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Centurion · (09-16-2019)

(Twitter was a mistake.

That's what Centurion tells himself anytime he's on that God forsaken application - the useless drama and the anonymous comments make the whole thing completely ridiculous.

Sometimes, though, something good can come from it.

Over the course of the past few months, Centurion has been engaging in a back and forth with a woman named Genevieve Tate. The pro footballer/former pro wrestler is a friend, employee, and ex...something to James Raven. All the details are not clear, not can they become clear on an application that is used mainly for terrible political opinions. The flirtation between the two had been contained to the internet...until now.

We open up inside the Royal St. George's Ballroom in London, England. There, we see many people of all different backgrounds dressed up in the nicest clothes. A banner behind a stage reads "British Heart Association Summer Gala 2019". All of the people at the tables are mingling amongst each other, trying to suck up to the variety of celebrities and politicians that are there.

In the back of the room, standing at the bar, is Centurion. He has two glasses of wine in front of him, and he is leaning up against the bar. He seems incredibly disinterested in the crowd around him - he's done a million of these galas, and they're all pretty much the same. As Centurion looks behind the bar aimlessly, a gloved hand taps him on the shoulder. He turns around, and sees her.)

[Image: RVD205b_0062bc.jpg]

Genevieve Tate: You're a difficult person to find in a crowd.

Centurion: It's because I'm short.

(Centurion takes one of the glasses of wine and hands it to Genevieve, while holding the other.)

Centurion: To "coincidences".

(Genevieve smirks as the two toast. They each take a sip of their wine before reengaging in conversation.)

Genevieve: This is very good.

Centurion: What can I say...I like my reds.

(Centurion winks at Genevieve.)

Genevieve: What year is it?

Centurion: I don't know, but I spent a lot of money on it. Apparently "be our guest" only extends to cheap beer and the cheese plate. So, you look...stunning.

(Genevieve smiles and takes a step back. She does a slight spin to show off the entire dress.)

Genevieve: I'm known for making an impression. You don't look too bad yourself. Your friend Steve told me to look for an "old, broken down man".

(Centurion smirks and shakes his head, knowing Steve Jason and Genevieve had been talking recently on social media.)

Centurion: Looks can be deceiving. I clean up well.

Genevieve: Give yourself some credit. You're not as old as you think you are. In fact, I think you're rather...

(Genevieve looks at her wine and smiles.)

Genevieve: Well aged.

(Centurion is entranced with this woman. Her flirtation, coupled with her quit wit and knowledge, is knocking Centurion off guard. He is not used to this kind of presence.)

Centurion: That accent...Athens?

(Genevieve takes a sip of her wine and nods.)

Genevieve: Very good, Mr. Cortinovis. Being a world traveler really pays off.

Centurion: My father was Greek - born in Crete. I've done a lot of business there. Even had a home there for a while. Eímai áptaista stin ellinikí glóssa.

(Genevieve takes another sip of her wine as she looks impressed.)

Genevieve: Polý entyposiakó. When James first talked about you, he never mentioned this side of you. He just talked about all the wrestling.

Centurion: James is a tit, and you can tell him I said that. He never wants to admit that there's someone out there more charming than he is. Some of us have been doing this way before James ever picked up the game.

Genevieve: James would call you his "friend" or even his "brother." He should have been calling you his "style icon."

Centurion: He used to call me "mentor", but apparently, after a bunch of Universal Title wins and having every new wrestler in the industry say they "look up to him", James no longer has a mentor.

(Centurion takes a sip of his wine and sets it down. He starts his next conversation - one you probably don't start on a "first date", but when you're 42 and thrice divorced, you kind of lose tact in these things.)

Centurion: So, why did you and James break up?

(Genevieve takes a deep breath before taking another sip of her wine and setting it down on the bar.)

Genevieve: You go right into the tough questions, don't you?

Centurion: I don't have time to beat around the bush. I like to get to the bottom of things immediately.

Genevieve: Would you believe me if I said he was a lackluster lover?

(Centurion laughs.)

Centurion: No, but that would be hilarious as hell.

Genevieve: The truth is, James and I had a lot of fun, but it wasn't what either of us was looking for. James is a great man, but I wasn't in love with him, and I could tell he didn't love me, either. With James...you just know. When he falls, he falls hard. You should have seen his face when he first met Betsy.

Centurion: Yeah, I can imagine. I remember when he was with Mia. He was always a "wife and kids" guy. With all the craziness in his life - his parents, his brother - he needs stability. That's why I felt terrible when I heard what Mia did to him.

Genevieve: Exactly. I was a nice rebound. Betsy is the love of his life. What about you? 42 and single?

Centurion: The history of my relationships could fill a book. My first wife, Misty, left me for an apprentice of mine. I left my second wife for a 23 year old French communist. After we got divorced, my second wife was killed in the Ukraine. I still blame myself for her death. So...I've avoided dating since.

(The air is a little dense. Genevieve has an empathetic look on her face.)

Genevieve: I'm sorry.

Centurion: Nothing to be sorry about. It's called life. If anything, I'm the one who's sorry. I brought the room down.

Genevieve: You didn't bring the room down. You're a fascinating individual. You say what's on your mind. It's refreshing.

Centurion: I have no one left to impress. I find people who hold things back and aren't being authentic are doing so because they're trying to impress someone. In wrestling, they're usually impressing the boys in the back, or the "smart marks" on Twitter. Everyone wants to be "cool." I gave up on that long ago.

Genevieve: (slight laugh) Are you saying you are not cool?

Centurion: I don't know if I am or not, and that's fine with me. There's a lot of folks who don't like me, and I'm not talking about the people I've wronged and who deserve to hate me. I'm talking about people in the industry.

Genevieve: Oh, like who?

Centurion: I could give you a list, but I forget most of their names. Honestly, it's a lot of folks who show up in the locker room once every month or so and think they have some kind of authority to tell me how bad I am. I don't play their little reindeer games.

Genevieve: Reindeer games?

Centurion: I don't kiss the right asses.

(Centurion takes another sip, as does Genevieve, who finishes her glass before setting it back down on the table. She reaches into her dress and pulls out a card.)

Genevieve: I have to go back to my table. I know you're staying with your sister, but...if you happen to get lost on the way, here is where I am staying.

(Genevieve winks before handing the card over to Centurion. She casually walks away as Centurion calmly stands there. As Genevieve walks out of sight, Centurion looks at the card before fanning himself off with it.)

------Faster Than The Wind, Passionate As Sin------

Ned Kaye is my friend. I was really pulling for him to win the Hart Title. He deserves it for all the work he has put in so far. That being said...a little part of me was happy that Tony Santos retained his title. Why?

Because I want to be the one the beat him.

That's what it's all about once you get to this stage of your career. You don't just want wins. You want signature wins. I don't just want to add the Hart Title to my mantle. I want to knock off the man who has dominated that division for the better part of 6 months to do it. Tony Santos has rolled through tough competition along the way - Noah Jackson, Ned Kaye...

And me.

Yeah, I remember. In fact, I'll never forget. My first shot at Santos ended in heart break. I didn't just lose. I wasn't just defeated. I tapped out.

Let me say that again. I. Tapped. Out. That doesn't happen very often. I can probably count on one hand the number of times I willingly tapped out in my career. It's demoralizing. It's humiliating.

The pain I experienced in the moment was a pain that I have no comparison for. I could feel the muscles in my knee beginning to give way. I knew, if I stayed in that hold, my career would be in jeopardy. I did what I needed to do for my own physical health...but that doesn't make it any easier.

I have no excuses. I'm not like every other wrestler, who would complain about every single part of that match and explain how it isn't their fault because of X, Y, and Z. I guess I could chalk it up to the fact that my Saturn was returning or whatever the fuck, but I won't. I lost. Tony Santos out wrestled me and beat me. Clean.

That's why I really wanted another shot. I need to see if this was a one time event, where Santos got the better of me, or if he has surpassed me in the ring. One match, one victory - that does not make a career. But numerous victories? Then it becomes a pattern. It becomes a trend.

A few months ago, Tony Santos was better than me on one night. If he can beat me again, I'll admit to the world that Tony Santos is better than me...period. Full stop. I'll admit that there are certain people in this company that I am not better than, and he would be one of them.

Adds a little more drama to the match, doesn't it?

Of course, I'm not going to do one of those silly "if I lose, I'll retire!" promos. Partially because no one ever really follows through with it, and partially because I accept the fact that there is a chance I may lose this match. Nothing is guaranteed, especially when it comes to facing someone who already has beaten you once.

Does that mean I'm not confident? Absolutely not. See, a few weeks ago, I got the snot beaten out of me. I was planted and pinned by my own stablemate, then I lost to tweedledumass at XX in a match that took everything out of me. I have been assaulted from behind by Noah Jackson, Vita Valenteen, and Mastermind. It's been open season on my forehead, and it seems like every member of the roster has some sort of target on me.

So to be in a match, one on one? And inside a cage, where no one can interrupt the festivities? Well, that's right up my alley.

Let's talk about that for a second. A glass cage match. Why? Whose bright idea was that? I thought we were out of the Shane

era of "special matches for the fuck of it." Usually a match like this is reserved for two heated rivals who need some way of containing them, not for a random title match. Santos and I don't have the history to warrant this kind of match.

Still, I'm not complaining. A cage, any kind of cage, keeps the undesirables out. I don't know how Santos feels, but personally, I want this match, and thus, the Hart Title, to be decided by the people in the ring, not by anyone looking to make a name for themselves.

But help me figure this one out. So in a normal cage match, the goal is to LEAVE the ring, but in this match, you DON'T want to leave the ring? And there are no pin falls or submissions? Why is this so fucking complicated? I know I'm just being "old man Centurion" here, but come on. If you have to explain the rules before the match, then it's probably too complicated.

In the end, though, I know it benefits me. I know the kind of competitor Tony Santos is. He won't submit in a match. Anything less than death won't keep him down for a three count. But being thrown through glass? Well, that can happen to anyone. Even the most stubborn badass can be thrown through a window. The people in charge didn't do you any favors, Tony.

This is where I'm supposed to slam on Tony's personal life like everyone else does. That's the low hanging fruit, right? Apparently Tony is a broken man who is fighting his own personal demons. Yeah, well, join the club on that one. Not only am I fighting my demons, but they've won their fair share of battles against me.

Besides, the dude likes to drink and gamble? Have you met pro wrestlers these days? Our Universal Champion loves to kidnap people and sodomize them, and we all seem to shrug it off like it's another day at the office. I am friends with a group of lady wrestlers on Twitter - there's about five of them, they're all gothic with some sort of inner cat thing that makes them wild, and they all have sex with each other. This world is insane.

Instead, I'm going to say something that is going to surprise a lot of people - I don't give a shit about Tony's personal life. The only thing I care about is the product in the ring. From that perspective, I can tell you that he is good...damn good. But this won't come as a shock to anyone who watches the XWF regularly.

But I've faced good. Hell, I've faced great. I've even faced the best this company has ever produced. Most of them I've beaten. Some of them I haven't. But none of them have intimidated me. None of them have made me enter a match thinking I was already a loser. In fact, the bigger the competition, the more motivation I seem to have.

Guess what? I have a ton of motivation for this one.

I know you're confident as hell, Tony. Hell, I'll even go as far as to say you're probably a little cocky. Long ass title reign, multiple main event victories, and now you face someone you've already beaten? If I was in your shoes, I'd probably assume I had this match already wrapped up, as well. If I was anyone else - if I was Noah Jackson, for example - you wouldn't even have to break a sweat.

But I'm not anyone else. I'm a legend. And I don't mean that in a "respect me because I'm old and won matches in the past" way. I mean that in a "I've seen it all and overcome a lot" way. Do you know how many people have assumed they put me down for good? Do you know how many of my opponents have gotten one over on me, and thought they'd never have to worry about me again? By beating me, you can gain two things - confidence or arrogance. Hearing some of the things you've said recently, I think you went with arrogance, and there's nothing I love more than an arrogant opponent.

We have a long two weeks ahead of us, Tony. I know what I will be doing - preparing myself for a career altering match. If I were you, I would have a good time in Miami. Drink. Party. It's a wonderful place for a young man with many vices. At the end of it all, whether you enjoy your time on the beach or not, the story will be the same, and that is you meeting your...

FINAL FANTASY!!!

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