This isnt the Xmen and Iceman wont save the day

Mentally exhausted, physically depleted, and void of all emotion. Admission is weakness; I’m as weak as I’ve ever been. For the past week straight; I could only think of this match. The up-coming encounter stared me directly in the face; the smell of its breath, enticing a raw emotion only those whom no longer have a voice that speaks have witnessed before. By now, The Iceman (Keith Cunningham) should be done and over with. He shouldn’t have made it this far; stood for this long. I sat back for month after month, planning, coercing the steps in which I would break him down, and when this match came around? He would fall right into my grasps, like he always has. I would break him down, my index finger and thumb would meet; pulling apart my victim limb from limb; wouldn’t even think twice about it when it was all said and done.

While every villain has a superman, and every superman has a kryptonite; Keith was something different. There wasn’t a phrase my venomous tongue to spit off that would leave him stinging; there wasn’t a big enough impact; to leave a wide enough whole through his skull. Keith is a modern day warrior. In the early days of our career, I had dubbed him talent less. A nobody, but I surely was wrong. While I beat him time and time again, proving that I was superior to him, he never stopped trucking on. A mere bump in his road, in which he would simply drive over, and continue his high speed chase down the road of fame and stardom.

It wasn’t until last week; where I sat around, plaguing my brain with thoughts until it hurt, did I come to a conclusion. All this time I had been trying to break Keith from the outside. He showed his humane raw emotions; he wore his physical scars proudly, and used everything I took against him to propel himself forward. It was here, where I found my golden opportunity to finally pull the curtain over the eyes of my rival, and bitch slap him with the slight of hand.

‘’This Iceman fellow; have you ever sat back and tried to get into his head?’’

The therapist had asked me.

‘’You need to sit down and really see things from his perspective. Get into his head, see through his eyes, and move with his body’’

She explained, I finally read the tag on her shirt, it read Dr. Hardy.

I shrugged it off of course. Seriously, the bitch had me squeezing a fury apple, every time I had an outburst, but Dr. Hardy repeated it a few more times. Drilling it into my head until the point where I actually valuated her statement, after all, I didn’t have the answer. I tried to envision things from Keith’s position, his body ached, his head was clouded with thoughts of envy, and his eyes had drawn blanks, the blind old dog couldn’t see a damn thing. This entire exercise had been a waste of time.

‘’I can’t do this’’

I announce to her; submitting to my frustrations.

‘’I don’t want to think like Cunningham, I hate him’’

she handed me the red fury apple again; I tossed it back at her. ‘

’Do you think this is some type of fucking joke?’’

‘’Now you listen to me’’

Dr. Hardy replies in a stern tone.

‘’You came here for my help, and I’m trying to help you out the best I can’’

Dr. Hardy said, I cursed under my breath and through myself back into the chair.

‘’It’s quite obvious that until you take the time to understand your enemy, you will never be able to triumph above and beyond him’’

‘’I’m already above and beyond him’’

I shot back with little self reserve. Dr. Hardy nodded her head back and forth in protest.

‘’Then why exactly are you here?’’

She asks me; fixing the glasses on her face.

‘’It’s this simple. You look at your three biggest events in life and then I want you to come back to me, and tell me how you feel about each of them’’

She tells me, leaning over towards me.

‘’The way to understand your enemy, is to understand yourself first’’

I thought about it; I really did. With only a few weeks before our final encounter, it was quite clear I didn’t have time to waste. I needed to take her advice, I needed to truly sit down and think about why I hate Keith Cunningham, surely it wouldn’t be a complicated task. I picked myself up out of the chair, and pushed myself to the door;

‘’I’ll see you soon’’

- [ * * * ] -

Geez, am I supposed to feel honored? One of the more celebrated wrestlers ever to grace an NLWF ring is scheduled to get in the ring with the only person in this business who truly matters at the upcoming edition of Guilty as Charged. And yet, I find myself kind of 'meh' about it. It's obvious my opponent, one unfortunate sonovabitch named Keith Cunningham pissed someone off royally. Or, perhaps someone's elevator doesn't go all the way to the top.

....but who is the person I should call a retard here? Is it the dumbass that made this match, or did a certain Euro-peon request a match with little ol' moi'? Either way, someone around here is dumber than box full of Canadians. Keith, I don't give two squirts of piss about what you've done around here up to this point, or why you saved Mexican Samurai just to allow him to be sacrifice by Salvation, because what you've done around here, right up to the very moment you step into the ring with the very best you will ever be blessed enough to see in the ring, up close and personal, means Absolutely nothing. Oh, you may think you're making some gigantic run to the top, you're going to walk right in and do whatever you want. Hell, that actually had a chance of happening right up until your name appeared opposite of mine on a match docket. Right up to that point, whatever scheme you had rolling around in your otherwise unoccupied, Euro head had a chance of coming to fruition. But not now, motherfucker. Now, all that's going to come to fruition is that you're going to get your ass handed to you, as only I can do it, in my ring.

Keith, I bet when you realized what was going to be the fallout from your actions weeks ago when you saved Mexican Samurai was going to have yourself stand alone against me, you probably soiled yourself right then and there. Of course you won't admit it, but that's ok. I kind of expect it. You'll likely put your ugly fucking face in front of a camera, move that road block you refer to as your nose out of the way, and ask something ridiculously stupid, like "Who the fuck is Rico Sutton?" Just to make it appear as if you've somehow managed to avoid internationally televised professional wrestling at the home. Then, you'll rifle off a list of the many reasons you're going to destroy me, and tell all five people you paid to watch your promos how not even someone who thinks he's as awesometacular as I do is going to keep you from your goal of gaining the NLWF Heavyweight title.

Annnh! Wrong, fucker.

Wanna go for double Jeopardy, where the scores can really change? It doesn't matter who you are, where you've been, or what you've done. I'm Rico Sutton, bitch, and you've never experienced anything like what you're in store for at Guilty as Charged. I'm the measuring stick, the Top of The Mountain, and no, I don't expect you to believe it right now, and I know you won't admit it after I've beaten you so stupid you can't decide whether you should wind your ass or scratch your watch. But that's ok. We'll both know it, and I'm sure I'll talk about it enough for both of us. But make no mistake, Keith. You're in for a world class by God FUBAR ass beatdown this Saturday, and there isn't a fucking thing you can do to stop it, except run.

That's right, Keith. Run. And never come back. If you don't, I'm going to have to hurt you. Perhaps, it's time for me to re-instate my claim to my rightfully earned title match. Oh, and how did I earn said title match? Why, by beating the ever living shit out of everyone placed in front of me.

Back to the bitch at hand. See, you're hype has fizzled out Keith, while me? I'm the motherfucker motherfuckers like you wish they could have been when they were in their prime. I suppose you'll rattle off some shit about how people like me should respect people like you for all you've done for the sport, right? Lemme tell ya, Keith, you should get down on your fucking knees when you see me, and thank me for not being in NLWF when you were in your 'hey day'. Because if I had been, cocksmokers like you, wouldn't have had a fucking 'hey day'. You'd have been suffering from frostbite in the utter darkness of my shadow. Just because I don't need a title belt to affirm that I am indeed the king of this here jungle doesn't make it any less of a fact.

A fact you'll be made painfully aware of at Guilty as Charged. You might want to leave your dentures back in the locker room. If you don't, you're going to have to get them removed from your stomach, because I'll kick 'em right down your cock-abused throat. Lions do not suffer the lambs to live, Keith, and that's all you are, to me. A lamb someone in the front office has set before me. Why? To feast upon, of course. But hey, buck up, Captain Hook-nose. When you wake up from the coma I'm gonna knock you into, you'll be able to tell your grand children how Rico Sutton totally destroyed you.

But, more than anything else, you should be worried about yourself this week. It might just be your last week of not eating all your meals through a tube. But then, I'm probably being an bit of an optimist to think you might actually make it to the ring without tripping over that honker of yours. That fucker probably has it's own gravitational pull, doesn't it? That's ok, it'll just make it that much easier for me to break the fucker. So do yourself a favor, Keith. Stay the fuck away from me, and Guilty as Charged this week. As far away as you can manage. Showing up for our match has only one ending for you, and it's not pretty. I know though, that you will show up, pull your walker out of Samurai's ass and hobble on down to the ring. Where you will attempt, ineptly, to make me prove the truth of my words. And I will thoroughly enjoy doing so.

I've heard you have quite a mean streak, Keith. I hope the reality lives up to the stories. It might just make this match worth keeping going for five extra minutes. Not that I'm overly impressed by what I've heard. I've got quite a mean streak myself. Of course, you don't know about any of that, and likely think I'm going to be some easy meat. Again, wrong, fuckerface. I'm going to enjoy making you look like the broken down old motherfucker you really are. I'm going to take my time with you, Keith. I'm going to hurt you. I'm going to cut away at your resolve bit by bit, and by the time I'm done, you'll be begging me to end it. But I won't, not until I'm satisfied that not only have you been beaten to within an inch of your miserable Limey life, but that you also know beyond the shadow of a doubt that reciprocation is out of the question for you. You're going to leave the ring knowing that there was no way you could have avoided the outcome, and that no matter how much you want it, payback is simply beyond you, because I'm that superior to you. Don't feel bad, you're in the same boat as everyone else is. You're going to get your first, last, and only dose of the Rico Sutton Experience, and when you realize that the Top of The Mountain is just above you, just out of reach, you're going to know something beyond the shadow of a doubt: Rico Sutton speaks the Absolute truth. No exceptions, Cunningham. Everyone bows down. Septuagenarians included. Look that up, if you can see around that blasphemous obstruction on your face. But, I'd bet you're probably sitting there, watching this, thinking 'Who does this wanka think he is?'

I'm Rico Sutton, bitch. I'm the guy telling you exactly what I'm going to do to you at Guilty as Charged. I'm the guy that's seen a hundred of you in my four short years in this business. A thousand. Because you're just like the rest of them, Keith. You're just like everyone else I've laid down in the ring. MY ring. You think you're the one that's going to prove that Rico Sutton is a fraud. You think you're the one that's going to show the world that Rico Sutton is nothing like what he says he is. But, there's a problem with that line of thinking, Keith. Wanna know a not so well kept secret? I really am as good as I say I am. I've been proving it since I entered this business, and this Saturday will be no different. I show up, you lose. Point-blank, period. Inflectum Tenus, motherfucker. You will. Why? You know why. For one, you're a Useless Cunt, but, even more importantly than that...

I Am the Gladiator.

I Am the Rough Justice.

I Am Rico Sutton.