-=Aiden English=-
My, oh my. How the mighty have fallen.
Aiden tilted his head to the side and sighed.
-=Aiden English=-
Now I know that the so-called pundits and rumors mills are going to get started on that line. By the time this video is finished it’s going to be a top news story. I’m going to find myself misquoted, misunderstood, and misrepresented. In an attempt to quell some of this potential response, I’d like to be as clear as possible. That line wasn’t intended as a dig at the Miz. Anyone who thinks that I’d be stupid enough to gloss over an opponent like the Miz with such cavalier confidence hasn’t been paying attention to the EBWF for a few years. No. The Miz is a part of that statement. Oh, how the mighty have fallen. But it doesn’t live, breathe, and die with him. How the mighty have fallen is as much about myself as it is the Miz. It’s as much about the EBWF Universe. The EBWF locker room. The EBWF championship scene. Everything that we were is nothing that we’ve become.
Aiden dropped his feet off the table. In a jarring lurch the chair sat him upright all the while groaning under his weight. It squealed and squeaked as he found the right angle to hold the camera’s focus. He wasn’t starring into the camera but through everyone watching.
-=Aiden English=-
Things have fallen into a gross state of disrepair and this match on Warfare between the Miz and myself is but another casualty of the Complex that is this companies guiding hand. They think we don’t see their influence. That we are blind to how they move, who they move and why they move. They think that we’re not aware of what’s going on behind the closed doors of board rooms. They think that the rest of us aren’t aware of who is pulling what strings and making who dance. But I’ve peered behind the curtain. I’ve stood on the stage after the Curtain Call and seen what the theatre looks like when the lights come down.
Aiden pressed his elbows into the desk and supported the weight of his head, and ideas, on his hands.
-=Aiden English=-
They come in the guise of family and friends. Those people that a certain CEO keeps close at hand because of his relationship to them. They come in the guise of former rivals, championship contenders and bitter enemies. They come in this guise or that. In costumes both grand and subdued. And they come as the Horsemen to this companies Apocalypse. Oh, how the mighty have fallen so far. A year ago this match looks different. The Miz and Aiden English. A year ago, this is a pay per view match. Not just something you give a way on broadcast television. A year ago this is the main event scene. This is a title match between the two best wrestlers in the EBWF. A year ago it’s newsworthy, notable, nearly unmissable. A year ago. But here we are. We are now. On Warfare. And, it’s not even the Main Event of what looks to be a rather lack luster episode of Warfare. Second to Orton and Ciampa. Let me say that second name a little more slowly Ciampa. A man so far removed from the title picture that I’m not sure he knows what a championship looks like anymore. Nepotism.
Aiden shifted a little, readjusting his weight on his wrists. He sighed.
-=Aiden English=-
They think that we can’t see it. That I can’t see it. Worst of all they think it all flies over the heads of the EBWF Universe. It doesn’t escape me, and I know the Miz well enough to know that it doesn’t escape him. He’s not blind to the injustice in this system. He knows as well as I that this is just another ploy by Wes Ikeda. Sending two of the most talented wrestlers into Warfare against one another. Ikeda is playing a game. Like chess. He moves the pieces into play. He hopes that we destroy one another and with us we destroy any threat to his hand-picked Champions. And you know what force he relies on to motivate us?
Aiden pointed at the camera.
-=Aiden English=-
No, we’re not there yet. Because this is Ikeda but I can smell the squalor of another hand playing at the reigns. That chum. That pal. That friend in the bosses back pocket. This ill-conceived, ill-concealed, and ill-timed plot comes as Warfare Games loom in the near future. It comes as I prepare to lead my army to victory over the Misfit Marauders. It comes as Kingdom sets off to destroy those who would oppose our reign. This whole thing reeks of Jericho’s involvement. It is tainted by his touch. Notes of his noxious presence waft in on the call sheet. I have no doubt that it was Jericho who set this up by proxy of his pal. A play put on to wear me down before the coming storm. A move orchestrated to increase his chances. To improve his odds. A move that might give him the edge over Kingdom. And why target the Miz?
Aiden stood up, using his thighs to push the chair back away from the desk. He pounded a fist on the desk.
-=Aiden English=-
It’s in our histories. Our legacies. For as long as I’ve battled with Chris Jericho there has always been a third name circling the fight. When the World Championship was involved, Miz was there. When it was EBWF vs LEGION. Miz was there. It’s always been Miz. Miz and Jericho. Miz and English. English and Jericho. You want to talk about a who’s who of Main Events. Just look at the last two years. Royal Rumble 2020. Aiden English challenges for the EBWF World Championship. Wrestlemania X-I-X, Aiden English versus Chris Jericho for the EBWF World Championship. Fanniversary 2020, Jericho, English and the Rock for the EBWF World Championship. Christmas Eve of Destruction. Rock versus Aiden English. EBWF World Championship. The year before is the same. Aiden. Jericho. Miz. Cyclical. We’ve become mythos. We’ve ascended into the pantheon of EBWF. And that’s all the history built up in the ring. It doesn’t account for backstage. It doesn’t account for lights out. It doesn’t account for the words said, the insults slung and the jabs thrown.
English bent down and rested his head on the table. He was muttering something, but it was inaudible. He ran his hand vigorously across the back of his head. A deep breath. Another. Aiden tilted his head up from the desk and peeked at the camera. As he stood back up his smile had faded.
-=Aiden English=-
Jericho is smart and dangerous. I won’t begrudge him that praise. He’s wicked. But, his play is all too obvious. The Miz is exactly the person I would pick to soften me up. He’s exactly the person I would choose if I wanted to improve my odds against me. Historically, my record with the Miz isn’t the best. We’re a match. We’ve traded more wins to one another than I care to count. Miz is a good choice. He’s got the talent to give me a run for my money. That’s without question. Even more sinister when you realize how well it has to work.
Aiden bit his lower right lip.
-=Aiden English=-
We’re here now. Away from the why and sitting at the how. How do they know that Miz and I are going into this and giving it everything that we’ve got? How do they know that we’re going to do everything in our power to tear one another apart? What do the two of us have to prove? It’s simple. Pride. Call it a sin but it’s a sin that anyone in this company should be willing to die for. Pride. Because, if you can’t have pride in yourself, your work and your talent then you may as well be dead. It’s pride that is going to push the Miz and I into bloody violent conflict. It’s pride that is going to have two of the best wrestlers in the industry pushing one another to their limits on live television. It’s pride that is going to motivate the Miz to try and break my body and my will. And, it’s pride that is going to have me doing the same. Perilous, pitiful, powerful pride. Pride that won’t let either of us succumb willingly to the other. Pride that won’t let us rest ourselves to fight the future threat. Pride that doesn’t allow us to just stay home and skip the match. It’s pride that will be our downfall.
Aiden rolled his head back and looked at the ceiling. It was quiet. The kind of quiet that could only be found on a sound stage, using professional equipment. Aiden let out a slight chuckle.
-=Aiden English=-
That’s why it’s going to work so well. And that disheartens me. You see, the Miz isn’t so much an opponent as he is a fellow victim in this situation. He and I are victims of this skewed system. Victims of the oppressive regime that makes the matches in favor of their fellows. He and I are going to be victims of one another. Because it is going to work. We are going to tear one another limb from limb. We are going to fight each other with everything we have to the delight of our oppressors and the Universe. We are going to put on a match the quality of every match we’ve put on before. We are going to push one another to our limits and past. Inspire the depravity that each of us keeps locked inside. Let out those violent parts of our demeanor. And, we are going to do Chris Jericho’s work for him. We are going to turn one another inside out. Eventually, one of us is going to reach a point where he can’t keep going. One of us is going to stall out. And then he is going to be beat. One of us is going to lose this match. But, not before he losses so much more.
Aiden sneered at the camera. His nostrils curled and his upper lip quivered.
-=Aiden English=-
Mike. You and I are about to go to war with one another. We are going to remind these viewers how this show got the title it so haphazardly sports. More importantly, we are going to do our bests to destroy one another. But, I want you to know something before it comes to that. I want you to know that it’s not personal. It’s not motivated by a hatred of you or anything you do. When I drive my fist into your face, know that I am picturing Chris Jericho. That I am dismantling the Lionheart. When I drop you on your head until you can no longer stand. Know that in my mind’s eye it is Jericho I’m beating to a bloody pulp. When I drop the curtain on you with the Director’s Cut, know that it is Jericho laying in the center of my mind. Know that you suffer for him. You suffer at the hands of Wes Ikeda, at the behest of Chris Jericho. Know that I am not your enemy. I am your fellow victim, forced to walk a path through you on my way to Warfare Games!
Aiden ran his right hand over the top of his head. His skin pulled tight, dragging his eyebrows upward away from his eyes. His breaths were shallow and panting.
-=Aiden English=-
It is a path I am going to walk. Just like my path to the World Championship went through you at Summerslam two years ago. I am going to beat you. I am going to go to places that even you have never seen me go before. Most importantly, I am going to win. I’m going to break you apart and leave you laying in that ring. I’m going to do Randy Orton’s work for him and make certain that you don’t stand a chance at cashing in the Gateway Championship for a shot at his title. I’m going to make certain that you spend the rest of the year in the place Chris Jericho sent me. I’m going to make sure that Chris Jericho FEARS what I’m about to do to him and his marry band of freaks! Miz. You might be a Gateway Champion. But, Aiden English will always be THE Gateway Champion. The best to ever do it. The one who vacated it not by claiming his shot at a title but by winning that title otherwise. I’m going to beat you because I know you as well as Ikeda and Jericho know me. I know my pride and yours. A pride that won’t allow you to take me seriously. But I’m serious.
Aiden dropped down into the chair and threw his legs back up onto the desk. He folded his arms and looked down at his boots. A circle of darkness crept in at the edges of the video. Aiden picked at the knee of his jeans idly. The circle shrunk and shrunk and then the screen was black. Aiden’s laughter pierced the veil of darkness and the video ended.