What a complete mess.

And for once, I wasn't even responsible for this.

Peeling out from my lunch date with Elli, all I could think about was what would happen before I could get there. I went with that construction company for their impeccable reviews, and yet they were demanding payment in full due to "missing a deposit?" A deposit I know we made? I could feel my foot on the floor of the car...though probably not the best thing to do out this far from the city. While the law was usually lax about speeding, at the speed I was going it was sure to be noticed. I eased up as I passed through the small towns of southeast Minnesota, until I turned off the main highway and onto the county road that would lead to the vineyard grounds...as well as my current home.

My home faced the driveway of the vineyard from the other side of the county road, with the driveway taking another two or three minutes to traverse until finally reaching the grounds themselves. As I pulled up, I saw the area staked out for the cement pouring, already been dug out and ready to go. Our temporary office was on the other side of the driveway, with the construction company's truck already parked out front. A panicked William was sitting on the stairs leading into the office, looking visibly upset. I stopped the car and, after grabbing my keys, slammed the door heavily as I walked over to William. "Is he inside?"

William looked up, shaken but sighing in relief as I walked over. "Yes, but be careful-"

"Tell him that," I replied before I passed William by, turning the knob and going inside. I took an immediate left to enter into my office, where a man in his fifties was standing. Everything about him came off as cheap; the suit, the cologne, the obviously fake Rolex on his wrist. This was a guy who was pretending to mean business. I loved dealing with assholes like this. "I take it you're here about payment," I said, "and I can assure-"

"Vincent Scapelli," The man interrupted forcefully, holding a hand out for me to shake. "Owner of Scapelli Construction."

I glared at him, slowly taking his hand. Gripping it tighter than I normally would, I forced the handshake. "Dionysus Berget," I replied calmly, "Owner of Berget Vineyards, and the man you are trying to breach contract with."

"Oh no, sir," Scapelli argued. "Our terms were quite clear in the contract." I directed him to a chair across my desk. "We require thirty percent on the down payment, due prior to laying the foundation. We called and emailed your company numerous times, and every time, you ignored us. So now you owe the penalty, which is the full price of the job and nullification of the contract." He grin was crooked, wicked, and smug, thinking he had any kind of upper hand in the conversation. "Now, the only question I have for you is this; how are you," he paused, pointing firmly at me, "Going to pay me?" he asked, pointing a thumb in his direction.

I smiled, knowing the perfect response. "Simple. There is nothing to pay."

"Oh don't give me that-"

"I really need you to pay attention for a moment, Mr...Scapelli, was it?" I interrupted. Vincent seemed like the type of person who allowed his size to do the talking for him. Unfortunate for him, in this case. Turning to my keyboard and mouse, I started pulling up documents relating to the construction project. "You see, my business partner out there, William, whom I no doubt you verbally assaulted him before I even arrived here, keeps careful notes on all our interactions." I turned the monitor enough to show Scapelli what was on the screen. "Our payment date was May 1st, if my records are correct. We received a notice of payment due on April 28th, which was still three days prior to our official due date. The notes indicate that payment was submitted on April 29th. Thus, you have already received your thirty percent. Now you're here demanding not only the thirty percent we have already paid to you, but the entire amount on top of that?"

"I am telling you what you owe," Scapelli threatened, otherwise unphased by William's notetaking. "This is just hogshit that little prick made up to make the business look good. I don't talk to little guys. I talk to the big guys. You're the big guy."

"Indeed I am," I chided.

"Don't you get smart with me," Scapelli growled. 

"Well someone has to be, Mr. Scapelli."

"You still haven't shown me that the payment was actually made."

I went back to the computer, digging through all the files until I found exactly what I was looking for. I pulled it up on the screen so that my guest could see it as well. "As you can see, Mr. Scapelli, we did, in fact, pay your deposit. The bank slip indicates the check was received on April 29th, the same date listed in my partner's notes." I looked over at Scapelli, who was slackjawed by what I had shown him. "Now, I am unsure what kind of game you think you're playing by throwing your non-existent weight around my business and threatening my employees for payment, but I will have you know that I am not someone who is easily intimidated by people like you. We have records of us upholding our end of the contract. You came to our property demanding to speak to the owner, using threats and intimidation to demand this meeting here, all so I can tell you what my partner already said to you in the first place. Now look, I'm a nice enough guy; I don't really want to have any more trouble from you. So I will make you a really easy offer. If you leave right now, I will add on an additional seventeen percent so you can prioritize our project. That is still before we begin payment on the agreed amount. In exchange, you take directive from my partner, William, when I am not here. He is just as much in charge of this venture as I am, maybe even moreso. And you stop making threats toward me, my employees, or my business."

"And if I don't leave?" There was a hint of genuine curiosity in this question.

I placed my hands on the desk, spreading my arms wide as I stood, towering over Scapelli. "Then you get to deal with me. And cheap pinpricks like you are a walk in the park compared to the people I normally deal with," I said imposingly, pointing with my head to a wall of pictures from past wrestling events. The one I liked showing the most was a highlight picture from my most recent hardcore match, where my face had been busted open and I was brandishing a steel chair. Apparently, this had been a detail Scapelli had overlooked.

Instead of looking uncomfortable, though, he smiled and laughed. "I should've known," he admitted, "that this was not going to be easy. Alright tough guy, you've got a deal. I'll leave you alone and you add on seventeen percent." Scapelli stood, making a motion to check his knock-off Rolex. "Oh geez, that time already? I have other appointments to make. We'll be in touch," Scapelli finished, nodding as he moved toward the door. "Oh yeah, before I forget," he added, in a rare Columbo moment, "If you threaten me like that again, I will make you back it up. And you don't want that either." With that final threat hanging in the air, Scapelli turned the knob and walked out of the office.

I let out a sigh, relaxing my shoulders and relieving as much tension as I could. That could have gone far worse, but it certainly was not over yet. I walked over to the wet bar I had installed near the desk, pulling out a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. I had just put ice cubes in the glasses when I heard William come in. "Everything okay, sir?" William asked, concern ever present on his voice.

"Nothing I couldn't handle," I replied happily, uncorking the bottle. "He seems like trouble to work with, though; we may want to consider looking for other contractors, if any are available."

"I had a few saved up back when were getting quotes; I will reach out again and see who I can find," William informed. Then he paused, saying, "But...Dio...about the quotes I could get-"

"It'll probably be more, right?" I said, cutting off William. "Yeah, I thought about that. And truthfully, I'd rather pay more now than deal with Scapelli." Having finished pouring the whiskey in the glasses, I handed one glass to William, who happily accepted it. "For now, though, we'll need to play ball. I told Scapelli that he should have listened to you from the get-go."

"I tried telling him that," William said nervously, "But he just didn't want to listen. I figured the best way to handle the situation was just to call you down. I'm sorry; I hope I didn't pull you away from anything important."

I thought about how much fun I was having with Elli prior to getting the call from William. "I'm not sure if it was...at the very least, it is something I can make up for." I took a drink from my glass, smacking my lips and sighing in a combination of satisfaction from the whiskey, and contemplation on what just transpired. "I don't know, William; sometimes I feel like I'm being pulled in different directions...that I lost all control of my life because of all the work I do."

"Well," William coughed out, having taken too long a sip from his own whiskey. "Ma-*cough*-maybe you just need to take it slow."

I laughed. "Maybe I do, William," I said, watching my friend choke on whiskey. I looked out the window, seeing a hawk flying in the distance. Some kind of shimmer also passed by, though with a blink it was gone. I turned back to William, repeating, "Maybe I do."

---

"If you can make God bleed, people will cease to believe in him."

I can't help but think of this quote when I first heard you decided on a First Blood match for our title bout. Now, I am a mere mortal man, not the god people assume me to be. It must be in the name, right? Why else would anyone assume I have a god complex? I think I know what the thought process behind this choice was. "Oh, its Dionysus, the man who is big on appearances. He'll back down if I put the threat of busting his face open on the table!" Which I'll let you in on a little secret:

I'm not afraid to bleed.

Granted, bleeding in this match will mean I end up losing, but the point is still there regardless. No amount of reservation I may hold in the prospect of donning the crimson mask will ever keep me from doing what I must to ensure victory. It wasn't all that long ago that a long-time partner and I had a disagreement, which resulted in him busting me open in front of a capacity crowd. I returned the next week, no worse for wear, and showed my commitment to ending him by breaking myself open first. If a little blood is the price I pay for a title, then permit me to flow it freely. Y'know, just not in this match. Because of the whole "if you bleed first, you lose" stipulation.

See, this is what always surprises people whenever I say I will give everything I have in every match I am in. Blood, sweat, tears, every pound of flesh and bone, my spirit and my soul; you keep naming the cliched lines, I'll tell you I have paid for that ten times over just to be where I am today. It may seem a steep price, but I pay it willingly just to continue doing what I love; competing on this stage, or any stage, for the thrill of the fight, for the chance of glory, and above all, the adoration of those watching what I do best.

That is what is so special for me when it comes to the Television Title: for some misguided souls, it seems like a starting point, a stepping stone to greater things. Yet that is, in and of itself, a division of competitors. A full field of talent that, at any given time, could eventually become a champion. What a challenge for a champion to have! To stand as the king of the hill trying to repel all-comers who you know could overtake you if the opportunity presents itself. Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to stand as television champion as proof that even in the lower tiers, as you would prefer to call it, there is a long line of equally talented people looking to take your place. Unlike you, I am not afraid of that challenge.

I embrace it.

As a creator, it is within my power to craft a division we can all be proud of. That at any given moment, we can overtake even the world champion in the main event slot...and as luck would have it, that is exactly where we stand right now. The pressure is on, Mr. King, with the bright lights of the main event slot. An opportunity to cement yourself as a television champion without pier.

Though you and I both know, that will never come to pass.

Because the biggest difference between you and I is the level of respect that we have for the positions that we are in. Consider for a moment; you see me as someone at the pinnacle of this business. That tells me you really want to see me competing for the top prize. Yet here I am, in the television division, staring down your title. Is this yet another attempt to try and dismiss me as a legitimate threat to your throne? As much as you enjoy naming names, you also never mentioned any of them being at "the pinnacle." So what sets me apart from those you have faced before? What really does set me apart from Dolly Waters, from Jay Omega, from Noah Jackson? Simple, really; you see me as what you aspire to reach. You want the name recognition, the opportunities such as competing in a world series of wrestling. The weight a name carries can be powerful. It can open doors otherwise inaccessible. It can even put you in much more advantageous positions, whether you are ready for them or not.

And yet...I am here, in the television division. Your "rookie league," as you so colorfully described it. A rookie league that has, at one point or another, had champions the likes of Ned Kaye, Bobby Bourbon and Thaddeus Duke. Now, I don't want to presume you are incorrect with the current state of affairs of this division, but are you really going to sit there and tell me that Chronic Chris Page became a champion in a rookie division? Shouldn't any champions, past and present, represent the best this division has had to offer? Shouldn't the consistent hot potato of this title in recent months be a testament to how little of a rookie division this really is?

Or are you more preoccupied with your own ascension that you fail to see the kingdom before you?

If all you are looking to gain out of this interaction is to move above your current station, then my all means, permit me to make you bleed. I would be more than happy to champion this division and continue to build on the work the previous champions, including yourself, have already done to foster the strong level of talent and competition it has. Know, however, that if that really is your goal, then you really were not the champion I expected you to be. On the other hand, if you really do intend to fight with everything you've got to hold onto what you have...

...Then I will be the one to show XWF the royal bloodline.