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The time has come for the future to make his return to the ring. It has been years since he has retired. Matter of fact it’s been more then that. As we zoom in on someone we see it’s Desmond King. He is in a graveyard with flowers in his hands. As he is navigating his way thru we see he just stops. Drops the flowers and pulls out his phone and gets on it. As we look to see why we see the headstone and it reads, “Darius ‘D-Dawg’ Majors”. But in orange underneath it reads, “I’m back bitches!”. The grave is dug up and the coffin is open with some type of container in it. As we zoom in we see we read the container says, “Prototype Virus”.
Desmond King: Yo auntie this is gonna come off weird. But have you talked to unc? I know but you wouldn’t believe this unless you seen it.
Desmond takes a picture of the headstone and starts talking again.
Desmond King: Auntie I know. No I’m not joking. Wait a minute I see someone walking towards me. Oh shit it’s Blade. Yes I can tell his walk from another ones. Let me call you back Didg.
Dez puts the phone in his pocket and starts to approach the body as they was dragging something.
Desmond King: Need help my man? Because you know you ain’t got the strength you used to.
Next thing we see the person stop and look at Desmond. Dez takes a step back looking like he saw a ghost. It was Darius alive and well. Desmond then wakes up as it was just a dream. The whole time as he grabs his phone and checks Twitter. He sees HSW had message him. He smiles as he sends a text message. He gets up outta bed and proceeds to get himself together. He instantly books a flight to Las Vegas. Then a call came thru he gets into a long convo. After getting off the phone he began cutting a promo.
Desmond King: Here we are ladies and gentlemen. For those of you that don’t know me I’m Desmond King. The Canadian Prodigy. I’m fucking back bitches! High Stakes Wrestling I am here to claim my stake to the throne. I don’t care who is in the Sole Survivor match. That person is coming thru me. I don’t care if it’s any of the Moxleys, Android #18, James Ceno, and whoever else is involved. All of you can get this work because I’m back and feel better then ever. I need to head to the arena so I can get myself together for this show. But first I need to go see my therapist. Yes I got one so get outta my face with y’all wack ass insults.
The scene closes up and then suddenly, the door she nudged her head towards swung open. Almost as if she had telekinesis. You whispered to each other for 2 seconds longer, you and the patient, and suddenly, acknowledged me. It was a long car drive, about 2 hours, but you didn’t know that. You do now, I guess. You then gestured for me to come inside, Bobbi waiting in the waiting room for me to come out. The door closed behind me, and I sat down on one of those therapy couches, debating whether or not to lay down. I decided to just sit, and finally, you started to talk to me as if you knew me. You must of.
Dr. Mason: Darius, you look tense. Tenser then usual…
Desmond King: My name’s not Darius, doc.
Dr. Mason: Of course it’s not. It’s Desmond King! How could I have forgotten?
Desmond King: Desmond King, huh?
My full name was Desmond King… But then why did he call me Darius? Something was seriously wrong, but I never put two and two together.
Dr. Mason: Yes. That’s your name. Desmond… Are you feeling alright? There’s something… Off… About you today.
[color=dodgerblue]Desmond King: Yeah, there is. I’m beginning to doubt myself. Doubt everything. Am I stranded or something? Stranded on this thing called Life? A Life that isn’t even my own?
Dr. Mason: Now you’re starting to sound like yourself. Desmond… are you being serious? Do you seriously believe this life isn’t your own?
Desmond King: Actually, I have no clue what to believe at this point. So… Something must be really wrong with me, huh?
Dr. Mason: I feared this would happen. Your brain is so unstable, yet so ingenious.
Desmond King: Unstable? I feel fine. What are you talking about, doc?
Dr. Mason: Now, you don’t remember anything, correct? You woke up this morning not even knowing your own name?
Desmond King: Exactly. Why, have you seen this before? I don’t even know who you are… So why the hell am I talking to you?
Dr. Mason: Desmond, I am your doctor. I’m your doctor now, anyway. Listen, I know exactly what’s wrong, and I know exactly how to fix it.
Desmond King: Shot. I just want to fix it all.
You knew what was wrong with me. Finally, some hope. I needed to get back to my old self. I figured you’d give me a pill, and I’d be better in the morning. Put the lime in the coconut kind of deal. That wasn’t the case. What you said next wasn’t much help to me then, but in the long haul, even now, it’s helping me slowly remember my past.
Dr. Mason: You must have suffered some sort of traumatic event. Something you should remember sometime down the line. Your brain, essentially, hit the reset button, forgetting everything it could possibly erase. It’s a very interesting case, believe me. Almost like amnesia, except self inducing. You must have found a way to erase it all, found the reset button in your dreams. Forgetting all the pain, and all the heartache you’ve experienced, and yet, now, you must start from the very beginning, learning piece by piece of your memory. It’s a temporally situation, but even after all the memories are gained again, you might still be this way, in this alternate persona, that is essentially, Darius Majors.
Desmond King: Interesting… But I thought that was my name. Desmond King? Why are you calling me Darius?
Dr. Mason: Well, after one traumatic event in your past, you felt like you needed a change, so you changed your name legally to Desmond Majors. It’s very symbolic. There’s more to it than that, Desmond. Believe me, there is a lot more to it than that.
Desmond King: What was this one traumatic event from my past that made me want to change my name to that?
Dr. Mason: You’ll have to discover it for yourself. Listen, I’ll help you get started. Here’s a journal…
He handed me a tan and black empty Marble journal that you picked up from your giant pile of ‘em under your coffee glass table in the middle of the room. I flipped through those empty pages a bit, and suddenly, I got a memory.
I write this in my locker room. I had to ask around before I finally saw my name. Not my name, but the name I had anyway. The words were grungy, and the tag had a background that was filled with tan static, with a picture of me on the right. It looked nothing like me. At least, I don’t think it did. I haven’t looked in the mirror since… You know. I found this desk back here, perfect for writing. Maybe Desmond had an act for writing, too. I don’t know, I sort of like this. Feels like a weight is lifted off my shoulders. Thanks, doc. Even if I haven’t got a memory today, I certainly enjoy writing about my chaotic day. Let’s start when the real action started.
Bobbi told me this morning to come here, to Las Vegas, because that’s where we were going anyway. She said that I wasn’t ready to operate a car yet. She said something about me crashing my old car, about a week before I turned into this… Memory losing freak I am today. I know, it sounds harsh when I put it that way, but it’s the truth. Now where were we? Oh yeah, that cocky SOB who claimed to be my cousin, Blade.
He stopped me as I was looking for someone to help me find my locker room. I must have looked like a freak, looking for my own locker room. It should be a given to know that much, but apparently, I was the odd one out. Blade peaked out of his locker room, like some sort of stalker freak, and suddenly started to follow me, without even asking me what I was looking for.
Blade: Hey! Cousin! Wait up!
I kept on walking, at the same pace, and he kept on calling me. I didn’t know he was talking to me, to be honest. I wasn’t willing to believe anyone in this place. I don’t know why, but it was like a sixth sense I had.
Blade: We need to talk.
He suddenly was walking the same pace as me, on my left. I looked over at him with a confused look, a look I’ve been giving everyone these days.
Blade: Listen, about the Sole Survivor…
Desmond King: What bout it? Are you some sort of fan?
Blade: You could say that, yeah. I’m your cousin for Pete’s sake. Anyway, good luck out there. We’re both in the same massacre, so I just wanted to tell you that. Good luck, Darius.
By this time, I was a little used to people calling me Darius. I knew who he was talking to, but I still believed my name was Desmond. It was definitely Desmond, that much I knew was true. I even looked up some old interviews I’ve had with eWe.com and some other pointless magazines. They all said the same thing.
Blade: The Sole Survivor? Remember? It’s basically the Royal Rumble. It’s hard to explain. I don’t get it myself, to be honest. All I know is that the winner goes to the big PPV, and headlines it. Seems like the perfect time for you to take home some gold… You off your medication again?
He carried around a cocky look on his face. The title had a giant red X on it, and I knew only one thing: Whoever this bastard was, I felt the urge to hold some gold over my shoulder, for what the records said would be my third time. For me though, it would be the first. I don’t remember holding the title, holding any title, over my shoulder like that, with that kind of confidence. I had the feeling I wasn’t well acknowledged in this place, even if the site did say I was here for… You do the math. An empty memory of all that has happened within those 2 years. I was clueless, but I didn’t want to tell anyone that. At least, not anyone in the eWe. Word would get out for sure, and I would be looked at as the mental case. Well, scratch that. I would be looked at as the mental case that, as Blade put it, is permanently off their medication.
Desmond King: Actually, yes, I am. I never felt better.
Blade: Yeah, well you look like crap! You need a nap, man. Fuck, you need to power sleep!
Desmond King: Power sleep? Are YOU off your medication?
Blade: What’s it to ya, punk? Maybe I am, maybe I’m not. All I know is that I have Kyra, the most beautiful girl in the world, and plus, this X-Division Title doesn’t exactly make me upset either. Two things you know and I know that you wish you had.
That was Blade in a nut shell. I got to know him better in that one line then possibly my whole life before the incident. There was something that I could relate to in him, and yet, something I detested. He was the cockiest guy I’ve met so far, in my short 2 days. He was like one of those rock stars on TV, so arrogant and nasty when you first get to know ‘em. Even if you don’t know ‘em, they have that air, that air that can tell you everything. It can tell you a lot about the guy, that strange gut feeling. I’m a guy who likes to trust his gut, and right now, at that moment too, it was churning.
Desmond King: Listen, I had enough of your arrogance, whoever the hell you are. I’m gonna go look for my locker room, alright? And if you don’t wanna help me, that’s your problem, not mine.
I speed up, trying to get away from him. I was smirking the whole time, happy I was getting away from him. I turned a corner, and Blade stopped at the intersection. I looked over my shoulder a bit and saw him waiting there, like a frightened kitten, finally calling to me.
Blade: Dez! Dez!?
I stopped in my tracks, and stood there for a while. I looked behind me, to see if he was still there, and he was. I then said something I thought could have been at the end of some James Bond movie:
Desmond King: Call me Darius.
I kept looking at Blade from over my shoulder, still in one place, and he had a confused “what the fuck” look on his face, like he didn’t know what I was talking about. I have decided on something at that moment. I decided to go with the name I knew. I decided to go by Darius King, something I would later announce to the world in such a dramatic fashion, it would make even Android #18 confused before this Sole Survivor match tonight.
Before I did that though, I have some more stuff to say. Some guy, think he said his name was Rick, peeked in my room, just now as I was writing this, and he said something to me.
Rick: We’re all ready for that promo when you are, Darius.
Before I could correct him, he was gone. I felt like following him then, so I got up from this black steel chair I’m sitting in now, but then, something happened. Something… Unexpected to say the least. The door knocked, as if it were Bobbi at my door. I was picturing Bobbi walking in, or even Rains to gloat about God knows what, but in fact, it wasn’t either of them. It was someone else. It was, apparently, an ex-girlfriend of Darius’; for real this time.
Darius?
She said the name so delicately, like she was about to cry. So, picture this. She’s in a purple short sleeved top, some dark blue tight jeans, and some of those black Uggs every young girl on the planet seems to be wearing these days. Now picture me: I haven’t shaved yet, but was planning on it right before the promo to get that clean shaven look. I had on gray jeans, and a black tee with the words ‘Lights Out’ on it in vintage stenciled letters that looked to be outlined with black spray paint for a cool effect. Either I came up with this shirt, or eWe management knows me all too well. Both of which, I don’t remember at all. I have black bicep straps, and some orange finger tape. I guess this wrestling attire in my locker was built for comfort, and style. Couldn’t be that hard to fight like this. When I was putting on this attire actually, as I put on the tape, a quick video of Darius Majors fighting began to play in my mind, with some random announcers talking about me in the background. I suddenly knew my whole fighting style, believe it or not. But right now, that was the last thing I was thinking about.
Desmond King: And you are?
She started to flood a ton of tears at that moment. Her eyeliner was dripping like crazy, and she put her head on my shoulder. I sort of held her back a bit, knowing she needed some comfort right now. It was one of those lovey-dovey moments, I thought. But for her, she saw it a completely different way.
You don’t remember me?
She said this in the saddest, ‘teariest’ voice I’ve ever heard. She wasn’t just sobbing now, she was full blown crying. I didn’t even know her name yet, and she was upset. Like I said before, I’ll never understand the mind of a woman. Moans and groans came from her mouth and not the good kind either. The upset moans, the moans that you just want to say “SHUT UP WOMAN!” but you can’t, you just can’t. Finally, she backs off of me, and wipes her eyes with her shirt. Now everything was wet: her sleeve, her face, her hair, my shirt was drenched. It was like an invisible tsunami just pasted us both. She began to spoke, in that sad voice of hers, after she took some well needed deep breath exercises.
I’m pregnant!
She then opened the door behind her, slipped away, and left the locker room, back to God knows where. I didn’t even know her name, but I understood everything just by those 2 words. Darius must have knocked her up, maybe recently. Was that the thing that made Darius want to hit that reset button in my brain? Or was that just the start of something even bigger?
The scene begins with Desmond… Excuse me, Darius, in the same attire as he was just in. His shirt was drenched, but throughout the whole promo, he never addressed it. Maybe he wanted the audience to just assume it was sweat, from training for this Sole Survivor match so much. A smart move, because only a few people mentioned it the next day either online or to some colleague they barely know. Anyway, the setting is in Darius’ locker room, him in his black steel chair, with a blank face, and a microphone to his lips. There is a bit of static on the camera, but it seems to give a nice effect for this very special PPV promo.
Desmond King: Hello, ladies and gentlemen. My life was beginning to get back together. At least, I thought it was. It came to my attention that…
Suddenly, the whole screen becomes tan static, and the sound of the static plays over the TV screen as loud as possible. It did this for about a minute, and suddenly, across the bottom of the screen, it said “We are experiencing some technical difficulties… In this Life…” The static finally cleared up, and the TV was silent. Meanwhile, many people have changed the channel, calling one of their friends, asking if they see the same thing, or if something is wrong with the channel. When it comes back to show a skull, people knew exactly what was going on. It was just another D-Dawg promo. Except, that was where they got it all wrong. Suddenly, words echoed, as the picture of a skull began to change. A tan flashlight, it would seem, slowly shining up behind it, and through its two eyes and mouth. In the background, there was a familiar voice, but today, he sounded different in a way that’s hard to describe.
Desmond King: I’m not going to say that!
...
Desmond King: No, I never wrote that script!
…
Desmond King: Let’s just improv! I got a better idea, trust me.
The screen now showed Darius again, standing now, looking off screen. He then smiles a goofy, fake smile, seeing that the camera is on him. He sits back down on the chair behind him slowly, and clumsily. He then holds the mic to his lips once again, and starts over, sounding a lot less forced, and a lot less scripted then the first take.
Desmond King: Now, I know I don’t have a hot girl at my side right now, or even a title around my waist. I know I’m not the best looking guy in the locker room either. But what I do have is something nobody else in the HSW locker room has that sets me apart from everyone else: The heart of a champion. When I’m down, I know how to get right back up, better than ever before. That is why I would like to announce that I will be in the Hall of Fame one day here too!
Most of the audience members has a “Not this again!” mind set at this point. Darius finds a way to prove his words.
Desmond King: My first step at being on that prestigious list of Hall of Famers is winning that Sole Survivor, or at least, impressing a shit load of people in that match. Maybe the HSW management will acknowledge my ability, and start putting me in some main events. Maybe I can truly be seen by everyone in that locker room as the impressive wrestler I really am. Now, I know what you’re thinking: “He’s all talk, and no action.” Well, that’s just it. Too many people in the HSW are all talk, and no action. That’s why at the massacre, I believe I will prove all of them wrong. It’s something I’ve been doing since… As long as I can remember.
‘As long as I can remember.’ The phrase had more meaning that anyone watching knew. There were only 2 people who truly knew the truth, and the chances that they were watching this was slim to none.
Desmond King: Now, a lot of people in the locker room say the same things about this match: “If Android #18 doesn't win this, it's either because she either didn’t try or died.” Well I got news for whoever thinks that. I’m a huge contender for that match too, you know. I’m going to show everyone out there, that I am not just another punk in that locker room. I’m a real contender, and the second people start to realize that, will be the second that I make it to the Hall Of Fame!”
Some of the people watching are cheering for him, the ultimate underdog in every match he appears in. “DK! DK!” They cheer their TV on, as if Darius could hear them. All the fans becoming more numbered than ever before after this speech. It was almost like making some sort of acceptance speech. He finally decided to end it with a bombshell, since it wasn’t scripted. That camera never cut away, as the bass of the “Officer Down” by Lloyd Banks played faintly in the background.
Desmond King: I have a confession to make. My name won’t be Desmond King for long. I’m sick and tired of everyone calling me by that fake name. That is why, from this moment forward, I am now Darius King! Mark it on my locker room! There’s a new name in sports entertainment today, but with the same last name as before! That name is DARIUS KING, and I’m here to make a statement! The time for me to impress begins tonight at this PPV. I’m going to make sure that I’m the only dog! This time around, it’s all going to come full circle. If my name isn’t Darius King, then may God smite me now! Until the day I die, I will be The Big dog of the whole HSW!
The camera now turned into tan static once more. Across the bottom of the screen, scrolling by, it said “You may now continue to watch your worthless television show still in progress… Have a nice Life!”
Desmond King: Yo auntie this is gonna come off weird. But have you talked to unc? I know but you wouldn’t believe this unless you seen it.
Desmond takes a picture of the headstone and starts talking again.
Desmond King: Auntie I know. No I’m not joking. Wait a minute I see someone walking towards me. Oh shit it’s Blade. Yes I can tell his walk from another ones. Let me call you back Didg.
Dez puts the phone in his pocket and starts to approach the body as they was dragging something.
Desmond King: Need help my man? Because you know you ain’t got the strength you used to.
Next thing we see the person stop and look at Desmond. Dez takes a step back looking like he saw a ghost. It was Darius alive and well. Desmond then wakes up as it was just a dream. The whole time as he grabs his phone and checks Twitter. He sees HSW had message him. He smiles as he sends a text message. He gets up outta bed and proceeds to get himself together. He instantly books a flight to Las Vegas. Then a call came thru he gets into a long convo. After getting off the phone he began cutting a promo.
Desmond King: Here we are ladies and gentlemen. For those of you that don’t know me I’m Desmond King. The Canadian Prodigy. I’m fucking back bitches! High Stakes Wrestling I am here to claim my stake to the throne. I don’t care who is in the Sole Survivor match. That person is coming thru me. I don’t care if it’s any of the Moxleys, Android #18, James Ceno, and whoever else is involved. All of you can get this work because I’m back and feel better then ever. I need to head to the arena so I can get myself together for this show. But first I need to go see my therapist. Yes I got one so get outta my face with y’all wack ass insults.
The scene closes up and then suddenly, the door she nudged her head towards swung open. Almost as if she had telekinesis. You whispered to each other for 2 seconds longer, you and the patient, and suddenly, acknowledged me. It was a long car drive, about 2 hours, but you didn’t know that. You do now, I guess. You then gestured for me to come inside, Bobbi waiting in the waiting room for me to come out. The door closed behind me, and I sat down on one of those therapy couches, debating whether or not to lay down. I decided to just sit, and finally, you started to talk to me as if you knew me. You must of.
Dr. Mason: Darius, you look tense. Tenser then usual…
Desmond King: My name’s not Darius, doc.
Dr. Mason: Of course it’s not. It’s Desmond King! How could I have forgotten?
Desmond King: Desmond King, huh?
My full name was Desmond King… But then why did he call me Darius? Something was seriously wrong, but I never put two and two together.
Dr. Mason: Yes. That’s your name. Desmond… Are you feeling alright? There’s something… Off… About you today.
[color=dodgerblue]Desmond King: Yeah, there is. I’m beginning to doubt myself. Doubt everything. Am I stranded or something? Stranded on this thing called Life? A Life that isn’t even my own?
Dr. Mason: Now you’re starting to sound like yourself. Desmond… are you being serious? Do you seriously believe this life isn’t your own?
Desmond King: Actually, I have no clue what to believe at this point. So… Something must be really wrong with me, huh?
Dr. Mason: I feared this would happen. Your brain is so unstable, yet so ingenious.
Desmond King: Unstable? I feel fine. What are you talking about, doc?
Dr. Mason: Now, you don’t remember anything, correct? You woke up this morning not even knowing your own name?
Desmond King: Exactly. Why, have you seen this before? I don’t even know who you are… So why the hell am I talking to you?
Dr. Mason: Desmond, I am your doctor. I’m your doctor now, anyway. Listen, I know exactly what’s wrong, and I know exactly how to fix it.
Desmond King: Shot. I just want to fix it all.
You knew what was wrong with me. Finally, some hope. I needed to get back to my old self. I figured you’d give me a pill, and I’d be better in the morning. Put the lime in the coconut kind of deal. That wasn’t the case. What you said next wasn’t much help to me then, but in the long haul, even now, it’s helping me slowly remember my past.
Dr. Mason: You must have suffered some sort of traumatic event. Something you should remember sometime down the line. Your brain, essentially, hit the reset button, forgetting everything it could possibly erase. It’s a very interesting case, believe me. Almost like amnesia, except self inducing. You must have found a way to erase it all, found the reset button in your dreams. Forgetting all the pain, and all the heartache you’ve experienced, and yet, now, you must start from the very beginning, learning piece by piece of your memory. It’s a temporally situation, but even after all the memories are gained again, you might still be this way, in this alternate persona, that is essentially, Darius Majors.
Desmond King: Interesting… But I thought that was my name. Desmond King? Why are you calling me Darius?
Dr. Mason: Well, after one traumatic event in your past, you felt like you needed a change, so you changed your name legally to Desmond Majors. It’s very symbolic. There’s more to it than that, Desmond. Believe me, there is a lot more to it than that.
Desmond King: What was this one traumatic event from my past that made me want to change my name to that?
Dr. Mason: You’ll have to discover it for yourself. Listen, I’ll help you get started. Here’s a journal…
He handed me a tan and black empty Marble journal that you picked up from your giant pile of ‘em under your coffee glass table in the middle of the room. I flipped through those empty pages a bit, and suddenly, I got a memory.
I write this in my locker room. I had to ask around before I finally saw my name. Not my name, but the name I had anyway. The words were grungy, and the tag had a background that was filled with tan static, with a picture of me on the right. It looked nothing like me. At least, I don’t think it did. I haven’t looked in the mirror since… You know. I found this desk back here, perfect for writing. Maybe Desmond had an act for writing, too. I don’t know, I sort of like this. Feels like a weight is lifted off my shoulders. Thanks, doc. Even if I haven’t got a memory today, I certainly enjoy writing about my chaotic day. Let’s start when the real action started.
Bobbi told me this morning to come here, to Las Vegas, because that’s where we were going anyway. She said that I wasn’t ready to operate a car yet. She said something about me crashing my old car, about a week before I turned into this… Memory losing freak I am today. I know, it sounds harsh when I put it that way, but it’s the truth. Now where were we? Oh yeah, that cocky SOB who claimed to be my cousin, Blade.
He stopped me as I was looking for someone to help me find my locker room. I must have looked like a freak, looking for my own locker room. It should be a given to know that much, but apparently, I was the odd one out. Blade peaked out of his locker room, like some sort of stalker freak, and suddenly started to follow me, without even asking me what I was looking for.
Blade: Hey! Cousin! Wait up!
I kept on walking, at the same pace, and he kept on calling me. I didn’t know he was talking to me, to be honest. I wasn’t willing to believe anyone in this place. I don’t know why, but it was like a sixth sense I had.
Blade: We need to talk.
He suddenly was walking the same pace as me, on my left. I looked over at him with a confused look, a look I’ve been giving everyone these days.
Blade: Listen, about the Sole Survivor…
Desmond King: What bout it? Are you some sort of fan?
Blade: You could say that, yeah. I’m your cousin for Pete’s sake. Anyway, good luck out there. We’re both in the same massacre, so I just wanted to tell you that. Good luck, Darius.
By this time, I was a little used to people calling me Darius. I knew who he was talking to, but I still believed my name was Desmond. It was definitely Desmond, that much I knew was true. I even looked up some old interviews I’ve had with eWe.com and some other pointless magazines. They all said the same thing.
Blade: The Sole Survivor? Remember? It’s basically the Royal Rumble. It’s hard to explain. I don’t get it myself, to be honest. All I know is that the winner goes to the big PPV, and headlines it. Seems like the perfect time for you to take home some gold… You off your medication again?
He carried around a cocky look on his face. The title had a giant red X on it, and I knew only one thing: Whoever this bastard was, I felt the urge to hold some gold over my shoulder, for what the records said would be my third time. For me though, it would be the first. I don’t remember holding the title, holding any title, over my shoulder like that, with that kind of confidence. I had the feeling I wasn’t well acknowledged in this place, even if the site did say I was here for… You do the math. An empty memory of all that has happened within those 2 years. I was clueless, but I didn’t want to tell anyone that. At least, not anyone in the eWe. Word would get out for sure, and I would be looked at as the mental case. Well, scratch that. I would be looked at as the mental case that, as Blade put it, is permanently off their medication.
Desmond King: Actually, yes, I am. I never felt better.
Blade: Yeah, well you look like crap! You need a nap, man. Fuck, you need to power sleep!
Desmond King: Power sleep? Are YOU off your medication?
Blade: What’s it to ya, punk? Maybe I am, maybe I’m not. All I know is that I have Kyra, the most beautiful girl in the world, and plus, this X-Division Title doesn’t exactly make me upset either. Two things you know and I know that you wish you had.
That was Blade in a nut shell. I got to know him better in that one line then possibly my whole life before the incident. There was something that I could relate to in him, and yet, something I detested. He was the cockiest guy I’ve met so far, in my short 2 days. He was like one of those rock stars on TV, so arrogant and nasty when you first get to know ‘em. Even if you don’t know ‘em, they have that air, that air that can tell you everything. It can tell you a lot about the guy, that strange gut feeling. I’m a guy who likes to trust his gut, and right now, at that moment too, it was churning.
Desmond King: Listen, I had enough of your arrogance, whoever the hell you are. I’m gonna go look for my locker room, alright? And if you don’t wanna help me, that’s your problem, not mine.
I speed up, trying to get away from him. I was smirking the whole time, happy I was getting away from him. I turned a corner, and Blade stopped at the intersection. I looked over my shoulder a bit and saw him waiting there, like a frightened kitten, finally calling to me.
Blade: Dez! Dez!?
I stopped in my tracks, and stood there for a while. I looked behind me, to see if he was still there, and he was. I then said something I thought could have been at the end of some James Bond movie:
Desmond King: Call me Darius.
I kept looking at Blade from over my shoulder, still in one place, and he had a confused “what the fuck” look on his face, like he didn’t know what I was talking about. I have decided on something at that moment. I decided to go with the name I knew. I decided to go by Darius King, something I would later announce to the world in such a dramatic fashion, it would make even Android #18 confused before this Sole Survivor match tonight.
Before I did that though, I have some more stuff to say. Some guy, think he said his name was Rick, peeked in my room, just now as I was writing this, and he said something to me.
Rick: We’re all ready for that promo when you are, Darius.
Before I could correct him, he was gone. I felt like following him then, so I got up from this black steel chair I’m sitting in now, but then, something happened. Something… Unexpected to say the least. The door knocked, as if it were Bobbi at my door. I was picturing Bobbi walking in, or even Rains to gloat about God knows what, but in fact, it wasn’t either of them. It was someone else. It was, apparently, an ex-girlfriend of Darius’; for real this time.
Darius?
She said the name so delicately, like she was about to cry. So, picture this. She’s in a purple short sleeved top, some dark blue tight jeans, and some of those black Uggs every young girl on the planet seems to be wearing these days. Now picture me: I haven’t shaved yet, but was planning on it right before the promo to get that clean shaven look. I had on gray jeans, and a black tee with the words ‘Lights Out’ on it in vintage stenciled letters that looked to be outlined with black spray paint for a cool effect. Either I came up with this shirt, or eWe management knows me all too well. Both of which, I don’t remember at all. I have black bicep straps, and some orange finger tape. I guess this wrestling attire in my locker was built for comfort, and style. Couldn’t be that hard to fight like this. When I was putting on this attire actually, as I put on the tape, a quick video of Darius Majors fighting began to play in my mind, with some random announcers talking about me in the background. I suddenly knew my whole fighting style, believe it or not. But right now, that was the last thing I was thinking about.
Desmond King: And you are?
She started to flood a ton of tears at that moment. Her eyeliner was dripping like crazy, and she put her head on my shoulder. I sort of held her back a bit, knowing she needed some comfort right now. It was one of those lovey-dovey moments, I thought. But for her, she saw it a completely different way.
You don’t remember me?
She said this in the saddest, ‘teariest’ voice I’ve ever heard. She wasn’t just sobbing now, she was full blown crying. I didn’t even know her name yet, and she was upset. Like I said before, I’ll never understand the mind of a woman. Moans and groans came from her mouth and not the good kind either. The upset moans, the moans that you just want to say “SHUT UP WOMAN!” but you can’t, you just can’t. Finally, she backs off of me, and wipes her eyes with her shirt. Now everything was wet: her sleeve, her face, her hair, my shirt was drenched. It was like an invisible tsunami just pasted us both. She began to spoke, in that sad voice of hers, after she took some well needed deep breath exercises.
I’m pregnant!
She then opened the door behind her, slipped away, and left the locker room, back to God knows where. I didn’t even know her name, but I understood everything just by those 2 words. Darius must have knocked her up, maybe recently. Was that the thing that made Darius want to hit that reset button in my brain? Or was that just the start of something even bigger?
The scene begins with Desmond… Excuse me, Darius, in the same attire as he was just in. His shirt was drenched, but throughout the whole promo, he never addressed it. Maybe he wanted the audience to just assume it was sweat, from training for this Sole Survivor match so much. A smart move, because only a few people mentioned it the next day either online or to some colleague they barely know. Anyway, the setting is in Darius’ locker room, him in his black steel chair, with a blank face, and a microphone to his lips. There is a bit of static on the camera, but it seems to give a nice effect for this very special PPV promo.
Desmond King: Hello, ladies and gentlemen. My life was beginning to get back together. At least, I thought it was. It came to my attention that…
Suddenly, the whole screen becomes tan static, and the sound of the static plays over the TV screen as loud as possible. It did this for about a minute, and suddenly, across the bottom of the screen, it said “We are experiencing some technical difficulties… In this Life…” The static finally cleared up, and the TV was silent. Meanwhile, many people have changed the channel, calling one of their friends, asking if they see the same thing, or if something is wrong with the channel. When it comes back to show a skull, people knew exactly what was going on. It was just another D-Dawg promo. Except, that was where they got it all wrong. Suddenly, words echoed, as the picture of a skull began to change. A tan flashlight, it would seem, slowly shining up behind it, and through its two eyes and mouth. In the background, there was a familiar voice, but today, he sounded different in a way that’s hard to describe.
Desmond King: I’m not going to say that!
...
Desmond King: No, I never wrote that script!
…
Desmond King: Let’s just improv! I got a better idea, trust me.
The screen now showed Darius again, standing now, looking off screen. He then smiles a goofy, fake smile, seeing that the camera is on him. He sits back down on the chair behind him slowly, and clumsily. He then holds the mic to his lips once again, and starts over, sounding a lot less forced, and a lot less scripted then the first take.
Desmond King: Now, I know I don’t have a hot girl at my side right now, or even a title around my waist. I know I’m not the best looking guy in the locker room either. But what I do have is something nobody else in the HSW locker room has that sets me apart from everyone else: The heart of a champion. When I’m down, I know how to get right back up, better than ever before. That is why I would like to announce that I will be in the Hall of Fame one day here too!
Most of the audience members has a “Not this again!” mind set at this point. Darius finds a way to prove his words.
Desmond King: My first step at being on that prestigious list of Hall of Famers is winning that Sole Survivor, or at least, impressing a shit load of people in that match. Maybe the HSW management will acknowledge my ability, and start putting me in some main events. Maybe I can truly be seen by everyone in that locker room as the impressive wrestler I really am. Now, I know what you’re thinking: “He’s all talk, and no action.” Well, that’s just it. Too many people in the HSW are all talk, and no action. That’s why at the massacre, I believe I will prove all of them wrong. It’s something I’ve been doing since… As long as I can remember.
‘As long as I can remember.’ The phrase had more meaning that anyone watching knew. There were only 2 people who truly knew the truth, and the chances that they were watching this was slim to none.
Desmond King: Now, a lot of people in the locker room say the same things about this match: “If Android #18 doesn't win this, it's either because she either didn’t try or died.” Well I got news for whoever thinks that. I’m a huge contender for that match too, you know. I’m going to show everyone out there, that I am not just another punk in that locker room. I’m a real contender, and the second people start to realize that, will be the second that I make it to the Hall Of Fame!”
Some of the people watching are cheering for him, the ultimate underdog in every match he appears in. “DK! DK!” They cheer their TV on, as if Darius could hear them. All the fans becoming more numbered than ever before after this speech. It was almost like making some sort of acceptance speech. He finally decided to end it with a bombshell, since it wasn’t scripted. That camera never cut away, as the bass of the “Officer Down” by Lloyd Banks played faintly in the background.
Desmond King: I have a confession to make. My name won’t be Desmond King for long. I’m sick and tired of everyone calling me by that fake name. That is why, from this moment forward, I am now Darius King! Mark it on my locker room! There’s a new name in sports entertainment today, but with the same last name as before! That name is DARIUS KING, and I’m here to make a statement! The time for me to impress begins tonight at this PPV. I’m going to make sure that I’m the only dog! This time around, it’s all going to come full circle. If my name isn’t Darius King, then may God smite me now! Until the day I die, I will be The Big dog of the whole HSW!
The camera now turned into tan static once more. Across the bottom of the screen, scrolling by, it said “You may now continue to watch your worthless television show still in progress… Have a nice Life!”
