Post by Kyle Cameron on Aug 7, 2016 15:47:21 GMT -6
PROLOGUE: SUNDAY NIGHT
I was probably caring the piss out of this pathetic, tiny excuse of a man in front of everybody in the gorilla position. I could see him sweating all over his striped referee shirt. This man, the man who made that UNGODLY decision to make Andre and I co-champions at the end of our match, was getting aaaaaaaaaaall of it from me. My anger. My confusion. Everything.
Ref: I...I-I-Is thiss about the ladder ma-
Kyle Cameron: OF COURSE IT'S ABOUT THE FUCKING LADDER MATCH.
Ref: What was I supposed to do? You put that 24/7 rule on that stupid belt-
I grabbed the ref by the collar of his sweat drenched shirt and pulled him in violently forward towards me until he had no choice but to look me dead in the eyes. He was so close, I decided to speak softly, so that no one could hear me but him.
With as much force as I could muster, I tossed the ref down to the ground. It then occurred to me that all eyes in the gorilla position, from wrestlers to road agents to even GM Jay Price, were right on me. That's what it took, then. It took me roughhousing a referee for making a shitty call to get the attention I deserved. They stared at me, some with disdain, some scared, some I don't believe even knew how to react. Me? I merely smiled.
Silence. Complete and utter silence. My speech seemed to have moved absolutely no one, everybody seemed to just be going back to what they were doing before. Not the response I was after at all, but really with the amount of disrespect this entire roster has shown me since day one I wasn't surprised at all. Once I was sure everyone had stopped paying attention to me, I sighed and made my way to the locker room. As I passed by wrestlers, I envisioned myself in the ring with them, one by one. I imagined myself just knocking their shit, beating all of them to a bloody pulp and punishing them for their disrespect. That wild daydreaming as I made my way back to my things made the evening somewhat more bearable.
Once I got to my locker, I started getting my things packed for the flight home. Putting my now half belt away in my bag, I felt pangs of both sadness and anger. I made a vow to myself to reclaim what was rightfully mine from the fucking nerd warrior Jensen. I started thinking about all the things he would probably try to do to MY belt (like...*shudder*...magic) and immediately tried blocking the thought from developing any further. Now dressed in street clothes with my bag ready to go, the last thing to take out of my locker was my phone. There were two unread text messages. The first from Sarah...
Sarah F.
Better luck next time champ.
Better luck next time champ.
Ahh Sarah. Reading her text actually made me smile for the first time all day. I was glad that there was at least one person in this world who understood why I got into this biz in the first place. If no one else did, at the very least I could always expect her to show me the respect no one else would give me. The second text came from my mom.
Mom
How's gaming night going sweetie?
How's gaming night going sweetie?
If only you knew, Mom. If only you knew.
I had been telling my mom that on Sundays I was traveling to a friends house (I just made up a name and a location, this friend didn't exist) and told her that it was a weekly gaming night, usually consisting of Cards Against Humanity, Call of Duty and Mario Kart. These fictional gaming get-togethers would go on well into the night, I would crash at my friends house then arrive back home Monday morning. She bought the whole story, and had never asked why I was gone late on Sunday nights because of it. This was what she knew, and that's all she needed to know as far as I was concerned.
About an hour later I was boarding a flight to Lafayette. Before sleep took me, my thoughts drifted to my week ahead and all the promotion I would have to do for this tournament. I knew even then that this was going to be a long week in front of me.
"It's been one week since you looked at me
Cocked your head to the side
and said I'm angry"
PROMO #8 - ONE WEEK
MONDAY NIGHT
I have no idea why it only occurred to me in this moment, pants down and ready to start jackin', that I realized how important women were to me. My mother, for being the only person on Earth I feel legit love for anymore, and Sarah for just bein' as reasonable as an ex can be. Both of these girls are very near and dear to me. But right then and there, for a few minutes, only one woman mattered to me.
Her.
Everything about her had had me in a trance since the day I first saw her. Her brown hair, her beautiful eyes, her voice and the power it conveyed. DAT ASS. This woman was one of the most beautiful I had ever seen. How great is it then that on Sunday, this woman is to be my only guaranteed opponent of the night.
You know who the fuck I'm talking about.
I just couldn't wait for my match against her. My imagination ran wild as I tried to think of what her skin would feel like as we locked up in the ring, how sweaty she would get during the match, if perhaps I could sneak an assgrab when no one was looking. Thoughts, man. That's all it took to get me rarin' to go.
I started out slow, just looking at still pictures of her. Anything I could find would do. UCI Promotional stuff or paparazzi snaps, everything was fine by me. My hand wasn't even stroking to start out, I was too busy basking in the beauty of her, blazed out of my fucking mind. It was only when I began getting to the more...revealing pics that I started to slowly pleasure myself.
Oh Erinn.
The excitement built as I got faster, getting deeper and deeper into the images. Her body...dear God if her body was a temple then it had to be the Taj Mahal. It almost ended there, the most premature of climaxs. Thankfully, I stopped myself and took control long enough for the immanent orgasm to slowly subside. Pictures simply weren't enough anymore. I had to see her body in motion, the fine-tuned muscles of her abdomen, her grace in and out of the ring. But most importantly, I needed to hear her voice, think of what she would say to me right now.
Erinn Fausse: Yes Cameron. Give me more.
Oh Erinn.
The video I ended up watching was her match against Andre Holmes at Beachmania. It was the closest thing I could click on, and bar some of the video focusing on Andre Holmes (I would never jerk off to the thought of any man, let alone that creep Andre Holmes) the video got the job done. Watching her now, I began to appreciate her in ring skills as she fought with Andre, my cock solid as a rock. Every move performed with intent to murder her opponent. That was one of the sexiest things about her; her aggressiveness. When that final spot...that fateful thumbtack spot...finally came, it was finally time to blow.
Oh Erinn.
Ohhhhhh Erinn.
OOOOOOOHHHHHHH AZRA
I swiveled my chair around in a panic, and sure enough, dear old Mom was standing right there in the doorway, mouth agape. I immediately stopped what I was doing and tried to get my pants back on.
Mom: Kyle, I'm...I'm just going to walk out and pretend I didn't just see what I think I saw.
With not another word, she got out of the doorway and closed the door. Welp, now my boner was gone, and now that the match was over I was seeing nothing Andre getting his hand raised in victory, there was no point in continuing the video. Shit, the whole experience was ruined.
After mindlessly browsing twitter for a while, I got bored and decided to get in bed and quickly (and hopefully quietly too) decided to just jack it thinking about Sarah. The memories of how we used to fuck back when we were officially together certainly helped. I was able to get the job done this time no distractions, and after I was done I began to fall asleep.
TUESDAY AFTERNOON
I was standing in front of an official UCI camera, an equally official UCI backdrop behind me. Frank Patrick Venable's official compound here in Laffy was a godsend of a resource for me, he had set up this station to report on UCI news on the web, but had allowed me to use it if I needed to cut a promo or two. FPV wasn't even behind the camera, he was off in the kitchen making himself a big pot of coffee (even though it was 3 P.M.) I was alone with nothing but my thoughts and an outlet to get those thoughts out.
Well Azra, you'll be happy to know I've been keeping a close eye on you since this crazy ride we call UCI started up. Who wouldn't? You're obviously a beautiful woman, for sure the most beautiful in UCI, not only that, but you had the ring skills to compliment the look. A killer in the ring and a killer in the sheets, truly the deadliest of combos. While you fell just short of trying for the World Title in that terrible, terrible tournament (I'll kill Chase Jackson the next time I see him for what he did to me there) you more then made up for it by becoming the inaugural Rising Stars champion at Lazarus. Now of course you didn't CLEANLY win the belt, you had to go to the low blow for that one, but you did what you had to do to win, and as someone who has to work for everything they get I can appreciate that. Plus you apparently lowblowed CJ3 so hard he took a few weeks off not too long after, and I will ALWAYS applaud hurting that piece of shit.
You were on top of the world for a while there, weren't you Azra? Just a notch below the World Champion, and you had challengers coming for your belt. But it all came crashing down soon, didn't it? You couldn't hold onto that belt forever, and before you could say "new champion" BLAM, Sanchez took your belt away from you. That really took the wind out of your sails, didn't it? Just a few short weeks at the top...well, a notch BELOW the top, then your back among the common rabble. Correct me if I'm wrong, but you haven't gotten a big win since that loss to Sanchez, haven't you? That's gotta hurt, babe. Just to make matters worse, that title you worked so hard to win at Lazarus? Yeah, it got retired one month later at BeachMania and replaced with the Intercontinental Title. Hisstory will remember Sanchez as the first IC champ in UCI history while the first and only Rising Stars title reign of one Azra Dević will be lost in due time. Your one big accomplishment, forgotten. That's gotta sting doesn't it?
How bout we just make matters worse, don't we? Enter one Andre Holmes. A man with so many baby mamas I'm surprised he didn't just whip his dick out at some point and try to impregnate you, Azra. But no, he just wanted to wrestle you to avenge his loss in the damned World Title tourney. The two of you had quite the little rivalry, I'd say. And that blow off at BeachMania...oh what a blow off. No DQ match, every dirty tactic you could think of made legal. That should be your dream match, right? But no, it was just another big loss. You let Andre get the best of you, and...well, lemme put it to you like this Azra...I would LOVE for you to give me a wet and sloppy blowjob, but I'm afraid my dick would get pricked by leftover thumbtacks in your throat.
So why am I bothering to say all this, eh Azra? Why am I going over all these crushing lows for the whole world to see? Simple, really. You WERE a great wrestler, one of the best. But no you've lost your luster, lost a little bit of that groove you had before. Now you're just Azra Devic UCI Wrestler. Nothing more, nothing less. Who am I? Kyle Cameron, UCI Wrestler. As much as people always want to count me out, the fact of the matter is that you and I are on an EVEN PLAYING FIELD this tournament. How humiliating is it going to be when Erinn Fausse, former top prospect and champion, loses in the first round of the Wentworth Updegraff Industries Invitational Tournament? MY god, you'll be ridiculed in every city we go to! All the while, perhaps these fucking losers in the UCI Galaxy show me a bit of respect. I hope.
Be ready for our match Sunday, Erinn. Don't expect me to spend the whole match just tryin to cop a feel. I mean I AM gonna try, but I'll also be putting up a real fight to win. Because let's face it Erinn, I need this shit. Way more then you do. Da fuq you need $100K for anyway? Implants? Nah Azra, you're just good where you are. $100K is life changing money for me, you have NO idea. I'll do whatever it takes to get that money. And if it means beating you?
I'll do it.
"Five days since you laughed at me saying
Get that together come back and see me"
WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON
I know it's a bit unhealthy to spend your money before you've even earned it, but I just couldn't help myself.
Browsing through Amazon on my phone in bed, I began looking at all the great things I'd finally be able to afford with the tournament prize money. $100K is a lot, especially to someone like me who doesn't really have a whole lot. Everything I have is either handed down from other people or hopelessly outdated. Perhaps the biggest thing I could get for myself was a vehicle all to myself. I had my driver's license, but it's been so long since I've actually driven something. Without a vehicle I'm stuck relying on other people (mostly Sarah) to drive me around. But with this money, that could all change very quickly.
I got on the local dealership website and started browsing. What exactly did I want? Definitely not a pick up truck, that's for damn sure. Too many of those in Louisiana. No, I want to be just a little bit different. To that end, a regular old sedan just wouldn't cut it either. As I continued browsing, I think I finally found something just right for me.
A 2016 Ford Mustang. Fuck. Yes.
People had told me not to get a car in red, because it makes people with bad road rage get even angrier or something, I dunno and I didn't really care. Red was my color, and dammit I was gonna get a red car. As I kept browsing, I saw that a convertible red 2016 Mustang would cost me about $29K. PERFECT. This was gonna be the first thing I bought after I win the tourny. It was set in stone.
With that bit of business taken care of, I left the dealership site to go look at other stuff to buy with $71K. But just as I was exiting out of the site, my wifi meter in the corner of my phone screen went out, replaced with 4G. Confused, I checked to make sure it hadn't turned off by accident on my phone. Upswipe, and sure enough it was still on. Oh dear. I began to figure out what was going on.
I got out of bed and left my room, entering the living room. Sure enough, rocking back and forth in the recliner was Mom, a pile of bills in her lap and a phone at her ear. She looked worried, she always was around bill time.
Mom: Did they cut off the internet?
Kyle Cameron: Yup.
Mom: Shit. I was hoping I'd get a little bit more time to get some cash together. I'm sorry Kyle, I tried to get some overtime pay this week but I just couldn't get it to happen.
Kyle Cameron: It's fine Mom, it really is. I know how hard you're working for me.
Mom: Not enough, apparently.
She let out a sigh, one that sounded like she'd been holding it in for a long time trying to get things in order. The job she worked...well, let's just say the pay is shit as can be. Not much a waitress at iHOP can get when customers are such shitty tippers. It hurt to see her so worried, she'd been working herself thin ever since Dad died. Tried going back to college to get a degree but had to drop out to take care of me. I knew she always wanted to go back at some point, but with things the way they were now, it just didn't seem in the cards.
Just then, a thought crossed my mind. Usually after getting my paycheck from UCI I would go meet up with my dealer and get some dank shit. I hadn't had the chance to do that this week, and I still had my entire pay that I had cashed sitting tight in my wallet.
Mom: Why do you wanna know?
Kyle Cameron: Because...I think I can help.
Mom: Wait....what?
Kyle Cameron: How much?
Mom: Ummm....$400.
Perfect. My pay was a little over $500. I smiled, got out my wallet and pulled four Benjamins out, handing it over to her.
Mom: Kyle...Kyle sweetie, where did you get this?
Kyle Cameron: Doesn't matter. Have it.
She looked like she had no idea what do, but after a moment she did take the money. COunted it in front of me and even put it to the light to make sure it wasn't counterfeit.
Kyle Cameron: It's nothing, really. You've been providing for me for so long, I figure I'd return the favor.
Before she could say anything else, I felt my phone vibrating in my other pocket. I pulled it out quickly to see who was texting me.
Franky
UCI House Show in NOLA tomorrow. Wanna ride with me over there?
UCI House Show in NOLA tomorrow. Wanna ride with me over there?
Kyle Cameron: Friend is asking me to hang out for the day tomorrow. Do you mind?
Mom: Go right ahead, hun. I'll get this thing paid off in the meantime.
Kyle Cameron: Sweet, thank you.
Before I left, I gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. I don't think she was expecting it, in fact she still seemed in shock I had so much money on me. Making my way back to my room, I texted Frank back.
Kyle CHAMPION Cameron
I'm down. Can you bring some cameras?
I'm down. Can you bring some cameras?
After a minute, he texted me back.
Franky
Sure thing.
Sure thing.
THURSDAY EVENING
Packed houses were starting to get me riled up whenever I was at a UCI show. Back when we still had shows in The Warehouse, there wasn't that many people there, but since we made the move to actual arenas, more and more people were showing up, and they were getting louder each night. Even a house show like this with not as many people as an Overload were pretty fuckin loud. I could hear the cheers from behind the curtain. I wasn't dumb, I knew as soon as my music hit and I stepped out of that curtain, those cheers would turn straight to boos. I can't believe after everything I've been doing in UCI these fucking....these fucking LOSERS had the gall to still boo me. It was whatever though. Microphone in hand and half of the ACTUAL World Title on my shoulder, I signaled thee sound guy to hit my music.
"So Whatcha' Want" hit the P.A, and sure enough, the boos started raining down the entrance way I stepped out from behind the curtain.
Sneering at these poor pathetic people, I made my way down the ramp to the ring, ignoring the Jailbait and Loser chants as I passed them by. After getting into the ring and waiting for the chants and jeers to quiet down, sure enough I saw camera people on the outside. Perfect.
Crowd: BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Kyle Cameron: I didn't think you would. Well guess what, what I have to say is pretty fucking important. Wanna know how important? Just look to the outside. See all those camera men? That's right, this is theo nly part of the event that actually matters, cause it's the only thing the entire nation is gonna see. No one gives a shit about that travesty of a match that was Luke vs. Hajeet, so no one's gonna even know it happened. Not for me though, I'm actually important.
Crowd: FUCK YOU KYLE! *CLAP CLAP CLAPCLAPCLAP* FUCK YOU KYLE! *CLAP CLAP CLAPCLAPCLAP*
Kyle Cameron: Y'see in a few days I'll be facing off against seven other people in the inaugural Updegraff Industries Invitational Tournament. That's right, INVITATIONAL. Despite what you fucking losers may think, there are some people who know talent when they see it, and I am nothing BUT talent, you hear me? This tournament, you're going to see the rise of Kyle Champion Cameron, mark my words. I'm taking the whole damn thing, and there's nothing you can do about it. NOTHING.
Crowd: JAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAILBAIT. JAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAILBAIT.
Kyle Cameron: You wanna know just WHY I'm going to win? Simple. Because I'm the only one in this tournament who takes it seriously. You think David Fucking Sanchez gives two flying fucks about how he does in this tournament? Heeeeeeeelllllllll no! Sanchez couldn't give a good god damn about this tournament, he's got shit made already. Win lose or draw, he knows at the end of the day he'll still have his precious IC belt, and he knows he'll still be the fucking Mayor of Chicago. No, Sanchez is too busy planning out his next evil scheme, as he sits in his office twirling his evil twirly mustache. "Ooooooooh, my name's David Sanchez and I'm gonna build an army of clones to take over the world, muahahahah." Gimme a fucking break homie. To him UCI is just another thing for him to take over in the world. It isn't his everything, his raison d'etre like it is for me. I live for this shit! He doesn't.
Crowd: YOU FUCKING SUCK! YOU FUCKING SUCK!
Kyle Cameron: Have we forgotten how much of a CHOKE ARTIST Sanchez was back in the day? Dude was winning championship gold in other fight cartels, but pussied out of them and disappeared for no reason. Now all of a sudden he's won a few matches, become the Mayor and everyone treats him as a god? Well lemme say this, he's won some matches, sure, but he's also had two losses. And those losses prove that he is not a god, but a mere mortal like you and I. And if it's me and him in the ladder match, you best be damn sure I'm gonna be the one to ascend to heavens first and get that briefcase.
Crowd: DAVID'S GONNA KIIIIIIILLL YOU! DAVID'S GONNA KIILLLLLL YOU!
I had to stop for a moment. Was this really happening?
Crowd: BONNIE! BONNIE! BONNIE!
Kyle Cameron: Oh that's fucking adorable. You think this blondie time traveling BIMBO is gonna be the one to face me, that's real precious!
Crowd: BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
Kyle Cameron: Y'know I really don't get you people and you're obsession with heroes, I really don't. You think just because you're normal people who can't do anything in the world that someone will pop up from out of nowhere to save you. Well lemme break some sad news to you folk, HEROES DON'T EXIST. I had a hero once, and you know where he ended up? Six feet deep in the fucking ground. I had to rely on no one but myself, had to learn to be my OWN hero. I never let anyone else be my hero, and I'm certainly not gonna let this Bonnie bitch be yours!
Crowd: SHUT THE FUCK UP! *CLAP CLAP CLAPCLAPCLAP*
Kyle Cameron: So you want more bad news, eh? How bout this then...all these pathetic little babyfaced bitches on the roster you call heroes alllll have their dark sides, and just like everyone else, they all have their fair share of skeletons in the closet. Do you guys remember a guy named...DeMarcus Jordan? I'm sure you do. Guy couldn't catch a break in UCI before he bailed for sucking so badly. But before he left he did do one thing of note, and that was hook up with a certain Cosmic Girl if you know what I'm saying, hehe. But how does old Bonnie repay him? By abandoning him and leaving him high and dry! In fact I wouldn't be surprised if the reason Jordan left was because he felt betrayed by this two timing SKANK! And you know what? Who's to say she isn't fucking Polar behind the scenes. I mean c'mon, it feels like he spends more time with Bonnie then he spends with his own wife and kid!
Crowd: SHUT THE FUCK UP! *CLAP CLAP CLAPCLAPCLAP*
Kyle Cameron: To make matters worse, this chick isn't even that good a wrestler! She's a hell of a freak, I'll give her that. But as a wrestler? Shiiiiiiit, only reason the girl is a champion is because her opponents were so drugged out of their fucking minds THEY COULDN'T EVEN WRESTLE THE GODDAMN MATCH! That's about as hollow a victory as can be! And her partner? A fucking MANCHILD more concerned with inane "adventures" then putting in work to be a good wrestler! To have this team be the first Tag Team Champions in this companies history is a fucking SHAM!
The fucking ground was shaking from all the boos coming down on me. I guess they didn't like that I wasn't backing down from this like they thought I would. Didn't matter to me, not one bit. I beckoned a camera man to come closer as I looked right into the lens.
With a brief smile, I turned my attention back to the rabid audience.
A toss of the mic later, and I was out of the ring.
--------------------------------------------
FPV: Wow...so you basically went out and slut shamed one half of the UCI Tag Team Champions. Just...just wow.
Frank was driving me back to Laffy after the house show, a few camera cases in the back seat. The guy clearly had not had any sleep for a while, dark bags under his eyes. The only reason he was functioning at all was probably coffee. And to think this guy was gonna fly with me the next day to the actual televised show.
FPV: Sometimes I think you're a real piece of shit Kyle. I hope you realize that.
Kyle Cameron: Oh are you gonna start suckin' Bonnie's clit like those losers in the crowd? gimme a fuckin break.
Just then my phone vibrated in my pocket. I took it out slow and easy, not expecting it to be anything major. When I read the text though, it became apparent that something was up.
Mom
Get over here. Now.
Get over here. Now.
Kyle Cameron: Oh shit.
"Three days since the living room,
I realized it's all my fault, but couldn't tell you"
FRIDAY MORNING
I didn't know what to expect as Frank pulled into the driveway of my home. The tone of the text was so unlike her, she never got that serious about anything when texting me. My mind raced with the myriad of possibilities of what she wanted to talk about, and almost none of them were good. Frank parked the car as I unbuckled my seatbelt.
Kyle Cameron: Probably. I'll deal with...whatever this is.
He nodded to me as I hopped out off the car. One deep breath later, I walked up to the door and stepped inside.
She was waiting there for me all right. Her usual attempt of a cheery smile was nowhere to be seen, a stone cold expression took it's place. She definitely seemed upset over something.
Mom: What took you so long?
Kyle Cameron: Fell asleep at my friends place for a bit-
Mom: Don't give me that crap. I know what you've been up to.
Kyle Cameron: I...I dunno...
Mom: How long did you think you were going to hide this from me? You didn't think I wouldn't find out about UCI sooner or later, did you?
Kyle Cameron: I...
Mom: How could you, Kyle? Going out there with no training, fighting trained professionals, week in and week out. Do you think I LIKE watching my only son get beaten up for the whole world to see?! Not only that, but just...just the WAY you act out there. I thought I raised you better then this, Kyle. I thought you would've turned out better then this. You dropped out of school for this?!
Kyle Cameron: Who told you about this?
No response from her.
Sarah Fritz: I did, Kyle.
Her voice came out of nowhere. I hadn't noticed her when I walked in, She did a good job at hiding in another room, but finally came out once she spoke up.
Sarah Fritz: You're mom called me about the money you had given her, asked if I knew where you had gotten it from. She also asked me who Erinn Fausse was. I had to tell her Kyle, she needed to know the truth.
Kyle Cameron: Sarah...
No other words could come out of my mouth. I couldn't even muster up the strength to yell at the both of them like any other person who did me wrong. No, for this all I could do was stand there shocked.
Kyle Cameron: ...
Mom: Answer me, dammit! WHY?
Kyle Cameron: BECAUSE I WANTED TO HELP YOU OUT, OKAY? I hated seeing you so helpless, struggling to make end's meet, I fucking HATED it. I wanted to make something of myself and help you out at the same time.
Mom: Is that true? Was that why you did this? For me?
A brief hesitation.
Mom: Kyle, sweetie...do you realize what you're doing? You stay in that...fight cartel business and you'll end up killed.
Kyle Cameron: Mom, you're not dumb, you should know how the world is after The Wave, I'd probably end up dead anyway.
Mom: Don't say that!
Kyle Cameron: It's the truth, mom. Plus you knew that school would've probably spat me back out like it's done to so many others. Even if I had graduated, I'dd have probably ended up right where you are now. At least with UCI I can get some much better cash, especially after I win this tournament. I win this tournament, I win $100,000.
Mom: W-what?! That's insane.
Kyle Cameron: I want to win it for you mom, maybe give you some cash to go back to school.
Sarah Fritz: But with all those people in the tournament, do you think you can hang with them. Let's be real, they're probably going to beat you.
Y'know, it's funny how one simple sentence can just...set you right off. That's happened here. I just couldn't believe the words that had come out of Sarah's mouth.
Sarah Fritz: Kyle, that's not what I meant.
Kyle Cameron: Fuck you Sarah, I should've never spoken to you after you dumped me.
Mom: Kyle, please.
A tense moment. No one spoke for over a full minute.
Kyle Cameron: No Mom. It's too late for that. I've made my choice, and I'm sticking to it. Now if you'll excuse me...
I started to head back and out the door.
I ignored her as I opened the door.
Kyle Cameron: I'm going go make something of myself.
Those were the last words I said as I closed the door. I quickly got right back into FPV's car, he seemed concerned.
Kyle Cameron: I'm fine, let's just leave.
He started up the engine and soon enough we were back on the road.
FPV: I'm guessing you don't wanna talk about it.
Kyle Cameron: Not particularly.
FPV: Fine then. If you need a place to stay I have a spare room at my place.
I nodded and stared out the window, trying hard to take my mind off of what just happened.
SATURDAY MORNING
The next day, I was once again in front of the UCI backdrop at Frank's place. Only this time the mod was completely different. I wasn't feeling as brash and cocky as I did before. Perhaps it was what happened yesterday, but I just wasn't in the best of moods to be cutting a promo. Frank was the one who suggested I do it in order to let out my feelings, and for some reason I believed him.
Kyle Cameron: Yup.
Frank turned the camera on, and soon the light flash flickered on.
Ever since I stepped into UCI, I've been doubted by damn near everyone. The fans the wrestlers, hell even management just don't seem to like me. Even the one person who I thought had my back, even they sold me out. And that's perfectly fine. I don't mind. It'll only be that much sweeter when I win this tournament tomorrow.
You see one key thing separates me from the rest of the pack. I need this win, more than anyone else. I have everything to gain, and also everything to lose. What the fuck does Dustin Beaver have to lose from this tournament? At the end of the day he'll still have his stupid little fucking Beavlievers by his side. Taylor Wright, as shitty as he is, still has that cushy job with Sanchez. Polar has his fuckin butt-buddies in The Guardians and more space adventures to have. Alex can always fall back on that Zim-Quilla shit if he ever realizes how shitty a wrestler he is. You know what I have?
NOTHING. I'VE GOT FUCKING NOTHING. I've got nothing to fall back on, no one to turn to if everything doesn't work out, I have JACK SHIT. This is my Plan A and lemme tell you, there IS no Plan B. I'm going into this tournament full tilt, all-in. Because that's all I can do. I can't afford to not put all of this on the line. I NEED to win this. No one else in this fucking tournament needs this fucking money as much as I do.
Richards, Beaver, both off you have beaten me before. I'm not gonna act like you didn't. But neither of you two fucks know the wrath of a fully pissed off Cameron yet. Wright, Polar, I haven't fought either of you yet, but I know what both of you are capable of if you feel like it. MY advice to you two? TAKE A NIGHT OFF. Go off on one of your dumb fucking excursions to the Daran System or whatever the fuck it's called, Polar. And you, Taylor? Go fiddle with your fucking Frank clones and be Sanchez's fucking lapdog. Cause I don't care how good any of my opponents are, I'm not gonna give this shit up.
This is my fucking Lose Yourself moment, my one shot, my one opportunity to seize everything I ever wanted. I am NOT gonna let it slip, I'm gonna fucking capture it.
Cause if I let it slip? I don't want to think about what's gonna happen after.
So take note UCI Galaxy. Don't be a fucking loser and count me out of this thing. Cause I'm taking the money, whether you like it or not.
I got this.
"Yesterday you'd forgiven me
But it'll still be two days till I say I'm sorry"
