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Fatherhood has become something Jake Starr has begun to look forward to. Since finding out the official news that, indeed, he was destined to be a father in mere months, Jake's been down every path imaginable for a father-to-be. He's had bouts with worrying and fear, while, in a sense, having those balanced out by combinations of excitement and anticipation.

Since seriously beginning to get his mental status under control, at least in his eyes, he's been more and more overcome with anticipation and excitement, ready to begin life as a father. He's planned so many things out for he and his child to do during its first 10 years of existence, that Roeper has to continually remind him that they have to first have the baby, and raise it to be able to wipe itself, long before he'll ever get a chance to do some of the things he has planned out for their child.

So for now, Jake must simply take things in the order they come, rather than jumping ahead 10-plus years down the road... And next in the order of "father-to-be" comes one of the final doctor visits they must endure before the clock starts ticking for delivery.

The two have made their way to Roeper's OB-GYN, and Jake's "second mother," Dr. Madeleine Wright, mother to Jake's long-time friend, Shawn Wright. Dr. Wright is excited to be at this point in Roeper's pregnancy, and having suffered no serious threats or complications to the fetus. She hopes everything checks out this time around with Roeper, and she can send her home with a clean bill of health, and commence preparations for labor.

As Jake parks the car, he makes as quick of a move as he can to the passenger side to help his wife out of the car. In one of the first full views of Roeper lately, she displays her very pregnant belly, and the "pregnant woman walk." They make their way toward the clinic, Jake being the loving husband, and carrying Roeper's things.

As the couple walk through the doors of Dr. Wright's office, the young receptionist, again, is awaiting their arrival. Upon seeing them enter, and having seen them throughout the course of Roeper's pregnancy, she quickly greets them, and welcomes them to the clinic. She calls back to the back to let Dr. Wright know they have arrived. The receptionist hangs up the paging phone, and goes back to greeting the pair.

Receptionist: ... So how are you guys?!

Roeper Hart: We're good...

Jake Starr: ... For the most part...

The receptionist looks at Jake a bit confused.

Receptionist: For the most part? Why?

Jake Starr: ... Oh, just a bit stiff and sore...

Receptionist: Isn't that supposed to be her saying those kinds of things?

The two women chuckle at the pregnancy joke.

Jake Starr: Believe me, I wish it were, I wouldn't feel bad then!

Roeper backhands her husband in the chest, letting out a loud echoing "thump" across the empty office.

Jake Starr: Umm OW!

Roeper just looks back over at Jake annoyed.

Roeper Hart: Well that should teach you to mock me! I'm pregnant!

Jake throws his hands to the side, showing no matter what he says or does, he simply can't win with his wife.

Receptionist: She does have a point...

Jake looks back at the receptionist, and gives a definitive "you're not helping" look in her direction.

Receptionist: ... Well it's true! She is the one with the pregnancy going on!

Jake Starr: Yes, but that doesn't help my argument now does it?

From behind Jake, Dr. Madeleine Wright approaches, overhearing Jake's comment to the receptionist.

Dr. Madeleine Wright: Believe me Jake... Nothing you can say will help your argument against a pregnant woman. I deal with them every day, and speak from far more experience!

Jake, shocked to hear Dr. Wright arrive without his knowledge, turns around a bit stunned. Dr. Wright places her hands on Jake's shoulders and looks him in the eye.

Dr. Madeleine Wright: T-R-U-S-T M-E! A pregnant woman loses a sense of reasoning and understanding for certain kinds of sarcasm... Even with some other women! Now come here!

Much like a mother who hasn't seen her son in some time, Madeleine embraces Jake, and he easily reciprocates. She squeezes him tight, and Jake's wit kicks in again.

Jake Starr: You may want to stop, my wife is standing right there!

Again, without missing a beat, Roeper smacks her husband, this time in the side, so as not to inadvertently hit Dr. Wright. Jake, again apparently having been caught in a tender spot grimaces, and slowly lets out the breath he had just sucked in.

Jake Starr: OW! Man...

Roeper merely grins, and looks over at Dr. Wright, who is trying to hold back her laughter. The two embrace as well, and share pleasantries with one another.

Dr. Madeleine Wright: So... You ready?

Roeper takes a deep breath, never feeling very comfortable about going into these kinds of exams.

Roeper Hart: ... Ready as ever, I suppose!

Dr. Madeleine Wright: Alright, you know the way!

Roeper begins to make her way back toward Dr. Wright's examination room. As Dr. Wright begins to follow, she looks back over at Jake briefly.

Dr. Madeleine Wright: ... And Jake, I'll see you shortly as well!

Jake looks confused, but before he can seek any clarification, Dr. Wright has disappeared behind the door, and has followed Roeper to the room where she is to be examined.

Instead of going to sit down, knowing the process of sitting down, then standing up, still causes some pain in his ribcage, opts to slowly pace around the office. He picks up the occasional magazine, thumbs through it, and then proceeds to set it back down on the table it was before he picked up. The receptionist sees Jake's pacing, and tries to strike up a conversation with him.

Receptionist: So... Excited?

Jake, having his back to the receptionist desk, turns around shocked that she struck up a conversation with him.

Jake Starr: ... About?

Receptionist: You know... The baby!

Jake Starr: OH! Yeah... I've been getting more and more excited lately...

Receptionist: Aww! That's so sweet! I know Dr. Wright is REALLY excited, which is rare because she doesn't usually show real excitement to patients.

Jake chuckles.

Jake Starr: Well, family usually gets a bit of a different reaction.

Receptionist: Yeah... But still, it's nice to see this side of her. I'm used to seeing her rough side.

Jake Starr: Believe me, I know that side well, too.

Receptionist: Really?

Jake Starr: OH YEAH! Shawn, her son, my best friend, and I kind of did our thing and got into our fair share of trouble. At first she thought it was my influence on him, and I saw that "dark" side of hers a lot...

Receptionist: Then she found out it was his fault?

Jake shakes his head.

Jake Starr: Nah... We seemingly brought out that, "hey let's do some stupid sh!t," attitude in one another pretty well. That's when she started to warm up to me somewhat. Ultimately, Shawn and I kind of drifted apart for a short period of time, and she saw, at least in Shawn, how he wasn't himself. My mom said the same thing about me.

Receptionist: Well, why did you two drift apart?

Jake Starr: Differences in what we wanted to do with ourselves, mainly. We each had this "grand plan" for what the two of us should do, neither of which the other liked or thought was ideal, and ultimately we decided to go do our own thing for a while. Our parents noticed the changes in behavior, and the fact we just didn't seem happy, so they talked with each other, organized a little get-together, we hung out, and realized we were friends, and ultimately whatever was the "right path" we wanted to still remain close with one another.

Receptionist: Aww!! That's even sweeter!

Jake chuckles again.

Jake Starr: And when I tell it like that it seems so much fruitier than it was.

Receptionist: It was like your own little "bromance!"

Jake cringes at the word.

Jake Starr: ... And you made it even more homoerotic than I did! Congrats!

The receptionist chuckles.

The two continue to carry on their small-talk for several more minutes, with Jake telling various stories from his youth, involving Dr. Wright's son and he, and their antics. He tells her about how they got into wrestling, met their respective wives, convinced themselves that the other would never be happy being married, and various other stories falling along similar lines. In the middle of one story, Dr. Wright peeks out from behind the doorway leading to her hallway of exam rooms.

Dr. Madeleine Wright: Jake! Your turn!

Jake stops his story midway through. As he walks toward Dr. Wright, he looks back toward the receptionist.

Jake Starr: ... Don't worry, I'll tell you the ending of that one later!

The receptionist chuckles, and goes back to her paperwork, as Jake disappears behind the door.

As Jake is shown into the examination room where Roeper was being examined, she sits, clothed, and reading a magazine in the corner, where "company" brought by patients usual stay seated. Dr. Wright looks at Jake, and tells him to hop up on her examination table, complete with the infamous "stirrups." Jake looks back at Dr. Wright, slightly horrified.

Jake Starr: Umm... I don't think so!

Dr. Madeleine Wright: Jake, you don't have to put your feet up, just have a seat!

Jake is confused.

Jake Starr: Umm... Why?

Dr. Madeleine Wright: Please?

Roeper, not even taking her eyes off of the magazine she's thumbing through, chimes in.

Roeper Hart: Jake, hop up there! I promise not to look ha ha!

Jake reluctantly sits on the edge of the examination table.

Dr. Madeleine Wright: I hear you got pretty beat up last week...

Jake Starr: Yeah...

Dr. Madeleine Wright: You feeling ok?

Jake Starr: Umm... Yeah... Why?

Dr. Madeleine Wright: Just worried... Let me check you out real quick...

Jake Starr: Now, I know I've been called a vag before, I'm really not one!

Dr. Madeleine Wright: Jake... Basic stuff like this you learn before you specialize, so consider yourself my refresher!

Jake begins getting poked and prodded by Dr. Wright, as she begins to find the various places he still has some tenderness from his epic battle at Apocalypse. As she feels around, checks his head wound, and generally gives Jake an overview, it all finally clicks why she's doing what she is...

Jake Starr: Is Shawn worried?!

Dr. Wright pauses, and doesn't answer. Instead she continues checking on him, in places only someone who knew what he went through, and what he had done to him, would know to check directly. Realizing he's right on with what he had assumed, Jake rolls his eyes, and throws his head back in disbelief.

Jake Starr: I'm fine! Tell Shawn I'm ok!

Dr. Madeleine Wright: He's just worried because you haven't been in that kind of situation recently, and he asked that I just give you the old "once-over" and make sure you're not putting yourself at risk...

Jake Starr: I told you, I'm fine! I'm sore, but that's normal... But I'm fine!

Jake hops off of the examination table, effectively ending the "once-over" being given to him by Dr. Wright.

Jake Starr: Tell Shawn I'm ok... Tell him I know what I'm getting into, and ultimately if it gets too much, I know how to get out just as quick as I got in. You just have to trust me!

Dr. Wright stands there, looking him up and down, trying to make sure she sees him in as good of health as he is insisting.

Still not having looked up from her magazine, Roeper throws in her two cents.

Roeper Hart: Tell Shawn I warned him that if he begins to look anything like Rocky Dennis, he's done...

Knowing the horrific nature of Roeper's quip, Dr. Wright tries to shield her face as she tries to fight the urge to laugh. Jake, again, reassures his "mom" he's fine, and will continue to be fine, and embraces her one final time. She takes a breath, hoping he isn't blowing smoke, and is being forthright with her. With those final reassurances, Dr. Wright moves into the "consultation" portion of their visit, filling Jake in on all of the necessary findings from Roeper's check-up. She assures Jake that the fetus is in good health, as is the mother, and she'd ideally like to see them one more time before it's time to deliver the baby.

With those final words, Jake and Roeper head to the receptionist to schedule Roeper's, now final, appointment before delivering their first child. After making that appointment, Jake and Roeper head for the vehicle, and head back toward their home.

Jake is sitting with, what seems to be his journal in his lap, vigorously writing away. The stress and the flood of emotions overcoming him from Apocalypse have forced him to follow the orders of his doctor and begin journaling everything going through his head with this bevy of emotions.

Jake Starr: As time draws nearer and nearer to my opportunity to rectify the little mishap that occurred at Apocalypse, my anticipation and anxiety is building in a way I haven't seen in quite some time. I must say, I'm liking it! I'm liking the fact that I am getting the feeling back, where I get excited for matches, and don't fear them. I'm liking the fact that I can look forward to beating someone down, and proving that their little "triumph" was nothing more than a gang attack over one human...

It wasn't a triumph...

It wasn't a "victory..."

It was a mistake...

It was a mistake by me!

When the referee's hand struck the canvas for that three-count, I went into a euphoric state of bliss, knowing I had just done something people perceived as impossible by some. I knew that with that final count, Jake Starr was a champion once again. I knew my time in the spotlight had come for its third time. Again, I can't stress how euphoric it was. I can't begin to explain the shear emotion that was going through my body, as I struggled to muster the energy to stand up. It was my meteoric rise, again, and it was something I had been anticipating for so long.

I thought it would be a time of celebration. I thought it would be a time for me to relish in my accomplishment. Sadly, no. Sadly I fell victim to a gang of jealous dweebs who would like nothing more than to use me for their own personal enjoyment. I was a pawn in their game, and I allowed it to happen without trying to avoid it, and trying to escape. I don't know if it was the feeling of being drained, or I simply believed I would just get to enjoy my moment. But unfortunately, that moment never came.

After all was said and done, after the beatings ended, and when recovery began, I thought maybe that moment would come. I thought maybe once I was able to not cringe at the thought of moving a muscle, I would be able to lavish in my achievement. No... It still hasn't come. I still haven't felt that moment of glory. I felt the euphoria that precedes the glory, but the glory never came.

As the aching began to heal, I felt my emotions begin to veer off course. I had done so much lately to curtail their negative effects over me, and I felt them coming on stronger than ever. I felt anger for someone stealing such a moment from me. I felt rage. I felt the urge to simply lash out. For once, though, I knew why it was happening. For once, I could put my finger on the cause. For once, it wasn't a mystery. It was that group of vile humans who to pleasure and enjoyment in my sorrow, and in my pain. It was due to their enjoyment of watching me incapable of celebrating my triumph over them, that lead me to this place.

So I quickly began to try the various methods of coping. I tried breathing exercises, and they didn't help. They didn't give me that sense of soothing and calming they once did. I tried working out. It, too, was a bust. My body still has some remnants of that battle, and some of the workout activities began to tweak on those, still ailing, parts. And after they would tweak, my mind would immediately return to why I hurt, to who did this to me, and to what I wanted to do to those responsible. So it's lead me to here... It's lead me to writing this all out with the hopes it begins to calm me enough, to where I can begin to focus a little more, rather than be driven by these emotions...

... But dammit... The thoughts alone send me back into that mentality of hatred and anger...

I think about how that group talks. I think about how Christy has tried to blame everything that transpired on politics and corruption. She's staked her entire case against me, her entire viewpoint of me, her entire inane verbal diatribe regarding me, on something she hasn't a clue about.

It began on Twitter, it began with the little pot-shots she took with the hopes of getting me riled up, and I simply shrugged them off. I simply looked past her because, in all honesty, I didn't have a clue who she was, who she was affiliated with, or what the point of her useless Tweets were. Then she joins the little band of parental disappointments in jumping me, and believes she now has the right to talk even more, and even louder, which I expected. Hell, I didn't expect her to attack me, then sit quietly to the side and giggle. That's her friend Syren's job. But what I did expect was her to become a little more, oh I don't know, creative about me. She continued on the same rants as she did on Twitter. She went on and on about, like I said, how I was being just like those I rallied against. She tried to compare me to a dog awaiting adoption, simply clamoring for attention. Yet, she doesn't even know anything about me, this company, or it's inhabitants.

She's been around, oh I don't know... No I really don't know how long. She just appeared one day, and started to crucify me over something she knows little about. And instead of being smart about how little she knows, she's tried to justify herself around here. She's tried to justify her actions because of some fling that happened that nobody knows about because it was just implied once. She's tried to explain her "bitch-mode" with examples like that, along with wins she apparently has over people no longer with the company.

Either that or they spontaneously combusted and vanished. One of the two...

Yet, these are her examples of "proof" that she is someone who is to be feared and respected. She dares use these examples as reasoning for involving herself with me? I'm supposed to be the way she makes up for instances where she's been overlooked? I'm supposed to be "that guy" who pays the penalty for the, perceived missteps, of others? Instead of going to the source, she's trying to get some message across by the over-the-top means, with the hopes someone finally says, "Hey Christy Matthews isn't someone I should look at as if they're merely a window?"

Maybe she should realize that's what she is! Maybe Christy Matthews should realize her place is to be that overlooked broad who, in the big picture, doesn't get respect because of the fact she really hasn't done much to earn it. Maybe she should stop COMPLAINING about being overlooked, and just accept her role, instead of COMPLAINING about people who COMPLAIN, and then emulating said COMPLAINING by COMPLAINING herself? Is it because she's too dumb to realize she, too apparently, is becoming what she's criticizing? Is it because she's too dumb to realize she's simply setting a double standard, with the hopes she isn't called out on it?

I don't know... I wish I did... It would make me a lot happier. I wish I knew why she was like she was, because maybe then I wouldn't be so annoyed, and want to literally ruin her night by pulling my pants down, and dropping a steamy log right in her mouth as she screamed for mercy and pity.

Yet, I don't know...

I don't know why she's tried to get under my skin by bringing up Shilo. I don't know anything about her, or her actions. They may no sense. She, like every wrestler, claims she's, "telling it like it is," but ultimately saying the same thing as everyone who says those exact words. I don't know why she can't comprehend that the Underground Championship Match was made at Apocalypse, not because of a demand by me, but because of her partner's inability to think before he spoke.

The only logical conclusion I've been able to surmise, which fuels my anger, is jealousy. Her jealousy over the fact that I give the fans what they pay to see, the fact that I've gotten championship opportunities, and the fact I was named the NUMBER ONE CONTENDER for the SCW World Championship, just eats away at me. She makes false claims about demands I've made, and yet, if you read between the lines, she's doing the same thing. She's jealous I busted my ass, and busted the dreams of one of her, probably countless, lovers, to earn the opportunities I have gotten. She can try to make a case for me being like Jason Zero and his homosexual, and incestuous brother, Christian Savior, but she knows very well I'm not like them. I've not demanded anything. Hell, with Loose-ass, sh!t I mean, Lucas, I just merely offered up the suggestion of the title being on the line, and he accepted. It's as simple as that. It wasn't, "YOU, GIVE ME, NOW," or some other form of caveman lingo she'd probably insinuate that I speak. No... It was a suggestion, and her friend vomited out the words, "You're on!"

... And yet, he too, was involved. He too, was responsible. He too, was a member of the menagerie who beat me down. All because he couldn't handle what had just happened. Instead of standing up, taking in the love from the fans, taking in the appreciation for what we had both put each other through, he decided to ruin the moment for both of us, and make it all about himself...

... And yet we all know he and Christy have some sort of crush on one another behind the scenes, that they don't want anyone to see or hear about...

Nevertheless, he was part of that attack. He was unwilling to let what happened, be what happened, and decided it was HIS MOMENT. Nobody else's. Title or not, he was the one who got to be center of the universe. Hell, he couldn't even make a sincere congratulations to me when he decided to open his vagina-mouth again. Instead, he decided to mock me... He decided to mock the fact I admitted the pain of the match. He mocked the fact I actually took an intellectual route to the promo I shot last week. He decided to compare me to Chris Lawler. He decided to miss the point...

... Or he just didn't get the correlation between the "Apocalypse," and religion, even though it was spelled out for him in plain, simple, and pretty damn close to the "Queens English."

Yet, he still acts as if the promo itself was something "beneath" him. Wow... Beneath Lucas Knight... Not a place most men ever desire to be! He tries to give me credit. He tries to play himself up some. He tries to give that "only we could do it," kind of vibe, but nobody buys it from him. Nobody buys his sincerity when he tries to dish it out. The fans know I go out every night to bring the best out of my opponent, and give the best from myself, with the hopes that, in the end, they get a show to remember. Yes, Lucas and I gave that to the crowd. But to hear him say how he knows it took "us" to do it, it a farce. The Underground Division sells itself. The blood, the guts, the glory, it all comes from the heart and soul these people put forth, and now I'm one of them...

I just HATE the fact he mocked me, in any way, shape, or form... GOD DAMN do I hate that!

I also hate the fact he has jumped on the bandwagon with his little philly regarding me, simply because I believe it's all he has to go on. His internal jealousy of the fact I won, leads him to scurry down that road to say I would have demanded a rematch, saying it was a travesty, blaming Rachel and Dillusion, and truthfully, I do blame them for interfering. I blame them for involving themselves because it opened a case for anyone to say "maybe Jake didn't win alone." Nevertheless, I did.

So if these two want to hinge their insults on the facts that they have twisted and misconstrued into the "truths" that they seem to believe, then fine. Let them. The fact is, I won the Underground Championship at Apocalypse. I beat Lucas Knight, and inevitably sent the first blow into a war that will ultimately culminate in me and my fraternal brothers, most likely with some added weight and assistance, ending their reign as the "pinnacle group" in SCW. It began with the number of MEANINGFUL championship belts favoring us at Apocalypse, and eventually, one by one, they'll fall. Good always triumphs over evil. It's how history works...

America defeated the British...

The Allies defeated the Axis in WWII...

America defeated the Russians in 1980...

Jesse Camp defeated Dave Holmes...

Trogdor burninates everything...

Jake Starr defeated James Exeter, Josh Hudson, and Lucas Knight...

History repeats itself with GOOD always prevailing, and at Breakdown, when I walk out there, I know I will make sure history continues to remain a fixed constant in the world. My emotions will be unleashed on those responsible... Plain and simple!

As the scene fades in on Jake sitting on the toilet, writing, he comes to the apparent end of whatever he was writing. He takes a deep breath, apparently beginning to feel the therapeutic effects of his journaling. He looks up, and straight ahead, and into the lens of the camera.

Jake Starr: So it is written... So shall it be DONE!

The camera censors Jake proceeding to cleanse himself after his bowel evacuation. After he is done, he stands up, and pulls his pants up. He reaches back to flush, and admires the, seemingly gift-wrapped treasure he's delivered to the toilet gods.

Jake Starr: Oh! That's a good one!

As Jake utters those words, the scene shifts outside the door, where Thorn happens to walk by right as Jake speaks. A concerned look comes over Thorn's face, worried that the fight he had at Apocalypse, and the beat down that ensued afterwards, might have had a severe and detrimental effect on his friend. He nervously approaches the door, and knocks. Back inside, Jake is startled by the knocking.

Jake Starr: Umm... Yes?

The scene shifts back out to Thorn.

Thorn: Jake, are you OK in there, I mean, were you just talking to your poo? If you were, we may need to go visit the "Happy Doctor," and have you checked out...

There is no response from inside. Thorn knocks again.

Thorn: Jake?

As the scene begins to slowly fade to black, all that is heard from within is...


Thorn slowly closes his eyes, his head droops, and a mix of disturbance and worry begins to overcome him.

Thorn: ... Oh sweet Jesus...

The scene completely fades to black with Jake emerging holding his journal, and passing by his friend, patting him on the shoulder. Thorn immediately wonders if Jake washed his hands, or if he was indeed playing "Mr. Hankey," and is once again, on the verge of losing his mind. He decides to follow Jake and watch his subsequent actions, which simply see Jake walking into his office, at his home, opening a safe to which he is the only one who knows the combination, or its complete list of contents, and place his notebook back inside it, and lock it up.

Jake immediately begins to shift his focus and attention from his journal, to Breakdown, knowing he has a difficult task ahead of him, with two members of the Order of Chaos staring him and Holly Adams down. A win for Starr and Adams would mark a major blow to the Order of Chaos, and ultimately put Jake and his fraternal brethren in a position to truly say they are the most influential and dominant group within the hallowed halls of Supreme Championship Wrestling's locker room.


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