Ep.1 | Bury The Light | PG; 11/20/20 | 4-Way v. Holt, Slayer, Walker

Imagine, you're on top of the world. You've got the cash, the women, the glory, and life is just fuckin' peachy. Every where you look online, your face is plastered on an advertisement. You're not some average bum working the evening shift at a grocery store to make ends meet, instead, you're getting paid to do what comes natural. No suits, no ties, just straight up fighting night in and night out. Add on top of that the prestige of being aligned with one of the biggest companies going in this sport right now, kicking ass and taking names with a man of similar values, so close to winning gold...

And it's all just ripped out from under you.

That's what happened to me, Colby Sol. You may have heard the name, maybe not... doesn't matter either way, really. I'm not going to bore you with statistics or start bitching about my previous employer, I'm just going to present myself the best way I know how, and that's just to shoot from the hip. No fancy cameras following me around, and no valet to help me get out a few "zingers" on my opponents. That's the cheap shit I see everywhere. The point I'm trying to make is, you know where I'm coming from. Weather you're a fan watching this, or one of the boys in the back, you get that this business doesn't owe us, the participants, a damn thing. I can't begin to recount how many times I've been burnt by some dirt-bag promoter at an independent show in the slums of Pennsylvania by being paid a "hotdog and a handshake". This is a sport unlike any other. No off season, no breaks, we just keep goin' till we can't no more. It's a royal pain in the ass, but the more I look around this place, I see a disgusting disease plague it.

Complacency.

All of that time training, going to the gym, trying to make ends meet by working the indies, and half of these weekend warriors are here for the "fun" of it. I don't see men or women coming out to the ring here, I see boys and girls playing pretend. That shit doesn't fly where I come from. I didn't have time to have "fun", I was too busy fighting just to get a ride on the school bus every day, while at night, I was sleeping behind a dumpster with one eye open. That's real life. That's something no one around here could understand, nor survive. I'm not here in Project Honor because I want to wrestle anyone, or give back to this business; it's because I want to take all that I can from it. Fuck paying my dues again, fuck having to start from square one because I'm "new", and more importantly, fuck anyone who tells me otherwise. This isn't a "reset" for Colby Sol, this is just a new chapter. That's something those two dipshits Nat Walker and Alex Slayer couldn't get. They're two kids who think this is just a weekend retreat, who think because they're wrestlers, they're somebodies. I didn't have to say a thing last week, and I still kicked your asses with a literal postman. How fuckin' embarrassing is that? I've got five bucks saying neither of you have the dignity to show your faces around here, especially not when this little tape here comes out, and honestly? You'd be saving me the trouble. I haven't been around the wrestling scene for as long as some people, but I can tell who's cut for it, and who's not. You two don't know how to adapt, and that's what ultimately leads to your downfall. But enough about you two, just thinking about the idea of facing either of you chickenshit kids is tiring.

Instead, I wanna give the "newbie" some "veterans advice". Outside of the fact he looks like a younger, fucked up version of Christopher Lloyd, he's got one thing Slayer and Walker don't have; an opportunity. An opportunity to make a strong first impression. I'll tell you what, goin' through the shit you're goin' through, all of those disabilities? You've got guts, but it's only going to take one, and I mean one slip up, for me to tear those guts right out of your stomach. I don't know what your goals are, and I don't care what they are, and neither should you this week. I know the system, and I know this fatal four way is just a test to see who's the top dog in this crop of this companies newest employees, and I'll be God damned to let either of you three take this chance away from me. To the three of you, this is just a wrestling match. You all did zero homework on your opponents, so you go for the s cookie cutter bullshit those before you have used. "He's great" this, "but I'm going to win" that. You three are fighting a war unprepared, unwillingly, and unmotivated.

While I on the other hand, have all of the power.

The experience, the expertise, the abso-fuckin-lute control of the ring; it's all in my grasp. There's no way my shoulders are stayin' on that mat, and you've got a better chance at a flyin' cow before you ever see me submit. I'm not here to phone in a booking, I'm here in Project Honor until it dies, or until the big wigs in the suits get scared of what I'm going to do to this industry, and just like last week, this match is another steppin' stone to greener pastures. I'm not worried in the slightest about three up and comers, because they don't matter in the long run. A year from now, when I eventually get all of these fancy accomplishments under my belt, no one's going to remember Slayer, Walker, or Holt. They're unenlightened meat being fed to the corporate slaughter; not competition. So come the 20th, get ready to see a burial, with my hands clasped around the shovel.

So it is written, in the words of Colby F'N Sol.