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Centurion · (09-28-2019)

(It has been an absolute rollercoaster for Centurion over the past five months. Returning to the ring, staving off an injury, being thrust in the middle of a federation war, battling old demons - Centurion has had quite the ride.

It all comes to a head Saturday night.

All the victories, and all the defeats, have lead Centurion to where he is now - in Miami, a day before his Hart Title match with Tony Santos at Relentless.

We open up on a balcony of the Miami Mandarin Hotel. There, we see Centurion sitting in a chair overlooking the ocean. He doesn't have a drink. He isn't grabbing a smoke. He's just looking. Thinking.

Thoughts of 18 years fly through his head. The struggles. The triumphs. Being away for so long and somehow finding himself in this position. Most of his peers have retired. Some of his peers are dead. But here he is, on the eve of a title match at an XWF pay per view.

It's been eight years since Centurion last held gold in the XWF. A lot of things have happened in eight years. The world is so drastically different. Professional wrestling is almost unrecognizable from where it was eight years ago. It isn't just the names and the faces that have changed - the entire landscape of the industry is different. So many fans of today's product were likely introduced to Centurion for the first time back in April. To them, Tony Santos is the legend, and Centurion is the underdog.

His thoughts are broken by the sound of the sliding glass door behind him opening. He quickly turns his head to see his sister Allison stepping out onto the balcony. Centurion turns his head back towards the ocean as Allison grabs a chair and sits down next to him.)

Allison: Nervous?

Centurion: Nervous. Excited. Anxious. Any emotion you can feel in a 24 hour period, I've felt. I don't remember the last time I've felt like this before a match.

Allison: You didn't feel this way before your Universal Title match?

Centurion: I felt conflicted before that match. I was trying to balance my desire to be champion with my dread of turning on my best friends. And the previous match with Tony Santos, I was so beat up and hurt that I couldn't think of much else. That was less about winning and more about survival. This...

(Centurion pauses. He searches for the actual words for the feelings he has in the moment.)

Centurion: This isn't a desire. This is a need. I need to validate my decision to return to this business.

Allison: That's good. That's how you felt when you broken into this business. You're not resting on your laurels. It's what you need to improving. Here, I got you something.

(Allison reaches into her pocket and pulls out a small jewelry box. She hands it over to Centurion.)

Centurion: Look, I know we're in the South, but that kind of thing is still frowned upon here.

Allison: Open the box, asshole.

(Centurion smiles before opening the box. Inside is a small turquoise necklace with a Wiccan symbol on it. Centurion arches his eyebrows as he looks at it.)

Centurion: I don't understand.

Allison: It's what I wore the night I won the Hart Title. I thought it would bring you luck.

(Allison previously wrestled for the XWF under the name "Willow", where she was able to win the Hart Title, as well as the Women's Title. Centurion and Allison formed a short lived tag team before her retirement.

Centurion takes the necklace out of the box and holds it in his fingers. It is small, and Centurion gently places it on his lap.)

Centurion: Thanks. I doubt it will fit me, though.

Allison: I'm not asking you to wear it! Tie it to one of your loops or whatever. Or keep it in the room. I just thought I'd bring you a little luck.

Centurion: I appreciate it, but I don't believe in luck, Al. Whether I win or lose will be determined by the work I do in the ring. And trust me - I plan on winning.

Allison: I know you are. And I know you will.

(Allison looks out into the ocean while Centurion does, and the two don't say anything for a few moments. The sound of the ocean, the people on the beach, and the cars driving are heard as the two sit in silence. Finally, Centurion speaks.)

Centurion: You know, it's funny. Wrestling is what tore our family apart, and now wrestling is what is being us all back together.

Allison: "Wrestling" didn't do anything. It was all you. You wanted to turn your life around. You just used wrestling as the catalyst to do so. You deserve a better send off than what you got. You deserve to be surrounded by friends and family, with everyone cheering your name, not with your reputation in the dirt.

Centurion: I don't know if I "deserve" anything. I know what I've earned, though - I've earned an opportunity to prove I'm one of the best. And I'm not going to let that go to waste. I've worked too damn hard to get here. I wanted to die, Al. Did you know that?

(Allison glances over at Centurion, but says nothing.)

Centurion: I didn't want to kill myself, but...I just thought it might have been better for everyone if I was gone for good. That's how far down I was. And as my 40th birthday approached, I thought that was going to be it. Dead at 40. Just like so many others. Then, something weird happened...I didn't die. I just kept going. And time kept moving forward. And that's when I realized nothing will get better unless I fix it. Instead of crying over the family I hurt, instead of whining about a legacy that was being forgotten, I needed to try and fix things. Winning this match...it would mean everything has come full circle.

Allison: Win or lose, there's a lot of people proud of you and what you've accomplished. But I know you...there is no moral victory in this one. Winning is the only thing you see. And to be honest, I see it, too.

Centurion: You're not going to bust my balls, or tell me how I can easily fuck this up?

Allison: Nope. Don't need to. I see the look in your eyes. Then I watch Tony Santos speak, and I see the look in his eyes, as well. It's almost like...he knows. Deep down he knows. It's not a "feeling." The writing is on the wall.

Centurion: What do you call it when you're confident and terrified all at the same time? Because that's me. I'm terrified of failure, but I'm so confident it isn't happening. I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing.

Allison: I guess we'll find out tomorrow. From my viewpoint, though - you've always done better when you have a wind of confidence below you. All those times you approached the ring with doubt? You didn't win. There is no doubt in your mind right now, is there?

(Centurion thinks for a second. He sees the waves crashing onto the beach as he thinks about all the things he has done to get to where he is now. He also thinks about the task at hand, he opponent, the glass cage, and the future. And it finally dawns on him.)

Centurion: No, there isn't.

-------You'll Follow Me Until The End------

*Clap* *clap* *clap*

Good job, Tony Santos. Good job.

For weeks I've been told about your talent, your quick wit, your way of words. I spent all this time preparing myself for what you had to say about me. It HAD to be good. After all, you evisorated Ned Kaye in your most recent match. You had to have something good saved up for the legend - the man you've brought down before. And yet...

Same attacks, same insults, all things I've heard over the past 18 years, with a few new, all be it completely incorrect, things tossed in.

This is it? This is the great Tony Santos I've heard so much about? This is the man I've been told I couldn't beat? Where's the fire? Where's the passion? For someone who is considered one of the best Hart Champions of all time, he approaches this thing like a middle school play - completely half assed, going through the motions and hoping the bare minimum gets him across the finish line.

I'm honestly disappointed. One of two things is clear to me - either everyone lied about Tony Santos' skill level, or Tony Santos is not taking me seriously at all. Either way, it pisses me off. I don't want to take the Hart Title from someone who clearly doesn't give a shit. I want to take it from someone who would DIE to keep it. Now I get to hear all the "yeah, but was Santos really at his best?" whispers that will float around the locker room.

So let's see here, what well did Santos go to. Old? Check. Never lead the federation? Check. Resting on my laurels and past success? Check-a-roo. Beat nobodies to inflate my resume? Oh, that's a big old check. Congratulations, Tony! You just copied every promo run against me in 2009! Want to talk about how I'm friends with better wrestlers than I am? That might be the only one you forgot.

I should have known better. I should have known that, and in the end, after laying out a nuisanced argument as to why Tony Santos is really good, but I expect to beat him, I'd see my opponent continue the same boring insults. I should have known...because you have nothing on me, Tony. There are only so many times you can say "I beat you before and I'll beat you again!" before everyone tunes you out. And you can't point to any other reason as to why you'd be better than me. So you just say I'm old and scared and all that good stuff.

First of all, scared of you, Tony? Really? There are plenty of times where I should have been killed in that ring because I was facing someone bigger and badder than I was. I've been thrown off of rafters, crashed through glass tables - hell, I was fucking crucified when I first got into this business. You think I'm going to be scared of YOU? Just because you beat me before?

On that same note, you think I give a shit about what your breath smells like? I've fought men who haven't showered in weeks and vomited in the back 5 minutes before the match. I fought women who stuffed sardines in their cooter. The smell of stale Jack Daniels is a breath mint in this business.

Have you ever thought I was heaping praise on you because you have *gasp* talent?! And that I can recognize that talent? Or are you so entangled in the stereotypes of pro wrestling that you see any compliment by an opponent as a sign of weakness. News flash, Tony - you might think you're a piece of shit, but the people in the back think you're really good. I know, they've told me numerous times. Given your recent ramblings, though, I don't know why.

Though I guess I do get it - why I've been told how great you are. It's because you're the meme of a pro wrestler. Pseudo-tough guy, loner, likes to beat people up but has a dark past and many demons in the closet. You'd be in every pro wrestling movie that Hollywood would make. Whether you'd be the protagonist or the antagonist remains to be seen.

All of this, though, is to get to the absolute most glaring flaw of your entire speech against me. The reason I know you haven't done fuck all in terms of research. It's something you said over and over again, and was complete bullshit.

"Flaunt my wealth."

You realize I've lost it all, right? Like, that's the whole reason I came back in the first place. My business, my casino, my home - it's gone. I've been working for six months to try and get it all back, but it's a slow process. I don't have it now, and I sure as hell can't flaunt something I don't have.

You did one of two things, Tony. You either a) watched two promos of mine, one of which included the private jet my sister now owns and ASSUMED it was mine, and/or b) you read an old bio page of mine which states I'm a rich mother fucker. That has to be the extent of the research you've done on me, because if you talked to just ONE PERSON, or heard one word I've said in the past six months, you'll know I've been working my ass off to reclaim what was once mine.

I guess there is a third option - you stole, word for word, someone else's words used against me. That would explain the out dated reference to my wealth. That would explain the insults from 2009. It would just explain a lot. More than likely, though, you've had one too many cocktails, forgot you were facing me, and quickly scrambled to put together the laziest insults you could.

I'm starting to get it, though. You're jealous. The old "trying to overcome the demons of the past", that was YOUR shit. Then I show up, with very little to my name, fallen off the highest of horses, and now you're no longer unique. Because without it - without the alcoholism, the feeling sorry for yourself, the "fuck the world" mentality that used to make you different, you have nothing. If you can't rely on your story, you become "just another guy".

You really are pathetic, Tony. That's what you wanted to hear, isn't it? You didn't want the praise, so I won't give it to you anymore. I'll tell you what you want to hear. You're a waste. You could easily be Universal Champion, but you don't give enough of a shit to put the work in to actually take the title. You have a whole locker room of folks who think you're the shit, but you don't want to jeopardize your self indulging "loner" persona, so you shrug them off. You're a gifted athlete that can't get out of his own fucking way, which is why you're going to spiral out of control the moment you lose that belt.

You CLAIM to not give a fuck. You CLAIM to not care about being relevant or having people cheer you on. It's all one giant facade though, isn't it, Tony? Because really, not only do you care, but it KILLS you. THAT'S why you're a drunken whore - because you're afraid the gravy train ends tomorrow. You live every day like your last because it very well could be, and the fact that my legacy is cemented while yours has yet to be written is something that destroys you. You don't want praise and relevance - you CRAVE it. You put up the persona of a lonely man who doesn't give a fuck because you don't want people to see the real you - a child who is looking for a hug.

Think what you want about me, Tony. Honestly, I have had far worse things said about me from far better people than you. And no, that's not me "resting on my legacy." That's just life. Life is cruel - it will beat you down until you can't get up anymore. I have been torn down and ripped to shreds by family members and my closest friends, so if you think for a moment I'm going to let some moody drunk be the end of me, you're delusional.

You don't want me to talk anymore? Fine, I won't. You don't want me to say my catch phrase? Fine. I'll give you whatever peace of mind you want, because in 24 hours, you're ass is going to be covered in glass, while I stand in the middle of the ring holding the Hart Title. What happens after that is up to you. My guess? We won't see you again. You'll stick your tail between your legs, and run away like every other so called "unbeatable" wrestler that finds themselves on the other side. I guess we'll know soon enough. See you soon, Tony!

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