Dearest Vickie, Jonathan, and Tristian,
I hope this letter finds you well, my dear ones. It has been quite some time since we last spoke, and my heart yearns to be in your presence once more. With a heavy heart and tear-stained ink, I pour forth my emotions, for they have been twisted and distorted by the malevolence that lies at the core of my existence. Time has passed, wounds have scarred, but I confess that the loving feeling that once ignited my soul remains elusive, slipping through my trembling fingers like grains of sand.
THE MAN WHO CANNOT BE LOVED, a name whispered in the darkest corners of my thoughts—the name I gave the PRIME Universal Champion BY, has cast his darkest shadows of the safe haven of my once warm, loving heart. His treacherous actions eliminating me from the Culture Shock battle royal, have ignited a fire fueled by seething H-H-HAAAAAAAA…
No, I can’t speak that word as a member of OUR CONVOY. I shouldn’t feel THAT emotion. It’s too toxic and could poison our cause.
Oh, how I’ve yearned for redemption to return to your loving embrace upon the PRETTY PINK EXPRESS, touring from town to town. I thought a triumphant victory over Jack Owyns would give me a fleeting moment of vindication. Alas, REAL LOVE® still feels lost. It should have extinguished ANY animosity that BY ignited. Unfortunately, those attempts fail.
I still feel like a black, dark void resides in my heart sucking every last ounce of joy from the depths of my body. It’s absorbing me like a relentless inferno, raging on, devouring the last shreds of love in my heart.
Time continues to stretch like an endless abyss. I find myself questioning if I shall ever find solace from this H-H-HAT-HA-HAT…unloving storm. The path before me is shrouded in uncertainty and I still navigate it with a heavy heart, burdened by the weight of….
I still can’t bring myself to say that word. It would demean EVERY thing I stand for in PRIME.
Every beat of my weary heart yearns to return to the fun times we’ve shared on the road. I long to find the strength to rise above this maelstrom and rediscover the love YOU all gave me. For it is through love that we find our purpose. It Is through love we triumph over the GROSS misconduct of PRIME, HOW, and ALL OF PWA. It’s our cause that drives our resolve to grow.
Hold me close, my dearest Vickie, Jonathan, and Tristian, and know that my journey continues. Though the path is arduous and the obstacles many, I shall strive to reclaim that loving feeling that eludes me. And one day, in the face of adversity, I shall emerge victorious, bearing the torch of love that the LOVE CONVOY has always embodied.
WITH TRUEST LOVE®,
In the heart of Phoenix, Arizona, where the scorching sun kissed the desert with its fiery embrace, a figure stumbled into a quiet sanctuary. Darin Zion, once a beacon of vibrant energy and love, now appeared disheveled and unkempt, his usual charisma replaced by a haunted gaze. Clad in a tattered trench coat, he floundered through the entrance, his unsteady steps echoing a mournful rhythm against the cold stone marble flooring.
The air around him seemed heavy with the weight of his weary soul, intensified by the lingering scent of alcohol that clung to his tattered form. A faint aura of stale whiskey mingled with the acrid odor of sweat, a testament to the inner turmoil that plagued him. The essence of his despair had seeped into every fiber of his being, exuding a melancholy energy in his space.
As Darin found himself enveloped in the solemn stillness of the church, the only sounds that accompanied his stumbling footsteps were the whispers of his own thoughts, a symphony of self-doubt and regret. Each footfall reverberated through the empty sanctuary, resonating with the weight of his shattered dreams. The echoes served as a haunting reminder of the battles fought, victories won, and love lost along the arduous journey he had undertaken.
A murmur escaped his lips, soft and barely audible, as he muttered under his breath. His voice carried a rigid tone, devoid of the warmth and vivacity that once defined his every word.
Darin Zion: Why in the hell am I hear in these hallowed halls? It’s not like I’ll find myself here.
A mighty hiccup erupted from Darin Zion’s trembling frame, resonating through the vast expanse of the sanctuary. The force of the sound seemed to reverberate against the stained-glass windows, causing them to quiver in their delicate frames, as if shivering in response to the overwhelming turmoil within him.
Tears, like crystalline streams of anguish, coursed down his bloodshot eyes, leaving wet trails upon his weathered cheeks. With a trembling hand, he reached up to wipe them away, his touch gentle yet burdened with the weight of his sorrow. He longed deep to return to the graces of the LOVE CONVOY. But he couldn’t with hatre…
NO! He refuses to use that word….
As he clutches his fists at his side, a faint, discernable voice, emerged from the depths of the church. Its fragile whisper danced on the edge of perception. Its alluring melody carried solace and hope, summoning Zion closer to the sanctuary. Zion cautiously slipped into the back of the altar, seeking solace in the shadows, mindful not to disturb the congregants with his disheveled and weary appearance. Nestled in the furthest corner, he positioned himself, blending into the dimly lit recesses so as not to detract from the sanctity of the gathering. Aware of his own perceived ugliness, both inside and out, he aimed to shield himself from prying eyes, choosing instead to be a silent observer amidst the faithful congregation.
Zion gazes upon the structure of the church walls. Its weathered stone walls bore the marks of countless years, etched with the stories of those who sought solace. The light gleaming from it’s stained-glassed windows is vibrant with hues of sapphire and amethyst warming up the environment. Zion’s burdened eyes lit up with excitement as the pastor’s message filled his ears.
Pastor: Turn with me to 1 Corinthians 13:4-8.
The rustling of pages turning filled the sacred air of the church, a gentle symphony of the knowledge and devotion of the church members. Zion sits laying against the marble pillar with a cold, hardened heart, scoffing.
Pastor: Love is patient and kind. It doesn’t envy or boast. Nor is it proud! It doesn’t dishonor others. It isn’t self-seeking, nor easily angered; it keeps no records of wrong-doings. Love doesn’t delight in evil, but rejoice in truth. It always protects, trusts, hopes, and preserves. Love never fails….
As the kind pastor’s words hung in the air, poised to reach their crescendo; a storm of skeptical thoughts flood Zion’s mind. Like a torrential downpour, his inner monologue drowned out the reverent silence around him.
“PPPPFT! This guy doesn’t know the first thing about love.
Love, swift and resolute, dances upon the stage of existence, poised to part mountains with a gentle touch. Its fervor knows no bounds as it envelops those held closest to our hearts, shielding them from harm’s grasp. With grace and strength, it etches its indelible mark upon the annals of this wrestling world, each action immortalized in its enduring embrace.
Amidst the tapestry of pain and torment, love exerts its potent influence, propelling us towards the realm of victory. Each twist and contortion of our opponents’ bodies becomes a poignant love letter, composed with precision, addressed to the devoted fans who witness our every move, as well as the discerning eyes of our esteemed bosses. In this tapestry of combat, every maneuver becomes a testament to the passion that courses through our veins, an ode to the artistry and dedication that sets us apart in this grand theater of wrestling.
Love is devotion to this sport at all cost, even to your own mental well-being.
It demands excellence and unwavering resolve in the face of adversity. IT COMMANDS RESULTS.
It has no time to waste on frivolous gestures of grace and forgiveness. If THE LOVE CONVOY waited to spread its message; these hooligans would infect PRIME WRESTLING with hatred and vitriol, poisoning the vary sport we LOVE. Look at what BY’s done to our sport!
He’s ruined the beautiful mosaic we left in the ring. He’s raged out like some manic toddler, breaking everything in his path. He’s destroyed every ounce of blood, sweat, and tears we’ve poured into PRIME, giving the HALL-Marks heartbreak after heartbreak.
Furthermore, he’s poisoned my heart with his TOXIC….HA-HA-HAT
Come on, sound out the word…. acceptance IS love…you must say that word to move forward…
GOD! The sound of that word makes me CRINGE!
THE MAN WHO WE MUST NOT LOVE has made me HATE something in this world. He’s blinded me in fits of rage all because he doesn’t believe in Jonathan’s cause. He doesn’t believe in Vickie’s cause. He doesn’t believe in TCG’s cause…
No, he doesn’t believe in MY CAUSE.
I’ve spent years of my professional career spreading love, encouragement, and faith in every locker room I set foot in out of my own pride. This sport has always supported backstabbing, treason, and treachery. Never once have we bonded over the LOVE we have over this sport.
And that man ROBBED me of that joy. He’s infected my being with his toxic Youngblood Mentality of Hatred.
I must stop him at all costs…”
THE LOVE CONVOY
—@VickieHall: LULZ, zions got bobbo dean…
—@JCHall: Dare-Bear’s got that THICC life pinned down.
Srsly, Zi-Guy’s beaten Dean in every company he’s wrestled in
Heck, the dude almost burnt Dean to a crisp in HOW
—@TCG: Pass me that bundt guys….auto win for our boi dis week
—@VickieHall: srsly…pass dean another bundt…he will stroke out
—@JCHall: prolly, my love! Not like Dean’s gonna perform…
We scrambled those banditz every time.
—@VickieHall: MUAH! U beat Jiles after all…
if u can beat jiles, Zion can beat deano…
—@TCG: once Zi kicks him down; Deano will struggle…
His 3000 pound @$$ cant get up without a forklift.
—@VickieHall: Come on Dare-Bear, join in on the fun!!
-I can’t partake in this right now guys
im still off my game after….
—@JCHall: do NOT say his name…he doesn’t deserve it….
-don’t worry, I refuse to use THAT name…I cannot love him….
I must HAAAAAAATE him.
—@TCG: woah?! Wut?!
—@JCHall: too strong of words Zion…u cant
—@VickieHall: WOAH! TOUGH LOVE COMIN….
-it’s true…ever since he eliminated me
I HAAAAAAATE SOMEONE
It’s straight facts, guys. Since that night, I’ve changed
All I wanna do is pound every sucker who stands in MY way into a living pulp
I refuse to love anyone, even myself, until I can get my hands on BY Jelly
I’ve gotta beat him, make him see LOOOOOOOOVE.
—@VickieHall: Tread carefully my lovely….
-Vickie, I can’t let BY embarrass us and ruin our cause
Bobby Dean isn’t some joke to me this week.
He’s an ends to a mean.
I plan on using Dean as an example to the locker room.
He’ll become a sacrifice to our cause…
—@JCHall: Get ‘em Zion! You can’t slide down to last place…
I wont allow u to fail.
-Thanks Jonathan! Luv ya pal XOXO
But seriously, I gotta rack up more wins
Get us within striking distance of BY
He’s the ticket to which we can spread our loooooove
And Dean’s just another man standing in the way of my conquest
I PROMISE, I won’t lose to him
I VOW not to let him ruin what we’ve done
I’ll knock the damn bundt out of his hands and suffocate him in his own folds of fat
I mean every word. He will fall to TOUGH LOVE.
He will understand the cold, hard truth I will teach him.
I’ll do whatever it takes to send a message
And then….I’m back…
I return to your warm embrace
And we will conquer PRIME with LOOOOOOOVE
At Revival 30….LOVE STRIKES BACK with a Vengeance