It starts with me and Elite Eliot in the ring—just two guys in t-shirts, gym shorts, and sneakers, talking wrestler to wrestler. We’re tossing around the idea of having another match when he gives me that trademark cocky smirk. He tells me there’s no point, that he’d destroy me again just like before. According to him, youth and power beat experience and smarts every time.

That’s when I play the veteran card. I lure him into a trap by suggesting we add some stipulations to make things interesting. I even let him choose first. Eliot immediately calls for no DQ, and I nod. I counter with a 10-count knock out finish. He winces—he knows exactly how many piledrivers I’ve put guys through—but he accepts and adds no holds barred. I wince right back, remembering all the damage my balls have taken over the years, but I agree anyway. Deal made. We strip off our t-shirts, shorts, and sneakers, showing off our hottest new gear as we start circling each other.

Then it hits me: he got two stipulations and I only named one. Not happening. I stop and tell him I’m taking my second stipulation now. It’s going to be a 2-on-1 tag match, and my partner will be Brendan Byers. Right on cue, Brendan steps into the ring—huge, tattooed, wearing nothing but those tight black leather-like briefs and a sinister grin. Eliot realizes he’s been played, but he’s too proud to back down. So we ring the bell.

To his credit, Eliot fights like hell. But there’s only so much one guy can do against me and Brendan tagging in and out. We dismantle him—abusing his back, smashing his balls, and dropping him on his head over and over as we chase the knockout. Suplex-into-brainbusters, DDTs, pedigrees, piledrivers… some so dangerous that even I feel it in my bones. We bring foreign objects into the ring, and I lay into him with a stripped wrestling boot until he’s barely holding on.

Eventually, Brendan and I start competing with each other—who hits harder, who’s more vicious, who deserves the knockout. But in the end, I’m The Champ, and I’m the one who finishes Eliot with a jumping piledriver that finally puts him down for the 10-count. I gloat, I brag, I make sure Brendan knows exactly who scored the win.

And that’s when he snaps.

Brendan blindsides me, unleashing a post-match beating that leaves me knocked out for my own humiliating 10-count.