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To give some backstory, at the Colossuem fed has been closed itself since 2003. As I was friends with a couple of people from the fed on facebook. We started getting nostalgic about efedding and started braining storming an idea. The original idea we didn't wanna reopen the fed. Since we expected a lot from ourselves. The idea in our facebook group we made. Was the 20 of us were gonna find a fed and mob into the fed as if we were the nWo. That idea soon fell apart and we reopened the Colossuem. This is an on card between me and the guy who got me into efeds way back in 1998.
My approach to efedding up to this point was to always be in character at every opportunity. I was a heel, I wanted you the handler to really hate me. So I decided, this here, was my best chance to up the fucking ante on that. The fed itself was putting the title on me and let me run with it. So, I felt I had to get super personal with people. So, this promo really shoot style between both of us. He wasn't gonna join the fed at all. But, I kept taunting his character so well in promos that up to this point. I guess he felt like fuck it, lets go with it. So, this is the blowout from weeks and months of me taunting him in promos. This was his first response. And, yes we worked on this together. So, without further ado, going down memory lane: here it is and hope you guys enjoy reading it:
(“Ecstasy of Gold” by Ennio Morricone starts playing as the lights dim. After a few moments of the music taking it’s time to pick up, a large figure steps out from behind the curtains and onto the stage, a black duster flowing out from under his black cowboy hat. Even his long hair and beard are black, and the shades on his eyes glint the little remnants of light off of them. For the first time in nearly a decade, Justin Sellers walks out onto a Colosseum ramp, ready to walk down to the ring he once called home.)
RS: I wasn’t even sure he was going to be here for this.
CW: I wasn’t even sure he was still alive.
TT: Who is it?
RS & CW: …
(With a beer bottle in one hand and a microphone in the other, he makes his way down to the ring, a little slower than before, but still able to reach the ring and get his way into the squared circle. The crowd that remembers him cheers and the ones who don’t look on as this mystery man doesn’t even make a motion to play up to the crowd other than raising his beer-laden hand in a salute.)
CW: Looks like he just made last call.
TT: Hopefully no one throws bottles to him.
RS: I wonder what he has to say. He has not announced himself as a competitor in the shows yet.
(He pulls himself up on the turnbuckle and takes a seat; his feet planted firmly on the second rope either side of the middle turnbuckle. As the music dies down to quiet, the lights come back up and he situates himself comfortably.)
Justin Sellers: You know…you know, it’s been too long since I have been in one of these rings.
(A small clamor from the crowd, those faithful to the product remembering him.)
JS: That being said, I can’t completely say I missed this place. I mean…you have to…
(Some boos now replace the cheers.)
JS: Hold on, guys…(he steps down off his seat.)…I don’t think you all understand some things. First off, I was ready to give it up…I was ready to head down the road and never look back at wrestling after my best friend Jack Hardy passed. In fact, after Colosseum, I did move on. I went on to college, started working on my cyber security degree. I started working a desk job doing IT. I mean, for crying out loud, I settled down. And then, the call came…
(Justin walks out to the center of the ring and gets a better look at the entry ramp.)
JS: Back there in the back, a guy named R.W. Randolph gave me a call. A man who I hadn’t heard from in a long time, and he calls me up with this idea of a Colosseum reunion. Truth is Pete Anselmo had talked to me first about it. He wanted to get my intake on it. I said it’d be nice, but I wasn’t interested in a comeback tour. I did my time, and I was happy where I was. If they wanted me to come in and pose for a photo-op or do some sort of press talk, I would have. I would have gladly…until I heard the name Steve Sanders attached to the idea.
(The crowd boos even more at the name of the guy running around calling Justin his mentor. Sellers can simply nod back.)
JS: Yeah, I know the feeling. But you know what else I’m feeling? I’m feeling like I really need to say something important. Not something from Sellers to Sanders. This will be from James Rumple to Ed Beatty.
RS: What’s going on?
CW: Oh, this is getting good…
TT: I don’t like this…
(Sticking the beer in the crook of his arm, he pulls off his shades and walks over to the camera, pocketing the glasses and nearly ripping the camcorder off of the cameraman’s shoulder.)
JS: That’s what you want and what you get when you start bringing real world into this, Ed. You don’t have the respect to leave well enough alone? I don’t have the respect to keep things “on script” with you. You could have just showed up and been the dick that you normally are, but hey, you had to go poking at a retired guy, an old man on the block. So I’m going to give you a little bit of a wakeup call.
(Justin looks down at the mat and motions for the camera man to come into the ring with him, and even holds the ropes open before grabbing his beer again.)
JS: You see, Ed, this isn’t about my ego. This is about correcting a mistake I made a long time ago. You like to go around and tell people I trained you, but then turn around and make the world hate you. You have to throw out insults and verbal slaps to people, and that is why I won’t take you as a disciple anymore. If I wanted the people to boo me, I came in and smacked around their heroes physically, not with a mic, but with my hand and other tools. And for God’s sake, man, get my name right if you want to insult me and stop spelling it like an Andy Hartley reject that you are.
Face it, you’re second string…you’re a B-lister. You would be so much better if you actually sat down and researched your opponents like you made fun of me for doing. You know what me sitting down and watching you in one night made me realize. One…(holds up finger around his beer bottle) you don’t even know anything about the person you say trained you. Red Deer? Yeah, that was where I was born, but even in my last days of the Colosseum, Charlotte was where I was. All the way across the map. So right there is one point that a monkey with a dart board could get closer to than you.
(He begins to pace around the ring, annoyed at the person he would rather never see again.)
JS: Two, you really have to start investing in some new hobbies, man. You’re walking around and seeing figments of your imagination or, heaven forbid, you’re seeing your deepest, darkest sexual fantasies because it’s obvious you can’t get me out of your head. And you sit here and say that I was the one that brainwashed your girl into leaving you? She begged me to help her leave. Said something about you kept calling out my name to her in bed. Freaking ridiculous, if you ask me. And you bring up Trent, which…(now looking at and walking towards the camera)…I want you to read this from my own mouth: Trent…is…not…my…brother. Not a half-brother, not a stepbrother, not a family member at all. It’s called a storyline. And, guys bringing this back to life, I’m sorry I’m stepping all over the illusions here, but these are things that have been known for years. Which brings me to point number three…
(As he pulls the third finger off of his bottle of beer, he manages to pick it up and drink the remaining bits of it before chucking it down to the ringside area.)
JS: I don’t fear you, Ed. I’m not afraid of you in any way other than you trying to molest me in this ring. You’ve already tried on a microphone and it didn’t work for you, and now you want me to come back so you can try in the ring to take advantage of me. You act like a thug who wants to intimidate by packing heat, but all you seem to be packing is wood for me. I’m not into you that way, Ed. And you make a claim of my feelings being fear for you. Heh…
(He now comes forward, his big frame pushing the cameraman back into the corner and towering down onto him.)
JS: Is this what you want? You want me to be intimidating…angry…something along those lines, right? Be real, child. I don’t fear you, and I don’t hate you. I feel sorry for you having this hard-on for only me, apparently, and thinking that winning this reunion Lord of the Colosseum is going to put you in my league. Pal, get all the titles I did, fight all the legends I did, sacrifice yourself in the most extreme environments for close to 6 years here, like I did. Then, you will know what it’s like to be a copy of me. Not me in general, no…because you will always be just talk. That’s why I listened to your little proposal…one match: mentor versus protégé. Do you know what I say to that, Ed?
(Sellers leans in closer to the camera now, almost blacking out the picture.)
JS: No.
CW: What a coward.
RS: If you’re not accepting, then why are you here, Justin?
JS: You see, Beatty…I know that here on March 13th, you had a little birthday. And I decided that, since you are the one who should be celebrating, not me, I’m going to give you a gift. You want so desperately to run my name in the mud to get me to come back? No. You want me to get egged to come back and fight you because you called me a p***y?
TT: Can he say that?
CW: He just did.
JS: You want me to do all that, but I’m going to do something else. You want so badly that I would come back? I want to so badly go back to my life of classes and desk work. So here’s what I want, Blake. Or Justice. Or whoever I have to talk to about this. I want to offer you a match, Ed. I want to offer you a one-time match. And I can assure you, people, unlike other places, this will be a one-time match. I want a Highway to Hell match with you, Ed. But we don’t have titles in play or crowns or anything like that…oh, no. On top of the whole thing, why don’t we put a contract and a pen? You see…I feel this may go on for a while…this reunion tour thing. Whoever gets up there gets the chance to sign it and the one who doesn’t? Well…why don’t we just go ahead and say that it’s a “Loser Leaves the Company” stipulation. Oh, only it’s not just Steve Sanders and Justin Sellers fighting. You wanted to bring the real world into this, so I say the loser, under any mask or name, cannot return. How do you feel about that?
RS: That’s a big challenge, Charlie. I wonder if Steve will take it.
CW: I wonder if we can actually air this.
TT: I’m so confused. Who’s Ed?
RS and CW: …
(Justin drops the microphone, pats the guy in the corner holding the camera on his chest, and leaves, his music starting up again as he starts to reach the rampway as the lights dim again, and “Nothing Stands in our way blasts through the arena! The lighted jacket showing bright red colors as The Chosen One is standing there, and Justin Sellers looks on showing no fear. The lights cut back on showing a stern glare on Steve Sanders face. A Colosseum microphone in his hand. The crowd is in an uproar. Boos and cheers blanket the crowd.)
RS: Business looks to be picking up!
CW: I am not only wondering if we can air this, but I am wondering what could possibly get ready to happen. Steve does not look happy.
TT: This is personal it seems. What now?
(The Chosen One still staring at his old friend. The Chosen One doesn’t even show any emotional outside of a mix between angry and astonishment. He slowly raised the microphone to his lips.)
SS: Let The Chosen One clear up one thing right now Justin Sellers. By the way, James Rumple, as Edward Beatty stands here, let me remind you since one too many chair shots may have jogged your memory. Respect is earned not given correct me if I am wrong old timer. I know you shunned me for being what you couldn’t be. Sure you can go in there and load up that lame move, what was it, The Lethal Injection but you don’t HAVE the verbal expertise to insult people. Well, unless it personal. So it’s nice to know the student can indeed teach the old dog a few new tricks.
(The Chosen One smiles and begins to descend down the ramp, slowly, as Justin Sellers stares on showing no fear of his past. Of his creation so to speak. At least that’s what it appears to be the case.)
SS: The Chosen One, or as you want to call me by my government name. For all intents and purposes, you MADE ME! You didn’t physically train me, you prepared me for this business. I did more research than anybody But, what would a self-absorbed asshole like yourself know about his so-called students? Of course, you were from Red Deer. Of Course, you resided in Charlotte but with that low key life you were living I’m pretty sure going to hunt for you would have been easy. But this here, this is where you belong. In your last days of The Colosseum I was busy getting famous by being an actor. By, embracing my second calling to the life you see. Of course, you know all about that. We know in college people would come up to you and say aren’t you Justin Sellers, hey sign my Justyn Sayne shirt. And sometimes you may have declined or may have done it. But at THAT moment, I know you got the itch again. The itch that you didn’t want to scratch! Then you see me NOW, and you imagine to yourself that the world hates me, therefore, hating you! I embraced the hatred you showed me. YOU taught me MAD DOG! Don’t you remember! Or is your new life of mediocrity tainted your memory? So, in essence, it’s only right that you should be careful about what you create because the results always differ. In your case, you feel ashamed about it. You don’t think to betray my trust by helping my ex-wife fake her death to go run off and have god knows what kind of relationship with you helped matters? It was that moment Rumple you pushed me to be who I am now! Don’t you see you are in front of A GOD!!”
(The Chosen One stops at the end of the ramp, looking up at Sellers in the eyes. Sellers stared him down, as The Chosen One raises his microphone up to his lips.)
SS: James Rumple, I can smell the booze on your breath. And the fact your breath smells like dog shit! I know you're peddling lies to the world around you, to create sympathy to sell another t-shirt and perhaps because I know at your IT classes the smarts were informing you about me. I didn’t have to learn about you. Follow you. I deviated from the path when you crossed me personally. So what better way to rouse the sleeping giant than to rattle his confined simple life that is in a self-contained cage.
(The Chosen One chuckles as James looks on staring intently at his former disciple. The Chosen One looks him up and down, inching closer to his face.)
SS: I want you to hear me LOUD and clear. Make no mistake about it, you know Trent Helms is a level below me. Trent Helms endorses you as his brother. We know Trent is a nobody. If anyone hates anyone in this federation, the fans hated Trent Helms.
(A chant of Trent Sucks begins, and then followed by a Chosen One chant. The Chosen One looks to his right as Justin Sellers looks to his left, and then they meet eye to eye again before Sanders keeps going, the chants die down.)
SS: LISTEN TO them Justin! You hear that! This is my world now. It’s been my world. You just lived in it. Sure, you got the titles, and to put your body on the line. But now it’s my time. It’s my time to James to show YOU exactly what being Chosen is all about. You sound like these other legends, I did this, I won this. But when you reach my cross-platform celebrity, then YOU can finally understand why I am here to save The Colosseum. The old guard needs to give up the reigns and you been holding them too long. Retired or not. MY time is now! Highway To Hell, loser leaves The Colosseum for good. The Chosen One Accepts!
(Sellers is smirking, as Sanders goes to turn around, but stops with his back turned to him. Steve Sanders out of nowhere nails “The Chosen One” superkick on Justin Sellers! The Chosen One looks down at him lying there, as “Nothing Stands In Our Way” by Lacuna Coil plays and the fans boo Steve Sanders who just stands there looking at his mentor.)
My approach to efedding up to this point was to always be in character at every opportunity. I was a heel, I wanted you the handler to really hate me. So I decided, this here, was my best chance to up the fucking ante on that. The fed itself was putting the title on me and let me run with it. So, I felt I had to get super personal with people. So, this promo really shoot style between both of us. He wasn't gonna join the fed at all. But, I kept taunting his character so well in promos that up to this point. I guess he felt like fuck it, lets go with it. So, this is the blowout from weeks and months of me taunting him in promos. This was his first response. And, yes we worked on this together. So, without further ado, going down memory lane: here it is and hope you guys enjoy reading it:
(“Ecstasy of Gold” by Ennio Morricone starts playing as the lights dim. After a few moments of the music taking it’s time to pick up, a large figure steps out from behind the curtains and onto the stage, a black duster flowing out from under his black cowboy hat. Even his long hair and beard are black, and the shades on his eyes glint the little remnants of light off of them. For the first time in nearly a decade, Justin Sellers walks out onto a Colosseum ramp, ready to walk down to the ring he once called home.)
RS: I wasn’t even sure he was going to be here for this.
CW: I wasn’t even sure he was still alive.
TT: Who is it?
RS & CW: …
(With a beer bottle in one hand and a microphone in the other, he makes his way down to the ring, a little slower than before, but still able to reach the ring and get his way into the squared circle. The crowd that remembers him cheers and the ones who don’t look on as this mystery man doesn’t even make a motion to play up to the crowd other than raising his beer-laden hand in a salute.)
CW: Looks like he just made last call.
TT: Hopefully no one throws bottles to him.
RS: I wonder what he has to say. He has not announced himself as a competitor in the shows yet.
(He pulls himself up on the turnbuckle and takes a seat; his feet planted firmly on the second rope either side of the middle turnbuckle. As the music dies down to quiet, the lights come back up and he situates himself comfortably.)
Justin Sellers: You know…you know, it’s been too long since I have been in one of these rings.
(A small clamor from the crowd, those faithful to the product remembering him.)
JS: That being said, I can’t completely say I missed this place. I mean…you have to…
(Some boos now replace the cheers.)
JS: Hold on, guys…(he steps down off his seat.)…I don’t think you all understand some things. First off, I was ready to give it up…I was ready to head down the road and never look back at wrestling after my best friend Jack Hardy passed. In fact, after Colosseum, I did move on. I went on to college, started working on my cyber security degree. I started working a desk job doing IT. I mean, for crying out loud, I settled down. And then, the call came…
(Justin walks out to the center of the ring and gets a better look at the entry ramp.)
JS: Back there in the back, a guy named R.W. Randolph gave me a call. A man who I hadn’t heard from in a long time, and he calls me up with this idea of a Colosseum reunion. Truth is Pete Anselmo had talked to me first about it. He wanted to get my intake on it. I said it’d be nice, but I wasn’t interested in a comeback tour. I did my time, and I was happy where I was. If they wanted me to come in and pose for a photo-op or do some sort of press talk, I would have. I would have gladly…until I heard the name Steve Sanders attached to the idea.
(The crowd boos even more at the name of the guy running around calling Justin his mentor. Sellers can simply nod back.)
JS: Yeah, I know the feeling. But you know what else I’m feeling? I’m feeling like I really need to say something important. Not something from Sellers to Sanders. This will be from James Rumple to Ed Beatty.
RS: What’s going on?
CW: Oh, this is getting good…
TT: I don’t like this…
(Sticking the beer in the crook of his arm, he pulls off his shades and walks over to the camera, pocketing the glasses and nearly ripping the camcorder off of the cameraman’s shoulder.)
JS: That’s what you want and what you get when you start bringing real world into this, Ed. You don’t have the respect to leave well enough alone? I don’t have the respect to keep things “on script” with you. You could have just showed up and been the dick that you normally are, but hey, you had to go poking at a retired guy, an old man on the block. So I’m going to give you a little bit of a wakeup call.
(Justin looks down at the mat and motions for the camera man to come into the ring with him, and even holds the ropes open before grabbing his beer again.)
JS: You see, Ed, this isn’t about my ego. This is about correcting a mistake I made a long time ago. You like to go around and tell people I trained you, but then turn around and make the world hate you. You have to throw out insults and verbal slaps to people, and that is why I won’t take you as a disciple anymore. If I wanted the people to boo me, I came in and smacked around their heroes physically, not with a mic, but with my hand and other tools. And for God’s sake, man, get my name right if you want to insult me and stop spelling it like an Andy Hartley reject that you are.
Face it, you’re second string…you’re a B-lister. You would be so much better if you actually sat down and researched your opponents like you made fun of me for doing. You know what me sitting down and watching you in one night made me realize. One…(holds up finger around his beer bottle) you don’t even know anything about the person you say trained you. Red Deer? Yeah, that was where I was born, but even in my last days of the Colosseum, Charlotte was where I was. All the way across the map. So right there is one point that a monkey with a dart board could get closer to than you.
(He begins to pace around the ring, annoyed at the person he would rather never see again.)
JS: Two, you really have to start investing in some new hobbies, man. You’re walking around and seeing figments of your imagination or, heaven forbid, you’re seeing your deepest, darkest sexual fantasies because it’s obvious you can’t get me out of your head. And you sit here and say that I was the one that brainwashed your girl into leaving you? She begged me to help her leave. Said something about you kept calling out my name to her in bed. Freaking ridiculous, if you ask me. And you bring up Trent, which…(now looking at and walking towards the camera)…I want you to read this from my own mouth: Trent…is…not…my…brother. Not a half-brother, not a stepbrother, not a family member at all. It’s called a storyline. And, guys bringing this back to life, I’m sorry I’m stepping all over the illusions here, but these are things that have been known for years. Which brings me to point number three…
(As he pulls the third finger off of his bottle of beer, he manages to pick it up and drink the remaining bits of it before chucking it down to the ringside area.)
JS: I don’t fear you, Ed. I’m not afraid of you in any way other than you trying to molest me in this ring. You’ve already tried on a microphone and it didn’t work for you, and now you want me to come back so you can try in the ring to take advantage of me. You act like a thug who wants to intimidate by packing heat, but all you seem to be packing is wood for me. I’m not into you that way, Ed. And you make a claim of my feelings being fear for you. Heh…
(He now comes forward, his big frame pushing the cameraman back into the corner and towering down onto him.)
JS: Is this what you want? You want me to be intimidating…angry…something along those lines, right? Be real, child. I don’t fear you, and I don’t hate you. I feel sorry for you having this hard-on for only me, apparently, and thinking that winning this reunion Lord of the Colosseum is going to put you in my league. Pal, get all the titles I did, fight all the legends I did, sacrifice yourself in the most extreme environments for close to 6 years here, like I did. Then, you will know what it’s like to be a copy of me. Not me in general, no…because you will always be just talk. That’s why I listened to your little proposal…one match: mentor versus protégé. Do you know what I say to that, Ed?
(Sellers leans in closer to the camera now, almost blacking out the picture.)
JS: No.
CW: What a coward.
RS: If you’re not accepting, then why are you here, Justin?
JS: You see, Beatty…I know that here on March 13th, you had a little birthday. And I decided that, since you are the one who should be celebrating, not me, I’m going to give you a gift. You want so desperately to run my name in the mud to get me to come back? No. You want me to get egged to come back and fight you because you called me a p***y?
TT: Can he say that?
CW: He just did.
JS: You want me to do all that, but I’m going to do something else. You want so badly that I would come back? I want to so badly go back to my life of classes and desk work. So here’s what I want, Blake. Or Justice. Or whoever I have to talk to about this. I want to offer you a match, Ed. I want to offer you a one-time match. And I can assure you, people, unlike other places, this will be a one-time match. I want a Highway to Hell match with you, Ed. But we don’t have titles in play or crowns or anything like that…oh, no. On top of the whole thing, why don’t we put a contract and a pen? You see…I feel this may go on for a while…this reunion tour thing. Whoever gets up there gets the chance to sign it and the one who doesn’t? Well…why don’t we just go ahead and say that it’s a “Loser Leaves the Company” stipulation. Oh, only it’s not just Steve Sanders and Justin Sellers fighting. You wanted to bring the real world into this, so I say the loser, under any mask or name, cannot return. How do you feel about that?
RS: That’s a big challenge, Charlie. I wonder if Steve will take it.
CW: I wonder if we can actually air this.
TT: I’m so confused. Who’s Ed?
RS and CW: …
(Justin drops the microphone, pats the guy in the corner holding the camera on his chest, and leaves, his music starting up again as he starts to reach the rampway as the lights dim again, and “Nothing Stands in our way blasts through the arena! The lighted jacket showing bright red colors as The Chosen One is standing there, and Justin Sellers looks on showing no fear. The lights cut back on showing a stern glare on Steve Sanders face. A Colosseum microphone in his hand. The crowd is in an uproar. Boos and cheers blanket the crowd.)
RS: Business looks to be picking up!
CW: I am not only wondering if we can air this, but I am wondering what could possibly get ready to happen. Steve does not look happy.
TT: This is personal it seems. What now?
(The Chosen One still staring at his old friend. The Chosen One doesn’t even show any emotional outside of a mix between angry and astonishment. He slowly raised the microphone to his lips.)
SS: Let The Chosen One clear up one thing right now Justin Sellers. By the way, James Rumple, as Edward Beatty stands here, let me remind you since one too many chair shots may have jogged your memory. Respect is earned not given correct me if I am wrong old timer. I know you shunned me for being what you couldn’t be. Sure you can go in there and load up that lame move, what was it, The Lethal Injection but you don’t HAVE the verbal expertise to insult people. Well, unless it personal. So it’s nice to know the student can indeed teach the old dog a few new tricks.
(The Chosen One smiles and begins to descend down the ramp, slowly, as Justin Sellers stares on showing no fear of his past. Of his creation so to speak. At least that’s what it appears to be the case.)
SS: The Chosen One, or as you want to call me by my government name. For all intents and purposes, you MADE ME! You didn’t physically train me, you prepared me for this business. I did more research than anybody But, what would a self-absorbed asshole like yourself know about his so-called students? Of course, you were from Red Deer. Of Course, you resided in Charlotte but with that low key life you were living I’m pretty sure going to hunt for you would have been easy. But this here, this is where you belong. In your last days of The Colosseum I was busy getting famous by being an actor. By, embracing my second calling to the life you see. Of course, you know all about that. We know in college people would come up to you and say aren’t you Justin Sellers, hey sign my Justyn Sayne shirt. And sometimes you may have declined or may have done it. But at THAT moment, I know you got the itch again. The itch that you didn’t want to scratch! Then you see me NOW, and you imagine to yourself that the world hates me, therefore, hating you! I embraced the hatred you showed me. YOU taught me MAD DOG! Don’t you remember! Or is your new life of mediocrity tainted your memory? So, in essence, it’s only right that you should be careful about what you create because the results always differ. In your case, you feel ashamed about it. You don’t think to betray my trust by helping my ex-wife fake her death to go run off and have god knows what kind of relationship with you helped matters? It was that moment Rumple you pushed me to be who I am now! Don’t you see you are in front of A GOD!!”
(The Chosen One stops at the end of the ramp, looking up at Sellers in the eyes. Sellers stared him down, as The Chosen One raises his microphone up to his lips.)
SS: James Rumple, I can smell the booze on your breath. And the fact your breath smells like dog shit! I know you're peddling lies to the world around you, to create sympathy to sell another t-shirt and perhaps because I know at your IT classes the smarts were informing you about me. I didn’t have to learn about you. Follow you. I deviated from the path when you crossed me personally. So what better way to rouse the sleeping giant than to rattle his confined simple life that is in a self-contained cage.
(The Chosen One chuckles as James looks on staring intently at his former disciple. The Chosen One looks him up and down, inching closer to his face.)
SS: I want you to hear me LOUD and clear. Make no mistake about it, you know Trent Helms is a level below me. Trent Helms endorses you as his brother. We know Trent is a nobody. If anyone hates anyone in this federation, the fans hated Trent Helms.
(A chant of Trent Sucks begins, and then followed by a Chosen One chant. The Chosen One looks to his right as Justin Sellers looks to his left, and then they meet eye to eye again before Sanders keeps going, the chants die down.)
SS: LISTEN TO them Justin! You hear that! This is my world now. It’s been my world. You just lived in it. Sure, you got the titles, and to put your body on the line. But now it’s my time. It’s my time to James to show YOU exactly what being Chosen is all about. You sound like these other legends, I did this, I won this. But when you reach my cross-platform celebrity, then YOU can finally understand why I am here to save The Colosseum. The old guard needs to give up the reigns and you been holding them too long. Retired or not. MY time is now! Highway To Hell, loser leaves The Colosseum for good. The Chosen One Accepts!
(Sellers is smirking, as Sanders goes to turn around, but stops with his back turned to him. Steve Sanders out of nowhere nails “The Chosen One” superkick on Justin Sellers! The Chosen One looks down at him lying there, as “Nothing Stands In Our Way” by Lacuna Coil plays and the fans boo Steve Sanders who just stands there looking at his mentor.)