The grunge movement took over Seattle and then the rest of the U.S.A. over a decade ago. Dean Ambrose was readying a movement of his own. No flannel or cardigan sweaters. Just desperate desires and un-admirable plans. The slum and squalor theme of his previous promo's continued. He could be found strolling through a dusty alley in Seattle where Halloween banners and arrangements could be seen hanging from some of the fire escapes. Most had already been torn down or were decrepit. In fact, some of them were so tattered that they might have been from the previous year. It was dark and the climate was dropping so we could see the breath of the title contender as he pressed his back against a wall. He was prepared for a fight just a short day away before he joined Seth Rollins in an attempt to steal the Tag Team Titles from Trent Barreta and Zack Ryder.
Dean Ambrose: So I understand there's some degree of confusion. I get asked "why?" a lot. Why do I hate this company with such a passion? Why do I hate guys like Trent Barreta and Zack Ryder and not just in the "wrassler" kind of way? Other than, you know, both of their completely repulsive personality traits. I want it to be very clear about why I'm doing this. I am not your "dark, demented" Vampiro peg that can fit nicely into a role. My Mom was a drunk and my Dad's been in jail since I could talk. But I'm not on some Raven "woe is me" shit. Where I'm coming from is a very pure place.
Ambrose gave his chest and more specifically his heart a few pats. He did come across as very sincere at the moment.
Dean Ambrose: I never really was much of a wrestling fan growing up. Unlike Trent or Zack I didn't dress up like Vince McMahon's now broken down and drug addicted 90's superstars for Halloween. I just saw a bunch of guy's in their underwear making mean faces at each other. Just a little distraction whenever I walked past the television. But someone I knew loved every second of it and would watch it every chance they could. Bought tons of merchandise, DVD's, action figures. I bought those things. With my hard earned money. Because this person was my little brother. Alcoholic mother, jailbird Dad..I protected him, I took care of him. And above all else, there was one wrestler that he worshiped above all the others.
This was an incredibly sore subject as just getting to the topic seemed to change his demeanor for the worst.
Dean Ambrose: Someone this federation would lead you to believe is a "legend".
And now a complete and full on scowl. The last word he uttered was completely filled with disgust.
Dean Ambrose: There are no "legends" or "heroes" or "idol's" in this company. Just the guilty. Because my bother, young and impressionable, decided that he wanted to imitate this..monster. And why not?! That's what this machine is for isn't it?! To draw in slaves? With the appeal or seeing the world and being a semi-celebrity. Oh, people like Ryder and Barreta start off with a passion but it gets diluted once they started getting recognized on the streets. When their likeness ends up on a collectors cup. And then all they are is smiling robots, straight off the assembly line. Well paid, taken care of, robots.
A small sigh escaped as detailing this entire ordeal seemed to be a very draining task for him. His voice seemed to calm a little.
Dean Ambrose: But you can understand how strong the temptation is. And why it was impossible for my brother to resist this. And imitate what he saw on television. We were dirt poor! He wanted to grow up and have a better life and existence for us!
Well, it calmed for a brief moment anyway. He had began to pace while running his hands through his messy brown hair. His teeth were beginning to grit and each word held more anger in it than the last. His voice was becoming more hectic.
Dean Ambrose: That didn't happen. He tried to be his hero and he ended up hurting himself. Severely. They took him away from me. I tried to sue but they said that I needed to be held accountable. That it was my fault.
Dean pointed directly at his chest while recalling standing in front of a judge that day. And who badly he wanted to rush the podium and rip the pompous man's face off who held his life in his hands.
Dean Ambrose: I was protecting him! His future was so bright! He could have gone to college and been something! But no. EBWF took that away from him. FROM ME. And made it look like it was my fault! I lost my job! I slept in my car.
He paused as he began to delve deeper into his history and what shaped him to be the man currently in front of the camera. His mind was always a kind of jumbled mess so it took a moment to collect his thoughts.
Dean Ambrose: So unlike, say, Zack Ryder and Trent Barreta..I didn't go to a wrestling school. I learned to fight. And it probably isn't very impressive to big, wealthy, EBWF Superstars, but I fought in the most brutal, violent, underground federations I could find. I became an "indy darling" who was just WAITING for a major company to come gobble him up. I was a sure fire prospect. But I had a plan. To get into this company by any means necessary. So I started from the very bottom. And it wasn't so much wrestling.
Ambrose tried to come up with the right term for what he took part in. He didn't want to utter something cheesy like "SUPER HARDCORE MADNESS" or any type of buzz term.
Dean Ambrose: It was more..barbwire and lights tubes and shards of glass. And I made them bleed. And bleed. AND BLEED. Somewhere Ryder and Barreta would NEVER show their pussy little Hollywood faces. And I know Trent dabbled in a hardcore match to prove himself..but not like this. But I had to start there. To wipe out every "death match" federation I could find. Because I knew some other kid, like my brother, would see these sick freaks and think what they were doing was "cool". These matches weren't five star classics, like I really give a damn, but I've scars up and down my body to prove that this was not a wasted effort. That my crusade was a just cause.
He spread his arms wide and flashed a fleeting smile while running a hand through his hair which flopped back into it's usual state of disarray. There didn't seem to be much rhyme or reason to his jerky movements.
Dean Ambrose: And here I am! EBWF. Right in the heart of the enemy. A month in and I've got a tag team title match. Not that I care about them. But I want to take everything from this company that took EVERYTHING from me! And that includes those titles. And it's only the beginning. It's just the start. Ryder and Barreta are brain washed. It's simple and true. I'm going to liberate them. It doesn't matter how many catch phrases Ryder has pumped into his brain. It doesn't matter how "angsty" and "serious" Barreta is trying to be. I'm. Going. To. Save them.
While staring into the camera he lowered his head. This caused a few shadows to conceal his face from his hair which when coupled with his intense expression made him look even more menacing.
Dean Ambrose: So hurt me. Try. I want you to try! I'm begging you! Show me some soul! You can't take anything from me. You can't stop me. You're only fighting to keep your gold. I'm fighting to save millions. I'm fighting for a lost generation.
Ambrose glared steadily into the camera now that his motivation was revealed. The camera gave a slow black out on the dismal scene.
---
Dean Ambrose and Seth Rollins had almost zero communication since becoming tag title contenders. The first time they actually teamed together it ended with a pull apart brawl between the two young men. They had no actual desire to be a team as they both have immensely different goals. But they had been thrown together after disposing of Dolph Ziggler and Jack Swagger after having separate altercations with the former Superstars. They sought to reach some common ground. Which is why they were poised to meet a smokey, dusty bar, Ambrose's pick, to try and form some kind of strategy. Ambrose was already present in a shadowy corner but sitting in front of him was not Seth Rollins. It was a rather large biker type. Overweight with a dark beard and sunglasses. A blue bandana tied around his head with long dark hair spilling out. The wooden table seperating them barely contained his girth.
Biker: Yer one of them EEE BEE DUBYA EFF superstars, ain't ya?
Ambrose didn't respond as he stared forward at the stranger and seemed to be studying his features.
Biker: Yeah. You and that long haired dude are wrasslin the Woo Woo Guy and the video game kid, right?
"..I need that seat, please.."
A figure was standing over the biker. He dismissively waved off whomever it was.
Biker: Find somewhere else. I'm talking to-
Whatever he was going to say remained a mystery as he was abruptly cut off by a wooden chair crashing over his back. The pieces collapsed and the large man fell to the floor. Seth Rollins took his spot in the chair he had been occupying. The former ROH-er stoically glared towards his "partner".'
Dean Ambrose: Well, that wasn't very honorable, was it?
Seth Rollins: I said "please".
Rollins remained icy while his eyes never left the incalculable sight in front of him.
Dean Ambrose: You should try this. It's the best pulled pork I've ever had.
Ambrose pushed his plate forward and it was promptly swatted aside and into the nearby wall.
Dean Ambrose: ..Should have just said you were a vegetarian.
Seth Rollins: I want to make this quick. I want the tag team titles. I don't like you. I don't like what you stand for. But we have to make this happen. I'm not leaving that arena empty handed. I'm taking control of this moment.
Ambrose's eyes began to darken.
Dean Ambrose: But you know my motivation now..
Seth Rollins: What happened to you was unfortunate. But you're not going about things the right away. You need help. Mental help.
Dean Ambrose: You're wrong. I'm not the one who needs help. It's everyone else.
A very tense stare off between the two occured.
Dean Ambrose: Zack Ryder has used the internet to poison and corrupt minds through that media. He's a puppet they use to enlist more victims. Trent Barreta is firmly under their control. He's used to look appealing to "nerds" who don't have the self esteem or courage to become pawns. He converts them. He-
Seth Rollins: Ok, ok. You're god damn crazy. I understand. I want to win. I have my motivation and you have yours.
Dean Ambrose: Yeah? I know about you. I've seen your stuff in ROH. Age Of The Fall? You followed that emo midget Jimmy Jacobs around. Your Hot Topic revolution. This is a REAL movement.
Seth Rollins: I don't follow anybody any more. I've got my own charge I'm leading. You're all about hurting people so they can't compete. We're not doing that.
Dean Ambrose: I'm afraid we have a disagreement then, friend. We can win the titles if thats what helps you sleep at night. But I won't be satisfied unless both of them broken.
Silence. It looked as though the two were ready to come to blows at that exact moment. But they soon found a common enemy. The biker who Rollins had attacked had friends. They began to gather around the table. A lot of leather and jeans and angry expressions. The wrestlers continued to glare at one another without acknowledging the forming mass around them. The scene went black. When the picture returned, Ambrose and Rollins were exiting the bar. Their clothes were a little scuffed up and their was bruise or two but one biker could be seen hanging out of a broken window while another had to be stepped over. The left over's from the brawl.
Dean Ambrose: You know, I figured because of that hair of yours..
Ambrose motioned a hand around his head while pointing to the two-toned hair Rollins sported.
Dean Ambrose: ..That you probably hit like a bitch..but..no..that was good!
Seth Rollins: This discussion isn't over.
Dean Ambrose: Talk about when we win those titles you want so bad! TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS!
The more erratic member of this reluctant team trailed off while throwing his fists into the sky mockingly shouting the title that didn't mean a great deal to him.
Dean Ambrose: You're coming around to my way of thinking. I can tell. And try the pulled pork next time. Seriously.
Rollins wanted to persist but after a wild fight like that, he no longer wanted to speak. Ambrose disappeared off into the shadows while Seth shook his head. Sunday was going to be a long night..
