Jake Roman wasn't a household name, but even after losing a memorable series to Xavier X earlier in his career, the Kid was once seen as a key piece in the future of professional wrestling. He stood six-and-a-half feet tall, veins popped out of his biceps, and it seemed with this health, Jake had another twenty years ahead of him in his career. There was nothing bad about Roman from first glance. But the further you dove into his perspective, you would find the pieces that put together this elite puzzle. Jake grew up angry and hungry -- both metaphorically and literally -- due to his life's lack of privileges. He was prideful, always carrying himself as a self-made man, like most people in the locker room did after proving their doubters wrong... but his pride was excessive. He had an eagerness to perform at the highest level, and one day decided that he could not win with good morals and crowd-pleasing antics. Would it make for a good story? Sure it would; everybody likes to see their heroes get their hand raised. But to Jake Roman, it was a deterrent.
He wasn't too young, though. Now he could buy his own booze! So it was no surprise to most that they would be re-introduced to the familiar face sitting on a stool with his back to the bartender. It was dark outside of course, but it must have been late, because there was a man already passed out drunk sleeping next to him and not too many voices in the background. The bar was playing "Tainted Love" by Soft Cell, but the one-hit wonder wasn't acknowledged by anybody. What did Jake Roman do to get himself television time after being gone for so long, anyways? This punk kid, carrying himself and his ego around like weights. What could he say that would be so important? Well, with a somber and bleak expression on his face, beer in hand, he'd use his other to help illustrate his frustrations.
"I never liked... I never liked people. I'm just not that kind of guy. Yknow, that kinda guy who idolizes others, and sees other do well and says, 'I'm gonna be just like him. I'm gonna follow in his footsteps.' Because that's too easy. Even people backstage told me things like if I did this regiment six times a week, and worked with this trainer, and watched this guy put the microphone near his a**, or his lips, tomatoes tomatohs, I would reach THIS guy's level of success. And you know me, I'm real confident, so when I told them to piss off and watch me become the first Jake Roman, they said... 'Kid, what do you know about success?' How was I supposed to answer that? One of these days, life is still going to bite you in the a**, and God is still gonna cut you down, so despite what these guys tried to tell me, there are no rules you can follow that will help you conquer what happens next. Just like there are no rules that can hold me down."
Pausing himself, Roman looked to his left and shook the shoulder of the drunkard next to him, yelling with a dark, phony enthusiasm. He could not have been more than three feet away from the guy's ear.
"YOU HEAR THAT, CHAMP? DON'T LET YOUR FAMILY TELL YOU THAT YOU CAN'T COME TO THIS BAR AND DRINK YOUR HEART OUT. YOU RAISED THOSE KIDS, YOU GOT A WIFE. CELEBRATE! BOTTOM'S UP!"
He gave a cheers to the guy's row of empty shot glasses and took a swig of his beer, laughing as he guzzled the poison down his throat. A small sigh left Jake Roman's lungs and he quit his laughter and shook his head in a condescending fashion, obviously about the poor pathetic man next to him. He wiped the alcohol off his lips with the side of his hand and continued where he left off.
"You gotta sit down and ask yourself, what do I want, how bad do I want it, and how do I get there? Well if anybody ever told you following the rules would get you there, whether it be your boss, your parents, your friends, you should slap the poor taste out of their mouth and point to me. Because one day, I am gonna be the new measure of success. The living proof that you can turn nothing into everything with a little bit of effort and a lot of life experience. I am going to be a reflection of what a real man, and what a real wrestler, really is, so... sorry to the staff for not following your wisdom that got you a backstage job. See, I'm a different breed. This ain't your daddy's kind of wrestling. I've fought for everything in my life, and I'll be damned if someone's going to try to put me on the path of everyone else. And if you don't like that, I'm going to treat you like the dog s**t on the bottom of my boots, scrape you off, and put you in a garbage bag in a million bits and pieces, and no rule is gonna save you from THAT. You can run, or prepare to be choked by the hands of defeat."
