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**Vincent Lane** · (02-14-2017)

“Isn’t it amazing what a little time and perspective can do for a man?

Six months ago, I thought I was at the end. I stood on top of a triple tall ladder with my hand over my head reaching for a golden title belt that wasn’t there. I’d come up two or three seconds too late and officially ended my Universal Championship reign with a loss to Scully, one of if not the worst title holders the company has ever seen. In that moment, that’s all I could see as my enduring legacy. Not the skyrocketing to success as a newcomer into the XWF fold. Not the legendary championship reigns, such as holding all three Trios Titles at once, or bringing the Hart Championship back from obscurity by winning a grueling battle royal. Not even being the man who finally dragged the XWF out of the darkness of Doctor D’Ville’s villainous run at the top and back into the supernova light of megastardom… no. All I could see was Scully’s goofy grin while he got his fingerprints all over MY belt. I went home and went to bed and didn’t get out for a week. And where did I go after then? To a doctor’s office who told me I was done.

You think you know darkness, you think you know depression, and then the bottom comes along and shows you how much worse it could be.

The only things that kept me going were my gorgeous fiancée Roxy, and my commitment to making the XWF brand the biggest thing on the planet. And you know what, dude? I did it. All of a sudden we went from losing big names to signing them. We went from the worst ratings slump in years to the top of the charts. The stock doubled, then it doubled again. It turns out that I’m a megastar in the office as much as I ever was one in the ring, dude!

And that’s when it hit me… I wasn’t the champion anymore, instead the belt was around the waist of a recovering mongoloid... but I was still the top draw. The lights were still on me, even when I stayed away from the cameras. Study after study, rating after rating, metric after metric… it was always when Vincent Lane stepped into view that the XWF fans stood up and took notice. And where was Scully? Well, one time he was nearly costing us millions in revenue by “main eventing” an episode of Savage against Barney Green… AND ALMOST LOSING. Yeah, that looked great for us, dude. Thanks. Pretty sure we lost in the ratings to a rerun of The Hughleys.

Not to worry though, Scully was gonna prove everybody wrong by beating off five other men in an event known as... “Scully’s Usual Thursday Plans.”

Kidding.

No, Scully was SUPPOSED to face five others in the chamber wasn’t he? He was supposed to validate himself, his championship reign, his win over yours truly… he was supposed to prove that he belonged at the top of the heap when literally nobody believed it but him.

How’d that go?

Oh.

Well, maybe we should ask his partner, Peter Gilmour? The man Scully dropped the title to two weeks prior to the big career-making main event that was designed SPECIFICALLY to prove he belonged? Yeah. I have to admit, Scull, you let me down there, dude. That’s like, commandment one of the XWF bible, you know? Thou shalt not lose to Peter fucking Gilmour when the fucking title is on the fucking line. Sorry, sorry, I still get riled up over that. Fuck, man.

So yeah, Scully, the guy who gets credit for toppling the greatest reign in XWF history, the barbarian who sacked Rome, essentially, then turns around and doesn’t even make it to the main event of the next pay per view. He ends up winning the X-Treme title from a half-drunk Michael McBride, only ever defending it AGAINST a half-drunk Michael McBride… and then… then? Hold on I gotta sit down.

Then.

THEN.

The dialogue audio is replaced by several minutes of raucous laughter. It sounds like Loverboy is going to pass out from lack of oxygen, actually. He coughs, laughs some more, and then spends a few moments regaining his composure.

“Then… of all god damn things to do, Scully, you lost the prestigious, historic, legendary, and longest-lasting, longest-uninterrupted title in the XWF, the X-Treme Championship, fall into the hands of…

Of…

Of Ghost

Fucking

Tank.

Let that sink in, dude.

Of all the humiliating shit you’ve done, right? Getting whupped by Gilmour, being the shittier half of a tag team with Maverick, BEING FUCKING

, the most mortifying thing has got to be losing the title to Tank.

I mean, seriously, I should have just walked in here, said ‘Ghost Tank,’ and went home patting myself on a back for dropping the most scathing mix tape of trash talk ever recorded. I should come to the ring tomorrow dressed in a brand new “Ghost Tank, XWF X-Treme Champion” tee shirt fresh from the merch stand’s dollar bin, and then just pin you when you die of soul crushing embarrassment.

God damn, Scully, you had such a good chance, man. I MADE you, dude. I MADE you from a bottom dwelling nobody into a champion, and as soon as I cut the cord you hung yourself with it.

Now what do you do? You spend half your damn Lethal Lotto promo bitching about your partner and the other half talking about mine. The guy who just now showed up for work. (Hi Random! You’re super late, dude!) Hey that’s cool, dude, sometimes people defend themselves from danger by pretending it doesn’t exist. They just close their eyes and cover their ears and pretend they’re alone in the dark and no one can see, hear, or hurt them. That’s sure what it looks like you’re doing, dude, because why on Earth else would you practically ignore the undisputed MVP of the XWF’s 21st Century standing right across the fucking ring from you?

Fuck it, I’m done.

See you tomorrow, Scully. It’s the end. Your daddy has spoken.

XOXO

p.s. Ghost Tank! Ha!"

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