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Matthias Syn · (02-13-2025)

Las Vegas, Nevada - 2004

The house had become a war zone any time that they were together and I was always unintentionally and unwillingly on the front line. Ground zero. Somewhere between the shattered beer bottles and the slurred words is where I had to make my existence. Collateral damage in a war I had never asked for.

Their words sliced through the walls - cutting and sharp. Crashing around me in a symphony of fury and sorrow. A terrified child being left in its wake. I sat silent and still in the living room, huddled around the television - a conduit to a better life. My own small island drifting into a shattered oblivion.

Quickly wiping away the tears before he saw me and gave me a reason to cry. Trying to swallow as hard as I could the syllables that were caught in the back of my throat so that I didn't say something that would find me on the business end of his fists. A fractured boy with a splintered mind, desperate for a way out.

That's when I saw it. A subtle flicker of the tv screen that stole my attention. The Xtreme Wrestling Federation banner soared across my screen like a chaotic kaleidoscope. That's the day that I discovered professional wrestling - or the day that professional wrestling discovered me. The first day of the rest of my life. While my heart bore the scars of a thousand drunken fights, my mind raced with the possibility of a world far, far away from here. Far away from him. Finally there was something that I could sink my teeth into. A glimmer of promise in a life of despair.

If only it could have stopped the nightmares.

Here's the thing, Jake. Syn pauses and scratches the back of his head. It's different with you. You have good in you. You're not like the rest of us. There's not one person behind that curtain, not one person in that locker room, that wouldn't slice your fucking throat to be a champion. If the opportunity were to arise and we could get ahead, we would run a knife through the middle of your chest and stare you directly in the eyes while we do it. That's just - the way of things. It's the natural order in a cut throat blood sport.

But I want you to know, Jake, that I see you and I want you to know that we could all stand to be a little more like Jake Borden and remember where we came from. Where it all started.

There's a certain - whimsy about you, Jake. A flicker of light in a void of darkness. A pureness for the business that most of us - just forget.

Watching you, studying you, reminded me of that young kid, that eight year old boy, sitting on the floor of a broken home, wiping away tears and fighting back tired eyes because he's scared of what he will dream. Terrified of the nightmares that would eventually shape him. Just begging for somewhere to escape. Sitting in front of the television. The soft, hopeful glint in my eyes. Watching the Xtreme Wrestling Federation. Telling ourselves - that's going to be me someday.

Back then, back when it wasn't about the money. The money isn't even a thought that goes through your head. It was that shot of adrenaline that coursed through your every fiber as you watched your favorite wrestler march to the ring like a fucking real life gladiator. Seeking a glory beyond your comprehension. Carving your name in the stars amongst the Titans of this industry. Holding that fifteen pounds of leather and gold over your head while an arena packed with people there to see YOU, scream your name like a symphony of angels. A belt with your name on it. Living the fucking dream and telling the world that I didn't need anybody. That's what it was about.

I see that in you, Jake. All the good that this industry has to offer. Wide-eyed, eager and just happy to be here. Living in the moment. A beacon of hope. But even still, like everyone else I've ever met, I had to ask myself - what kind of person is Jake Borden BELOW the skin? Behind the facade? And what I see from you isn't any different from anyone else. Yours is just wrapped in a slightly safer package.

Just like the rest of the herd you cling to an old reality. Refusing to break free from the comforting lies of a dying empire. Blissfully living a life of pathetic stagnation. You're the dead weight that evolution will discard. Nodding dutifully in a poetic fever dream. The old world is dying, look around you, and those who don't adapt will die with it. That's why there's no pity, no sympathy from Matthias Syn towards you Jake, or anyone else.

And that's why I'm still going to hurt you, Jake. It's why I'm still going to bully you. That's just - what I do. So I'm going to be real with you, Jake, and I'm going to ask you to be real with yourself. Who with a stutter has ever been special with anything other than needs? You have to be special in this business and that's just not you. You dark horsed your way to a championship opportunity. You overcame the odds. It's a great story, Jake, but this is where your happy ending goes to die. I almost feel sorry for what I'm going to do to you, Jake.

Almost.

STATIC

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