Post by Anthony NK Ferraro on Aug 9, 2011 14:27:00 GMT -5
"That's life. That's what people say. You're riding high in April. Shot down in May. But I know I'm gonna change that tune. When I'm back on top, back on top in June."
How bright and beautiful the city lights shine. Buildings of all shapes and sizes giving off radiant lights of all colors and patterns. Most are bright advertisements for various products or places, others are just spectacles to gain the attention of mindless by-passers. The tallest of structures need no lights to draw attention, their presence is enough on their own. Stores and offices alike give off the same mesmerizing site. People are attracted to these things for reasons they cannot explain, but still with the knowledge of their meaninglessness, they still send the mind into a trance. Cars and people go through the streets, chatting mostly about the same thing. The scenery. The feeling that these buildings give each and every person. This scene is set in the near-off distance. The view is from a rooftop of a penthouse upon a giant condominium complex. Upon this roof is a small, circle table. A bottle of Johnnie Walker stands on it. Next to it, a wine glass that is half filled with the near-golden liquid. A small, black milk crate turned upside down is next to the table. The crate is smaller than the table. Upon it lies a short and lengthy, black radio. It has cassette compartments, a CD player and knobs and switches for power, tuning, volume and power. The large, silver antenna is extended as far as it could be. Along with the distant sounds of beeping and chatter from the streets far below, comes a very familiar tune from the radio. "That's Life" by Frank Sinatra is playing through the speakers. Next to the table and crate, a long lounge chair is seen similar to that of a beach chair to the right. A man is laid back in it at an angle and his legs are up. He is immediately identified as SNME star, Anthony Ferraro. He gazes into the view of the bright lights, mesmerized. His right hand is swaying to the rhythm of the Sinatra song. His head rocks to the right and to the left in sync with his hand movements. His slight smile tells the tale of remembrance. As the words "My, My!" are howled by Frank, Anthony closes his eyes. His smile doubles in size. With his left hand he reaches over and grasps the glasses in between his ring and middle finger. He sips the scotch whiskey and grins. He finishes what is left of the glass. He reaches over and grasps the bottle with his right hand. He pours until the glass is half full and puts down the bottle. He again grabs the glass and begins to raise the glass to his lips, but before he can sip, the next song begins to play. "A boy went back, to Napoli. Because he misses, the scenery," comes through the radio. Anthony quickly rises from his seat and stands, glass in hand.
"'Hey, Mambo! Mambo Italiano!'"
As the Dean Martin song rises in tempo, Anthony begins to do a little bit of a salsa dance. Taking steps forward and back, moving his arms in the same tempo as his feet.
"I love this song. It really brings me the utmost delight. Memories of good times, decent times, bad times. It forces me to think of the time that defines me most. The times that shaped and molded me as a human being. The times that I laughed through life and the times that I fought through life. I've done one more than the other as of late, but it's all okay now. I've found that happiness that I lost so long ago. I've found it right here in Saturday Night's Main Event!"
As the song continues on, Anthony stops dancing and takes a seat back on the chair. He sits at the bottom of the chair so that his legs are bent and his feet are on the ground. He is sitting upright. He stares at the city again. He takes a small sip from the glass.
"I like this feeling. I like feeling. People try to shut the door on their emotions, their love, their hate, their happiness, their sadness, everything. I think accepting these things and moving forward are all apart of life. The key to success is not bottling up your emotions or pushing them away, it's accepting them and moving forward. The ability to do so can really change you for the better. It can let you put the future into perspective, it can make you see things more clearly and more thoroughly. It's truly a beautiful sight once you allow yourself to see it.
No longer am I man that dwells in myself. No longer will I put limits and restrictions on the way I go about things and how I feel. I can allow nothing to hold me back and that includes myself. It includes myself just as much as it includes my opponents, who week in and week out try to intimidate me and try to beat me down in the ring. I've proven time and time again that it is no easy task and I pride myself in my abilities in that ring. I would be afraid of Anthony Ferraro if I were not the one controlling his mind and body. He just got a lot more dangerous."
Ferraro tilts the glass forward and back a few times, watching the liquid climb the walls of the glass both ways. He then raises it and takes another sip. Only about a third of what he poured remains in the glass. He places the glass on the ground to the right of his foot. He clasps his hands together and smiles.
"Congratulations to a man, Alberto Del Rio. The world's biggest wrestling federation has crowned a new Intercontinental champion. For him, I couldn't be happier, I really couldn't. He deserves the right to be called the second best in the business, it's all he'll ever know to be. You see, I will not go on about being screwed over, I will not demand my rematch and I will certainly not demand the Intercontinental championship be awarded to me under and circumstances. I am not bitter about the events that took place last Saturday night, in fact, I couldn't be happier. I lost the match for the Intercontinental championship. In turn, I'm main eventing this week's edition of Allstars... I'm being given a chance to earn the right to step foot into a ring with the World Heavyweight Championship on the line. Four years gone. Four long, painful, life changing years have past and now I have the chance to stand on top of the mountain, the tallest mountain in all of the land. And I thought the Intercontinental championship was important. Wow."
Anthony shakes his head and raises his glass simultaneously. He sips the glass, finishing the drink. He reaches over to the table and grabs the bottle. He holds the glass in his hand about to pour. He stops himself. "Love on the rocks, ain't no surprise," is heard from the radio as "Love on the Rocks" by Neil Diamond begins to play. He stares at the glass and raises it. His left hand which grasps the bottle descends and rests in his lap. He raises the glass over the city and looks through it. He casually tosses the glass to his right. A quiet shatter can be heard as the glass collides with the ground. Anthony puts the bottle in his right hand and raises it and sips straight from the bottle. He shakes his head and his eyes open widely.
"Damn. Is this what I've really come to? I've been handed an opportunity of epic proportions, a golden standard. The golden standard. My mom never told me I'd grow up to be something great. My dad wasn't around long enough to tell me such things about the future, I had to find out for myself. I had to make myself great and dammit, I've done it. Does anybody hear me? Can you hear me, world? Are you ready for a new star, leading a new generation? That's me. I'm leading the push for excellence. I'm leading a revolution.
Saturday Night's Main Event Allstars will be the defining moment of my life so far. Not leaving my family behind, not arriving in the land of opportunity, not signing a contract with SNME, not losing an Intercontinental championship match. No. This will be it for me. At least until Highway 2 Hell that is. I'll step into a ring with two other men, both worthy, but neither deserving. Neither of this men, neither Jones nor Mason, deserve this as much as I do. That's not a call of arrogance, it's a declarative statement.
Jacob Jones. The Raven, Jacob Jones. Are you serious? I can't believe it."
Anthony smirks and takes a swig of the Johnnie Walker scotch whiskey. He lows the bottle again and laughs. His laugh is loud. It is not a maniacal laugh of any kind. He continues on as the Neil Diamond song persists in the background. Anthony's laughter begins to slow down.
"No, I'm sorry, I must have had a little too much to drink tonight. Oh well. The Raven Jacob Jones, a man that was born again after being proverbially killed by Raven at Seven Deadly Sins. He's been born again. He's come back from his brutal match as a different man, with a new found passion and a troubled past, just like, you know, everyone else that walks through the doors of Saturday Night's Main Event. I'm sorry, have we met? I can't recall you being around long enough for me to even acknowledge you. I'm sorry, you must have just slipped from my mind. Do you think you deserve the opportunity bestowed upon you? What? Is losing to Raven your only stand? No, Jones. You do not belong here. Prove yourself worthy, I dare you to try, for no one in this world is equal to I. You need to have passion, I don't see it in you. You need to want this more than anything in the world, you need to want this more than you want your own life. You need this to be your life. This is life. It's something you'll never, ever understand. Jones, I respect what you've done in the ring for the short time you've been here. I think you've got potential. But you do not belong. Good luck, Jones. For this, you've got to want it more. Anthony Ferraro, champion, forever more.
Naples takes another swig of the scotch. "Yesterday's gone and now all I want is a smile" is heard as the song begins to fade out. Anthony smiles and raises his bottle to the song on the radio. "I've got you, under my skin. I've got you, deep int he heart of me" is then heard as another Sinatra tune rolls in. Anthony begins snapping along to it. He taps his foot along with the song.
"'I'd sacrifice anything, come what might, for the sake of having you near, in spite of a warning voice and repeats, repeats in my ear!' Oh, what I'd do for you, my dear. My dreams, they'd come true. My fighting, could it all be justified? Leaving everything behind, I did it for a better life. Does passing onto the better life justify everything I've done in my past? I guess there's only one way to find out. Well, I guess this is growing up."
A smirk comes across Anthony's face. He takes a very small sip from the bottle.
"For this world has been unfair, you see?
My mommy's dead and daddy beats me.
I have no friends, I hate school
I'm afraid I'm just one big tool
Once I'm the best, I'll have no one to thank
Not an abusive dad or my mom, the skank
I'm filled with passion and talent too
And there isn't a guy, my mom wouldn't do
I hated my childhood, I had not a thing
But a TV set, so I could whack off to Sting
Take a listen, I promise not to be a bore
I'm no longer a loser, I'm Mason Moore!"
Ferraro doesn't laugh. He just smiles widely, exposing all of his teeth. The "I've Got You Under My Skin" continues to play in the background. Anthony, again drinks from the bottle. He puts it down and stands. He raises his arms and closes his eyes. He then opens them and takes in city.
"It feels good to stand tall. I'm not high enough, but I'll get there soon. Very soon. Mason Moore, you're a poet. Me too. Giving words more meaning than they actually contain, such a beautiful concept. Using words to express any emotion, cryptic or not. I like that about you, your words are powerful, you really are full of passion. Just like Jones, though, you do not belong in this ring, pitted against me with such a prize at stake. You know, if memory serves me right, you didn't have it in you to even step back into the ring with me. You lost to me. You lost to me because you didn't have the will, the strength, the passion or the power to get back up on your feet and roll back into the ring. Do you remember that? And that was with nothing on the line. This means so much more to me. This is my everything and you are nothing.
I'm insulted. I'm insulted that you, in just a few short weeks in this company, have been honored with the chance to vie for a spot in a career defining match. You dare try to take this away from me? I've watched and I've waited for far too long. I've grown in personality, size, age and skill in this organization. I went from the bottom and now that I'm on the brink of breaking into the top, you, in your third match, want to take me away from that? I can't allow that to happen.
What kind of world do we live in? I was led to believe that you need to earn what you get in life. Nothing is handed to you. This may exclude Jacob Jones and Mason Moore, though. I suppose that they are allowed a free pass through life. I wish things were that easy for me when I first came around when guys like Kurt Angle and Chris Jericho were on top. Randy Orton is that man, he's the man that everyone looks at right now. He's the face of the organization. He's the reigning World Heavyweight Champion. For now, that is. The way I've got to see it, is that he's got about a 16 percent chance of walking out of that horrid structure as champion, 1 out of 6. He's going to stand against legendary Justin Tyger, the new Seth Akira, the hellman G Stone, the straight edge superstar CM Punk and that Italian kid that finally got recognized after all of these years, Anthony Ferraro. I once made a promise that I would earn my shot at the World title, I've got to keep my word, it would just be wrong if I didn't. I've gone unaccounted for, for far too long in this business and now I make my statement."
Anthony bends over and grabs his bottle of Johnnie Walker. He looks at it for a few moments. He then glances back at the city. He takes another sip from the bottle. Ferraro lowers the bottle and turns it upside down. Nothing comes out. He drops the bottle next to him, shattering it. He smiles as the glass breaks into many tiny pieces. "And now the end is here. And so I face the final curtain" then is heard. Anthony again smiles. The very familiar Frank Sinatra tune, "My Way" seems to really strike him. He sits back down on the chair, again not laying, sitting up right. Anthony looks over the city, scanning the entire skyline from left to right and back again.
"'And more, much more than this. I did it my way.' Thank you, Frank, that's very right. I'll make my statement and I'll make it my way. I'll step into that ring, pit against those two men, those two men that are not on my level in any way, shape or form and I'll beat them. I'll beat them my way. You know, I never put much thought into it. This is truly an honor. This is truly an incredible event. To have the chance to duel for the World Heavyweight Championship. Unreal, it feels. It feels surreal. I want it. I need it. I'll have this chance. At least let me know that what I've done for all these years is worth something. I just want to sip from the cup. Maybe I don't have it in me to be the champ. But I deserve that chance, that one opportunity to dance with the holder of the greatest prize in sports entertainment.
'I've had my fill, my share of losing. And now, as tears subside, I find it all so amusing. To think, I did all that. And may I say, not in a shy way. Oh no, no not me, I did it my way!' That's right. That's what's most important. In the end, it's not about what we have. It's about the roads that we took to help us get there. I think that's fair. Don't take for granted these little things in life, these little opportunities. They're all we've got in life. Opportunities. A chance to shine.
Moore. You're a great adversary inside that ring, but no. Not yet are you in any position to take yourself to that next level. That level that I so obviously deserve to be on, but have been looked past for so long now. You know, I had someone tell me before that they saw me in a World championship match. I couldn't find it in myself to believe them. It was right before I won that first taste belt, that first plate of gold. The Custom Championship. That's where I've come from, Mason Moore. I've come from a Custom championship and I've rose through the ranks. You will not be awarded, no, handed my shot at greatness this quickly. You don't know what it means to suffer. It's a damn waiting game. I waited for so long, so damn long for this chance. I've fought many, many men. I've beaten many, many men. You're just another one to me. This time it will only be different in that this match means more to me than any before it and only one after it can be of more importance to me.
Jacob Jones. You're an ant. You're a non-factor, not only in this match, but in this organization. Toot your horn that you got slaughtered by Raven all you want, you impress no one and you certainly don't impress me with any of your nonsense. Your ability to endure pain is all I can say is positive about you. You went through hell against a sick man with nothing on the line. You're about to go through a whole different level of torment. I've never anticipated a match more, I've never wanted something more in my life. Think of the pain Raven put you through for his own pleasure. Magnify it. Imagine it to be far worse. That's what I'm willing to not only put you through, but to go through in order to achieve my dream. Step aside. Everyone. Your efforts are pointless. This night, Anthony Ferraro will get his due, his long, long, awaited chance.
Ferraro stands up. He walks to the edge of the roof. He raises his arms again to the city and tilts his head back. His eyes are closed.
"These lights, they make superstars. Under them, you can be no brighter, you can't be seen anymore vividly. Under the spotlight is where I will be on Saturday Night. All of us. The main event. People have bought their tickets to come witness greatness unfold in that ring at the end of the night. We're going to give to them. I'm going to give them what they want. A new champion to be. I scold all of thee for thinking otherwise. It's foolish to imagine either of those men victorious. This is my night. It will be the turning point in my career. It's all uphill from here. Bright lights, big cities. Gold. Championships of the highest prestige. That's what awaits me, that's what has taken so long to achieve. I can already say that it has been worth every grueling second that this company has put me through. I'll stand on my own two feet at the end of that match, when they bell is rung and I'll be able to finally say it, SNME. I will finally be able to say, 'Yes. I did it.'"
Anthony lowers his arms and looks onto the city once more. The lights shine no less brighter than they have for all of this time. They're illuminating the sky to even appear a shade or so lighter. Anthony smiles widely as he continues to think about what may come to be Saturday Night and then soon after. The radio can still be heard. "The record shows, I took the blows and did it, my way!" Ferraro takes a very deep breathe.
"'I did it. My way.'"
Anthony walks away from the scene and the camera focuses on the skyline which continues to shine. The scene slowly fades to black.
How bright and beautiful the city lights shine. Buildings of all shapes and sizes giving off radiant lights of all colors and patterns. Most are bright advertisements for various products or places, others are just spectacles to gain the attention of mindless by-passers. The tallest of structures need no lights to draw attention, their presence is enough on their own. Stores and offices alike give off the same mesmerizing site. People are attracted to these things for reasons they cannot explain, but still with the knowledge of their meaninglessness, they still send the mind into a trance. Cars and people go through the streets, chatting mostly about the same thing. The scenery. The feeling that these buildings give each and every person. This scene is set in the near-off distance. The view is from a rooftop of a penthouse upon a giant condominium complex. Upon this roof is a small, circle table. A bottle of Johnnie Walker stands on it. Next to it, a wine glass that is half filled with the near-golden liquid. A small, black milk crate turned upside down is next to the table. The crate is smaller than the table. Upon it lies a short and lengthy, black radio. It has cassette compartments, a CD player and knobs and switches for power, tuning, volume and power. The large, silver antenna is extended as far as it could be. Along with the distant sounds of beeping and chatter from the streets far below, comes a very familiar tune from the radio. "That's Life" by Frank Sinatra is playing through the speakers. Next to the table and crate, a long lounge chair is seen similar to that of a beach chair to the right. A man is laid back in it at an angle and his legs are up. He is immediately identified as SNME star, Anthony Ferraro. He gazes into the view of the bright lights, mesmerized. His right hand is swaying to the rhythm of the Sinatra song. His head rocks to the right and to the left in sync with his hand movements. His slight smile tells the tale of remembrance. As the words "My, My!" are howled by Frank, Anthony closes his eyes. His smile doubles in size. With his left hand he reaches over and grasps the glasses in between his ring and middle finger. He sips the scotch whiskey and grins. He finishes what is left of the glass. He reaches over and grasps the bottle with his right hand. He pours until the glass is half full and puts down the bottle. He again grabs the glass and begins to raise the glass to his lips, but before he can sip, the next song begins to play. "A boy went back, to Napoli. Because he misses, the scenery," comes through the radio. Anthony quickly rises from his seat and stands, glass in hand.
"'Hey, Mambo! Mambo Italiano!'"
As the Dean Martin song rises in tempo, Anthony begins to do a little bit of a salsa dance. Taking steps forward and back, moving his arms in the same tempo as his feet.
"I love this song. It really brings me the utmost delight. Memories of good times, decent times, bad times. It forces me to think of the time that defines me most. The times that shaped and molded me as a human being. The times that I laughed through life and the times that I fought through life. I've done one more than the other as of late, but it's all okay now. I've found that happiness that I lost so long ago. I've found it right here in Saturday Night's Main Event!"
As the song continues on, Anthony stops dancing and takes a seat back on the chair. He sits at the bottom of the chair so that his legs are bent and his feet are on the ground. He is sitting upright. He stares at the city again. He takes a small sip from the glass.
"I like this feeling. I like feeling. People try to shut the door on their emotions, their love, their hate, their happiness, their sadness, everything. I think accepting these things and moving forward are all apart of life. The key to success is not bottling up your emotions or pushing them away, it's accepting them and moving forward. The ability to do so can really change you for the better. It can let you put the future into perspective, it can make you see things more clearly and more thoroughly. It's truly a beautiful sight once you allow yourself to see it.
No longer am I man that dwells in myself. No longer will I put limits and restrictions on the way I go about things and how I feel. I can allow nothing to hold me back and that includes myself. It includes myself just as much as it includes my opponents, who week in and week out try to intimidate me and try to beat me down in the ring. I've proven time and time again that it is no easy task and I pride myself in my abilities in that ring. I would be afraid of Anthony Ferraro if I were not the one controlling his mind and body. He just got a lot more dangerous."
Ferraro tilts the glass forward and back a few times, watching the liquid climb the walls of the glass both ways. He then raises it and takes another sip. Only about a third of what he poured remains in the glass. He places the glass on the ground to the right of his foot. He clasps his hands together and smiles.
"Congratulations to a man, Alberto Del Rio. The world's biggest wrestling federation has crowned a new Intercontinental champion. For him, I couldn't be happier, I really couldn't. He deserves the right to be called the second best in the business, it's all he'll ever know to be. You see, I will not go on about being screwed over, I will not demand my rematch and I will certainly not demand the Intercontinental championship be awarded to me under and circumstances. I am not bitter about the events that took place last Saturday night, in fact, I couldn't be happier. I lost the match for the Intercontinental championship. In turn, I'm main eventing this week's edition of Allstars... I'm being given a chance to earn the right to step foot into a ring with the World Heavyweight Championship on the line. Four years gone. Four long, painful, life changing years have past and now I have the chance to stand on top of the mountain, the tallest mountain in all of the land. And I thought the Intercontinental championship was important. Wow."
Anthony shakes his head and raises his glass simultaneously. He sips the glass, finishing the drink. He reaches over to the table and grabs the bottle. He holds the glass in his hand about to pour. He stops himself. "Love on the rocks, ain't no surprise," is heard from the radio as "Love on the Rocks" by Neil Diamond begins to play. He stares at the glass and raises it. His left hand which grasps the bottle descends and rests in his lap. He raises the glass over the city and looks through it. He casually tosses the glass to his right. A quiet shatter can be heard as the glass collides with the ground. Anthony puts the bottle in his right hand and raises it and sips straight from the bottle. He shakes his head and his eyes open widely.
"Damn. Is this what I've really come to? I've been handed an opportunity of epic proportions, a golden standard. The golden standard. My mom never told me I'd grow up to be something great. My dad wasn't around long enough to tell me such things about the future, I had to find out for myself. I had to make myself great and dammit, I've done it. Does anybody hear me? Can you hear me, world? Are you ready for a new star, leading a new generation? That's me. I'm leading the push for excellence. I'm leading a revolution.
Saturday Night's Main Event Allstars will be the defining moment of my life so far. Not leaving my family behind, not arriving in the land of opportunity, not signing a contract with SNME, not losing an Intercontinental championship match. No. This will be it for me. At least until Highway 2 Hell that is. I'll step into a ring with two other men, both worthy, but neither deserving. Neither of this men, neither Jones nor Mason, deserve this as much as I do. That's not a call of arrogance, it's a declarative statement.
Jacob Jones. The Raven, Jacob Jones. Are you serious? I can't believe it."
Anthony smirks and takes a swig of the Johnnie Walker scotch whiskey. He lows the bottle again and laughs. His laugh is loud. It is not a maniacal laugh of any kind. He continues on as the Neil Diamond song persists in the background. Anthony's laughter begins to slow down.
"No, I'm sorry, I must have had a little too much to drink tonight. Oh well. The Raven Jacob Jones, a man that was born again after being proverbially killed by Raven at Seven Deadly Sins. He's been born again. He's come back from his brutal match as a different man, with a new found passion and a troubled past, just like, you know, everyone else that walks through the doors of Saturday Night's Main Event. I'm sorry, have we met? I can't recall you being around long enough for me to even acknowledge you. I'm sorry, you must have just slipped from my mind. Do you think you deserve the opportunity bestowed upon you? What? Is losing to Raven your only stand? No, Jones. You do not belong here. Prove yourself worthy, I dare you to try, for no one in this world is equal to I. You need to have passion, I don't see it in you. You need to want this more than anything in the world, you need to want this more than you want your own life. You need this to be your life. This is life. It's something you'll never, ever understand. Jones, I respect what you've done in the ring for the short time you've been here. I think you've got potential. But you do not belong. Good luck, Jones. For this, you've got to want it more. Anthony Ferraro, champion, forever more.
Naples takes another swig of the scotch. "Yesterday's gone and now all I want is a smile" is heard as the song begins to fade out. Anthony smiles and raises his bottle to the song on the radio. "I've got you, under my skin. I've got you, deep int he heart of me" is then heard as another Sinatra tune rolls in. Anthony begins snapping along to it. He taps his foot along with the song.
"'I'd sacrifice anything, come what might, for the sake of having you near, in spite of a warning voice and repeats, repeats in my ear!' Oh, what I'd do for you, my dear. My dreams, they'd come true. My fighting, could it all be justified? Leaving everything behind, I did it for a better life. Does passing onto the better life justify everything I've done in my past? I guess there's only one way to find out. Well, I guess this is growing up."
A smirk comes across Anthony's face. He takes a very small sip from the bottle.
"For this world has been unfair, you see?
My mommy's dead and daddy beats me.
I have no friends, I hate school
I'm afraid I'm just one big tool
Once I'm the best, I'll have no one to thank
Not an abusive dad or my mom, the skank
I'm filled with passion and talent too
And there isn't a guy, my mom wouldn't do
I hated my childhood, I had not a thing
But a TV set, so I could whack off to Sting
Take a listen, I promise not to be a bore
I'm no longer a loser, I'm Mason Moore!"
Ferraro doesn't laugh. He just smiles widely, exposing all of his teeth. The "I've Got You Under My Skin" continues to play in the background. Anthony, again drinks from the bottle. He puts it down and stands. He raises his arms and closes his eyes. He then opens them and takes in city.
"It feels good to stand tall. I'm not high enough, but I'll get there soon. Very soon. Mason Moore, you're a poet. Me too. Giving words more meaning than they actually contain, such a beautiful concept. Using words to express any emotion, cryptic or not. I like that about you, your words are powerful, you really are full of passion. Just like Jones, though, you do not belong in this ring, pitted against me with such a prize at stake. You know, if memory serves me right, you didn't have it in you to even step back into the ring with me. You lost to me. You lost to me because you didn't have the will, the strength, the passion or the power to get back up on your feet and roll back into the ring. Do you remember that? And that was with nothing on the line. This means so much more to me. This is my everything and you are nothing.
I'm insulted. I'm insulted that you, in just a few short weeks in this company, have been honored with the chance to vie for a spot in a career defining match. You dare try to take this away from me? I've watched and I've waited for far too long. I've grown in personality, size, age and skill in this organization. I went from the bottom and now that I'm on the brink of breaking into the top, you, in your third match, want to take me away from that? I can't allow that to happen.
What kind of world do we live in? I was led to believe that you need to earn what you get in life. Nothing is handed to you. This may exclude Jacob Jones and Mason Moore, though. I suppose that they are allowed a free pass through life. I wish things were that easy for me when I first came around when guys like Kurt Angle and Chris Jericho were on top. Randy Orton is that man, he's the man that everyone looks at right now. He's the face of the organization. He's the reigning World Heavyweight Champion. For now, that is. The way I've got to see it, is that he's got about a 16 percent chance of walking out of that horrid structure as champion, 1 out of 6. He's going to stand against legendary Justin Tyger, the new Seth Akira, the hellman G Stone, the straight edge superstar CM Punk and that Italian kid that finally got recognized after all of these years, Anthony Ferraro. I once made a promise that I would earn my shot at the World title, I've got to keep my word, it would just be wrong if I didn't. I've gone unaccounted for, for far too long in this business and now I make my statement."
Anthony bends over and grabs his bottle of Johnnie Walker. He looks at it for a few moments. He then glances back at the city. He takes another sip from the bottle. Ferraro lowers the bottle and turns it upside down. Nothing comes out. He drops the bottle next to him, shattering it. He smiles as the glass breaks into many tiny pieces. "And now the end is here. And so I face the final curtain" then is heard. Anthony again smiles. The very familiar Frank Sinatra tune, "My Way" seems to really strike him. He sits back down on the chair, again not laying, sitting up right. Anthony looks over the city, scanning the entire skyline from left to right and back again.
"'And more, much more than this. I did it my way.' Thank you, Frank, that's very right. I'll make my statement and I'll make it my way. I'll step into that ring, pit against those two men, those two men that are not on my level in any way, shape or form and I'll beat them. I'll beat them my way. You know, I never put much thought into it. This is truly an honor. This is truly an incredible event. To have the chance to duel for the World Heavyweight Championship. Unreal, it feels. It feels surreal. I want it. I need it. I'll have this chance. At least let me know that what I've done for all these years is worth something. I just want to sip from the cup. Maybe I don't have it in me to be the champ. But I deserve that chance, that one opportunity to dance with the holder of the greatest prize in sports entertainment.
'I've had my fill, my share of losing. And now, as tears subside, I find it all so amusing. To think, I did all that. And may I say, not in a shy way. Oh no, no not me, I did it my way!' That's right. That's what's most important. In the end, it's not about what we have. It's about the roads that we took to help us get there. I think that's fair. Don't take for granted these little things in life, these little opportunities. They're all we've got in life. Opportunities. A chance to shine.
Moore. You're a great adversary inside that ring, but no. Not yet are you in any position to take yourself to that next level. That level that I so obviously deserve to be on, but have been looked past for so long now. You know, I had someone tell me before that they saw me in a World championship match. I couldn't find it in myself to believe them. It was right before I won that first taste belt, that first plate of gold. The Custom Championship. That's where I've come from, Mason Moore. I've come from a Custom championship and I've rose through the ranks. You will not be awarded, no, handed my shot at greatness this quickly. You don't know what it means to suffer. It's a damn waiting game. I waited for so long, so damn long for this chance. I've fought many, many men. I've beaten many, many men. You're just another one to me. This time it will only be different in that this match means more to me than any before it and only one after it can be of more importance to me.
Jacob Jones. You're an ant. You're a non-factor, not only in this match, but in this organization. Toot your horn that you got slaughtered by Raven all you want, you impress no one and you certainly don't impress me with any of your nonsense. Your ability to endure pain is all I can say is positive about you. You went through hell against a sick man with nothing on the line. You're about to go through a whole different level of torment. I've never anticipated a match more, I've never wanted something more in my life. Think of the pain Raven put you through for his own pleasure. Magnify it. Imagine it to be far worse. That's what I'm willing to not only put you through, but to go through in order to achieve my dream. Step aside. Everyone. Your efforts are pointless. This night, Anthony Ferraro will get his due, his long, long, awaited chance.
Ferraro stands up. He walks to the edge of the roof. He raises his arms again to the city and tilts his head back. His eyes are closed.
"These lights, they make superstars. Under them, you can be no brighter, you can't be seen anymore vividly. Under the spotlight is where I will be on Saturday Night. All of us. The main event. People have bought their tickets to come witness greatness unfold in that ring at the end of the night. We're going to give to them. I'm going to give them what they want. A new champion to be. I scold all of thee for thinking otherwise. It's foolish to imagine either of those men victorious. This is my night. It will be the turning point in my career. It's all uphill from here. Bright lights, big cities. Gold. Championships of the highest prestige. That's what awaits me, that's what has taken so long to achieve. I can already say that it has been worth every grueling second that this company has put me through. I'll stand on my own two feet at the end of that match, when they bell is rung and I'll be able to finally say it, SNME. I will finally be able to say, 'Yes. I did it.'"
Anthony lowers his arms and looks onto the city once more. The lights shine no less brighter than they have for all of this time. They're illuminating the sky to even appear a shade or so lighter. Anthony smiles widely as he continues to think about what may come to be Saturday Night and then soon after. The radio can still be heard. "The record shows, I took the blows and did it, my way!" Ferraro takes a very deep breathe.
"'I did it. My way.'"
Anthony walks away from the scene and the camera focuses on the skyline which continues to shine. The scene slowly fades to black.