And so it went on. Feminine Wylde managed to charm her way through the first two rounds and then she ran into a younger, faster, stronger woman who was having none of her act and just killed her in drills. Another older man...I mean REALLY older man...started racking up drill wins, then pointed up at me and "Whoo'd".  And another kid...he was bigger, but much younger, maybe 17 (his mom was there cheering him on, which makes me think she had to sign the waiver) was beating people on sheer athletic ability despite the fact that he still looked a little awkward in his own skin.

The final four was the Diamond clone, Shimond Dazam, the old man named Dom, the awkwardly athletic kid who just called himself Bill, and that woman who kicked the crap out of Wylde, who apparently had legit fighting training and fought under the name of Phillie Payne. 

Last up was this obstacle course that was set up by our trainers and Wyatt Bronson, one of our road agents, and after seven or eight hours of working out all day on and off, it looked like hell for these guys. Best two times would advance and get their crack at me and a Defiance contract.

At this point I had come down to the gym level with the rest of the Defiance staff to get a real good look 

Phillie Payne started off the agility stuff well...tires and rope climbing and all that...but when it came time to go for the strength feats, she struggled.  She finished with a time that was a full minute over what Wyatt would call an "average" time, and when she finished, she hung her head in shame.

I was there at the end to greet all the trainees on their way out of the obstacle course, and I put my right hand on Payne's shoulder as she looked at me and shook her head.

"You did your best," I said to her. "Anyone can see that. Hopefully it works out for you, but if it doesn't I think you know where to train for next time."

She silently nodded her head and extended her hand for the shake, which I accepted. She walked away, head down, and went to get some water.

Next up was the old man, and to be honest, I was stunned by what he did in the course...he navigated it with relative ease, not tripping up in any particular area.  His time was closer to the Wyatt average than Payne's.  Not a great time overall, but for someone his age not bad either.

I reached out my hand to shake his and said, "Well done, Dom.  It's clear you've taken very good care of your body over the years, and if you get the shot at the contract I know you'll be in a good position for it.

He reached out to shake my hand...and then pulled it back, slicking his hair and Whoo'ing at me.

Jerk.

Next up was Shiamond.  He actually decided to take the penalty by avoiding the agility drills altogether, which is the kind of attitude I'd imagine Eric having to browbeat into submission if he won his Defiance contract.

But even with all the penalties, and double-checking the math, it seems that Shiamond's time was better than Payne's time (but not better than Old Dom). Phillie Payne was now eliminated, and Old Dom moved on. 

Again, I went to shake this guy's hand...you'd think I'd have learned by now...and I said to him, "Impressive power young man.". He smacked my hand away and sneered at me as he walked away.

What the heck?  Awesome way to make friends. 

One last man to see how he can do. Bill.

Bill started off the agility drills great.  I figured this kid was gonna smoke the drills in no time, beat out Shimond and get himself, at the least, noticed.

Then out of nowhere the kid trips over something and falls.  He whacks his head on the gym floor and lies there.

The med staff went to check on him.  As soon as they get to his side, he starts to stir.  Looks like a concussion; his day's over.  As the medical staff comes to his side to make sure he’s OK, I walk over to his cheerleader/guardian, who looks a little more than worried.

“Are you Bill’s sister?” I ask, smiling the best smile I could.

The woman blushes a little instinctively...I can tell she took the compliment well.  “Mother, actually.  Is Bill going to be OK?”

“I think so.”  I looked back and saw that he was starting to shake the cobwebs off. He had a small cut on his forehead, nothing a Band-Aid wouldn’t stop.  “The medical staff will tell you how to best help him, but from the looks of things he should be fine.  Are you all right?”

She nodded.  “Yeah, I’ll be fine.  Is it always this rough?”

“It was just a long day, I think,” I say.  “Days this long and grueling are unusual once you get into the business.”  I hated lying to a concerned mom, but I think if I answered straight affirmative, it would have a detrimental impact on Bill’s future career options and family relations.  For her part, she wasn’t listening too intently; she was busy watching the staff guide Bill to the medical office, to the applause of who was left there. The mom wandered off behind her son, and I felt someone try to pull me around by my shoulder as she walked away.

To prove a point, I turned around the opposite way that they were pulling, and I came face to face with the old man.

Who proceeded to ramble on about that which I don’t care about...but he punctuated that with a slap and a WHOO!

Is this guy for real?

I didn’t answer him, preferring instead to just stare him down and point to the ring.  He took the hint and rolled under the ring. 

Now this part is pretty common knowledge (and posted on YouTube), so I’ll be short with what actually happened.

Old Dom was up in the ring first, and he was still talking and whoo-ing.  He really made a general ass of himself.  When the bell rung, he dove in for a knee to the gut, but I wasn’t interested, instead rolling around his hip and rolling him up in a schoolboy for the 5 second win.  He was beside himself, complaining about cheating, but it doesn’t matter, because he was gone.

Which brings me to the other one.  The bulky Shimond Dazam.  He didn’t talk; he just made noises and smelt of stale funk.  As I waited for the bell to ring, I remembered how he had injured or tried to injure everyone he was doing drills with.  And that’s when I decided how to take this man out.

It was clocked at about 8 seconds, but it felt a lot shorter.  The big bulky smelly immobile Shimond ran in at me with his killer clothesline of DOOM~!  Drop toe hold, ankle lock, and he cried like a little baby almost immediately. 

I will neither confirm nor deny that I put a little extra twist in the ankle lock for this poor fool.  But I will tell anyone who wants to be a professional wrestler that karma does exist in this business. What you give will come back to you in spades.

And at the upcoming episode of Def TV?

I get to unleash some karma right back at a man who’s certainly enjoyed taking shots at me, either physically or mentally.

I hope you’re prepared for the whiplash, Kai. 

Because I’m ready to close this chapter in my life.

And when I do, it’s on to Ladder Wars.

To claim a World Title that should be mine.

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