-Bru and settled in for the evening.

Me: This is fuckin' grim already!

Suddenly, a shadow moved in front of me, along the back wall ae Big Janice's back wall. It had hardly been 5 minutes and we had movement. It surely couldn't be the offender already, could it? Either way, it was time for him to meet the pied piper of pest-poundin'. Ah watched the shady wee bastard move along the wall, keepin' an eye on his every move as he checked that the coast was clear. Ah had to struggle to see what was happening but it definitely looked as though the wee bastard pulled something out his back pocket and slotted it under Big Janice's bin. Ah could hardly believe what ah was seein', to be honest. Big Janice had been right all this time! There was wee fannies creepin' aboot her back garden.

Me: IT'S GO TIME!

Ah pulled the handle ae the car door and began makin' mah way oot the motor. Suddenly, a noise undid me. The can ae Irn-Bru that a had left on the dashboard fell and landed on the stone ground behind me. Mah eyes flashed between the can and the wee dafty that had clearly now spotted me. He took tae his heels faster than Tony Mancini's Mayhem Championship was took from him.

Me: THAT'S RIGHT, YA WEE BAWBAG! YOU NOISE THAT WOMAN UP AGAIN AND I'LL MAKE YOUR BAWS MA NEW PUNCHIN' BAG!

Ah was ragin' wi' masel but at least the wee dobber knew that someone was onto him now. If a career in law enforcement had taught me anything, it was that those who were caught were unlikely to try it again. Big Janice probably wouldn't be seeing that wee shite again any time soon and so the mission was, at least, a wee but successful. Ah consoled masel whilst ah moved over tae the bin and lifted it up. There, on a dry piece of stone, a single sheet of paper lay, folded up a few times into a smaller piece.

Suddenly, a thud caught me on the back ae the heed. It sounded like a fist! It fuckin' felt like a fist! Ah turned around to be greeted by 8 bodies, all wearing tracksuits and skip hats. Ah couldn't see any of their faces but that was the least ae mah problems. All at once, they set about me – leathering me with punches and kicks that hit the sweet spot with every hit. Ah tried to fight back but there was far too many. Suddenly, the unmistakeable feeling of a metal pole smashing me aboot the back ae the heed put me on mah arse... Lights oot...

* * *​

Ah woke with a pain thundering pain emanating from mah skull and makin' it's way doon ma whole body. Ah was groggy and mah eyes were stuck together. Ah managed tae open one ae mah eyes slightly and was met with the cold light of another day in Glesga. How long had ah been oot for? It must have been hours. Ah lifted mah heed from the ground and looked at mah pink velvet shirt, now mostly crimson in all truth. Ah couldn't help let mah heed fall to the left as the pain wracked mah whole body. After the doin' ah got, ah was rough as toast. Mah left eye opened slightly to reveal the note still wrapped up in mah bloody hand. Ah opened mah hand and used all the strength ah had left to open the page. On the page, a frankly terrifying message greeted me...

STEVIE, SHUG THE GUN SAYS MIND YER OWN BUSINESS.​

Fuck. Lights oot again...

The mystery continues soon...

 

[BK Styles]

June 2005

‘Your parents would kill me if they knew I was doing this…’

‘It’s fine Frank. They don’t know, and…as long as they don’t know they can’t be mad, right?’

Frank sat back in the driver seat, looking up to the roof of the car as if hoping divine wisdom would drop form above. ‘Are you sure you want to try this Xander? It’s been a little over a year since-‘

‘Trust me, Frank. I’ve thought about nothing else since Abi died. We both wanted this. And this was one of the schools we’d looked at. I…I owe it to her to at least try.’

‘But these wrestlers, they…they put themselves through unimaginable pain, year-in, year-out. They have to cope with so much. I don’t want to come across as unsupportive, but I went through my fair share boxing. This can be even more-‘

‘No, no I get it.’ A 19 year old Xander looked out to the dingy, dilapidated building with the sign ‘The Iron Academy’ bolted to the front. ‘And you’re right. But I’m straightened out now, Frank. I promise you. And I won’t fall into that place again.’

Frank smiled, placing his hand on X’s shoulder. ‘You know where I am.’

‘Always.’

Despite the run-down appearance outside, the interior was actually fairly well presented. Banners from HEADLOCK Pro Wrestling; a defunct organisation that was one of the biggest in North America from the forties up until around the turn of the millennium, hung around the sides of the gym. They detailed some of their biggest events, as well as some of the biggest stars they’d had over the years; high fliers like The Great Avenger and Oscar Sanchez (Abi and Xander’s favourite wrestlers respectively), technicians, powerhouses, and the like. One name and face reverberated around the room more than any other however

Spoiler

Jackson King. King was known as a perennial bridesmaid; never winning the big one. Known also more for his technical ability and submissions than anything else, he was a feared opponent, and hated by all fans. But Xander knew two things. Firstly, this man knew what it took to be a pro-wrestler. And secondly, his school was the closest and the only one he could afford with his saved up money.

His attention was then further drawn, however, by what was in the middle of the room. A ring. Three ropes, four corners, just as it should be. A smile grew on his face, and he walked closer and closer, reaching out his hand…

‘What do you want, kid?’

Xander stopped in his tracks and spun round. Standing in the doorway to the changing rooms was the man himself; real name Geoff Kingsley. And…by all accounts, he didn’t look too different. He’d been retired for three years and at 42 he still looked like he could go in the ring with little issue.

‘Mr Kingsley?’

‘Kid, I asked you a question.’

‘Well, I…err…’ Xander took a huge gulp of air and bit the bullet. ‘I want to train to be a wrestler.’

Kingsley stood there for a moment, stoic. His eyes rolled, and he walked towards Xander…ever closer…and walked straight past him.

‘You wanna be a pro-wrestler, huh?’ He pushed himself up onto the ring apron and sat there, staring at the young, scrawny kid in front of him. ‘What are you, a buck-thirty?’

‘I…I don’t…’

‘How much do you weigh? Jesus…’

‘I don’t know…err…about a hundred and forty-‘

‘Christ. And you wanna wrestle. Get famous, be a big star. Be the World Champion, right?’

‘No, sir. I just wanna wrestle.’

Kingsley sat there for a moment, shaking his head. ‘Kid, you won’t last ten seconds. Trust me.’

‘I’m tougher than I look.’

‘Oh I’m sure you are, but I’m not as patient as I look. Tell me kid; who’s your favourite wrestler. Go on.’

‘I…it’s Oscar Sanchez, sir.’

Geoff turned his head slightly, almost out of shock. ‘Okay…if nothing else you have taste. Tell me; what is it you like about him.’

‘He has a flow to him that others don’t. Guys like the Great Avenger have loads of fans because of the amazing moves he can do. Sanchez seems lower-key by comparison but everything he does is smooth, and has purpose.’

Kingsley smiled. ‘How old are you?’

‘Nineteen.’

‘You got a good head on your shoulders. But do you think you can take this life. What it does to the body. To the soul?’’

Xander walked up to Kingsley; the intimidation that was in his eyes had evaporated at the question. ‘I know I can.’

Three Days after Kingdom Come​

‘You really think this is gonna help?’

‘Yep. This is something I should have done a long time ago.’

‘Then why now? Why now and not back then?’

‘Sometimes you need time to open your eyes. Losing to Live Mas…to Mikey again…it’s time to do something different.’

‘Can you pick a different place though? This is a shit-tip.’

‘Yeah. But it’s my shit-tip.’

Xander and Red stepped out of the car and walked down the path. It was a bright summers day but X had no interest in being outside to enjoy it. Instead he wanted to be back where it all began. The gym itself looked…older. Some of the equipment had been replaced, and the ring had new ropes, but other than that the Iron Academy looked just as it had before.

‘And Talia was cool with this. With you disappearing on her again?’

‘She knows exactly where I am and how long I intend to be here. Besides, it means she doesn’t have to worry about me for a while.’

They made their way to the weights bench, where a familiar face was working through his daily routine.

‘Hey bro; I’m looking for an old guy. Used to be a wrestler…about 5’8, 270 pounds…never really amounted to much-‘

The weights were lifted back onto their stand, and Geoff Kingsley, looking much older, sat up, with a raised eyebrow.

‘I’m 5’11 and 235. Asshole.’

He smiled, as X held his hand out to help him up.

'It’s been a while, kid.’

‘That it has.’

‘So…what was it you needed? I don’t feel like you’ll be training any of my classes any time soon.’

‘Ah…no. No, I err…’

X walked over to the ring, staring intently at the mat.

‘Since I made my debut, I’ve been reliably informed that you were an incredible technician. Something which I didn’t fully appreciate at the time training.’ He turned to face Kingsley. ‘And I’d like you to help remind me of what you taught me.’

Kingsley smiled. ‘I did wonder why you’d come down during my off-season. Kid, I gotta tell you though, it’s getting harder and harder getting in that ring with these young guys with all their dreams, and their athleticism.’

‘Well…that’s why I brought Red here with me.’

Red walked forward and shook Kingsley’s hand. ‘Good to meet you, sir.’

‘Red’s one of the finest technicians I’ve ever had the good fortune of stepping in the ring with. And he’s here to help with the physical side. But I'd like your insight.’

Geoff pondered for a moment, before putting his arm around Xander and walking him towards the ring.

‘Step into my office.’

September 2005

'So, it’s important to know why you need this base set of skills in order to go out there and get booked. What you do there is your own choice, but I am not having any of you go out there and embarrass my name. You’re being trained, properly, from the ground up in all technical aspects. Now lets get to it.’

The class duly separated to different areas of the gym, to different machines, benches, mats, while Geoff made his way into the ring, with a hawk-like view of everything. Xander walked over to him.

‘Mr Kingsley sir-‘

‘God-dammit, if I knew you’d ask so many questions I’d have raised the damn price.’

‘I just…when are we going to be looking at top-rope moves?’

Kingsley rubbed his hands in his face. ‘Kid, did you ever see me head to the top rope?’

‘Err…’

‘And on the occasion that I did, did you ever see it go well?’

‘No, but-‘

‘-so why would I be teaching something that I know nothing about. That’s the point, kid, you find your strengths and cover your weaknesses. I never went to the top rope so I stayed away as much as I could. Why; do you fancy yourself as a high-flier?’

‘I just…I dunno, I was just wondering.’

Kingsley rubbed his forehead and sighed. ‘Get in there with Ramirez. He’s grasped the best technical aspects of the game so far. You get in there, and pick up what he’s doing right.’ He looked up and smiled, shaking his head; ‘Get the basics first, and get them well. That way you can always fall back on them. After that…whatever you choose to do with your career is your choice, kid.’

Xander nodded, and rolled into the ring, where a bigger, more experienced student awaited.

Two Weeks After Kingdom Come​

‘Hey, Xander!’

X pulled himself up on the bar one last time, before dropping down. ‘What?’

‘You might need to speak to Andrey. They haven’t booked you for this weeks shows.’

‘I know; I requested it off.’

‘But why-‘

‘Because I’m not done here. Christ, Kingdom Come was only two weeks ago. I haven’t changed a thing yet.’

Red sat down on the floor mat, stretching his leg. ‘What…exactly is it you’re changing?’

‘Who I am as a wrestler.’

‘Okay…you’ve been wrestling how long; about twelve years?’

‘Give or take.’

‘Right, right. Twelve years, and most of that has been doing flippies…’

‘Dave-‘

‘No, I’m serious. There’s a reason why when you returned way back when you faced Blade, that you didn’t change your style then. There’s a reason why you came back this time that you didn’t too. Because your style is who you are. It’s how you are recognised. It’s a window into your soul.’

X looked up and smiled. ‘That’s the whole fucking point.’

Red tilted his head, but before he could speak he was interrupted by Kingsley.

‘Okay ladies; break-time’s over. I want you both in the ring going through hammerlock reversals and straight into wear-down holds.’

X took a swig from his water flask before holding his hand out to Red.

'Trust me.' Red grabbed it as X pulled him up. 'This is what I need to do.’

March 2006

'That’s it, just a little more.’

Xander manoeuvred his legs to lift his body off the mat, putting all the pressure into the headlock his opponent was trapped in. Within a few seconds, Xander had transitioned into a guillotine choke, legs wrapped around his opponent. His fellow trainee duly tapped, not wanted to lose consciousness.

‘Well done. Both of you. That’s some good solid technique on that choke, Xander.’ Xander held his hand out and pulled the other student to his feet. ‘Harry, get in the ring. I want you and Xander to run a drill.’

Harry, a kid about the same height and weight as Xander, though with about two months more experience under him, rolled into the ring.

‘Okay guys, here’s what’s gonna happen. You're gonna have a little match.’

‘A-a what?’

‘You heard. Now, I’ll be a little lenient on you both, and I’ll throw some advice out there as you go. But you need to know what it’s like to be competing. Now, some ground rules. Normal stipulations apply, and I won’t allow closed fists. Save that shit for the real matches. Other than that, see who can put the other away first. Got it?’

‘Yes sir!’ Xander and Harry both shouted.

‘Then if you’re ready…go!’

The rest of the students had gathered around the ring, as Xander and this kid, Harry, circled each other. They locked up in the middle of the ring, with Harry managing to manoeuvre into a side-headlock. Feeling the pressure against his skull, Xander pushed him to the ropes, forcing him to relinquish the hold as he shot to the other side of the ring. Xander tensed himself and stuck his shoulder out, hoping to knock his opponent down. But to no avail; X was the one who dropped to the canvas on impact.

‘Come on, Xander. Rely on what you’ve been taught. Not what you’ve seen.’

Before he could do anything again, Xander found himself trapped in a grounded headlock. He managed to move his body around, and grasp Harry’s head with his legs.

‘Yes, good!!! Very good.’

Harry struggled, before managing to kick himself out of the hold. As he did though, Xander kipped up, and threw him with a huge hip toss, followed by an arm drag, then by a snap suplex.

‘Nice technique there, kid!’

X smiled, and looked down at Harry, lying prone. He had half a mind to go for the cover…but then he looked towards the corner. He’d done some gymnastics at school and was good at flipping and tumbling, so how hard could it be, right?

‘Xander, finish him. Don’t time waste.’

X blocked the words out and took a deep breath, climbing until he reached the top rope. He steadied himself, before leaping back, and by all accounts it was a fairly average moonsault. But in Xander’s mind, it was the most gracious thing anyone had ever seen. He flew there for what felt like minutes, slowly drifting down…

…to the mat. Hard, as Harry had rolled out the way. The wind was sucked straight out of him, as he lay there prone and beaten.

‘S-shit.’

‘Dammit.’

Harry rolled Xander over and covered him, Kingsley making a fast three count.

‘Xander, you alright kid?’

‘Y-yeah. That just…hurt more than I thought.’

‘Now you know why I don’t go up there.’

‘Point taken.’

Kingsley walked over to Harry; no doubt giving him a few words of encouragement. He then dismissed the class for a break, before bringing another student over to Xander in the ring.

‘How you feeling?’

‘Better.’

‘Good. Now…’ Kingsley pointed up to the Oscar Sanchez banner. ‘Do you know what Sanchez used as a finish in his first match?’

Xander sighed. ‘It was an abdominal stretch-‘

‘-exactly! He didn’t learn the amazing things that he could do at wrestling school. Instead, he focused on being able to beat people, and being able to keep them down on the mat. Then, he experimented once he had a few miles on his soul.’ He put his hand on X’s shoulder. ‘I get it. You already have a style and, by all accounts that was a decent moonsault. But nail the fundamentals, and get out there making a living first. You got that?’

Xander took a moment, before nodding back. ‘Yes sir.’

‘Good. Now, Simpson here is gonna work with you on some of those holds. I want you to start with that guillotine again. You’ve got a nice technique with it. So go ahead; try and lock it on him.’

Xander moved into the middle of the ring, where Simpson waited. Without much hesitation, Xander leapt forward, planting him with a DDT, before tightening the grip around his neck and locking his legs around his body…

Two Weeks Before Meltdown 153​

‘Tighter! You need to sap the life out of him so it hurts to move towards the ropes!’

X had the guillotine synched in while Red was scrambling, trying to push, pull, claw himself over towards the ropes. X continued to yank on the hold, until Red had no choice but to submit.

‘Nice work.’ Kingsley rolled into the ring as X released his buddy. ‘Good to see you haven’t forgot most of what I taught you.’

‘Ah…sorry! Hopefully I am not interrupting.’

X turned to the door, where Andrey had entered the building.

‘Hey.’

‘Good afternoon Mr Xander. Mr Redfield. Mr King.’

‘Kingsley. Christ, Andrey, King was only my gimmick name.’

‘I know, I know, but I was big fan.’ He shook Geoff’s hand, before turning to Xander. ‘X, you have match on Meltdown 153.’

‘Hit me.’

‘Stevie Broon.’

‘Jesus. He couldn’t handle a fucking supermarket and he thinks he can walk his arse into wrestling? What a fucking-‘

‘Dave, don’t look at him lightly. He’s been killing it since he debuted and, in all seriousness, I need to have my head on a swivel.’

‘Kid’s right. He's solid. Even has a victory over Titus.’

‘Xander has two.’

‘And they were two of the most hard-fought victories I’ve ever had. And I expect this to be similarly difficult.’

'Well, on top of that, Becky Serra has asked you come to Denver a couple of days early for website interview. I already told her you wouldn’t be interested but she insisted. If you’d rather tell her no yourself that’s fine-‘

‘No.’ X walked towards the ropes and leant on them, thinking. ‘Maybe the interview wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.’

‘You hate talking to people.’

‘True.’ Xander smiled. He picked up his phone to check his messages but before turning it on he stared into the screen at his reflection. The shaved side of his head had grown out to a natural dark brown, as had most of his dark-red-dyed hair, which he had all tied back for training. His stubble had also grown into a full beard. He stared for a second at the look he had rarely, if ever, seen, before smiling again. ‘But maybe I can get some things off my chest.’

Two Days before Meltdown 153​

‘Where the hell is he. He was told to come at 3 and it’s 3:20.’

‘I-I’ll go look for him Miss Serra. I’m sure he’ll be here-‘

‘No need, Bob. I’m here.’ Both Becky Serra and Backstage Bob looked over…

Spoiler

…and Triple X, hair a natural brown and tied back,with a tidy beard, in a suit, walked in through the door carrying a small bag.

Becky stared for a moment, confused more than anything.

‘You look like you’ve had a shower.’

‘Hilarious.’

‘What’s with the new look?’

‘Fancied a change.’

‘Well, if you can’t change the fact that you’re twenty minutes late then I don’t really care.’

‘Trust me, Becky. I probably care way less than you do.’

She stared at him for a moment. Infuriated. ‘Can I just remind you that you don’t get to dictate anything here. Now, I let go the last round, for reasons that God only knows. I wanted you competing but I allowed you to have it off. Let me assure you though that should you not have a legitimate, viable reason that isn’t hurt pride, it won’t happen again. Are we clear?’

X smiled. ‘Crystal. Leon through there?’

‘Yes. And while I don’t care much for him, if you even think of talking to him like-‘

‘Yeah, cool story. See you later, Beck.’

Xander walked on past Becky before she could even finish her sentence, entering the interview area. Becky, incensed, looked over to Backstage Bob.

‘What are you even still doing here?!?!’

Xander took his seat, while Leon Kensworth looked on, rather surprised of the sharpness of Xander’s look.

‘Fancied a change?’

‘Yeah. I asked for a new interviewer and couldn’t get one. Sucks, right?’

Leon rolled his eyes. ‘Okay, let’s do it.’

The stagehand gave a countdown from behind the camera, as Leon stood next to X.

‘Leon Kensworth here with a WZCW exclusive interview. Triple X; we are just a few days away from Meltdown 153, which will be your first match since you and Mark Keaton were defeated by the Hall of Fame team Live Mas. You didn’t wrestle at the last round; was that to get your head clear and focused going forward?’

‘Yes.’

Leon held the mic to X for a few seconds too long, expecting something else, before taking it back. ‘Do you feel like the extra time has helped you think about what you need to do to get back on track?’

‘Yes.’

‘Is there a part of you that looks upon Kingdom Come with regret?’

‘Nope.’

‘…would you care to elaborate on that?’

‘…nope.’

‘Triple X-‘

‘Okay, okay. I know where you’re going to go. You’re gonna ask why am I giving you such short answers; why aren’t I interacting more with you, blah, blah, you know the rest. Truth is, I have no interest in this interview; only the platform. And I wanna speak to them.’ X pointed to the camera. ‘So Leon, thank you for your time, but leave.’

Leon stood there for a few moments, before walking out of shot.

‘I want to address a simple truth. One that these other wrestlers, the WZCW ‘Superstars’ have either been too stupid to know or too arrogant to take notice of. You’ve heard this from me before; how your twisted nature makes us do things just to please you. Except I had enough when I realised you’ll just drop me in a heart beat for the next new shiny toy. I became one of your many Disposable Heroes. I stopped martyring myself for you. I destroyed Blade, and anyone stood in my path, using those moves you once cheered me so desperately and pathetically for.’

X paused, staring down the camera lens.

‘Then I realised that wasn’t enough.’

X reached inside his bag, and held up a black t-shirt from his early WZCW run; one with three red X’s across the chest.

‘Triple X. That’s been my name for the majority of my wrestling career. It’s given me great success and has more meaning than you could ever possibly imagine.’

His mind flashed to the note he found from Abi. The apology, with three x’s at the bottom.

'You used it to cheer for the name, and it has now become a symbol of your hate. But even so, you look and selfishly think to yourself ‘oh, but at least he still does high-flying moves.’ So here's how it is; you want me to jump off the top rope? You don’t deserve it. You want to see me flip through the air? You don’t fucking deserve it. You want to see me high on adrenaline, pulling off some crazy counter and kipping up off the canvas? You still don’t FUCKING DESERVE IT! So screw it. all Screw Triple X. Screw the red hair I used to have. Screw my colourful tights. Screw me jumping off of the top rope. Screw it all. I am no longer Triple X.’

‘My name is Xander. And I will rip through those you adore, like Stevie Broon, like Live Mas, like your Champion Tyrone Blades...’ X walked up to the camera, so all that encompassed the lens was his face, smiling.

'...and every single one will fade…away.’