Please Login or Register to get full access to the forums.

Lost Password?
Current time: 03-29-2024, 04:35 AM (time should display as Pacific time zone; please contact Admin if it appears to be wrong)                                                                


X-treme Wrestling Federation » XWF Classic! » XWF Classic RP Board
Thread Rating:
  • 0 Vote(s) - 0 Average
  • 1
  • 2
  • 3
  • 4
  • 5
Aidan Collins vs. Dante Anglais
Author Message
James Raven Offline
Registered but either hasn't added self to a roster yet or doesn't RP



XWF FanBase:
Some of everyone

(cheered; very rarely plays dirty but isn't lame either; many likable qualities)


#1
08-17-2019, 10:38 PM

Aidan Collins and Dante Anglais, please post your roleplays as replys to this thread. Everybody else, please do not comment in this thread.

RULES
1 RP Match
No Word Count Limit

RP PERIOD STARTS: August 17th, 2019 (11:59:59 PM Eastern time)
DEADLINE IS: August 31st, 2019 (11:59:59 PM Eastern time)

The People’s G.O.A.T.
120-24-3

3x Universal Champion, 3x World Champion, 9x Xtreme Champion, 1x Hart Champion, 2x Phoenix Champion, 1x Women’s Champion (lol), 1x Federweight Champion, 1x Heavymetalweight Champion, 5x Tag Team Champion
(w/ Aidan Collins, Roxy Nova, Mia Sanchez, Big Shank, Drew Archyle/Robert Main)

XWF Hall of Legends
#4 on XWFs “Top 50” List
2009 Rookie of the Year
2009 Face of the Year
2010 Heel of the Year
8x Star of the Month
2x Star of the Year (2009/‘10)
2x Feud of the Year (2010/‘11 w/ Big Shank)
2017 High Stakes Winner
Former Owner
Lots of other random shit
Edit Hate Post Like Post
DanteAnglais
Guest



XWF FanBase:
(.Awaiting user update)


#2
08-31-2019, 04:56 PM

JUNE 13TH, 2017- TUESDAY
TORONTO, ONTARIO, CANADA
AIR CANADA CENTRE
REUNION


My entire body screams as one in pure agony as my first match in years hits me like a bulldozer. Maximus took far more out of me than even I had anticipated he could... or would. The match itself was an absolute war that took every fiber of my being to come out on top in. In the end, I bested him, got my revenge and can finally close the book on that chapter of my career.

While the majority of the roster is sat in the lounge area, watching the last two matches of the show, I left the ring and headed straight for the locker-room. I didn’t speak to anyone; I just made a b-line for what I knew would be an empty room and collapsed into a seated position on the bench next to my bag.

For a long while, I just sat there sucking in oxygen while trying not to move too much simply because any type of movement was pure torture. The minutes ticked by as I heard the sounds of the crowd cheering on the competitors in the main event.

Eventually, I struggled to my feet, a screeching pain piercing throughout every part of my body before dragging myself into a shower stall.

I collapse into the stall and lean with my hand against the wall of the shower stall. I turn the shower head on and burning hot water blasts down from above against my face. It fills the whole stall with steam and causes my skin to turn a bright red but my body is far too sore to even notice that particular pain.

My heavy breathing becomes more noticeable as I struggle against the pain coursing through my muscles to be able to even move and I have to ask myself two questions...

How much more can my body take and, perhaps more importantly, is it all worth it?

Every time I step into the ring, I feel it right down to my bones. I’m not the kid that started out training to be a part of this industry; I’m an old man and very quickly closing in on forty. Every punch, every slam, every crash to the floor, every weapon shot I take just hurts that much more. The more shots I take, the worse the pain gets and the harder it is to get up for the next.

I feel done.


“Hey,” the familiar Australian accent of RJ Palmer says from the other side of the stall’s door, interrupting my line of thought and bringing the burning water pain searing down upon me. “Don’t mean to bother you but I was just checking to make sure you were alright.”

“I’m good RJ,” I respond, using as few of my muscles as I possibly can, “just sore.”

“You left everything out there,” he says. “That match with Max looked fucking brutal but you came out on top and that’s the most important thing, right?”

Is it?

I’m getting older each and every single time I step into that ring. I’ve had some brutal contests, taken some painful beatings and refused to give up when I was in more pain than most people could even keep conscious to suffer through.

How much more pain can I take before I do myself permanent damage?


“Sure,” I rebuke in an attempt to keep him from extended the conversation any further. “I’ll be out for the end of the main event, don’t worry about me.”

My response is followed by several moments of awkward silence.

I don’t know how but he can tell something isn’t right.


“I’m not an idiot,” he insists, although I’m not sure I agree with him. “I can tell when there’s something wrong with you. We’ve been friends for the better part of a decade and I know you a lot better than you think.”

“Then why don’t you already know what’s wrong?” I immediately rebuke his claim and I’m pretty sure he’s caught off his guard by the bite to my tone. “You just admitted something was wrong,” he quickly counters.

Fuck.

I take a breath before speaking again,
“just give me some space to finish up in here. We can talk about it after the show, alright?”

I can almost hear the wheels turning inside his head. He knows me well enough to know this is just a tactic to get him off my back, at least for now.

Whether he believes I’m going to tell him what’s wrong is an entirely different topic altogether.


“Fine,” he says as he concludes arguing over this is not worth the bad feelings it could potentially create, “but you better follow up and tell me what your fucking issue is, you big drama queen.”

It’s an attempt to lighten the mood and he’s not entirely wrong about it either.

“Alright,” is my one word answer to get him out of the locker-room, a move he makes without feeling the need to add anything further to the conversation.

While I wanted to at least try to, I couldn’t avoid him when I eventually left the locker-room. He was standing outside the locker-room door, just waiting for me to finish up, get dressed and leave. His expression is a smug one; he knew I was going to try to avoid him.

“Italian place down the street,” he begins as soon I see him on the other side of the door. “They do some of the best pasta dishes I’ve ever had and it’s open till midnight. Fuck the rest of the show, it’s almost over anyway. We’ll grab something to eat and talk.”

“As long as you’re paying,” I smirk, “sounds good to me.”

The walk to the restaurant isn’t a long one; it’s about five minutes or so. We get seated quickly as well given the few people that are out to eat a meal on a weeknight.

After ordering our food and getting our drinks, a bottle of merlot for the table, we spend the time we wait for our meals just casually shooting the shit as we would usually do. Talking about this or that; business, work, pleasure. Nothing too in-depth but the sort of things you’d expect business friends to discuss after a prolonged amount of time spent not talking.

After a swift fifteen minute wait, our food is served. The waiter places my order down first; Orecchiette Pugilese with Fennel sausage, Rapini & pine nut pesto and Peperoncini. It smells delicious and looks even better as I soak in the flavors that traverse my nostrils. RJ’s Tortiglioni Bolognese with veal & pork ragu, padano and basil looks just as good.


“Maximus was a cake-walk so it couldn’t have been that,” RJ begins before taking a bite of his veal and pork ragu. “So I have to just straight up ask: what’s wrong?”

I ponder the question for a few moments before responding.

“Have you ever wondered if that was it?” I assume the answer is a simple no but I expand upon the question anyway; “that perhaps you’ve taken one too many shots to your body that the next one might keep you down for good? I walked back to that locker-room in absolute agony. Every footstep I took after I stepped behind that curtain, and the adrenaline rush had left my body, hurt that much more than the last.” I take sip from my wine glass, savoring the rich taste. “I was in burning agony just lying still in that locker-room, standing up was an actual struggle for me and, even now, my whole body still aches. It’s like I was struck in every muscle with a cinder block and I can barely move through all of it. Right now, I have to ask myself: was it worth it?”

RJ furrows his brow, clearly worried for my well-being that is further demonstrated by the worried look that rests across his face.

“I can’t say I’ve ever felt like my body was giving up on me,” he says, shaking his head. “Sure, I’ve had a stiff neck, back pains and other aches throughout my body but I’ve never thought to myself that the next hit might keep me down for good.” I mull over his words for a few moments, contemplating whether I’m just in a poor state of mind or am struggling against other inner anxieties before he continues by adding “having said that, I have asked myself if the commitment to the ring was worth it. That’s more a case of being away from my family for prolonged periods of time as opposed to feeling the effects from a physical standpoint.”

A psychological issue manifesting in a physical way has never really been my thing but I supposed he could be right. Then again, what exactly would be by psychological issue?

I won the match so it couldn’t be that.

I just got married so it couldn’t be that.

I’m not stressed about work; in or out of the ring so it’s not that either.


“If that’s the case,” I start to explain, “then logic would dictate a major psychological issue. Something that is playing on my mind that would cause this strong an effect would need to be something pretty damn big.”

“I assume you’re implying there’s nothing that would affect you to that extent?” He scratches his chin as he thinks about the implication for a moment or two before nodding in agreement. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe you just can’t hack it anymore. Maybe you’re washed up.”

“Hey!” I cut him off with a slightly raised voice, drawing a few looks from the few people occupying the restaurant. I’m quickly aware of all the eyes from around the room now staring at me and swiftly lower my voice. “There’s no need to be an ass about this. I wouldn’t be opening up to you about this stuff if I didn’t think you were going to be on the level with it. I expect you to help me out here, not be an asshole about it.”

“Alright,” he says, holding up his hands in an apologetic manner. “My bad. I just... I don’t know what could be the issue aside from the obvious.”

“With the obvious being?”

“You’re actually hurt,” he explains. “The hits you’ve taken in the ring have finally caught up to you and you’re finally starting to feel the effects of it all.” He reaches over and grabs his own glass, taking a swig from it before continuing. “It’s logical; every human has there breaking point, the moment there body decides that enough is enough and wants to take no more hits.”

Is it really that simple? Am I just... done? Was that match the last I’ll ever be physically cleared to compete in?

“If that’s the case,” I begin, pausing midway through my thought as I try and choose my following words very carefully. “What comes next?”

“There are three things you do when you’re in pain,” RJ explains. “Rest and recuperation; the simplest and cheapest option. A lot of the times, it’s just as simple as lying down for an hour and suddenly everything is okay. Not sure that’s the answer here though.” He swigs even more wine before continuing. “The second option is pain-killers; a little more effective than R&R but can vary in levels of effectiveness. Some meds are always going to be more effective than others on certain injuries and ailments. If neither of those things works, that leaves us with the third option...”

“Which is?”

“Seeking a medical professionals help,” he says, his brow slight furrowed. He’s well aware of how stubborn I am and how that really is the one thing I’m probably most scared of facing. “If you can’t solve the problem by yourself, the odds lean towards it being a serious issue and that’s when a Doctor is necessary.” I gulp hard, knowing the more detail he goes into with his explanation, the better his argument stands up. This is not something I’m going to be able to disagree with using any form of logical argument. “I know it can be scary at that point because there’s always a chance that he tells you that you’ll never be able to wrestle again but there’s also a chance everything will be fine. You can recover from surgery, you can’t recover from death.”

That last sentence hits me pretty damn hard.

The fact that he’s right is the worst part. Not even because it’s RJ, as would usually be the case, but because I don’t want to suffer the ignominy of having my career taken away from me as opposed to going out on my own terms.

RJ and I continue to talk late into the night, discussing who to contact and, later that week, we visit once of the top 3 Doctors in the country. After multiple scans, X-Rays and fitness tests, RJ and I wait for an answer in a small box room that makes both of us feel a little uneasy.

After a good fifteen minutes of waiting, the doctor finally enters the room with a giant folder full of what I can only assume are answers to all my questions.


“So,” I begin, taking a deep breath, “what’s the prognosis?”

~ # ~ # ~

The Best In The World™
Words; for me, there’s never a shortage of those. Sometimes they’re hollow, sometimes they’re full of wonderment, sometimes they’re creative, sometimes they’re bland and sometimes they simply are what they are: words. We can use them in a number of ways, either for better or worse. I, personally, tend to lean towards the latter, using my mastery of the English language to spew vile and venom at people in a way that causes them emotional and physical distress but, just because that’s my preference, that doesn’t mean I am simply a one trick pony. I can be a silver-tongue manipulative son of a bitch when I want to be. I just have a lot more fun causing a nuisance.

That’s just who I am.

Now that my grasp of the English language that is beyond your comprehension has been displayed, let’s get on with the more important issues.

There was a genuine feeling of an end of an era to my match with Maximus; it felt like the last match of my career. I was beaten up, beaten down, torn apart and glued back together again. After a career on the road almost every single day, stepping back into the ring after a prolonged absence certainly causes one some aches and pains. Nothing had felt like that before though; sure, I’d taken a beating or two but I’d never won a match and came out feeling worse than I did before it.

Perhaps it was a case of lacking the physical attributes I could flex when I was younger. Maybe I hadn’t spent enough of my gym time before the match working on my conditioning instead of worrying about my physique. It was possible that the whole thing was just a bad decision on my part.

Whatever the case, I felt like crap after that match. Didn’t know if I would ever even be able to step into the ring again and at this point in my life, I’m definitely looking at wrestling being in my rearview mirror as a long-term career move. I have had my time in the spotlight. I’ve given years of my life and committed absolutely everything I had to being one of the best in-ring competitors in the entire industry; I don’t feel like I have a whole lot left to give. Even more importantly, I’m looking towards other things. I have a lot going on in life, both professionally and personally, and I don’t want the wrestling industry taking up any more of my time than it needs to.

Even in spite of that, here I am; ready to step into the ring and break myself in half for the entertainment of others. We’re so close to another match I can feel the taste it of it on the tip of my tongue and now winning that match is what’s most important to me right now. As long as my body doesn’t break, and I have faith that it won’t, I’ll be more than ready for anything once I step into the ring.

It just can’t come soon enough...


~ # ~ # ~

23RD JUNE, 2019- SUNDAY
TAVIANO, ITALY
CLIMETERO DI TAVIANO

“Ceneri alle ceneri, polvere alla polvere.”

Dirt is poured upon the casket and into the grave. The mourners stand around the gravesite, witnessing the ceremony as they shed a tear or two.

I do not.

Instead, I stand at a distance as a witness; watching as everything unfolds before my eyes. I feel cold, unmoving, numb.

Watching a funeral from a distance is an experience in itself but watching a funeral in a foreign land where you know none of the mourners? That’s just an experience that I can’t even put into words. As I remain standing away from the procession, I feel like I’m a looming and ominous presence; a specter, if you will.

I still struggle with mourning, even at my age. It’s not something I’ve experienced a lot of and, the few times I have, it hasn’t affected me like I feel like this one should.

...

Nothing.

I watch as the last of the mourners leave the gravesite before making my way over to it myself. I look down at the wooden casket that has been lowered into the grave. I crouch down onto my haunches and scoop up a handful of dirt before pouring it onto the casket, bowing my head and signing the cross out of respect.

I get back to my feet and begin slowly walking down the cobblestone path leading out of the cemetery. I gaze out at the graves strewn throughout the graveyard and see the lives of the many since passed flash before my eyes. Years of life lived all gone in an instant.

Fragile old thing; life.

As I make my way out of the cemetery and into the car-park, I watch the last few people from the funeral leaving, tears still in their eyes. I open the door of my rental car and jump into the front seat, closing the door behind me. Inside of the car is a mess, several beer bottles in the passenger’s seat and even more on the back seats. I reach underneath the passenger’s seat and retrieve another bottle, sealed tight; my last bottle of beer.

I stare at the name brand on the bottle for what feels like an eternity before I begin slowly peeling at it with my thumb. The Budweiser logo begins to fade as I continue to rub my thumb underneath the label and against the bottle’s pure glass casket. The drink remains cold to the touch as I scrape the label off entirely aside from a single letter: D.

I stare at the single letter remaining and run my thumb over it before reaching for the very top of the bottle neck and popping the cap off with my thumb and forefinger. I hold the bottle up and look towards the sky before gently tapping it against the side of the rearview mirror.


“Here’s to you, Dad.”

RIP Remy Anglais
18TH November 1957-12TH June 2019


~ # ~ # ~

(STILL) The Best In The World™
Honestly, I never intended on making a return.

I’d said my adieu and was quite happy to walk off into the sunset as a retired competitor but then I got a phone-call from none other than James Raven.

Ten years ago, shortly before the ten year anniversary of the XWF, I competed in my very first professional wrestling match. I was a part of the first X and it felt right to be a part of this one too so when Raven approached me about being involved, I just couldn’t say no.

I’ve missed competing.

The ring has always been a place I felt at home and stepping back into it is something that has played on my mind since this match was first signed. From the moment I step between those ropes, I strive to be the very best at everything that I do in that ring. I give my all to win and win and win in the continuous battle that occurs between all of the people competing to stay at or near the very top of this entire industry. At any given moment, people are lining up to challenge your position as the very best and beating those challengers down was definitely fun for me. I’ve missed being pushed to my very limits and beyond.

When it all comes to an end, the biggest part of the industry that I will miss, it’s that and now it really feels like things are coming to a close.

Wrestlers may say things like that more often than just about anyone else. This feels different though. It feels like the final chapters are being written in the novel that is my career. Everything I’ve done of late feels final, feels so conclusive.

Whenever you see the end of anything coming, it always makes you feel something and I’m not entirely sure whether it’s fear that I’m feeling right now. I’m definitely not feeling the way I normally do going into this all. The possibility of this being your finale match just has to play on your mind. It’s simply something you can’t avoid as a serious competitor.

Any time you think the next one could be the last, it’s in the back of your head but that’s where I want to keep it. Even with it playing mind-games with me, I can’t let my approach be affected. It just can’t alter, I have to remain focused on getting the victory the same way I would with any other match. While I can’t help but be more conscientious of it, it all comes down to the biggest part of being a competitor; winning.

Whether I see this all coming to a conclusion or not cannot play into my performance once I step into the ring.

I do wonder though...

If this is my last time in the ring: what’s next? Where does this all lead me?

Do I go on living my life as a normal human being?

Do I become one of those wrestlers who come and go as they please?

That’s definitely not what I want but maybe, at this point of my life, that might be for the best. If it is to come to an end, I want to have control of it. I don’t want to keep going until my body or mind are too far gone, I want it all to be on my own terms and I want to be comfortable and happy with my decision.

Anything less than making my own choices on when and how my career ends is simply not acceptable.

I’ve always done things my own way and I’ve always had final say in anything that happened to or even involved me. My professional wrestling career cannot be allowed to be any different. I can’t let my body break down to the point that it’s too far gone, that I just can’t go out and say “I’m done and it’s on my terms.”

I want full control of what happens in my life, my career and my world.

In the end; it’s my life, it’s my career and I want to end it my way.


~ # ~ # ~

2ND JULY, 2019- SATURDAY
LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA
2511 CARMAN CREST DRIVE
DANTE’S LA HOME

After years of wondering who my father was, I finally decided to investigate my lineage to try and find him. After a few weeks of searching, I finally found that which I had hoped for my entire life: closure.

Not getting to have a conversation with my father was something of a kick in the teeth but I’m glad I was able to attend his funeral at the very least. I would have felt like shit if I’d missed the chance to be there to say goodbye.

There’s still a small part of me that does wonder what might have happened if I had committed my effort to try and find my father sooner. I can’t let it affect me too much though. I found him, I got my chance to be a part of his last goodbye and that’s more than some people who were in my position could have gotten.

Sipping at a glass of crisp merlot, I gaze down at the lively city of Los Angeles glowing against the night sky.

While I enjoy the view, I can actually relax without having to worry about being bothered by anyone or anything, at least nothing major. Dominika and Angelo are upstairs watching the latest How To Train Your Dragon movie which his mother refused to let him see when he asked; most likely because she didn’t want to see it.

I offered to join them but Angelo insisted on having Dominika to himself.

Dom has wanted to spend all the time she can bonding with him and getting some time alone with the kid was an opportunity she jumped on. Sure, I would’ve like to have some ‘grown-up’ time but I also want my son and my wife to have a good relationship, especially given the poor experiences he has suffered through with his mother.

The biggest benefit of all of that is that I actually get some time entirely to myself.

Sometimes, being alone is good for me.

I get to spend some time thinking things through, clearing my head and just enjoy living life.

Just as that thought crosses my mind and I take another sip from my wine glass, I hear my cell-phone ringing on the table behind me which draws all of my attention away from the view and clouds my thought process with one question: what now?


“Hope it’s not too late for you,” I answer the phone to the familiar voice of none other than James Raven’ beyond a shadow of a doubt, the most obnoxious, self-centered man I’ve ever had the misfortune of meeting. “I didn’t want to wake you up or anything.”

“Of course not,” I respond with a clear sense of sarcasm in my tone. “You’re definitely one of the most self-less and considerate people I’ve ever known.”

“I detect an element of derision in your voice,” he counters. “Rather unnecessary.”

“Derision?” Does he actually know what that word means or did he take a shot and get lucky with it? “That’s not the sort of word I’d expect you to use.”

“I got bored and read a thesaurus the other day,” he clarifies. “You don’t need to mock me for it.”

“I was just surprised,” I offer in response. “I didn’t realize you had made such advancements in your English.”

“Can you go five minutes without being an asshole?”

“Probably,” I retort, not one hundred percent sure on my answer. “I just prefer not to.”

“You should try it some time,” he suggests. “More people might actually start to like you.”

“I don’t care whether or not people like me,” I shrug; nothing new there. “So did you actually have a reason you called? Or did you just want to hear some of my charming wit?”

“There was a reason actually,” he says, sounding almost relieved that I moved him onto a topic he was more engaged in. “I had a question I wanted to asked: are you busy on September 1ST?”

~ # ~ # ~

(INFINITELY) The Best In The World™
Dante Anglais Vs Aidan Collins: The Final Chapter.

We’ve been friends, we’ve been foes and, quite frankly, it’s been one hell of a ride.

Whenever we’ve competed against or even alongside each other, there has always been an extra edge to things. I enjoy having the extra attention and focus on me but I don’t think it really plays into how big we both are as competitors that we can draw so much attention just by being on the marquee. I can’t speak for Aidan but I would assume he feels the exact same.

It wasn’t about hatred or dislike between the two of us. We weren’t bitter blood rivals looking for revenge against the other for the horrible misdeeds one had struck down onto the other. The reason we fought, struggled and tussled was simply about being the best. It’s something of a complex for both of us, being the best. I came into the industry from a position where I’d never experienced victory before so when I won my first match, I never wanted that taste to escape my lips again. Adversely, Aidan was not from such humble beginnings. There’s a title for his next autobiography; Aidan Collins- Not So Humble!

Having known him for the last decade, I am fully aware of his ability to drone on and on and on and on about himself tirelessly for hours at a time. There have been multiple occasions where I’ve wanted to punch him in the face which leads perfectly to this upcoming match; to XX, twenty years of the XWF.

History is a funny old thing.

I loved the time I had with the XWF but the people who are in charge now have a certain view of me due to their own misgivings that make it next to impossible for me to commit to ever going back, even if it was just as a member of staff. Sure, I’m glad they’re still up and running plus anything is better than the clown car of a show that Shane made the company into but I have no interest in being involved with this ‘new age’ XWF. I hold nothing against it because evolution is just a part of this industry; it’s just not for me.

I believe you had similar experiences to me but perhaps you have less backbone than I do. Then again, I’m sure they’re also willing to write you a bigger check than they are me due to your longevity in the XWF. It only makes sense from a subjective standpoint. In your time as part of the XWF, you’ve done it all; Universal Champion, World Champion, Tag Champion, Lost to Nick Ryan Champion... wait, maybe that last one is wrong. I don’t think you get a belt for doing that. Compared to my inability to best Shank at Snow Job 2010 in my one and only Universal Championship match, I’d say you’re coming out ahead in terms of past accomplishments.

Fortunately, we all know that once you get into the ring, pro wrestling isn’t all about past accomplishments. If it were, Steve Jason wouldn’t have turned into the scrub of a competitor that he is today. To be honest; I’m surprised he’s found his dentures, let alone been able to venture out of the old folk’s home to wrestle in a match at this show.

We all know this industry is about the man that shows up on the night because anyone can beat anyone. I’ve beaten you and you’ve beaten me. At shows like this, people can talk and brag about what they’ve done in the past like it’s some kind of fucking dick measuring contest when, in reality, nobody gives a shit about what you did five, ten, twenty years ago. People care about what the fuck you can do now. People want to see if you can still perform at the level you once did, they’re expecting you to be as good as you once were. Nobody cares that you were once the Toronto Raptors KFC Bucket Champion and that’s something Aidan and I can agree on.

The past is the past; let it die.

We fought in some of the biggest matches in the history of the sport, our first showdown at Yankee Stadium sold the place out but nobody watching is ordering XX because we sold out a baseball stadium almost a decade ago! It’s all about the here and now, the match the two of us signed to compete in at XX. It ain’t about past title victories or losses, it ain’t about how I owe him or he owes me for what happened on February 12TH, 1996 and it ain’t about proving anything to the fans or the rest of the locker-room. It’s about Aidan Collins and Dante Anglais proving to themselves that they are still the two best wrestlers on the face of this entire fucking planet and there is going to be nobody who can dispute that fact after XX.

That’s why this feels like such a perfect end to it all. While we may have ventured beyond the walls of the XWF, this is where our long and storied history first began. It’s only fitting that we end it all right back at the start for we are, beyond a shadow of a doubt, two of the most influential stars in the XWF’s long and illustrious history. It’s only fitting that we do this dance, one last time, at this show. We’ve been driving each other to be better with each and every single day we’ve competed against each other, always wanting to be better than the other. XX will be no different and, when everything ends and the dust finally settles, only one of us can be THE best and it’s going to be me: The Best In The World™.


~# fin #~
[-] The following 3 users Like DanteAnglais's post:
Barney Green (08-31-2019), Shawn Warstein (08-31-2019), Theo Pryce (08-31-2019)




Users browsing this thread: 1 Guest(s)