Enter clever title here

[There is a sense of pressure, building in your every limb, forcing them to ache tremendously, almost as if you're carrying two ton bricks on each shoulder. This isn't the pressure in your ears when you hit high altitudes, or that of in your blood. This is the pressure to perform. Everyone's eyes focus in on you, watching your every step, calculating your every move. A near miss extracts an "oh" from the crowd, a perfect hit bringing forth the "ah"'s.]

[It's a double edged sword, willing to cut you with the slightest twitch of the wrist. The pain envelopes you, almost in a smothering sense, leaving you gasping for breath. Something so simple, an ordinary, yet at this priceless moment, the oxygen is hard to grasp. Your lungs hurt, and your heart beats faster, your body confused and trying to keep up. If you give up now, everything leading up is meaningless. Stick with it, and fight your way through, you might make it out better than you began.]

[The sweat builds up, dripping from your face, every bead feeling like it weighs fifty times heavier. Your palms are cold and moist, leaving your grip almost unnoticeable. If you begin to panic, you've already lost. Fight through it, it'll be worth it. The success is almost in your grasp, you can taste it; smell it. It fills your lungs and nostrils, it's sweet aroma turned sour from the taste of blood and sweat. You've laid it out on the line, now reap your rewards.]

[Focus, you're almost there.]

[Pressure can be beaten. It can be outlasted, and outsmarted. Like a giant predator latched on, it can be thwarted with the simplest of actions. A moment can change any outcome.]

[You just need to believe.]

[I'll do just that.]

[This isn't a threat, but a promise.]

[You've been calling on a war god Fourtune, And your already gotten a tast of just how good I am on War Zone.]

[Im a man with the power and trust within to build an empire and leave it's devastation upon another. The small talk signaling the destruction of your Star Fourtune. The cards have changed hand, fate is no longer dealing it's pocket pairs.]

[The AWB has grew stronger than it was ever meant, and what better way to keep grabbing ratings then having good ol‘ SBK headlining.]

[If what you're looking for is a super hero, then you are surely mistaken.]

[For once, I shall stand beside my AWB brethren, and help it become even bigger, But not get it twisted, I still bleed War Zone red!]

[I am the super villain, and this is the charge to freedom.]

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[He sat at his desk, palms clenched on the leather chair, his forearms heavily resting upon the arm rests, his body slouched back. He hadn't cared to button the remaining top buttons on his dress shirt. On a day such as this, fumbling for those tiny slots would cost him more of his barrowed time then he could afford to give. His head was tilted back, all it's wait resting on the head bulky leather head rest, yet still sinking in lightly. His feet sat perched on top of the desk, his black slacks clinging tightly to his muscular legs. He shifted and held his hands on his stomach, fingers intertwined.]

[He was relaxed and comfortable, something fresh in his hectic lifestyle. His office was massive, as it fit well with his mansion of a home. You've never seen a house like this, and if you have, you still couldn't afford it! Yet another thing I owe to the JWF!]

[His room was a mix of valuable antiques, mixed with the new style of home building. Dimly lit, just to his liking, and few windows. Not because he didn't enjoy the light; he did. But his office was for business, strictly that. If he wanted light, he'd go to his bedroom. If he wanted to fuck, he'd go to his bedroom, or for that, one of the twenty others. This office he was now reclined in, held some of the largest transactions in American history. There had been foreign officials filling the room since it's beginning.]

[You might be wondering what this man does. Well let me introduce you to Mr. Johnny Stylez. King. Don. Billionaire. Pick a term, they all work. I'll fill you in while you decide. This man, was born with a business sense. He could be your Bill Gates. Your Ted Turner. Or even your Donald Trump. He could have discovered the internet, or founded KY Jelly. But where's the fun in that? Live by the rules, and your controlled by them. Break the rules, and you've opened unimaginable doors.]

[Money, women, success. He holds the key to your every fantasy, but don't get confused, he can crush your dreams also.]

[His partners were from across the globe. From the fields of Columbia, Our Fuel producing in Brazil; His distribution had skyrocketed since they had been brought in, and they were each handsomely rewarded. He could picture the black V12 Vanquish that he had sent each of them, wrapped in a giant gold ribbon; the trunk loaded with kilo's. Incentives for great business.]

[Today, Mr. Stylez sits in anticipation of overwhelmingly large news. He is waiting on the verdict of his newest business venture. Columbians were his largest partnership, making his millions off from the sale of thousands of kilo's of the finest cocaine. But lately, he could feel the sensation of the fed's breathing down his neck. Namely one nosey little pricks, by the name of Detective Fourtune. He had been closing in on a huge deal, sticking that monster of a nose where it didn't belong. Most of his associates had been on Stylez's payroll, but Fortune wouldn't budge.]

[He was one of those naturally "good guys trying to act BAD". If anything, they were few and far between in this day and age. Nobody ever looked out for anything but themselves anymore. Sometimes I wondered if the prick was genuine, or just a bumbling idiot. He wasn't your normal detective. He didn't drown himself in coffee and donuts, sitting in his cruiser on an obvious stakeout, nor did he get himself caught up first hand. He watched from a distance and observed everything. He was smart, but not perfect.]

[Stylez had never forgotten the look on Fortune’s face after he had walked from the court of War Zone a free man. Fourtune had attempted putting him away on a possession charge. Five kilo's, so what? The judge thought the same, but that had been an awful expensive investment. Seventy-five thousand later, Stylez had walked out free, Priceless. Since then, he had been hell bent on bringing down My empire, My legacy. Waiting and biding his time, searching for that perfect opportunity.]

[But Stylez felt it necessary to eliminate his only competition. The rush of survival was exhilarating, yet tiring at the same time. But then again, so was the rush of being a drug lord, our the greatest wrestler in our game!]

[There is a knock at the door, and Stylez's head slowly tilted towards the door.]

::What?::

[He bellowed, still from his chair. His eyes were red, his face a pale white. He grabbed the aviators from his desk, and aligned them perfectly upon his nose. There was still no answer, and Sean began to grow impatient.]

::The fuck do you want? Come in.::

[He said, his voice sounding like a god's. The handle of the door turned, and in walked a beautiful woman. She stood at a five foot seven statue, weighing in at one hundred and thirty-three.]

[They say love makes you blind, but Stylez had never understood it. He thought he loved Jada, and he knew she loved him deeply, but he was still in a situation of power. Love was for the weak, in his own twisted mind. Call him evil, call him cold. But he was still more than you could ever be.]

[She slowly made her way to Stylez's desk, her body moving with grace, each curve defined in her tight fitting dress.]

"Baby, I have some bad news."

[She said, in her seductively soft voice.]

"You took The name from Jhonny, but it seems like he is still using it in his promos"

[Shots rang throughout the room, and Stylez felt his stomach explode with pain. He dropped to the ground, holding his midsection, blood seeping through the cracks of his fingers. Every breath hurt with an explicit pain, as he continued to try and steady his breathing. He fell to his back, Jada screaming and backing herself to a corner of the room. Without notice, the shooter approached the desk, his hulking physique made it apparent who he was.]

[At this point, you may wonder exactly why there were no guards, or personnel working. There wasn't a graveyard shift in the Stylez mansion, or for that, even a day shift. Sean was about weakness. He had seen too many men fall to weakness. Bodyguards were another threat. Greed made men do strange things. Shooting one of the most powerful men in the back wasn't far fetched. Stylez lived without fear, and his lack of preparation for this final moment could have been the downfall. He hadn't seen this coming, but as always, curveballs were meant to be taken out of the park.]

::I saw this differently.::

[ mustering up his last ounces of strength..]

::I saw a FOURTUNE, throwing in the towel, realizing he doesn’t have the chance to defeat me, His lame ass Lesbian scene for a promo proved this!::

[He hit’s the floor for a round of push ups, clearing the mind and body of a good win over a jobber!]

::There are those of us that live our lives fully content with what we currently have, and those of whom strive to be more. There are those of us who have been born into molds, and those of us who choose to break those same molds. There are some who are destined for great things, and others who are on the brink of greatness, but never accomplish anything to sway the scales.::

::Fate has two roads that we can travel, and the choices we make establish the people we truly are. The question you have to ask yourself is which road will you travel? Will your life entail fact, or will it be base solely around fiction?::

::Have you seen the future, or are you hindered by your past? Have you moved from the room that’d bound you, or are you still confined by the unknown? Are you contemplating tomorrow, or are you completely satisfied with today? Have you dreamt of what will be, or do you fear what may become of déjà vu? Do you ever wonder what the world would be like if you’d never been apart of it? What if I could turn your fears, and make them reality? What if we removed you from the equation? How do you think your family would cope, or in some cases would they even care? Do you think if your best friend woke up tomorrow, and you’d never existed that their life would be that different?::

::And there are those of us who strive to succeed and those of us who are destined for failure. There are those of us whose moral fibers have been sacrificed more than anything else in our lives, and those of us who’ve never even had morals. There are those of us who live a life in fear, and those of us who live everyday holding fear of another’s head. There are those of us who are destined to lead, but so many more than are set out to follow. Life is nothing more than questions that you are forced to ask yourself, and life is no more than roads you have to choose to take. Life revolves around the doors you open, the doors you close behind you, and the bridges that you burn.::

::Life is more than just simply what you do every day; because it is what you strive to do the day after. Life is the subconscious thoughts that you think, but never act upon, but even those define you as a human being. Everything that you do just helps build you as a human being, regardless of which direction is sends you in. Life is more than just things that you understand, and things you don’t understand, it’s the things that you set out to comprehend. I guess the adequate description of what life is you’d be hard pressed to find, but in actuality life is everything that you do, and everything that you are. Life is success, but even more life is failure.::

[a smirk]

::Enough of this bullshit, I already sailed you verbally without even trying! I could cut this shit right now and be happy with a quick win, But it just wouldn’t be a Stylez promo without a tad bit of shredding…::

[Licks his lips]

::Fuck it, Ill get him.::

::I’ve always wondered what it’s going to be like when I am no longer the rabbit chasing after the carrot on a string. Motivation has never been my strong point…and chasing after the carrot has been my main motivation in the JWF.::

::When will this young cats realize, I will not fade.::

::I will be the rabbit to hold onto that carrot and boot each and every rabbit who attempts to take my carrot square in the teeth until they swallow those teeth.::

::That’s just a little prophecy of things to come.::

::That is the thing that no one around here wants to hear, Hell folks still deny both of my championship runs.::

::When will folks realize, Johnny Stylez is the shit!::

::But it all goes back to the analogy of being the rabbit chasing the carrot. Many can’t handle success. I.E. Fourtune. Here is a cat with some game, and got that carrot (his shot at greatness) and he became utterly and completely complacent. Fourtune just stopped doing anything. It’s not like he did too fucking much to begin with.::

::But again, it’s just the same.::

::What am I saying?::

::What I’m saying, is that this clown Fourtune is nothing more than a fluke. A falling star that never was as ascended as he believed himself to be.::

::The whole Bad ass, slave runner gimmick…::

::Nothing more than bullshit.::

::You only moved forward in your own eyes Fourtune. Maybe you fooled the people at home. Maybe you didn’t, that’s their problem. But your problem is that you lied to yourself. Look at you…I mean really, for the first time in a long time, take stock. Look at yourself. Look where you are. You are in an undeniable tailspin.::

::But you will deny it. It is INEVITABLE::

::It is absolutely inevitable with you. And you will deny this too.::

::Why? Because it’s the Fourtune way. When you can’t fight your way out of things with the truth, you lie until even you believe it’s the truth. But some things are true whether you believe them are not, Fourtune. Such as losing this match, cause the odds are stacked against you, I took your name, and defeated you once, I know you don’t wanna believe it, but sober up to this reality. Because this is real. This is not another one of your fairy tales.
And in this story you don’t get your way.::

::You do not escape unscathed.::

::You do not escape with the win.::

::I would say you don’t escape with your dignity, but you’ve never had that.
So you’ve begun to make things up. You’ve run over the same ground you’ve covered for months. You’ve repeated yourself. You’ve made mistakes. Don’t get me wrong, mistakes are a necessary part of life, and normally, I would not alert my opponent to their own mistakes. It’s better to watch your opponent make a fool out of themselves, which you have proven yourself very good at. But with you…you’ve made the same mistakes for months. As I’ve said, you are nothing more than a pattern. And you’ve shown no signs of breaking that pattern, so I figure what the hell. What’s it matter if I prove to you what you don’t want to believe.::

::What I believe you fail to realize is that no one has ever stopped considering you to be a joke.::

::What I believe you fail to realize is that you always will be and still are considered THE egotistical flop you really are.::

::What am I saying to you?::

::You are a record stuck on the same beat. You are not changing. You are simply staying the same sad sack fool that you’ve always been. What in the hell makes you think you are even close to a credible contender Fourtune? Come on Fourtune, until you actually beat someone worthy of remembering, Our anyone in that case, you should drop that fucking ego that you carry around on your shoulders that makes you think your all high and mighty.::

::And if you’re alright with that…::

::I guess I am too.::

::It really makes no difference at this point.::

::Good-bye, your giving me a fucking headache.::

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