You call me a coward? For what? For avoiding you and Amber? I didn't avoid you...I overcame you. You got a problem with me accurately hitting the small fucking target that is your manhood? Do something about it. Oh wait you are...you're whining. So let me cut the cheese here with your whine. JC and I had some issues to work out. We got back on the same page and the second that fucking happens we took out the guys who took OUR titles and got them back. You and Amber were just a fucking afterthought because Bridges had to appease you after doing his dirty work for War Games.

The first dick kick was to show you exactly what I thought of you. Nothing. The next one is just because I find the face you make hilarious when it's in mother fucking pain!

You were the ones who wanted this in Vegas. I never had a problem with that. You know why I never had a fucking problem fighting in your hometown Jack.

I'm Italian...You took an Italian to Vegas and expected to walk out a winner. You are a fucking idiot.

As for your “undisputed” champion shit. Let's clear up something. I've been around as long as you have and you know what I never even fucking heard of your stupid ass till you showed up a few months ago. So remind me again who the fuck you are? Because since you obviously can't come up with anything original other than I'm to old for this shit let me clue you in on a few fucking things. Unlike the wannabe Tweeder...I am the ultra-violent legend in this bitch! I have just been far to busy dealing with personal issues to not remind you fuckers.

I mean seriously. I've been a nice mother fucker these past few years and it's gotten me nowhere because all you people want is the old me. So you know what. Just because I am tired of hearing your old man shit I'm going to introduce you to “The Rogues” official. The greatest tag team in OWF history because we destroyed everyone in our fucking path, and some unfinished business...was Crucifix and Zodiac.

So if you are wondering why you were third place. It's because the real grudge match took priority over your ego. You wanted to show everyone up in your hometown like you two were something special and it backfired because we took an opportunity and made it work. You want to bitch about things not going your way that's fine, but you want to call me a coward?

I have never run from anyone and I don't intend to start now fucknugget, but since you want to play that game. Fine. Because there is one thing that Paragon has to have that JC and I don't need. Titles.

Seriously, We don't need them. We've got that good of a reputation, but it isn't about the titles. It's what's best for CW, and if you two were as good as you say you are then you would have walked out with them. You didn't.

That's the end of the fucking debate.

I don't know what pisses me off more.

The fact that you are both this fucking stupid, or the fact that you believe your own shit.

Let's clarify a few fucking things. Three teams went into that match. Two teams came out. One team fucking self destructed and your crying because we left you alone. We were kind.

Why do you people insist on taking my good will for fucking granted?

Are you that fucking self destructive? Well we know you are Jackie boy. Because let's face a fucking fact here. You want to get your ass handed to you in the ring by me. You know why? Because it makes you the one thing you want to be. Relevant again.

Let me tell you a little story about what Paragon means when I see it and maybe you and I will understand each other for once. Back when I first started I was in a British federation where the world champion was a guy named “The Paragon” Brad Frontier. Nice guy to the fans, but a dick backstage. Major colossal fuckhead. Now I made a career from being hated. I just have a natural fucking flare for making people angry. Maybe it's my face. Maybe it's the fact that I don't take your shit. Anyway, so we're out one night drinking cause it's the commishioneer's birthday or some shit. I said I'd swing by, and I did. This guy with his kid comes into the bar. The guy wants an autograph for his kid. The kid aint got to long to live. Lung cancer.

Brad refused to sign the autograph for the kid because he was “off the clock”.

Brad was off the clock for the next few months after I made him sign the fucking autograph after I knocked out his teeth and broke his arm.

When I see a “Paragon”...I see someone who needs to get taken down a peg.

And I aim to do so.

Now getting back to Amber's little whine. Let's clear the air here. You don't like the contender points. Take it up with the guy you sold out to. That's the system. You can't handle a challenge then why the fuck are you in this paper champion. Yeah. You got thru that title tournament a while ago. You know why? Because I was off my game with Redemption. Because if I had been on my game. You wouldn't have gotten to the finals. You would have already ran your ratty ass back home to your shitty mom and told her she was right.

Because she is.

Paragon...a pair of goners more likely because the truth is simply this.

I am here to improve Carnage Wrestling. What the fuck are you here for? Titles? Fame? Glory? These are not what improves a federation. I took back what was mine and I get called a coward for it by people who aligned themselves with a guy whose trying to tear this federation apart? I'm the bad guy? I'm the fucking bad guy?

Let me clue you in on a bit of history. There are three kinds of career bad guys in this business. The chickenshits, the rulebreakers, and the genuine articles. You think I'm a chickenshit? Really?

Well I guess it's time for me to do something about this. I've put up with a lot of crap this past year. My kids being taken from me, my nephew showing back up last week, Redemption, and yet after all of that...

I have never been more angry than I am right now that you people are this fucking dumb.

You want a challenge? Okayyyyy...

But I'm warning you. Be careful what you wish for. Because you're about to lose big time, and not even Vinny in Vegas is gonna get you out of this one Jackie boy.

And as for you Amber?

Get your head in the game. Because if all you can do is whine about the rules that we play by then you need to get the fuck out of here and go into something more your style. MMA sounds good. Them bitches love to tap out which is what you seem to be the best at. Nine years. Jackie's got thirty some or whatever.

You know what I see?

Paper champions who don't like it when people make them look like they are.

Don't worry...I'll make you famous...for one night only!

“I would say it's nice to see you, but that would imply I like you.”I sigh. It's Agent Alexander Armstrong. DJ's old handler back when he worked for...I better not say. The guy is such a douche to wear his shades while inside. Gray cheap ass fed looking suit to. The guy's slicked back black hair with gray temples are starting to show his age. I can't tell what nationality he hails from, but he's definitely white. I scoff at him as I look on thru the window as DJ goes into the machines. “Has his systems been active?”

“Not when he first got injured, but over the past few weeks his fiancee says that she's noticed some...electricity burns around the house. I don't know what to tell her. That's why we came in. Didn't know if he was having a malfunction.”Backtrack here. My buddy is a cyborg. Spy. Cyborg-Spy. I am way to sober for this.

“And you didn't think to call us till now.”

“Considering those things were suppose to be deactivated the last time he left your precious program we thought it might have just been some electromagnetic shit. It wasn't until last night when we were out that he almost fragged my head off with a shot from his fingertips. So yeah...sorry fucker.”