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Robert "The Omega" Main · (07-23-2019)

-_-_-London-_-_-_

The London sun glistened above Robert’s head like a flawless amber stone, almost like it could hide him away from his past. Camouflaging him from the world suppressing his deepest and darkest sins. Yet the buildings that governed the land and skyline were numbing, a true melancholy feeling, not a hint of green anywhere as far as his eyes could see. This city was so different from Las Vegas, maybe even a bit claustrophobic. Robert felt restricted, bound by everything around him. He tries to gaze through the crowd of busy businessmen and women, tourists, students, kids. It seemed like everyone around him knew exactly what to do but him. Surrounded by people, Robert never felt so alone.

Well there’s one way to deal with a situation like this… Get a beer.

Off in the distance, Robert can see the neon lights that read BAR. He follows the pavement as it moves like an immense river of humanity, the roads rivers of cars. He looks again to the building towering overhead thinking to himself how they have witnessed the modern age pass, standing in bearing silent witness, as the weathered rocks stretching toward cobalt sky. This is the canvas of life; the watercolor of each face is something to remember. One nation in all our colors and faiths, under the summer sunshine, cherishing the golden daffodils who wave from their baskets from the gently breeze. There is a pride in Robert’s chest, for his country who helped fight the Nazi ideology, to be one family. So, he joined the flow, one of millions, joined and separate, in liberty with a sense of belonging. Robert smiles as he reaches out for the door.

He rests his hand on the jagged paint that coats the door and gives a push. Coarse wooden splinters puncture into his palm; as fragments of green paint decompose right before his eyes falling to the floor. The hinges screech as though they were forewarning Robert’s presence, as he steps foot inside there is an instant plea of peacefulness suddenly stopped by a wall of noise. Laughter overwhelms the jukebox as conversations churn in a polluted cloud of smoke. Robert takes a seat at the bar leaning in towards the approaching barkeep.

You’re a dodgy looking bloke.

Really? This is how you greet a paying guest?

Robert slams a money clip on the bar revealing crisp one-hundred-dollar bills. The bar keeps eyes light up.

Dosh.. What will you be having?

What do you recommend?

You look knackered. An Anspach & Hobday will perk you right up. How’s a pint sound?

Sounds perfect.

Your not going to get legless in here, are you?

I’m a seasoned veteran when it comes to drinking. I’ll be alright.

The barkeep nods as Robert walks towards the window. There’s distress in the streets just a few feet away from him. It’s saturated into the sidewalk cracks into the walls of the surrounding buildings. It is in the stores that were once loaded with designer goods. It’s in the back alleys where the few restaurants who persist in barter have their garbage searched several times a day, and not just by the cats and rats. It’s engraved in every hollow-eyed face that has given up on life getting any better than mean survival on those mean streets. Robert taps his fingers on the wall for a few seconds as the barkeep hands him his beer. Robert doesn’t hesitate taking a large gulp of London’s finest porter.

Robert felt his apprehensive energy churning deep inside his stomach. There were times he noticed that the world was gradually disappearing right before his very eyes. Maybe it was just Robert who was dwindling into obscurity. Those nanoseconds didn't seem to matter much to him at least at this very moment. Not now, anyway, his devoid enkindled lungs and heart were slamming against his chest so hard he thought it was going to shatter his rib cage. Ripping a hole right through his flesh. The void filling his body full of anguish. The ebony hole in Robert's head, intertwined deep inside his being, nonchalantly devouring all his expectations all his dreams one second at a time.

It was these moments that aggravated Robert the most. The comprehension of the vacuum, the insignificance of his very existence. These moments kept him tossing and turning at night. After such a monumental catastrophe where was Robert to turn? He could have ended it all at Wargames, now every broken body, every droplet of blood spilt, he believed was of his own doing. How would he right this miscalculated action? Everything points to Robert being wrong. All the attacks, standing back, pinning Chris Page to the canvas just wasn’t enough. Now the blame has fallen squarely upon Robert’s broad shoulders. Some would say that odds are surmountable. As the storm known as “Chronic” Chris Page continued to trash the XWF landscape.

Robert continues looking out the window talking with his back turned to the camera

Page you claim to be this immeasurable moneygrubbing, gold-digging professional soldier. A guerrilla with his private army behind him. You believe you are a soldier of fortune, a dog of war? After this match, then and only then will you be able to make such claims. That is if I let you survive this ordeal. You are not a contestant feared all around the world, here in the XWF, the biggest wrestling company on planet Earth, not one soul panics when you show your ugly face, the militant prizefighter. They do though become apprehensiveness when “Chronic” Chris Page and his goons jump them from behind. Now you face the prestigious lion. Everything that you stand for I’ll challenge at Leap Of Faith. Your morals, your background or even, in this case, your deceitfulness. This feared argumentative antagonist you keep pushing down our throats, will be tested. Every fucking single word. I am that man who will stand up in the crowd of the voiceless people look you dead in your little beady eyes and call bull shit. Chris Page, you are full of shit. See thinking you are this person at arms is a joke. You are not a warlord, what you will become is my punching bag.

I have listened to it for long enough. I’ve grown annoyed with the same narrative. Every time we see you on camera you have those pinheads by your side rambling on about utter bull shit. Why don’t you do something a bit more interesting? Maybe entertain us with an original thought. No more of these jaded falsehoods Chris. You want to test those mighty skills Chris look no further. I am the gladiator that lays men on their backs staring up at the arena lights. You should know you’ve been there. Funny how when you talk about Wargames you have a different version then what I remember. I make the very best wrestlers on this planet look like they don’t know what in the hell they are doing. With one mighty roar, I’ll overthrow you. There is not one fucking man in this business that has ever kept me down and you’ll not either. I never sold myself for money or a dreamlike you have done Chris. I’ve worked my way up the ladder and once I slay you dead center, there will be no more top of the mountain talk for you. There will be no more Universal Championship talk. I mean it will be hard to talk gagging on my giant cock for the second time in a row. This time though bitch I want you to tank me for sliding my dick down your throat.

There had to be a way to navigate this choppy ocean of deception. But how? Does honesty imprison us, or does it set us free to live without assistance? One thing we know for sure, the truth can blemish us until the end of time. No one can enhance one's self without knowing the reality of the situation, even if it causes us anguish. It is a war zone between the pure truth and Robert's own demented twisted lies as the battle within himself wages onward. Robert’s always been his hardest critic. At times he feels like he’s is in his own interrogation room questioning his moves. As the savvy bad guy, Chris Page concocts a maze of lies to stand guard over his skeletons. Soon the time will come where either Chris Page or Robert “The Omega” Main will become a fabricator.

Inevitability is one permanent deeply rooted reality. On the somber side of things, untruthfulness and white lies command even more guile. It’s like the counterfeiter becomes a masterful magician keeping the disinformation covered in smoke and merroirs. Just long enough to maintain the illusion. Often a small nugget of validity reveals its self through all the slid of hand. Once one pops out, a chain reaction can collapse the whole act. A microscopic bit of genuineness can brighten a gloomy day. Honorability battles it’s way through the shadiness and when this happens, candor floods the murkiness until sincerity claims victory in the battle that has become Robert's mind.

All of this harsh, tough as nails bull shit will come to a culmination after I dispose of the “Stoned” one. I am here to demonstrate to the world that the Chris Page extravaganza is nothing more than a hype train I’m going to derail. You’re not who you say you are. You’re not this durable unbreakable man you claim Chris, you bleed just like the rest of us. We’ve seen it firsthand. You want to establish yourself in this company again, you want to become someone you thought you were? Break your bread here, look no further than me. I’m the quickest way back to the glory days. I am the proving ground. I am the fucking bar. I carry that brass ring in my back pocket. I am the top of the food chain no matter how many times you want to tell the world otherwise. I am the end all be all. I’m the phenomenon you desperately want to become again. If I am here Chris Page I will never allow you to run rough shot over this company. I will come after you time and time again. I will continually be the thorn in your side. You want to test me, pushing me to the limit? When everything is on the line and those bright lights are shining down on you, CCP I will grind you into a fine dust.

Page, you are a liar an oversight, a man who tells stories diluting fact with fiction. I’m not that kind of man. I don’t need to get out there and pump myself up. I’ve laid um down for years now. Your exaggerations are over, the fabrications are through. This story ends at Leap Of Faith, this lie, you've spread on thick a thieves, enough false witness. You can push all the false testimony in the world, it won't save your ass in the end. You are a washed-up a no one trying to become a someone at my expense. Not going to happen on my watch. You might have been the bee's knees a long ass time ago, or while trying to run your own Mickey mouse operation. You are unknown, nothing more than a squirt lightweight surrounded by mediocrity. Compared to me Chris Page you are a small potato the little guy on the block an unimportant person no matter how loud the mouth. You fit the normality of every other guy who walks in off the street looking for a job. Ordinary, unexceptional at best. Guys like you are a dime a dozen a poser dying for any form of acceptance or a little bit of exposure. All this is a marketing strategy so the fans empty their wallets. While you ride off into the sunset retiring.

The misinformation that Robert seems to cringe the most are the ones that are proximate enough to the truth to pass under the radar. Like Chris Page saying he is better than Robert when all eyes witnessed Robert pin the conman 1,2,3. The half-truths lead Robert away from credence padlocking him away in a closet filled with narrow-mindedness. The immeasurable full-sized lies are more shock and awe than anything else. They root Robert in trepidation. Once Robert's brains start thinking. Once in survival mode, there's a muzzle of sorts on his higher thinking concepts. Robert knows he can defeat Chris Page one more time. All he needs is three seconds. Page believes this is blood in the water, circling like a shark. Little does Page know. Robert’s been chumming the water.

Robert takes one last look out towards the streets before taking a seat in the window frame where many before him probably did some of their best thinking. He takes another sip of his beer before turning speaking face to face with the camera.

Chris you’ve misinterpreted my good intentions, and just expected that I would walk away. If I have a heart that pumps and there’s a breath to take I’ll continue forward. You’ve ignored the fact that I have something great trying to edge me out. Telling me that I wasn’t built to be a Champion. This hater shit you come at me with is underwhelming. I’ve wrestled with a singular purpose for years Page, to get where I am today. My blood sweat and tears went into what I’ve built with APEX. Now I’ll use your blood sweat and tears to build on. You've vowed not to make the same mistake twice, you say I've made the blunder of a lifetime by signing on that dotted line against you. Page, I have made many overestimation's in my life, followed by just as many underestimations. I've had my slip of tongue moments and misjudgments, I've tripped and fallen along the way. But one thing is for sure signing on the dotted line against you was not a mistake. It was a clear choice, something I had to do. You forced my hand. You see I don't need to cut your neck and shit down your throat, Chris, I have to. It's my job as Champion to put people like you out to pasture. It's who I am. You claim to be a man who learns from his missteps.

You could not lace my god damn boots, or carry my bags. Hell, some of the guys that I’ve tramped would cut your throat. Do you know how many times I have been told by my would-be opponent they are going to give me this backbreaking match leaving me exhausted, puzzled and empty-handed in the end Every single fucking match I have ever been in. All of a sudden you believe you are just going to walk in and shoot one of the most excellent wrestlers in the world today down with a potato gun? I don't think so. You want so badly to be this shining star again. Looking for gold, fighting for just a taste. All I have to do is look over to my shoulder and their greatness sits in all of its 15 pounds of Championship glory. This match coming up is the litmus test for my reign I’ll admit that right now. I have never had to call myself the best in the world, I’ve always said it was beneath me. I have on many occasions said I was a cut above the rest, but best in the world never. Others have always said that for me, the fans, the boys in the back. I’ve never needed a fancy T-shirt or action figure, the only thing I’ve ever needed was a platform to speak on and a ring to perform in. I am a different breed of human, and sure bourbon may leak from me cuts when I bleed.. But I’m still top tier and better than the rest. I’m a man who is a last of a vanishing breed. For years I toured the world honing my craft, making little to nothing. I slept on the streets, I ate what I could get my hands on. I learned all my skills the hard way, I became a star through hard work and dedication. You and I are not so different. I am cut from a cloth that was given nothing at all and took everything that I could get my hands on. I’m a maverick, that decided to not follow the system, I went against the grain. Now look at me, I’ve become something more than anyone would have ever thought.

Respect is more than passing pleasantries, more than pleasurable words. It takes energy to leer at the other and take in who they are and show them you regard their point of view with compassion and seriousness. It’s overhearing without discrimination, getting to know them with as few assumptions as possible. It’s meticulous assimilation conveyed by benevolent words and undertakings to show the depth of feeling you hold for them. In this case, Robert cannot say he respects Chris Page. Throughout all this Robert is trying not to lose himself in the darkness that Page has sed on this company. In this way, admiration is a foundation for trust. Self-respect has been a long time coming. Perhaps Robert was standing by for someone else to present it to him, to see that he was reputable so that he could mirror it back. Perhaps because his trust had become so fragmented he wasn't admiring others, for who they were and what each man and woman brought to the table. Chris Page has shown the world who they should not be. Who they should not follow. The issue Robert has is being a good guy or a hero has many downfalls. History will decide if Robert was friend or foe.

Robert knows that in this era the of rugged individuals are critiqued for not being a team player, but it's not so simple. By being self-sufficient you learn self-reliance and self-trust. You become your own backup plan rather than relying on others. Then, from this tiny seed of trust of the self, comes respect of the self. From there you can love yourself, you can start to have real friendships, real relationships and become a person who can thrive in a community, one who helps others. So, this is the irony Robert is living now. We need villains sometimes, they make the story of our hero’s more interesting. There is no hero without a villain, without the villain the hero would be home on his couch. But is there heroes and villains? Maybe there are no heroes, no villains. Just different people with different agendas. In the movies the bad people always lose, when in reality bad people always win!

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