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A Long Time Coming... (Part 1)

Las Vegas, Nevada. Sin City. The Entertainment Capital of the World. The City That Never Sleeps.

All are tried and true nicknames of the gambling Mecca. But none are the reason that brought Jake Starr to its streets today.

The man, last seen venting his anger and frustration over the recent happenings in Supreme Championship Wrestling, walks down the footpaths of Fremont Street gazing at the casinos, tourist shops, restaurants, and street vendors alike.

The lights of the casino illuminate the streets. The sounds of tourists snapping photos, and laughing echo down the way. The exclamations of people lucky enough to strike-it-rich on a slot machine pour from the open doors of the casinos.

These sights are what most people come to Vegas to experience. They want the glitz, the glamour, the excitement, the food... They want the EXPERIENCE of Las Vegas.

Even with all of the commotion surrounding Jake, he seems completely not phased. His mind seems to be racing. Nothing can capture his attention. Not even a stumbling drunk who plows into him, is able to stop him from continuing down the road.

As he continues down the popular tourist destination, in downtown Las Vegas, the street suddenly goes pitch black. As happens every night at the same time, the casinos kill their exterior lighting for the critically acclaimed "Fremont Street Experience."

As every tourist stops to gaze at the canopy above, everyone becomes jam-packed together like sardines, and Jake's progress is forced to a halt. While most continue to stare towards the heavens, Jake continues to survey his surroundings.

As the 15 minute spectacle comes to a conclusion, the casinos begin to illuminate one by one. As the two flanking Jake switch on, he knows he has reached his personal "Event Horizon." As he stands between the 4 Queens and Fremont Casinos, he knows what lies directly behind him.

His head slowly begins to turn, and his body follows. As he completes his revolution, his eyes slowly begin to look up. His face illuminates from the bright lights, glitz and glamour of the casino he has been seeking. He finally gazes into a view he hasn't seen in years...

Jake Starr: The Golden Nugget...

His nerves are definitely on high. His body is motionless as he looks ahead at the inviting doors of the luxurious, and famous, casino.

After his initial moment of nervousness passes, Jake takes a deep breath. He knows that this moment is one he has been anticipating for some time, but the uncertainty of the outcome continues to get the best of him.

Jake Starr: Well... Here goes nothing...

Jake begins his approach to the Fremont Street entrance to the Nugget.

Once he reaches the door, he's forced to sidestep several people pushing and shoving their way both in and out. He gives several of the people a glance wondering why they're so determined to be the first in or first out. He doesn't know if the ones going in are honestly expecting to find their riches that night, and if the ones out just lost their life savings. Nevertheless, after the bottle-necked entry way finally clears a path, Jake is able to set foot inside.

Having not been inside the legendary building in nearly a decade, the layout seems a bit different. He scans around the gaming floor trying to find something that will guide him in the right direction.

A security guard notices Jake seemingly milling about, and approaches him.

Security Guard: Can I help you sir?

Jake looks over at the guard. The noise of the casino forces Jake to raise his voice in response.

Jake Starr: Guest registration...

Security Guard: Oh! Head towards the high-limit section, and take a right. It'll take you straight there...

Jake Starr: Thanks...

Jake looks ahead and sees the massive sign designating the high-limit section of the casino. He gives the security guard another nod of thanks, and begins walking in the direction he was pointed. As he approaches the high-limit gaming area, off to his right he sees a sign signaling guest registration. He quickly alters his path in the direction of the sign.

As he comes around the corner, he sees the desk of clerks checking guests in. At one end stands a clerk designated to only provide services to the "premium" guests. Jake figures that is who he is supposed to be checking in with. He approaches the woman, who greets him with a friendly smile.

Guest Clerk: Hello sir! How may I help you today?

Jake Starr: I was told to come here and ask to be directed towards the penthouse suites.

Guest Clerk: Oh... I'm sorry sir, those are only accessible through a special bank of elevators. You have to be registered here for us to allow you access.

Jake Starr: I was told you guys would know I was coming...

Guest Clerk: Forgive me sir, I'm unsure of who you are. Since 9/11 we have been forced to up all of our security measures.

Jake Starr: Oh...

Jake reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his wallet. He slides out his drivers license, and hands it to the clerk.

Jake Starr: Will this help?

Guest Clerk: I don't know let me have a look!

She types his name into the system, and her eyes open wide as she reads whatever it is that pops up on her computer monitor.

Guest Clerk: Oh! My apologies. I wasn't aware we were informed of your visit today.

Jake Starr: Don't worry! I was only informed of it yesterday...

She pulls out one of the special key cards needed to obtain access to the penthouse suites. She also hands Jake back his ID, and points him to the elevators. Jake smiles, nods, and turns to head over to where he was instructed.

Upon reaching the numerous elevators for the Golden Nugget's rooms, he sees two at the end that require a card to be summoned. Assuming these are the proper elevators, he slides the card into the slot, and pulls it out. A green light illuminates, and the elevator automatically is summoned.

As Jake waits he looks around, and seemingly becomes more and more antsy. Other guests flood in and out of the other elevators. A couple guests recognize Jake, and quickly ask if they can take a photo with the star. Even though his nerves are racing, he happily obliges.

As those fans depart, the elevator bell dings. Jake looks over, and as the doors swing open, he can feel his heart racing. He quickly jumps on the elevator, and presses the button to ascend him towards the suites.

The elevator doors open showing a long hallway of doors leading to the various penthouses. Jake steps off the elevator and looks towards the end of the hallway. He sees the door of the suite he seeks, and knows it is time.

As he walks towards the end of the hallway, another security guard emerges. The guard stands between Jake and the door he's aiming for, and forces Jake to stop.

Security Guard: Excuse me sir, might I ask where you're headed?

Jake Starr: You can ask all day long, but to answer, I'm going to that door right behind you...

Security Guard: I'm going to have to ask for some identification.

Jake Starr: Didn't I do that downstairs?

Security Guard: He has requested all visitors and personnel be double-checked to verify they are to be here.

Jake looks to the side where a broken table lies, along with a shattered vase.

Jake Starr: Because of that?

Security Guard: Partially... Now may I see some identification?

Jake pulls his wallet out again, and retrieves his drivers license. As the security guard is given the ID, he calls down to his dispatch office to verify Jake is who he claims to be.

Jake's focus returns to the damaged furniture strewn in the corner.

Jake Starr: So was he responsible for that?

Security Guard: Yeah...

Jake Starr: Hmm...

Security Guard: Wasn't a real cordial "Welcome Home."

Jake Starr: I would imagine not...

The security guard is called from his dispatch. They inform him that Jake was expected, and his identity was verified by the various cameras throughout the hotel. As this is being said, Jake retrieves his ID from the guard, who allows him to proceed the rest of the way to the door. As Jake passes the guard, the guard quickly turns towards him.

Security Guard: Do you know the code?

Jake turns around confused.

Jake Starr: Code?

Security Guard: To enter?

Jake Starr: Up Up Down Down Left Right Left Right B A B A Select Start?

The guard looks completely confused.

Security Guard: Umm... No? It's three digits...

Jake smirks and nods.

Jake Starr: Then yes... Yes I do know it...

Jake approaches the door, and sees the keypad installed on the outside. When he heard the guard say it was a three digit code, he knew there was only one code that would allow access to this domain. He reaches out to the keypad and inputs the three digits, 0-0-6.

With that code, the door audibly unlocks. Jake reaches down and twists the knob to the room. As the door creaks open, the sight isn't what Jake expected. It's not the lavish penthouse he was in years ago. Instead, there is barely any light, and the place has been completely ransacked. Many of the prized belongings have been broken, priceless works of art shredded, title belts desecrated. It's the complete opposite of what he remembered.

He cautiously walks around the penthouse "commons" area, shockingly looking at all of the destruction. He kneels down and lifts up an old championship belt that has been beaten up by some form of mallet or hammer.

Jake sighs.

The memories that filled this room seemingly have been taken from everyone, or have been tarnished in ways difficult to mend.

He sets the belt back down amidst the mess, and continues to tiptoe through the carnage. He comes to a table in one of the far corners, seemingly untouched by those who unleashed the hell he is looking at. Jake notices on that table is a photo. He picks the photo up, and looks at it with a smile. The photo depicts five individuals, one of which is Jake. The caption below simply states, "Soldiers of Eternity."

As he admires the photo, the figure of a man appears behind him. The man stands behind Jake with his head down. The man takes a step forward, but remains completely silent. The little light that is in the room illuminates just enough to show the man wearing a sleeveless shirt, and bearing a tattoo of a broken mirror on his right shoulder.

Jake smirks.

Jake Starr: Love what you've done with the place...

The head of the figure is seen rising, and his eyes glow through the darkness.

Man: Bout Goddamn time you showed up

The response makes Jake laugh. He slowly turns around to face the man

Once again, he feels his heartbeat begin to race. Standing behind him is a part of his past he didn't think he'd face again. Almost a decade ago was the last time the two crossed paths, and after that moment, it seemed like that chapter of his life had come to a close. Until last night, he never thought it would have simply been "To Be Continued."


Jake Starr: There comes a point in everyone's life where you have to begin to wonder if everything really does "happen for a reason." Sometimes things are good, others... Well... Not so much. Like now, for instance. Right now I know I am on the wrong side of YET ANOTHER argument here in Supreme Championship Wrestling. I know people seemingly think I am just mad because I lost.

Well, the answer is yes and no.

Yes I am mad I lost, like anyone would be. Anyone who has ever lost a match never is THRILLED with one. Nobody goes "Damn, I'm so happy I lost that match, it was great!" Some may say it was a good experience, but still, losing sucks a fat horses cock. So why, then, if everyone gets mad, should my anger be any different from, I don't know, let me pick a veritable loser here, how about Christian Savior? He's lost countless matches in a row. Why should my anger be different from his? Well for one, he's a horrible competitor, who is probably used to losing and making up excuse after excuse about why it's happening. I'm not someone who makes excuses unless there is a DEFINITE need for one.

Right now, there is that need. Damian Angel decided that he has some "right" to screw me in my chance to achieve the greatness I seek. Why? I don't know! I wish I did. I wish I understood what was happening in his prepubescent brain to make him ACTUALLY THINK it was smart. Like I said before, the only two conclusions are he was bribed, or he's hoping to get my attention to hopefully resurrect his fledgling career. Regardless of which of the two is correct, it doesn't matter. He is getting his dumb wish. He is getting to fight Jake Starr.

Oh the excitement is overwhelming.

Getting the chance to share the ring with someone who is a FORMER holder of multiple championships should just elate me, right? Well it doesn't! I don't enjoy competition from people who're forced to go the EASY way to get the match they want. Whether it's by begging someone to give you this match because you think a win my save your career, or if it's by attacking someone in the back so the God-awful match makers decide it's the "right match" to make due to the circumstances, doesn't matter. Both reasons show the inability to make your career stand out on your own. Both reasons tell me you're not deserving of my time or attention, yet I'm forced to give it to you. How perfect is that for you?

Now I also said I WASN'T mad just because I lost, and here's why. There are other issues surrounding this whole fiasco that have contributed to my anger. Sasha "I'm Nothing Like My Big Dick Daddy" Drachewych was supposed to be the "breath of fresh air" that SCW needed, now that "Daddy D" is out of the role. Now, "Daddy D," as far as owners go, was horrendous. So it takes a lot to actually rival that dreck that we were forced to watch, but by allowing the situation to unfold as it did, and have her little patsy CHBK waddling around doing her bidding, INSTEAD of making things right, was an abomination. The two are, well, acting like another incarnation of the SAME PERSON. It's quite bothersome at times.

But seriously... If this were CHBK in my position, you damn well better believe his little hoochie would be "ALL UP IN DA BIZNISS OF SOME MAW FUGGUHS!"

Instead we're back where we began. Random people getting matches with me hoping to make up for the ground they've lost recently by... Well... Sucking! Damian is one of those guys! See, I'll admit I'm not really the greatest historian when it comes to paying attention to anyone else's career but those of my friends and myself. But anyway... I haven't really seen anything telling me Damian has been real successful lately. In fact, it seems to be quite the opposite. So, as has been the case in the past, why should I even have the faintest doubt in my mind that the outcome of my match with THIS train wreck will be any different than my past matches with "legendary" train wrecks?

Another thing... Where do these train wrecks vanish to after I beat them? It's like losing to me is almost a black hole for one's career. Is that good or bad? I personally find it good, go figure. See, when I came to SCW, all of the guys I heard people clamoring about backstage, were complete jokes. These guys were the "cream of the crop," and yet, I have seen better talent in competitive Jenga than I did out in the ring. So I've enjoyed getting to, in a sense, purge the mediocrity from SCW.

Anyway... Back to my original point of things "happening for a reason." If all of the stupidity surrounding what happened at Apocalypse is "happening for a reason," I want to know what the "valid" reason is. I want to know why those who "care" about SCW are allowing it to happen. Why should "Satan God" be allowed to just run amok, without any backlash from ANYONE?

Or is that now my responsibility?

Are they expecting me to be "furious" with him and want to have some drawn out feud with him? Seriously? I hope not... I'm not going to waste my time building someone else up by allowing them to actually have the HONOR of fighting me, when I could be getting the chances I deserve. I had to put up with that nonsense with Stacy "My Twat Reeks of Dog Jizz" Kissinger. I had to battle her snatch THREE TIMES before I finally sealed it up for good. If people expect me to just be content with these fly-by-night opponents, get a grip. I'm not going to sit back and allow myself to be brought down by such murky pieces of sh!t.

I can say, to a degree, all of this is kind of flattering. I mean lately I've been getting wind of apparently several people wanting a piece of me. I guess there really are people out there who realize that, even though I was royally SCREWED, I'm still THE MAN to beat here. Only two people have accomplished that goal. And even with those two, one decided to beat me and run away, and the second knows he had a tainted victory.

No matter who the opponent is, I'm going to charge through them, one by one, until I get another shot at Exeter. Quite frankly, if it doesn't happen, those two thinking everyday is "Dress Like The Boss" day, will not like the consequences. I made it clear, I want Exeter in a match, with NOBODY able to step in and taint it in the least. If, then, I walk in, and am beaten, then you will have answered my demand, and I would go on my merry little way. If, however, I show that he only won due to the stupidity of the lumbering oaf you've thrown my way, EVERYONE will realize I am as f_cking stellar as I claim, and there won't be anyone to dispute it.

So Angel... Be prepared for a war of "Biblical" proportions. Be prepared to have your hack, "evil," persona revealed as a complete sham. You're going to be as believable as Vince Offer and his SCAM-Wows. You'll understand why your complete lack of intelligence has lead you to an epic pitfall in your life and your career. This edition of Breakdown won't be some "special" moment for you. It won't mark the day in which you "ascend" back into the good "graces" with your "holy" friends. It will merely be another day in your meager life that you look back on and go... "Wow I really did suck!"

To Be Continued...

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