Post by "HBK" Shawn Michaels on Sept 6, 2011 21:53:25 GMT -5
"If I die young, bury me in satin
Lay me down on a, bed of roses
Sink me in the river, at dawn
Send me away with the words of a love song"
A cool fall breeze blows through the air, as the sun is setting over the horion. An old oak tree, withering away, is in the distance. It's roots run deep, but they're sturdy. A wooden swing hangs down from a limb. The swing moves back and fourth, whether it is the wind blowing it, or if someone was just a swingin' in the breeze. A door suddenly slams, as attention is turned. A house rests just up the hill, welcoming all who come. As we journey up the hill, a loud screaming can be heard from within the house. The light from within the welcoming home allows us to see inside. A mother embraces her children. Tears pour down her face, as she hugs them tighter and tighter. What's being said cannot be heard, but the mother looks her children right in the eyes, her hands tightly gripping theirs. As her lips move, tears roll down the young boy's face, as well as the younger girl's. The two children wrap their arms around their mother, as thunder rolls through the sky. Rain begins to patter against the window, growing heavier and heavier. The thunder booms, as the lightening flashes across the sky. With a blinding flash, the scene is no more.
"A penny for my thoughts, oh no, I'll sell them for a dollar
They're worth so much more after I'm a goner
And maybe then you'll hear the words I been singin'
Funny when you're dead how people start listenin'"
A church bell tolls, ringing for what seems like miles. A great white church is before us, where hundeds inside mourn the loss of a love d one. In front of the church a black hearse awaits, ready to give the last ride. Two great big doors creak open, as a casket is wheeled out. Six men surround it, their faces looking quite familiar. Hunter Hearst Helmsley, Kevin Nash, Scott Hall, Sean Waltman, Justin Tyger, and Vince McMahon. The six men wrap their hands tight around the bars on the sid eof the casket. With their strength, they lift. As the casket is carried down the stairs, the mother and her two children look on, surround by many others. Tears pour down all of their faces, showing their love and compassion. The door to the hearse slams shut, as scene fades from us.
"The ballad of a dove
Go with peace and love
Gather up your tears, keep 'em in your pocket
Save them for a time when you're really gonna need them"
A heavy thud falls upon our ears. Again and again, the heavy thud sounds. We look up from a hole, six feet deep within the ground. Dirt comes pouring in, as it beats down on the casket once more. Shovel full of dirt, one after the other, are dumped into the grave, covering the remains of one of the greatest men to walk God's green Earth. As we escape the grave, no one is there. No one is weaping. No one is asking why. What looked to be a sunny days is slowly engulfed in dark, haunting clouds. Thunder roars through the sky, as rain slowly starts to fall. Standing beside the grave is a picture, commemorating him.
"The Icon."
"The Main Event."
"Mr. Wrestlefest."
"The Showstopper."
"The Hearbreak Kid."
Shawn Michaels.
Michael Shawn Hickenbottom.
The history he made was unbelievable. The feats he overcame.... were nearly impossible. But he did it. He overcame them all. Except one. The feat which we all must face... death. The black hand came and took his fire that burned deep inside his soul. The black hand pulled him away from us, taking him from our presence. The time he had left was stolen from him. His wife, Rebecca. His son, Cameron. His daughter, Cheyenne. His friends. His fans. The world. The rain pours heavier and heavier, as the ink forming the picture starts to run, almost washing him away.
"Aaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!"
Blackness engulfs us, as a scream shrieks out! His body jolts up in a panic. Scared for his life. He is drenched in sweat. His body shakes with chills. Pulling the cover close to him, he reaches out. A light flicks on. Shawn sits up on the bed before us. He buries his face in his hands, coming to realization. He is not dead. He was not taken from us. From his friends. From his family. He is indeed very much alive. Shawn slaps himself across the face lightly, making sure this isn't another dream... or nightmare. Realizing where he is, Shawn reaches into a drawer on the nightstand next to the bed he sleeps on. He pulls out a picture. he stares at it deeply, as a tear rolls down his cheek. He slowly brings the picture to his lips, kissing it lightly. He cherishes it, holding it tightly to his heart. As Shawn inhales deeply, he soflty speaks, staring deeply at the picture of his most cherished thing in this life of his.
Shawn: I count the days until I'm back again, back there by your side. When we're apart it feels like something in me... something in me dies. I don't have to die to go to heaven... I just have to go home.
With another tear rolling down his cheek, Shawn kisses the picture. Without hesitation, he swings his legs over the side of the bed. He leans over, resting his elbows on his knees. Slowly taking in breath after breath, Shawn rests his chin on his hands. He stares straight ahead of him, looking through the glass windown that stares out into the city. Darkness leaches over the city, engulfing it with the evil it brings.
Shawn: When will it stop? When will this madness leave my mind? When? When?!? Wheeeeeeeen?!?
Shawn suddenly grabs a handful of hair, tugging at it. In a crazed state of mind, Shawn suddenly stands up. He storms over to the sink, turning a bad upside down. Bottles of pills scatter across the counter. Shawn looks at each bottle carefully, trying to find the drug of choice, the one that will ease his mind. With each bottle he picks up, it isn't the right one. Each bottle is slammed against the wall, scattering pills everywhere. With rage filling his soul, Shawn goes over to the closet. He snatches it open, ripping out his suitcase. The suitcase soars through the air, as it crashes down on the hotel bed. Nearly ripping it open, Shawn empties the suitcase. Clothes scatter the floor, as he tosses them over his head. Emptiness stares him in the face, as he is out of luck. Enraged at his failure to find his poison, his pleasure, Shawn slings the suitcase across the room, slamming it into the wall. Sweat slowly beads across his face, as he starts to lose control.
Shawn: Why won't they stop, God? Why? What have I done to deserve this? Why me?
Shawn slowly stumbles back, his body running into the wall. Shawn slowly slides down the wall, his back against it. With his knees bent, Shawn sits there, his head banging into the wall over and over, while he speaks in a madness.
Shawn: For days... Weeks! Months! Years! These nightmares have haunted me. They've driven me insane. They've... nearly killed me. I can't take it anymore, lord. I can't go on like this. I can't keep being haunted by my past. I'm not that man anymore. I'm not one of them. I can't do it anymore. I'm not as good as I once was. I'm dying. Fading. Falling. The anxiety. It kills everything inside of me. It eats me alive.
Slowly pulling himself up, Shawn stumbles back to the sink. Leaning over it, he stares down. His eyes jump from here to there, gazing over each and every pill scattered around. his eyes suddenly grow wide, as a creepy, pleasing smirk rolls across his face. Shawn reaches down, grabbing the little white hope that was hidden from him. With a handful of water from the sink, Shawn places the pill on his tongue and swallows. Down it goes, hope to God it helps. For what seems like an eternity, Shawn remains leaning over the sink, his knuckles white from holding his weight. His head slowly lifts, staring straight into the eyes of his own being.
Shawn: You are my light, you are my fire. The only one that's not a liar. you get me through all of my days. You keep me numb to the pain.
Slapping himsef across the face time after time, Shawn's anxiety slowly seems to be fading.
Shawn: Who was I lying to? Who's mind was I filling with such false proclamations? Huh? Who? Me... No. Not me. I knew I was lying. I knew the words coming out of my mouth were worthless. Was it God? No... not him. He doesn't listen to me anymore. He's not here for me anymore. And that's why... he's gonna sit this one out. God... I entrusted him. I gave him my life. I gave him everything. And what did it do for me? Not a damn thing. Sure... I got a grip on my life. For a little while atleast. But let's be honest... Where were you, God, when I needed you? Where was your assurance? Huh? Where were you on all those nights where pain filled my nerves and drove me to this insanity? Nowhere. You failed me, God. While I begged and pleaded for your help, you sat up there on your high and mighty throne, and you watched me suffer. You watched me ache. Who was there for me? The alcohol. The drugs. They were my only friends in a time of need. They were the ones that comforted me. They cared for me. They numbed my pain and let me live, God. What did you do? Nothing!
With rage embracing his mind, Shawn slams his fists against the mirror before him, shattering into thousands of tiny pieces. Looking down at his hands, blood starts to drip, covering the counter. Spilling onto the cool, hard tiled floor. Shawn slowly lifts his hands up, eyeing them. As the blood pours down his wrists, he smears it across his chest.
Shawn: Who's gonna help me now, God? You?
Shawn slowly laughs, but it starts to fade, as he grows lightheaded from losing blood. Shawn slowly staggers back, pushing open the door to the shower. Before sliding down to the shower floor, Shawn turns on the cold water, letting it pour all over his broken body. The blood is slowly cleansed from his wrists, his hands, his body.
Shawn: No one knows what's gonna happen tommorow night. Hell, not even me. They don't see it coming. They won't know it hit them... until it hits them. They'll never expect it. They'll never in their wildest dreams... think of it. But me... I did. I thought of it for hours and hours, days and days. I'm sick of sitting back there. I'm sick of letting them have it all. I built this place. I made them. Without me... they would all be nothing. Every last one of them. When is it going to be my time? Where is all my fame? All my glory? Where is it? Huh? Where? Where? Where? Wheeeeeere? September third... That's where. Those five men. They... they think it'll be their time. They think it'll be their glory. No, no, no, no... Noooooo! Its mine. ALL MINE!
With madness in his eyes, Shawn simply tilts his head back, letting the cold water pour over him. As blackness starts to fade over the scene, silence lingers in the air.
Light slowly fills the scene, as everything starts to clear up. A ring sits in the center of a massive stadium. The University of Phoenix Stadium to be exact. The stage is set. The barricades have are surrounding. The chairs are waiting to be filled. As we pan around at the awe-inspiring scene around us, he is spotted. The man who was clawing and scratching for his addictions to save him is sitting there on the cold metal ramp. His arms rest on his bent knees, as he just stares at the ring.
Shawn: It's real... isn't it? This... this isn't a dream. This... is my reality. I made, didn't I? You know, I still remember sitting in front of that television as a young boy. Watching the larger than life wrestlers battling in a ring much like the one that sits before me. But you know what sticks out even more? My father telling me that my dreams were stupid. My father telling me that I could dream of being a wrestler one day, but it would never happen. That, more than anything, is the defining moment of my childhood. He told me I couldn't do it. He told me I would fail at it. He ignored the one thing in life that I truly wanted. I don't even resent him for that. I love him for that. His denial of my dreams... is what made me the man I am today. His doubt of my drive... it got me here to this very moment. And boy, is this moment going to be a special one, or what? Thanks, dad.
Shawn slowly pulls himself up. Step after step, Shawn gets closer to the ring. His home. His throne. His life. As Shawn reaches it, he leans over, resting his elbows on the canvas. He slowly runs his hand across the mat, taking in the memories it has left him deep inside of his mind... or what's left of it.
Shawn: For nearly 30 years... I've made a living flying across this ring. The wins. The losses. They're what's given me life. Without them... I'm nothing. Without them... I'm empty. That's why I must do this. See, this wasn't going to happen. This was never the plan. But when that spot opened up... When G Stone told me he wasn't going to be able to compete in the Elimination Chamber, I knew it. I knew then and there... that this was all for me. It wasn't God's doing. No... this opportunity that was placed before me on a silver platter... was destiny. And is destiny beautiful, or what? Oh, how gorgeous she is. It nearly kills me thinking of it. The look on their faces. The thoughts running through their minds. There's only one of them who's ever had the privilege to face. The rest... are completely clueless.
Shawn slowly starts to walk around the ring, running his hand across the apron as he goes.
Shawn: CM Punk, he was once on top of the world. He had everything anyone ever dreamed of wanting. The World Heavyweight Championship. The Intercontinental Championship. A beautiful woman. But he threw it all away, and he walked out on us. The man who gave his all... just walked away. Now tell me... this company was built on guys' backs like you again. C'mon, Punk. Look me in the eyes and tell me that. See, you're wrong, Punk. This company... it was built by me! You see, when Vince McMahon was off doing God knows what... I was making plans. I was signing talent. I was working out television deals. With who's money? My money! I backed this company. I created it. And I'll be damned if some young indy fed hack like you... is going to deny me that right. I made you, Punk. I made you the world wide star you are today. Who gave you a platform to wrestle on? Huh? Who booked you in main events every week, so one of the best young guys could get exposure? Me! And you have the nerves... the nerves to doubt me. You can call me a tyrant. I don't care. But remember this... without me. Without this place. You would be working for fifty bucks a night in some crap town in some talentless indy fed. Remember, Punk... remember.
As Shawn reaches the stairs he sits down. He rests his elbows on his knees, as he looks out in the empty seats that fill the arena.
Shawn: Seth Akira, you... You're a smart one, huh? You thought of it. But were you really sure of it? Even if you weren't, you were right, Seth. Me sending Nash out there to make a point to you guys, it was my doing. And while I was watching him beat down each and every one of you, I was hoping. I was wishing... that one of you would wind up getting injured. And what do you know? My wish... came true. Nash took care of business, and he did just a little more. He gave me the chance that I have been seeking. And this opportunity is all mine. This chance... is the chance of a lifetime. I don't care that this is your first shot at being a World Heavyweight Champion. It is my place to give it to you, and it is my place to take it all away from you within the blink of an eye. Seth... I'm sorry to have to do this, but I'm not looking out for anyone else. Only one man matters. And that man... is me.
Shawn: Anthony Ferraro, you've come so far lately. You've evolved into someone... someone so far from what you were. But that doesn't matter, does it? The distance you have come... just isn't enough. You'll never be what you hope to be, Anthony. Those childhood dreams... will never be fulfilled. Unlike me, you don't have what it takes. Unlike me, you'll never make it to glory. You couldn't even beat Alberto Del Rio, Anthony. Why you're in this match is beyond me. What was I thinking? Why would I trust someone like you... with such a magnificent feat? That I'll never know. Anthony. I'll never know.
Shawn stands up and turns around. He looks up into the ring and steps up. As Shawn's feet step onto the apron, he closes his eyes. A roar of cheers faintly roars in the background. A smile wipes across his face, as he spins across the apron and ducks under the top rope. As Shawn steps into the center of the ring, he drops to his knees. His head hangs low, staring straight down at the mat. His hand rubs across it, as blood stains fade into sight.
Shawn: It is in this very ring, Randy. Can't you remember it? I do. It was just like yesterday. San Antonio, Texas. Unbreakable. When the future of this company was possibly in shambles, you were trying to take me out. You were trying to help Paul Heyman gain control. Were you blind, Randy? No. You were young, Randy. You were young, and you were looking to make a name for yourself. What better way could you make it, than beating "The Heartbreak Kid" in his hometown? You know, before that match I sat in the back thinking to myself. Should I put this kid over? Should I make his entire career? I didn't want to, Randy. But that was my own personal choice. I wanted more than anything to go out there in front of my hometown and come out with a win... but I didn't. I did what was right, Orton. I did what was good for business. I put you over. I nearly killed myself doing it... but in the process, I made you the man you are today.
Shawn: Ya' know, I thought that after that match you had with me, you would rise to the top. I thought that you would make the most of beating someone like me. But you didn't, Randy. I put you over, and you did nothing with it. I put you out there, and you fell flat on your face! And that's why we met again. Baltimore, Maryland. The Last Stop. I Quit. Randy... just like the time before, I sat in the back thinking. I was asking myself if I should put you over again. But as I looked at what you did with the huge opportunity I gave you the last time... my ego got the better of me. My mind waged war, and my ego came out on top. There was no way I was going to walk out of Baltimore, Maryland with a loss. You faught hardy that night, Randy. You and I nearly came face to face with death, as a leapt off the side of that stage. Medical personnel thought neither one of us were going to get up... but they thought wrong, didn't they? I pulled myself up out of the wreckage, and I claimed my victory over you. And what did you do with that?
Shawn: You capitalized on it. It took time, but you finally did it. Look at you now, Randy. You're sitting up there on that throne looking down at us all. Feels good, doesn't it? There's nothing better, huh? You don't have to tell me that, Randy. I know. Trust me, I know. I've been there time and time again, and come Highway 2 Hell, I'll be there again.
Shawn slowly raises his head up, staring up at the hellacious structure that hangs above the ring. Miles of chain. Tons of metal. As Shawn takes in the brute hell the structure offers, he smiles.
Shawn: Tough world for an old man, huh Tyger? Ya' know, people say guys like you and I don't belong in matches like these. They say we're a big time risk. They say we're a hazard. But you and I... we know better than that. This is all we know. And we'll be damned if we're gonna have someone tell us otherwise, right? You know, I thought you and I were close. Like brothers almost. But lately... it just doesn't seem that way. It seems as if... you've forgotten about me, Michael. What? is it because Orton has it all? Is it because he's the champion? I can be that, Tyger. I can be the champion! A better champion. Orton... has taken your friendship from me, Tyger. Can't you see he's using you? He nearly punted your head off. But you still come crawling back. Would I ever do such a thing, Tyger? No. Not me. Not 'ol Shawn Michaels. But I'm sure you've forgotten about 'ol Shawn Michaels. I'm just not good enough anymore, am I? Huh, Tyger? Am I? Am I good enough?
Shawn slowly backs his way up to the corner. He leans back against the turnbuckles, as his arms rest against the ropes.
Shawn: I rememer when these people chanted my name. I remember when these people would go nuts when I would stand in this corner, stomping my boot. It was then that they knew, Shawn Michaels was about to win it all. Shawn Michaels was about to defeat whatever it is that stands in his way. See, these people have lost sight of what a true superstar in this business is. They have forgotten what talent looks like. I'm done sitting back there withering away. I'm done letting my legacy fade into the night. I'm not just some corporate hack who sits in his office all day. I'm much more than that. Tommorow night, I'm gonna shine. I'm gonna shock the world, baby. And they're never gonna see it coming. No more nightmares. Daddy's comin' home, babies. Daddy's comin' home.
Shawn slowly drops to the mat, rolling under the bottom rope. He walks straight up the ramp, not looking back. As Shawn reaches the curtain, he slowly stops. He looks back at the ring, knowing that tommorow night he will revive his legacy from the ashes it has been laid to rest within. He will not die young. With his hand gripping the curtain, Shawn steps behind them, as the scene fades away.
Lay me down on a, bed of roses
Sink me in the river, at dawn
Send me away with the words of a love song"
A cool fall breeze blows through the air, as the sun is setting over the horion. An old oak tree, withering away, is in the distance. It's roots run deep, but they're sturdy. A wooden swing hangs down from a limb. The swing moves back and fourth, whether it is the wind blowing it, or if someone was just a swingin' in the breeze. A door suddenly slams, as attention is turned. A house rests just up the hill, welcoming all who come. As we journey up the hill, a loud screaming can be heard from within the house. The light from within the welcoming home allows us to see inside. A mother embraces her children. Tears pour down her face, as she hugs them tighter and tighter. What's being said cannot be heard, but the mother looks her children right in the eyes, her hands tightly gripping theirs. As her lips move, tears roll down the young boy's face, as well as the younger girl's. The two children wrap their arms around their mother, as thunder rolls through the sky. Rain begins to patter against the window, growing heavier and heavier. The thunder booms, as the lightening flashes across the sky. With a blinding flash, the scene is no more.
"A penny for my thoughts, oh no, I'll sell them for a dollar
They're worth so much more after I'm a goner
And maybe then you'll hear the words I been singin'
Funny when you're dead how people start listenin'"
A church bell tolls, ringing for what seems like miles. A great white church is before us, where hundeds inside mourn the loss of a love d one. In front of the church a black hearse awaits, ready to give the last ride. Two great big doors creak open, as a casket is wheeled out. Six men surround it, their faces looking quite familiar. Hunter Hearst Helmsley, Kevin Nash, Scott Hall, Sean Waltman, Justin Tyger, and Vince McMahon. The six men wrap their hands tight around the bars on the sid eof the casket. With their strength, they lift. As the casket is carried down the stairs, the mother and her two children look on, surround by many others. Tears pour down all of their faces, showing their love and compassion. The door to the hearse slams shut, as scene fades from us.
"The ballad of a dove
Go with peace and love
Gather up your tears, keep 'em in your pocket
Save them for a time when you're really gonna need them"
A heavy thud falls upon our ears. Again and again, the heavy thud sounds. We look up from a hole, six feet deep within the ground. Dirt comes pouring in, as it beats down on the casket once more. Shovel full of dirt, one after the other, are dumped into the grave, covering the remains of one of the greatest men to walk God's green Earth. As we escape the grave, no one is there. No one is weaping. No one is asking why. What looked to be a sunny days is slowly engulfed in dark, haunting clouds. Thunder roars through the sky, as rain slowly starts to fall. Standing beside the grave is a picture, commemorating him.
"The Icon."
"The Main Event."
"Mr. Wrestlefest."
"The Showstopper."
"The Hearbreak Kid."
Shawn Michaels.
Michael Shawn Hickenbottom.
The history he made was unbelievable. The feats he overcame.... were nearly impossible. But he did it. He overcame them all. Except one. The feat which we all must face... death. The black hand came and took his fire that burned deep inside his soul. The black hand pulled him away from us, taking him from our presence. The time he had left was stolen from him. His wife, Rebecca. His son, Cameron. His daughter, Cheyenne. His friends. His fans. The world. The rain pours heavier and heavier, as the ink forming the picture starts to run, almost washing him away.
"Aaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!"
Blackness engulfs us, as a scream shrieks out! His body jolts up in a panic. Scared for his life. He is drenched in sweat. His body shakes with chills. Pulling the cover close to him, he reaches out. A light flicks on. Shawn sits up on the bed before us. He buries his face in his hands, coming to realization. He is not dead. He was not taken from us. From his friends. From his family. He is indeed very much alive. Shawn slaps himself across the face lightly, making sure this isn't another dream... or nightmare. Realizing where he is, Shawn reaches into a drawer on the nightstand next to the bed he sleeps on. He pulls out a picture. he stares at it deeply, as a tear rolls down his cheek. He slowly brings the picture to his lips, kissing it lightly. He cherishes it, holding it tightly to his heart. As Shawn inhales deeply, he soflty speaks, staring deeply at the picture of his most cherished thing in this life of his.
Shawn: I count the days until I'm back again, back there by your side. When we're apart it feels like something in me... something in me dies. I don't have to die to go to heaven... I just have to go home.
With another tear rolling down his cheek, Shawn kisses the picture. Without hesitation, he swings his legs over the side of the bed. He leans over, resting his elbows on his knees. Slowly taking in breath after breath, Shawn rests his chin on his hands. He stares straight ahead of him, looking through the glass windown that stares out into the city. Darkness leaches over the city, engulfing it with the evil it brings.
Shawn: When will it stop? When will this madness leave my mind? When? When?!? Wheeeeeeeen?!?
Shawn suddenly grabs a handful of hair, tugging at it. In a crazed state of mind, Shawn suddenly stands up. He storms over to the sink, turning a bad upside down. Bottles of pills scatter across the counter. Shawn looks at each bottle carefully, trying to find the drug of choice, the one that will ease his mind. With each bottle he picks up, it isn't the right one. Each bottle is slammed against the wall, scattering pills everywhere. With rage filling his soul, Shawn goes over to the closet. He snatches it open, ripping out his suitcase. The suitcase soars through the air, as it crashes down on the hotel bed. Nearly ripping it open, Shawn empties the suitcase. Clothes scatter the floor, as he tosses them over his head. Emptiness stares him in the face, as he is out of luck. Enraged at his failure to find his poison, his pleasure, Shawn slings the suitcase across the room, slamming it into the wall. Sweat slowly beads across his face, as he starts to lose control.
Shawn: Why won't they stop, God? Why? What have I done to deserve this? Why me?
Shawn slowly stumbles back, his body running into the wall. Shawn slowly slides down the wall, his back against it. With his knees bent, Shawn sits there, his head banging into the wall over and over, while he speaks in a madness.
Shawn: For days... Weeks! Months! Years! These nightmares have haunted me. They've driven me insane. They've... nearly killed me. I can't take it anymore, lord. I can't go on like this. I can't keep being haunted by my past. I'm not that man anymore. I'm not one of them. I can't do it anymore. I'm not as good as I once was. I'm dying. Fading. Falling. The anxiety. It kills everything inside of me. It eats me alive.
Slowly pulling himself up, Shawn stumbles back to the sink. Leaning over it, he stares down. His eyes jump from here to there, gazing over each and every pill scattered around. his eyes suddenly grow wide, as a creepy, pleasing smirk rolls across his face. Shawn reaches down, grabbing the little white hope that was hidden from him. With a handful of water from the sink, Shawn places the pill on his tongue and swallows. Down it goes, hope to God it helps. For what seems like an eternity, Shawn remains leaning over the sink, his knuckles white from holding his weight. His head slowly lifts, staring straight into the eyes of his own being.
Shawn: You are my light, you are my fire. The only one that's not a liar. you get me through all of my days. You keep me numb to the pain.
Slapping himsef across the face time after time, Shawn's anxiety slowly seems to be fading.
Shawn: Who was I lying to? Who's mind was I filling with such false proclamations? Huh? Who? Me... No. Not me. I knew I was lying. I knew the words coming out of my mouth were worthless. Was it God? No... not him. He doesn't listen to me anymore. He's not here for me anymore. And that's why... he's gonna sit this one out. God... I entrusted him. I gave him my life. I gave him everything. And what did it do for me? Not a damn thing. Sure... I got a grip on my life. For a little while atleast. But let's be honest... Where were you, God, when I needed you? Where was your assurance? Huh? Where were you on all those nights where pain filled my nerves and drove me to this insanity? Nowhere. You failed me, God. While I begged and pleaded for your help, you sat up there on your high and mighty throne, and you watched me suffer. You watched me ache. Who was there for me? The alcohol. The drugs. They were my only friends in a time of need. They were the ones that comforted me. They cared for me. They numbed my pain and let me live, God. What did you do? Nothing!
With rage embracing his mind, Shawn slams his fists against the mirror before him, shattering into thousands of tiny pieces. Looking down at his hands, blood starts to drip, covering the counter. Spilling onto the cool, hard tiled floor. Shawn slowly lifts his hands up, eyeing them. As the blood pours down his wrists, he smears it across his chest.
Shawn: Who's gonna help me now, God? You?
Shawn slowly laughs, but it starts to fade, as he grows lightheaded from losing blood. Shawn slowly staggers back, pushing open the door to the shower. Before sliding down to the shower floor, Shawn turns on the cold water, letting it pour all over his broken body. The blood is slowly cleansed from his wrists, his hands, his body.
Shawn: No one knows what's gonna happen tommorow night. Hell, not even me. They don't see it coming. They won't know it hit them... until it hits them. They'll never expect it. They'll never in their wildest dreams... think of it. But me... I did. I thought of it for hours and hours, days and days. I'm sick of sitting back there. I'm sick of letting them have it all. I built this place. I made them. Without me... they would all be nothing. Every last one of them. When is it going to be my time? Where is all my fame? All my glory? Where is it? Huh? Where? Where? Where? Wheeeeeere? September third... That's where. Those five men. They... they think it'll be their time. They think it'll be their glory. No, no, no, no... Noooooo! Its mine. ALL MINE!
With madness in his eyes, Shawn simply tilts his head back, letting the cold water pour over him. As blackness starts to fade over the scene, silence lingers in the air.
Light slowly fills the scene, as everything starts to clear up. A ring sits in the center of a massive stadium. The University of Phoenix Stadium to be exact. The stage is set. The barricades have are surrounding. The chairs are waiting to be filled. As we pan around at the awe-inspiring scene around us, he is spotted. The man who was clawing and scratching for his addictions to save him is sitting there on the cold metal ramp. His arms rest on his bent knees, as he just stares at the ring.
Shawn: It's real... isn't it? This... this isn't a dream. This... is my reality. I made, didn't I? You know, I still remember sitting in front of that television as a young boy. Watching the larger than life wrestlers battling in a ring much like the one that sits before me. But you know what sticks out even more? My father telling me that my dreams were stupid. My father telling me that I could dream of being a wrestler one day, but it would never happen. That, more than anything, is the defining moment of my childhood. He told me I couldn't do it. He told me I would fail at it. He ignored the one thing in life that I truly wanted. I don't even resent him for that. I love him for that. His denial of my dreams... is what made me the man I am today. His doubt of my drive... it got me here to this very moment. And boy, is this moment going to be a special one, or what? Thanks, dad.
Shawn slowly pulls himself up. Step after step, Shawn gets closer to the ring. His home. His throne. His life. As Shawn reaches it, he leans over, resting his elbows on the canvas. He slowly runs his hand across the mat, taking in the memories it has left him deep inside of his mind... or what's left of it.
Shawn: For nearly 30 years... I've made a living flying across this ring. The wins. The losses. They're what's given me life. Without them... I'm nothing. Without them... I'm empty. That's why I must do this. See, this wasn't going to happen. This was never the plan. But when that spot opened up... When G Stone told me he wasn't going to be able to compete in the Elimination Chamber, I knew it. I knew then and there... that this was all for me. It wasn't God's doing. No... this opportunity that was placed before me on a silver platter... was destiny. And is destiny beautiful, or what? Oh, how gorgeous she is. It nearly kills me thinking of it. The look on their faces. The thoughts running through their minds. There's only one of them who's ever had the privilege to face. The rest... are completely clueless.
Shawn slowly starts to walk around the ring, running his hand across the apron as he goes.
Shawn: CM Punk, he was once on top of the world. He had everything anyone ever dreamed of wanting. The World Heavyweight Championship. The Intercontinental Championship. A beautiful woman. But he threw it all away, and he walked out on us. The man who gave his all... just walked away. Now tell me... this company was built on guys' backs like you again. C'mon, Punk. Look me in the eyes and tell me that. See, you're wrong, Punk. This company... it was built by me! You see, when Vince McMahon was off doing God knows what... I was making plans. I was signing talent. I was working out television deals. With who's money? My money! I backed this company. I created it. And I'll be damned if some young indy fed hack like you... is going to deny me that right. I made you, Punk. I made you the world wide star you are today. Who gave you a platform to wrestle on? Huh? Who booked you in main events every week, so one of the best young guys could get exposure? Me! And you have the nerves... the nerves to doubt me. You can call me a tyrant. I don't care. But remember this... without me. Without this place. You would be working for fifty bucks a night in some crap town in some talentless indy fed. Remember, Punk... remember.
As Shawn reaches the stairs he sits down. He rests his elbows on his knees, as he looks out in the empty seats that fill the arena.
Shawn: Seth Akira, you... You're a smart one, huh? You thought of it. But were you really sure of it? Even if you weren't, you were right, Seth. Me sending Nash out there to make a point to you guys, it was my doing. And while I was watching him beat down each and every one of you, I was hoping. I was wishing... that one of you would wind up getting injured. And what do you know? My wish... came true. Nash took care of business, and he did just a little more. He gave me the chance that I have been seeking. And this opportunity is all mine. This chance... is the chance of a lifetime. I don't care that this is your first shot at being a World Heavyweight Champion. It is my place to give it to you, and it is my place to take it all away from you within the blink of an eye. Seth... I'm sorry to have to do this, but I'm not looking out for anyone else. Only one man matters. And that man... is me.
Shawn: Anthony Ferraro, you've come so far lately. You've evolved into someone... someone so far from what you were. But that doesn't matter, does it? The distance you have come... just isn't enough. You'll never be what you hope to be, Anthony. Those childhood dreams... will never be fulfilled. Unlike me, you don't have what it takes. Unlike me, you'll never make it to glory. You couldn't even beat Alberto Del Rio, Anthony. Why you're in this match is beyond me. What was I thinking? Why would I trust someone like you... with such a magnificent feat? That I'll never know. Anthony. I'll never know.
Shawn stands up and turns around. He looks up into the ring and steps up. As Shawn's feet step onto the apron, he closes his eyes. A roar of cheers faintly roars in the background. A smile wipes across his face, as he spins across the apron and ducks under the top rope. As Shawn steps into the center of the ring, he drops to his knees. His head hangs low, staring straight down at the mat. His hand rubs across it, as blood stains fade into sight.
Shawn: It is in this very ring, Randy. Can't you remember it? I do. It was just like yesterday. San Antonio, Texas. Unbreakable. When the future of this company was possibly in shambles, you were trying to take me out. You were trying to help Paul Heyman gain control. Were you blind, Randy? No. You were young, Randy. You were young, and you were looking to make a name for yourself. What better way could you make it, than beating "The Heartbreak Kid" in his hometown? You know, before that match I sat in the back thinking to myself. Should I put this kid over? Should I make his entire career? I didn't want to, Randy. But that was my own personal choice. I wanted more than anything to go out there in front of my hometown and come out with a win... but I didn't. I did what was right, Orton. I did what was good for business. I put you over. I nearly killed myself doing it... but in the process, I made you the man you are today.
Shawn: Ya' know, I thought that after that match you had with me, you would rise to the top. I thought that you would make the most of beating someone like me. But you didn't, Randy. I put you over, and you did nothing with it. I put you out there, and you fell flat on your face! And that's why we met again. Baltimore, Maryland. The Last Stop. I Quit. Randy... just like the time before, I sat in the back thinking. I was asking myself if I should put you over again. But as I looked at what you did with the huge opportunity I gave you the last time... my ego got the better of me. My mind waged war, and my ego came out on top. There was no way I was going to walk out of Baltimore, Maryland with a loss. You faught hardy that night, Randy. You and I nearly came face to face with death, as a leapt off the side of that stage. Medical personnel thought neither one of us were going to get up... but they thought wrong, didn't they? I pulled myself up out of the wreckage, and I claimed my victory over you. And what did you do with that?
Shawn: You capitalized on it. It took time, but you finally did it. Look at you now, Randy. You're sitting up there on that throne looking down at us all. Feels good, doesn't it? There's nothing better, huh? You don't have to tell me that, Randy. I know. Trust me, I know. I've been there time and time again, and come Highway 2 Hell, I'll be there again.
Shawn slowly raises his head up, staring up at the hellacious structure that hangs above the ring. Miles of chain. Tons of metal. As Shawn takes in the brute hell the structure offers, he smiles.
Shawn: Tough world for an old man, huh Tyger? Ya' know, people say guys like you and I don't belong in matches like these. They say we're a big time risk. They say we're a hazard. But you and I... we know better than that. This is all we know. And we'll be damned if we're gonna have someone tell us otherwise, right? You know, I thought you and I were close. Like brothers almost. But lately... it just doesn't seem that way. It seems as if... you've forgotten about me, Michael. What? is it because Orton has it all? Is it because he's the champion? I can be that, Tyger. I can be the champion! A better champion. Orton... has taken your friendship from me, Tyger. Can't you see he's using you? He nearly punted your head off. But you still come crawling back. Would I ever do such a thing, Tyger? No. Not me. Not 'ol Shawn Michaels. But I'm sure you've forgotten about 'ol Shawn Michaels. I'm just not good enough anymore, am I? Huh, Tyger? Am I? Am I good enough?
Shawn slowly backs his way up to the corner. He leans back against the turnbuckles, as his arms rest against the ropes.
Shawn: I rememer when these people chanted my name. I remember when these people would go nuts when I would stand in this corner, stomping my boot. It was then that they knew, Shawn Michaels was about to win it all. Shawn Michaels was about to defeat whatever it is that stands in his way. See, these people have lost sight of what a true superstar in this business is. They have forgotten what talent looks like. I'm done sitting back there withering away. I'm done letting my legacy fade into the night. I'm not just some corporate hack who sits in his office all day. I'm much more than that. Tommorow night, I'm gonna shine. I'm gonna shock the world, baby. And they're never gonna see it coming. No more nightmares. Daddy's comin' home, babies. Daddy's comin' home.
Shawn slowly drops to the mat, rolling under the bottom rope. He walks straight up the ramp, not looking back. As Shawn reaches the curtain, he slowly stops. He looks back at the ring, knowing that tommorow night he will revive his legacy from the ashes it has been laid to rest within. He will not die young. With his hand gripping the curtain, Shawn steps behind them, as the scene fades away.