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Can you feel it yet?
The cold sensation crawling down your spine?
Is it too familiar?
Does it make you want to quit?
Are you man enough to take on this challenge?
Were you ever?
Can you defeat yourself long enough to win?
Suppress the failing tendencies?
Control the desire to run?
Does the darkness make it hard to see?
Are you too stupid to comprehend what's coming?
What do you see when you close your eyes?
Is it me standing over you?
The gold of the Universal Championship on someone else?
Another opportunity slipping through your pudgy fingers?
Can you handle it?
Is there more of an identity once "dominance" is a joke?
How can you look the guys in the back in the eyes again?
Will the mirror ever be the same face?
What makes you better Trax?
Is it unabashed submission?
Will you quit?
Does it even matter?
Did you ever have a choice?
Do losers know light from darkness?
☆
The new Mr.F'n Dominance of Dominance, Gabe Reno. The icon. The realest of the real. Profit of the profitable. Face of the forced. Learner of the lost. Savior of the insane. Manipulator of the masses. Erratic enigma. The very best. The Radical.
They all fit the bill. Every nickname more flattering than the last. That is what it is like to win and earn respect, Trax. It feels like the weight of the world being lifted off your shoulders and put onto someone else's. You've been wearing a weight around your neck thicker than that gold chain for a while now. The weight of darkness. The weight of being second fiddle to a plethora of passers by in division upon division of fighters who took it to you. Winning every once and a while is circumstantial. Catch a guy on a bad night. My wins have been over multiple men. Many times. No such coincidence defines the names they call Gabe Reno. Luck doesn't run out for me, because I never needed it in the first place. The past has paved the way for a future without you in it. One where belt are raised to the conquering foes you know all too well. The same men who stood over you all this time, standing tall again at the peak of their power. Names like Peter Gilmour, who you claim to have disabled. How did that work out for you? For him? You have become the proverbial stepping stone of XWF. Hey, you want to succeed here, you just signed? Go step on Trax, and we will give you all the shots you want. Lose a Championship, you'll get another while he squirms and complains about his concrete feet that were never fast enough to be more. It's almost poetic. But there is something to be said for it. I am excited. Not for the competition, or where this win will take me. Though, hey, the Universal Contendership is a nice perk. No, I am excited to be the last in a long line. To put the dominance to its rightful end where most of it began. Warfare. A place where the very name sends shivers down your spine. A place you had mild success... a place where your shoulders have practically left an imprint from being pinned so many times. No one will refer to you as dominant anything after I not only win... but MAKE YOU QUIT. That's right. This isn't and "I QUIT" match. This isn't a special stipulation, no holds barred, no disqualification, ladder, cell, inferno, or any other type of diabolical bout. But I am making it one. Before Wednesday Night is done, I will MAKE MISTER FUCKING DOMINANCE QUIT. I will make what is nearly a full eclipse complete. The sun will set on that name, and on a chapter in a career, if you want to call it that, because it is what is best for you, and best for me. See just being you does nothing for me. Who hasn't done that? Name four guys who haven't beaten Trax who have been here long enough to have a warm meal. Can you? I can't. In fact, I can't name a single fucking thing you have ever dominated, other than a microphone in a house show, and audience members sleeping patterns. At least after this you know an amazing second career, you can be Trax: The Walking Sleep-aid. Call this guy if you are having insomnia issues, because without fail, he will knock you out, by talking and talking until he can barely stand himself. What's that? You don't get it? Well, isn't that the point? You don't get it. You won't get this. Don't worry. I'll get enough for the both of us.
The cellar. Permanent basement dwellings. Midnight alley's. Building backing in inner city streets. Your heart. A beating leading to a blackout. The aftermath of an early morning car accident. Peter Gilmour's sloppy seconds. The opening match on Savage. XWF Light. Serena Williams lap. P.Diddy's next name change. Your dreams.
All places too dark to be for anyone to care. People enjoy the bright lights. They love what they can see, touch, and feel. Physically, sure. But emotionally. The adrenaline rush of a winner. A true radiant revolutionary. All the things you aren't. All the things I am. I make people smile. I make them jump up and hold their breath as I fly through the air and plant an opponent in the jaw. The sweet rays of sunshine that were reborn in me, never to fade again into where you inevitable will be. I can't understand Trax. I mean, I've been low, but I have never stooped to the level you're about to be on. I don't lose enough, or doubt myself enough to be anything but eventually right. Magnificently magical. When all the chips are down and people think I am done, I shoot awe into their eternal vision with an amazing Rated R front flip leg drop. I get the three count. I show everyone why you never doubt the man who may talk his share, BUT BACKS IT UP. The next thing you back up will be a truck at Salvation Army. To drop off what is left of your wrestling gear. To donate it to a kid, or a high school wrestler who doesn't have the means to pay for it, but still has a better shot to make it than you do. With youth on his side, and something you can never have again... a clean slate. Someone who has never been fired. Someone who has never seen the edge of darkness roll into their life and devastate it while they are distracted trying to build a legacy out of paperclips and rubber bands like you. Someone who has yet to be hollowed by the facts that who they are is who they were meant to be. Nothing. Someone who still feels the light of life and its possibilities in the face of obscurity but who can rise above it. I don't know what happened in your past. I don't even care. But no one can respect a quitter. No one can book a man who will shout for mercy the way you will in a few short days. It's almost poetic. The ultimate "dominant" trash talker being obliterated by a man who talks even more trash, but does all the things he can't. Rebound. Be a light. Is intelligent. Can win. Can go on to be... Universal Champion. How sweet that moment will be, Trax. And when they write about it. When Vinnie and JJ are doing interviews for the DVD about the career of The Radical. They will claim they knew the entire time what transcendence was among their ranks. And that they get the credit, for booking him against the right opponents, so that each stone he stepped on would be only another chapter in the erratic enigma's rise. Maybe they will call you for a few words. If they have a few seconds left to fill. Maybe by then you will want to take credit for being stepped on. Because, after all, what else will you ever do that's better? Be an ice cream truck driver making pennies on the dollar? Sew XWF shirts after Vinnie feels pity for you and doesn't want to put you back in the streets of Brooklyn? You aren't smart enough to be a referee. Or ring the bell on time. Plus, we have people far more capable already doing all those jobs. Old Man Johnson. Nipsey Russell. A monkey with an attitude. Hell, anybody. And if you were ever going to be more... wouldn't it have happened by now? Of course it would've. But hey, I'll mention you in my storied tale of triumph. "Trax was the loudest quit call I ever heard. What a voice". So don't worry, not all is lost.
Greg Oden. Nathan Jones. Sam Bowie. Vince Russo. Michael Olowokandi. Sin Cara. Akili Smith. Jamarcus Russell. Chris Masters. Kwame Brown. Marty Jannetty. Lawrence Phillips. Shawn Bradley. Ryan Leaf. Snitsky. Adam Morrison. Shane Helms. Brady Quinn. Zack Ryder. David Carr. Carlito. Darko Milicic.
These are the biggest busts in the history of modern sports entertainment. I could go on. But you get the picture. Notice one name I left out. Trax. Because all these people at one time or another actually had potential to be great. Some in the collegiate ranks. Some in amateur wrestling, or the indy circuit, maybe even overseas. Some of them were drafted high and failed to live up to a hype that was never fair in the first place. The pressure on them made them crack. Others were victims of countless debilitating injuries. Never even with a real shot to succeed before their futures were snapped from their grasp. That was not the case with you, was it? You had every opportunity to be something. XWF through loyalty alone has given you matches where yes, you were the mule to propel someone else, but if you had surprised the world and won... it may have gotten you somewhere. I mean, somewhere other than the back of the bread line... over, and over... well, you know. You were there. What is it like to squander an entire livelihood by being in the wrong place at the wrong time, and never stepping up to overcome? I can't imagine taking loss after pathetic loss in the teeth and never rising to the occasion. It must be disheartening. I bet you get suicidal thoughts. I know a great hypnotist if you want. He doesn't specialize in failures, but I'm sure for the right price he would want a challenge. Hey, maybe the XWF medical program would sponsor you, the way WWE's wellness plan sponsored other failures like Scott Hall, or Jake Roberts? I mean, they had way better careers than you, but look where they are now? Wait... bad example. Well, maybe it really is a lost cause. Maybe all those busts had something in common with you after all. Maybe you all just lack the intestinal testicular fortitude to ever fight back against a system designed to fuck you. Or... maybe, just maybe. You are a masochist. Nothing wrong with that. Hey, some people like being dominated.
☆
So you keep fucking around?
Do you know who you are?
You see a pretty girl but you wait for her to give you buying signs?
Is the story of your life waiting for something to happen?
Do what you're are told?
You ask for permission?
Seek the validation of other losers?
Hide your problems with booze and television?
Use excuses to pass your time?
Obey conventional morality?
Not sure you're a loser yet?
That's cute.
☆
Check out Backstage Page for full list of XWF achievements.
![[Image: 4H375RW.png?6]](http://i.imgur.com/4H375RW.png?6)
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