Unlike many legends and Hall of Famers of this company,  I have realized the day and age that EAW will have to use newer faces and names to continue it's prolonged legacy. I have no doubt about it because I was one of the few legends to try and help most of these newer faces to cross the borderline of success and carry the torch once guys like me eventually call it quits permanently. But as you look at our past history and stare into reality of this business, only a few newer guys are able to remain loyal and consistent. You wonder why you still see guys like Y2Impact, Brian Daniels or Devan Dubian careless about holding back their legacies for the next generation. I have finally come to my senses that no matter what you do for people, all of it doesn't really matter. We all hold our own foot inside the door and it takes a manly decision to take your desire and run with it. So I have no more sympathy for any new talent. They are the new wave and have opportunities to take upon themselves to step into the spotlight. Much like me, I have already made my decision. I'm here to win championships. I'm here to carry that spotlight until I'm officially passed away and gone. I'm considered the "Greatest Of All Times," for taking my own recognition and flossing with it. I no longer desire to become a pioneer for this business, I have already done that. Now I desire to expand on something that ended shortly. My era of dominance only lasted a year when I should have revolutionized more than just some silly group named Project E.G.O. or my reign of terror that everyone acknowledges back in 2011. But I guess that's one thing that you can say about me. I spend quality time with the reigns that I have held in this business. No one can take that away from me, not even Jacob Senn himself. What is a disgrace to call himself the rightful World Champion? Shouldn't everyone feel entitled to say such things, Jacob? I mean, if I were in your shoes and you were in my own, wouldn't you say the same? I'm a fearless competitor and never struck away from placing bold statements. Because I know that it will all come to life. My words are powerful and speaks volume to my future. It will happen to the point of redemption. It's my time again now and this won't end as the same fairy-tale story that you want to believe. Brian Daniels vs. The Heart Break Boy was a classic showcase, no doubt about it but now it's time to look passed that. Brian Daniels is doing his own thing and the Heart Break Boy is trying to finish what never started. Jacob, you're just the man that will become apart of the lost era. And for that, you should thank me. You should thank me for becoming apart of my legacy because whether you like it or not, your legacy is easy to look passed. No one in their rightful mind are placing your legacy on that big pedestal to call it "over-the-top." Don't get me wrong, you have beaten great legends and proven that you are Hall of Fame worthy. However, you have not proven to call for a unique display of legendary matches or feuds. You're just there are the sixth man of the year and will never understand how to fight through the real hard-knocks to create a valuable "Greatest of All Time," legacy. I'm only a man that speak truth of this matter. And the truth will reveal the rightful captain of that EAW World Heavyweight Championship.

Place no thoughts into this Jacob. I can say this all day, over and over again. I'm going to knock your teeth down your throat. It's not the time anymore to continue bickering back and forth about which HBB will show up. I'm already here and I have been shown what type of light that will approach you inside that ring. Your time is almost finished and the people have sought the finish of an excellent reign. But an even bigger part of the reign will override your reason to compete. Dynasty is about to come back into my arms as MY show. Throughout my years, I have always been known as a leader. No one can understand my ideas and work ethnic to the point that I don't need to win fifty reigns to become considered the greatest. My scrap-sheet of capabilities and talent alone breathes life into what the Golden Boy is really about. Questions then linger of why do I continue this line of work if I don't need a reign. It's simple, I need one more shot to prove that at any given time or moment, I can become the man that everyone wants to fear, that wants to beg the differ that the Heart Break Boy can't hold the candle anymore. I'm on my way and nothing will ever stop me from believing. Since 2015, all I wanted was a chance to be able and compete. In 2016, I just wanted to have the whole entire world believe that I can still compete at an higher caliber. In 2017, this is where the last straw is drawn. I'm going to become the clear cut face of this industry again. And you can all me what you want. "Old Yeller," or "Has Been." It all won't matter because this "Old Yeller," is about to teach you a thing or two. For one, to respect me for what I'm trying to accomplish. For two, have some humility whenever I'm aiming right at your head. Trust me, it should be a privilege to get your ass handed to you by the Heart Break Boy. Jacob, you are lines in-between burial and punishment. You can't kneel your way out of this one. You can't use my genitals as a breaking point to eliminate me anymore. All you have is your two fists, your two legs, and your small petite brain to be able to shut down your Golden Boy. There's no way in hell that I will allow anything to stop me. Like I've said, you can bring your little bride, Brody Sparks to the ring. You can bring Hitler's army, or an entire line of people that envies the Heart Break Boy. I'm going to kick through every single one of them just how I kicked through the doors of having an ACW loyalty become an EAW legend. 

Once again, I am a desperate man, willing to do desperate things. I can call it a hustle for a man that has nothing and about to lose it all but able to strive at his last minutes of final punishment to save his soul, his family and life itself. I am a desperate man. I will do desperate things. I will not fail once again, Senn. You can see it in my eyes, I have no energy to tolerate it anymore. This match may become an instant classic. Just like almost every match that I have becomes an instant classic. But only a handful has that classic match end in my favor. This shall be one of my very own turnarounds. You will be placed on board for the Heart of Doom. I'm going to to show EAW something much more expensive than it has ever seen before. I will be the flashing light that drives this company into newer depths. I will become the best champion that this world can't bare to hold onto. This is a once and a lifetime competitor and I choose to walk on water to get what I want. Jacob Senn, I must admit, you are a great talker and stand behind your words. I respect a man that can hold his own when the world is against him. I know that you feel underappreciated but how do you think that makes me feel? No one has ever acknowledged the Heart Break Boy for his contributions to this business. Where is my appreciation stands? For six years, all my hard work and sleepless nights have faded off. But this match right here will make noise. My boot is going to make noise. My name will make noise. Jacob Senn, you will make noise after you have fallen down into a cradle and realized that you have sacrificed it all, only to end up empty in the end. It will be a battle-cry for this situation. My heart sings to the altar to reunite with that EAW World Heavyweight Championship. Only a few more days, time will tell. I'm on my way again... I'm on my way... 

The Golden Boy is on his way.

Can you smell that? That's the scent of rubble and gold permeating the air; a herald of something big—king-sized, if you'll excuse the pun— as the latter inches closer by the second. God, I love it. Saturday night's King of Elite may be my first, however, now that I've gotten to take a stroll down the road leading up to it, I'm kind of gutted I didn't arrive here any sooner. Granted, I'm more gutted that I'm not in the running for the King's spot, but that one is pretty academic. After all, my name wasn't even considered for the qualifying matches. Instead, they chose to line up a selection of kids that people still confuse the names of and hasbeens that most people want to forget the names of, because why bother catapulting your hottest talent to the very forefront of your lines when brand pride is at stake, right?! I'm not too sure where or who to pin this fucked-up strategy on either. My first guess would be Lance Hart, but we all know that he's just a puppet dangling by the string in a much more intricate, corporate operation. Is it the fans' fault for gobbling down the same ol' stale bullshit without one flutter of the eyelashes? One thing is for sure, it's not the wrestlers. And when I say wrestlers, I'm automatically peeling off the crop of Elitists that reap benefit from Voltage's impending demise. I'm talking about the rare few like yours truly, who bust their asses every single day of the week to hone their craft and become the best at it. If anything, we're the ones preventing the ship from sinking. Although we're constantly cast aside and undermined, we still swallow down our pride and go out there to put on the finest show possible—why? Because we LOVE this fucking brand. We live and breathe Voltage, as cheesy as that sounds. It's been my home since my first time walking in the door, and I haven't left since. Against the plethora of the temptations and reasons that could have prompted a justifiable departure, I kept my foot down and stood my ground. It's called loyalty. Yeah, despite all the shit stains soiling my name, I still uphold that trait with a head raised up high. But you see, one downside to being loyal is how easy it is for others to use it against you. Take the management for instance. They knew I was a tad off my fucking rocker from the get-go, yet they were the first to lobby for me once I signed under the dotted line to officially become an EAW Elitist. I often wondered what their essential motives were at that point, and now I get it. They saw something in me that every fan, peer and other brands seemed to sleep on; I was a hound. Hungry, acrimonious and rough around the edges, but a hound nonetheless. They somehow succeeded in unearthing the qualities that I've always done my best to sweep under the rug, one of which was loyalty. Upon taming a hound, you earn his trust. When you earn his trust, you have his loyalty and that, right there, is a very dangerous sword to wield ESPECIALLY when it's forged by me. Unlimited freedom and control lie at the palm of your hand. It didn't matter how they utilize it, for good or bad, I wasn't going to budge either way. Unfortunately, the suits opted for the latter case and worse, abused the luxury until the shackles grew too tight for me to continue brandishing—so I broke free. Somewhat, anyway. They still maintain a level of control over me, whether I like it or not. The last say in my matches and short-term plans still goes to them, but here's the kicker; I have the freedom to go about them however I see fit. I'm allowed to run roughshod all over the place without a single peep heard from anyone about it. In a way, I dictate what they have the last say about. The hound is now the one tugging at the leash and trust me when I tell you, all the mistreatment will be paid back. Tenfold.

I'm going to make every soul in the office, or even in the stands, that ever doubted me regret it with every fiber of their being. How, you might ask? Well, I don't fancy going back to prison anytime soon, so that rules out the possibility of me punching my way through every executive and fan in sight. I'll just settle for the second best thing; unleash all of that pent-up frustration and rage on everyone's favorite hero, Mr. Nasir Moore! It's not like Nasir himself is holding out on me in terms of giving away valid incentive to cave his face in. The redundancy of his speeches alone gets my knuckles itching. I mean, we've been at this war of attrition for what, a couple of days now? Yet, each monologue of his is a slightly tweaked version of the last. I actually managed to create a game of sorts in between training sessions for our match, it's called: "Guess what comes out of Nasir's mouth next!"—name of the game remains subject to change. Whoever's hearing this is more than welcome to play along. It's fairly easy, once you get the hang of it. Just listen to Nas talk once and you're good to go. I sure have, plenty of times, albeit reluctantly. The more I do nowadays though, the more I want to zone out his voice forever. Worst thing about it? He's already well aware of this, yet continues doing it regardless. This man, who barely achieved anything of plausible magnitude as of late—other than paying off a few folks to cause a riot and beating an old, rusty shell of a once... good wrestler in Carlos Rosso—still has the audacity to proclaim himself THE man. THE guy who was destined to fit into this mold that's supposed to make him holier-than-though. Surprisingly, you're sort of right, Nas. You're put on this earth solely to fit molds. Never to shatter them and become your own person, oh no. You're content with walking in the footsteps of established legends, hoping it will lead you down a similar path. Yeah, you fit the mold alright; the mold of a goddamn Walter Mitty. You just can't seem to get it through your dense head, can you? YOU LIVE IN A FANTASY WORLD, NASIR! YOU BUILD YOUR GOALS AND ASPIRATIONS ON THE WOBBLY FOUNDATION OF DREAMS THAT WILL NEVER SEE THE LIGHT OF REALITY! WHY. DON'T. YOU. UNDERSTAND?! You think people really care about you or what you represent? You're nothing more than an image to them. A clothesline upon which they hang their wildest fantasies; like lacing up a pair of boots and duking it out inside the ring, or sleeping with the boss's missus (wink, wink). Now I realize how quick you are to take pride in that which is understandable, IF you were the only one of your kind. Newsflash: You're not. Plenty of "crowd reflections" have emerged onto the scene here in EAW, they come and go pretty frequently and hell, I believe there's quite the handful of them parading about the locker room right now. So you see, Nas, not only do you lead an aimless existence that is fueled by a multitude of aspirations and little effort to make any of them happen, you also view yourself a deity among sinners which speaks volumes about just how delusional a man can get. It's funny how you're thanking me for giving you a fight before the actual fight takes place, presuming nobody else before me was qualified to do the same. It just goes to show the level of competition that you were fed while I wasn't around and you weren't getting your ass handed to you in big-time matches. Of course, you had to point out the couple of losses that I was handed by guys like Drastik and Y2Impact to make your case seem a bit less horrible than it is, and I'm not gonna fault you for it. It's like I said before; you're desperate and any functioning pair of optics can catch whiff of that from a mile away. Still, I'm not going to let you drag my name through the mud without putting your ass in check about a few deets. The fact is, I lost to those two guys fair and square and I admit that. Additionally, I admitted earlier that I've seen better months than the last couple. Be that as it may, when will YOU admit that you've never seen any in your own right? After all, at least I was riding high for the majority of last year before hitting a couple of speed bumps whereas you never really took off, Nas. Like, at all. You were passed around like a rag doll between people, constantly failing to capitalize on the myriad of opportunities that came your way, before finally gaining some traction with that whole anti-GM thing. Anything memorable past that point? You know, other than being outshined by bonafide main event talent at every single turn. That's what I thought. And please, spare me the depression talk. Like I give two shits what you had to battle through emotionally in order to stay true to whatever morals you have. You're talking to someone who was raised by a single crackhead mother for less than a decade before learning to do it on his own while dabbling in the same habit on the street. You're right about one thing; I know EXACTLY what it feels like to be all alone in this world. You, on the other hand, don't. So do me a favor, and stop flaunting that front in hopes of garnering sympathy, because you're not getting any here. As far as I'm concerned, you're one of those posers that I referred to a couple of days ago who pretend to know what it's like to be pushed down the bottom and then having to claw their way back up, when in reality, they don't know jackshit. 

You hit the nail right on its head with one fact; you are, indeed, an idiot. For you to gloss over how stupid your plan of making it to the top as your "true self" and vow to always go through with it regardless, that defines idiocy. Why would you insist on donning this shtick of yours when you've been doing it for nine months, NINE FUCKING MONTHS, to no avail?! If it stood any chance in hell at succeeding, I think it would have happened at least once already. Consider it a shot in the dark though, 'cause what do I know? I'm just the guy whose stock apparently plummeted but is somehow scheduled to compete in a one-an-one match at one of the biggest free-per-views of the year. And then Nassy boy goes on to rip my logic. Rich, oh how rich! About as rich as him claiming that I turned my back on my beliefs to get ahead, like he knows EXACTLY what I believe in. Let's get one thing straight here, brother; I didn't turn my back on anything or anyone to move a couple of paces forth. I BELIEVE in one thing and one thing only; be the biggest dog in the yard by any means necessary. If it means stomping on smaller paws then that's a risk I'm willing to take. You can't convince me otherwise, nobody in this world can. Just as I can't convince you that you're digging your grave every time you open your mouth to speak. Don't think I haven't caught on your subtle dissing of Voltage in each one of your speeches, amigo. Not that I don't agree with it, but that's me. I'm entitled to being vocal about the shitty state this place is at without any care in the world for the repercussions that may ensue. Sadly, you can't say the same, Nas. You're constantly pushed to the edge of the unemployment line as it is, so rambling the way you do about those who pay your bills is not the wisest career move for you right now. Alas, that's just my two cents on the matter. I get it though. I get that you're trying to be edgy and live up to the rebellious legacy that your stillborn character Capitani left and I respect that, to a modest extent. As a matter of fact, I respect YOU. That's why, if you hadn't noticed by now, I tend to refrain from pushing the dagger in any deeper with each word that I speak in your name, in spite of the voices inside advocating the opposite. Out of respect, not for the delusional person that you've become, but for the talented performer that you've always been. You're far from the best in the world, unlike what you might fool yourself into believing, but you have always been on my to-fight list and come King of Elite, I get to check you off.

 
This isn’t me against the world. It was never set out to be me against the world. This is me against Aria Jaxon. I can make metaphors or go over fun talking points, but they go so far above you that you reach out and grasp them and start twisting them into something else. I don’t care that the fans absolutely adore everything you do or say. I don’t care that the majority of the people in this company can’t keep their hands off of their dicks when they think about you. I only find it ironic that I was probably barely considered as a Vixen of the Year candidate when I know full and well that I’m about to beat you to defend the Women’s World Championship. It makes no difference to me what people think about my motivations. No one out there cares about my dreams or my aspirations. I’m the only one that does. I treasure that for myself. I listen to people I still thought were friends tell me my 15 minutes of fame are up. Not you, but the point remains. In fact, you might be the only person in this company that believes I have an ounce of talent. It again makes no difference. Because I know what I’m capable of and I know what’s going to happen when we meet this weekend. I will never be one to sell myself or anyone else short. That’s part of what’s made me so god damn good. And you know that. One only needs to take a look back at Empress of Elite and see how I treated every single opponent, regardless of their status or time in this company, with the exact same laser fucking focus. And if anyone thinks that was anything special, look how that again came about and was turned up to another level when I fought Sheridan last month. Now I promise you that you’re about to feel this intensity cranked all the way up to fucking 11. There’s no chance in hell I’m walking into King of Elite with this title and walking out empty handed. These are the kind of moments I was made for. When it comes down to one-on-one matches with everything on the line, I’m the one that was bred to come out on top of these moments. And when I pin your shoulders to the mat at King of Elite, that is proven once again. I’ll stand with my title and that crowd will shower me with boos, but I don’t care. This match doesn’t have some extra significance because it’s a chance to beat you. It should be us. It has to be us. We are the best women in this company. We might not be the past, but we are the present and we will be the future and there’s nothing and no one that can change that. That’s why I know in my heart this isn’t the last time. This is the first time we fight over this title. We’re about to embark in a rivalry story that will be told well after we’re done. Just like the ones we hear about involving those that call them selves OGs, this is when we officially take over. But the first moment will be marked by my win, not by me losing everything.
 
You don’t think being a champion meant everything to me? You don’t think I’m well aware of how badly it would feel to lose it so quickly? Do you forget I stood by your side backstage after Pain for Pride? Imagine the emotions I went through after that event. I watched one of my friends happy and proud with yet another PFP moment under her belt as she stood there holding the title that I gave a name to. I lost a grueling fucking battle of 10 people to her. It came down to us. I had her beat. I lost. I fucked up. And then I watched you walk backstage feeling exactly how I did after I lost at Grand Rampage. It was a flashback. It was a reason to turn things around. I’ll admit I was in a rut from the end of April through that time in July. But I wasn’t willing to just fucking take it and swallow. I made the change myself. How many times have you watched them stack the odds against me, paint me as the underdog and only for me to come out on top? How many times have you watched them say I’m the clear favorite in a match and seen me prove that through utter dominance? Nothing changes with me at King of Elite. I’m still going to be the person that fights in this same way. I grew hungrier that you understand after Pain for Pride. It’s been a hunger that’s gone on and on for months. And even now, as a champion, it remains insatiable. I just can’t find what it takes to satisfy it. There are so many people in this company that would be satisfied with the participation ribbon they’d receive from being in this match. They would see it as a clear observation by someone from the top of the company that they’re doing well enough to deserve something. They would see it as a small confirmation in their status in this company. That will never be good enough for me or you. That’s why everyone knows this match will be so damn good. Someone said it best online earlier this week. Aria vs. Cailin: We all win. Yes, everyone who views us fighting in Denmark probably does take home some sort of lasting memory. Both of us will take a lasting memory, too. The winner will never forget this because of what it will take in order to win. I guarantee the loser will never forget because of how close they came to winning. Really, the title is more of a secondary prize to whoever manages to come out on top of this war. Much like your loss at Pain for Pride and your short time with the Vixen’s title sticks in your craw, this one will stick in left, right, up, down and sideways. This will be one that bothers you for a long time. That’s right baby girl, I said bother. And no one is ever bothered by a win, so I think you know where you fall in this match. Someday we’ll probably share bottles of wine and have a laugh over all of this. But this week we’re going to scratch and claw, punch and slap and spill our blood and tears over a simple piece of gold. But in the end, it’s still going to be my gold, even if it’s covered in your crimson.
 
I’m a little shocked you would bring your buildup to Triple Threat into this and what Eris said. You’re paraphrasing a delusional, bipolar sociopath. She was put on this planet to say crazy stuff and then smile as you wrapped your head around and tried to figure it out. Poor girl is off somewhere now dealing with that deep brand that Claudia put in her. But I hope she’s getting the help that she needs. I promise you some lame boyfriend jokes you’ve received will probably never compare to the very personal jokes that are made towards me on account of my sexuality. I’m not trying to place one over the other in importance, I’m really not. I’m just saying there’s probably a great deal more sting when they’re making dyke jokes. But they’ve never really crawled under my skin of affected me all that much. I’ve always powered through everything with a simple roll of the eyes or a good-hearted laugh. Even as the Heart Break Gal’s repeated approach was to play schoolyard bully, I was just above all that nonsense. All these people have always told me I don’t belong here or that this chance is my last chance, but in most case they couldn’t be further from the truth. Look at Cameron telling me before Empress of Elite that if I didn’t win the crown my career would be over. I knew I was winning that tournament before she said that, but how ridiculous does that sound? I’m fighting HBG over my Specialist’s title and she says after she beats me I’ll fade away and never be heard from again. I mean somewhere even Kora Kosgrove is reading this garbage and texting a whole promo out, “like LOL, OMG!” You’re hardly the only person that’s ever dealt with this bullshit. We both fought through so much to make it here. I just happened to be the last person to get an opportunity at the top prize. And I had to absolutely earn it in every single way. There were no chances handed to me. I know there were no chances “handed” to you either, but take a look at what I had to do just to get a match for the top title in our division. Not saying one of us is the chosen one over the other, but if I lose it would probably take me another fucking year to get a shot back at you. Hell, I won’t be shocked if you lose and we’re fighting over this title two months from now. That’s just the reality of the way things seem to go for me in this company. That has nothing to do with my motivations for this match, though. Fuck the past or the future, this is the present. I’m the champion right now. My time is right now. I’m not planning ahead for what I’m doing after this weekend. I’m defending this title like it’s my whole life and legacy, because it damn near is. If I don’t leave every single part of me in that ring in order to come out still holding on to that title, I’d be disappointed in myself. This is what I remade myself for. This is why I spent so much time in the gym working on my craft and recreating and improving the product I bring to that ring night in and night out. I’m not about to become the champion and let it slip because someone else has dreams and aspirations, too. If I don’t win this weekend, it better be because I wake up in a Denmark hospital coming out of a coma.
 
There was a time we weren’t given the chance to do anything. They put a door in front of us and placed a sign on it. Only a handful of women were allowed to enter it. There was a time when we were passed over for people who didn’t even deserve a shot. Random women thrown into title opportunities while seemingly doing nothing to find their way into that match. We weren’t content. We kicked the fucking door down and we took what we wanted. We did things along the way that were loved and hated, cheered and booed. We had success and failures. We made mistakes. We made up for them with triumphs. But nothing has changed is from who we are. Not really. Some want to believe I’m different now because they boo me. You see that I’m still the same determined person I’ve always been. You may think I elevated this title just by winning it the way I did, but who remembers Haruna Sakazaki for winning the Specialist’s title the way she did, really? I’m an architect. A mutual friend of ours might see herself as the leader of the “new age” of women that came into this company, but I’ve always been one that’s designing and building things from the ground up. I’m not stopping with the foundation though, Aria. I’m going to build this whole house. I’m going to meticulously design and build every single thing about it both inside and out and make sure that it has my grand stamp of approval on it before it ever goes out on the market and falls into someone else’s hand. This real estate ain’t for sell yet, darling. This title is just beginning to build its luster and prestige, and I WILL be the one that raises this title exactly where it needs to be. I know how into writing that chapter you are, but you might as well take all of those papers you’ve started to write and just toss them into the fire. My desire to win this match is going to overwhelm anything you have planned for this weekend. Our match will go down as one of the biggest women’s matches in this company’s history, no matter the outcome. But it will also be remembered for my victory. We will light Denmark on fire with our performance, Aria. There’s absolutely no doubt about that. And I will show the world once again why I make such a damn great champion.

Carson. Carson. Carson. You just don’t get it do you? I am Nasir Moore, and you should know me well enough by now to know these few things. I love to ramble, that’s my signature style when speaking to others and breaking down the different scenarios and situations that I end up in. I am a hero to these people not because I wanted to be viewed as such purely for the honor and the glory and the admiration, but because these fans need someone to be able to look up to in hope can clean up this mess that is Sunday Night Voltage, and whether I like it or not, I am the only man fit for that job. I’ve had to grow and adapt into this mold that I now fit perfectly into. It’s been a bumpy road. I never once said it was easy. I never once said it would become easy in the future. And quite frankly I don’t want it that way. I am just thankful that unlike the last has been that went one on one with me on free per view, you’re actually giving me a fight. I’m a bit honored by that in fact, because it seems ever since your seemingly endless rivalry with Kenny Drake ended, all you’ve done was be a hit or miss performer at best! Since Shock Value you’ve had both Drastik AND Impact in singles competition and you blew both opportunities! So yeah, I am appreciative that you’re putting in some time and effort to make this one challenging and enjoyable for me. As everyone knows, I love a good fight. It gets me riled up. Makes the blood in my veins flow a bit faster. And you are right about one thing that ties into this Ramsay. I’ve never had it easy in life. Not just through my career, but in my life period, it’s been a struggle to survive let alone thrive. I’ve suffered through loneliness and depression. Carson I believe you too know what it’s like to feel all alone in this world. Understood by none, and hated by all. My pain and suffering from being alone. I had one of two options. Either show the same hatred back to those all who showed it to me, or rise up and become a man far greater than any of them ever anticipated I would or could. To make all of my doubters acknowledge my ability and turn them into Nasir Moore believers...even if it is just one at a time. And something else you pointed out Carson. You’re right, I realize I’m damn good in the ring, but to call myself the best today is farfetched. Now there’s no true way to prove whether I am the absolute best on the planet or not. I couldn’t face every man in this company to prove it, let alone those outside of the reach of the land of the elites. But one thing that I do know is if I don’t have the confidence to believe in myself that I am the best, then not a single goddamn person will either. That’s essentially the reasoning behind calling myself that Carson. If I don’t believe in me then who else will? And then you bring up our time spent together outside of the ring. We shared literally no camera time together as allies before this all took place, but here we are now. Finally about to enter the ring together at one of the biggest Free Per Views of the year no less. Only it will not be entering the ring side by side as friends or even facing one another in friendly competition to see who the better man is. No no no. It’s going to be us trying to beat each other down to the mat as heated enemies. Once I watched your change of demeanor back in December when you costed Drastik the EAW Hardcore Championship against Jon McAdams, I knew something was not right with you. I guess it was only a matter of time before you set your sights on me then. Then again like I said, this is not how I imagined spending this week. I’ve never been a picky kind of guy though, I take what I can get. And as I said before, this is one of the most highly anticipated matchups fans of Voltage have been waiting for. The first time ever. Nasir Moore going up against Carson Ramsay. The Agent of Change going up against the Defiler of Ordinary. Now, I know one of my biggest issues is that I think way too much with my heart and not enough with my brain. If I were less emotionally invested and more mentally invested in many situations, I’d probably be a former Elite Answers Wrestling Champion by now. I fully realize that. But I suppose I really am an idiot and a glutton for punishment after all. Because if I am going to make it in this crazy place, then goddamnit I am going to do it as me. With all my positive and negative attributes intact. And I know, we are all here to compete to be the best. That’s what we’re paid to do. Wrestle in that ring. Only, you’ve got it half correct. We’re paid indirectly by the fans to enter that ring and compete to see who’s the best for their enjoyment. That’s what you should have said Carson. I’ve got no problems accepting that. My problem is the fact that you had to cause a problem with me. You came to me seeking a fight, and now you wanna act as if you’re so high and mighty and that you are above having a Free Per View match against me? What kind of backwards logic is that? You instigated this entire situation. Ramsay, you’re the person responsible for this matchup even taking place to begin with. So two things. First, thanks for getting me another Free Per View spot, very much appreciated. And second, whether you want to admit it or not, YOU need this match a hell of a lot more than I do!

Carson you realize that your stock has plummeted tremendously since Pain For Pride Nine way back when in July, almost eight months ago. That’s a long long time. And for the longest time I preached for you to be the next breakout main event star alongside me. I wanted you to be the one fighting the good fight alongside me for a better tomorrow throughout not just Sunday Night Voltage, but the entirety of the Land of the Elites. We were going to bring life and creativity back to this wasteland that is the Sunday Night brand. We were going to resurge it’s popularity and return it to the former glory it once possessed in the seasons prior. And then we both got sidetracked from our championship pursuits. You with Kenny Drake, and myself with Carlos Rosso. Now I made quick work of Rosso once he finally decided to see me in the ring like a man. Meanwhile you and Kenny took each other to hell and back and neither of you were around to talk about it the next week. Two men entered the ring on their own to feet, and neither walked away from it on them afterwards. And now Kenny is off brainwashing even more people into joining his Wolvesden. Meanwhile you of all the people in the world turned your back on what you believed in simply to get ahead. I suppose I cannot fault you for seizing the opportunity, but it didn’t have to be this way Carson. But what’s happened is set in stone. If I couldn’t convince Aren to see the light, I already know trying to make you budge is a lost cause as well. Speaking of which, you sure do seem to love reminding me about Aren, even in his absence. I mean, the dude hasn’t been here since November. And even then, even if I didn’t take the EAW Championship away from him at Territorial Invasion, I gave him a going away present when I roundhouse kicked his head off and delayed his inevitable title loss to Y2Impact at Shock Value. And yes your right. I said I’d rather live in the brand that I imagine Voltage being rather than the hell hole that it is now. That Carson, is what I meant when I said my fantasy for the brand versus the reality of it. It’s a barren wasteland with nothing positive to offer anyone who is trapped in it. It’s not an enjoyable place to be. It truly is a primitive place where only the strong can survive. Now sorry if this ideal makes me a progressive asshole, but that’s bullshit to me. Straight up. I’m not one to question the business and...well to hell with that, anyone who’s known me for any amount of time knows that it’s my whole shtick and practically my fucking job to question the business and its practices. And I don’t know about you but, I’d say I have a damn good spot on this show. Still not quite where I want to be, but damn good nonetheless. I mean I am the single most popular man on the show for one. That’s always something nice to have going for you huh? It doesn’t matter what other traits you have if no one wants to see you. I mean, I’ve got the in ring ability, I have the tenure, I have the speaking ability. I’d go as far as to say I’m not a half bad looker either. But I can see one little bit of your point. Clearly you do not want to take my spot. Because if you did you would not have turned your back on these people for your own selfish desires Ramsay. Because that’s pretty much the main thing with my spot. I am the representation of the Elite Answers Wrestling Fans. My heart and soul, mind and body, my being. It is one with all of them. The people who wear my t-shirts, the people who make signs dedicated to me, the kids who aspire to grow up to be like me, those who loyally stand beside me through thick and thin in the hopes of a brighter future and a better tomorrow that I and only I can bestow onto this brand on their behalf. They are the reason I get up every day and I go through what I do. I do this for each and every one of them. Why? Because Carson it’s just like I said before, someone has to take the responsibility of fighting for them. And without the people there would not be a Nas. So think of it as my way of giving back to them for what they’ve done for me. I’m sorry that things had to be this way Carson Ramsay, but I can’t afford to spend months on end dealing with you. I came back to Elite Answers Wrestling last April with one goal in mind. And that was to etch my name into the history books forever. To be listed alongside all of the all time greats of our business. From generation to generation. To be immortalized and acknowledged for all of time for your contributions to the wrestling world and more specifically to the land of the elites. For years and years of hard work and dedication to pay off and amount to something. For myself to rise above the mediocrity that this company has always dictated that I am and rub shoulders with the god’s who helped mold this crazy world of ours known as EAW into the titan that it is today. To be recognized by all as the absolute best without question. That is what I want. In order to achieve that goal, I must continue to move forward. I must press on towards the Elite Answers Wrestling Championship. Which means I must run straight through you at King of Elite Carson Ramsay...my old friend.

☤Words and images on a black screen.☤

Lies.

Misinformation.

A show of masks and illusions.

This is the mist I speak of all the time.







☤Jones appears.☤

Yet that guy Zuckerberg is one of the most influential people in the world, people ignore his history before his big launch and like to give people the benefit of the doubt, so much that some even think he’s a nice guy and countries worldwide make deals with that kind of character. He’s a true sovereign of his kind.

One of the key knowledges a ruler needs to know is that most people have little to no attention span, even less have true moral codes. Those most important, those who you need to support your power? They’re even worse than the average person amongst the masses, they make deals with those who otherwise would be considered criminals if they didn’t have something to offer them, you have country leaders

I watch people like Drastik, and he’s just like the masses, he is both easily distracted from what’s most important and far too mesmerized by empty gestures that keeps him from seeing the bigger picture.

Like a fatuous self-obsessed socialite typing away with smiley faces and laughs they don’t mean, Drastik is just trying to make the most contact with people regardless of if everything he says and does is empty, even if he’s not really paying that much attention at all.

Beauty in defeat? I’m now revving up to that. Really Drastik?

You really are quite the piece of work, all week you’ve admittedly been quite the fast responder, but the content of what comes out of your mouth has really suffered. Mostly because you don’t take the time to absorb information, let alone put in the work to give a response you should find dignity in. I’m starting to realize why sometimes O’Hara skips out from even speaking to you. Half the time you don’t know who either of us is talking to, other times you’re clearly speaking past us, and you have the strangest interpretations on the planet. I was out here talking about not being effected by words and mind games like the regular person, I tell you I live by a different scoreboard because you bullying me wouldn’t even cross my mind because I’m not like these people that could ever believe that their bullied…..and you take that as me setting up excuses and happy fun time messages about how there is good in losing?

Let’s set the record right now, there is nothing to gain in defeat.

I know damn well, these people don’t remember the work others put into matches, and epic contests to them are moments that fade from their memory in a matter of weeks….if they ever were enamored with the art of it all in the first place. They don’t remember fighters, they don’t remember how much love and hard work is put into what you do, they remember winners. So where’s the beauty in losing? Oh, I bleed for this business, yes unlike you I have pride in what I do no matter what, but I’ve never lived under some fantasy where you gain by going out there and losing. I’ve dusted off defeats from my shoulders to move on so I can continue building my story and reach victories in other places, but just like you Drastik I hate losing. Why would I have given O’Hara such a hard time about his little story about the good of losing the chamber, if such a thing existed anywhere within my personal character?  You’re a confused type, and though I won’t call it dyslexia, I will liken it to a lost babe in the woods, or better yet a lost traveler in the mist who doesn’t seem like he can make anything from his surroundings, before he is gunned down in a foreign place.

I’m glad I’ve sparked an awakening in you Jamie, but your petty labels make very little difference to the type of man who is indifferent with what the puppet masses think of my motives. Envy? Desperation? Those are mere buzzwords that people think offend those who await knocking down someone on a higher pedestal, there are words people use in front of crowds to make someone feel bad as that someone will panic thinking the people will laugh at desperate envy men. I am numb to your words, because I know how people work, I know how the world works. They’re all moldable. I haven’t had what I wanted just yet, but I know once I obtain the crown the pieces will fall into place, the last two years won’t matter when the doubts of the people are forgotten and they all grovel before me for my favour, for my attention, and to know what I do next. You try to play the game like turnabout is fair play, and it is, but the problem is I was never down in the dumps asking for people to feel sorry for me like you were, so these talks of deny my ecstasy and the blatant ill will towards me does not phase me. Neither am I the one who walks around here promoting the idea of fighting, oh sure I fight as hard as I can, but that is a means to an end rather than something I consider glorious in of itself, I fight to win.

Right now Jamie, I’m the most doubted man in this match. But once I obtain the crown, people will turn to hanging on every word I say, they will become my greatest supporters like they were bugs under a rock this entire time. You call me a gnat, but what will you say when that gnat is the one who ensured your path to kingship was sent off track? Will you speak so lowly of me then? Will it be words of hatred from your mouth mumbled? Or will you slither into the darkness, humbled?

☤End.☤

Through all of the sarcasm and satire, I want to ask you one simple question, Methuselah. If you were in my shoes, what would have you done? You have you accepted the mediocrity bared across your shoulders, or would have you stood back up and walked back through the flames of war that once knocked you down? That’s the question that separates the mighty from the weak. I had to watch as many names stood in your way, and I had to watch as all of those names fell. Whether they were men with all of the potential in the world; whether they were men that were considered legends; whether they were men that were considered one of the greatest of all time - you knocked them back down. They crumbled into the nothing; they were never able to handle everything that they had lost. It took Y2Impact two years before he managed to pick himself back up and drag himself near the position that he once stood. Lethal Consequences quickly faded away into the obscurity that he had managed to avoid of the majority of this career. Robert Vendetta still hasn’t managed to recover after the war that you labelled the Battle of the Gods. That’s the main thing that separates off of those names from the two of us. I already know the answer to the question that I already ask. It’s the name answer that only I would give. You wouldn’t lay down. You wouldn’t surrender. You would continue to sweat. You would continue to bleed. You would continue to give every ounce to energy that you could until there was nothing left, and you would still force yourself back onto your hands and knees and crawl back through the flames of war asking, begging for more. I could have waited until the award show; I could walked through that curtain and asked for a chance to redeem myself for that loss at Pain for Pride, but we both know that I would have been shot down immediately. I would have been told to put my head down and make my way back up that ramp because we’ve both said it best; you have nothing to gain from his. You’ve beaten me before. You did it on the grandest stage of them all because I fell just short. I had to make you want this match just as much as I did. I had to get under your skin. I had this match in my pocket the moment that I spiked you on the top of your head at Road to Redemption, but the rest of it all was just fun.
 
But, while you may have nothing to gain from beating me at King of Elite - you have almost, if not just as much as I do to lose. If I lose at King of Elite, I have absolutely nothing to fall back on. I’m down to my last few chips and I’ve put all of them in. I lose at King of Elite and forced to start back down at the bottom of the ladder and begin making that long climb back to the top. But, Methuselah, take a look around and take a look as the walls that you’ve built around yourself begin to crack. The pillar that you sit on is starting to crumble The name Methuselah doesn’t hold the same might that it once did. Your family have been forced to take bullets for you - more than likely been forced to give up their own career because of your own mistakes. Hamasa isn’t going to stay around forever - especially once the man adores is humbled in front of the millions that are going to be watching so intently. That leaves you with nothing more than the jester of a god, oh Zen Guardian. What will you have then, Methuselah? What happens to the legacy that you once cherished more than life itself? What happens to your claims of being the best to have laces up a pair of wrestling boots? What happens to the moment chills run down their spine the moment that your name is uttered? Every single piece of it all gets tarnished. Your security blanket begins to go up in flames. The fantasy land that you’ve bought into begins to turn into a seemingly never ending nightmare. You’ll look around and know, wholeheartedly, that there was only one name that has brought you to your knees. I’ve said it multiple times before and I’ll say it again now - you’ll finally understand how far you have truly fallen. But, I cannot move forward until I turn all of that into reality. Truthfully, I have no idea how far I’m going to be forced to go. I’ll have to push myself harder than I ever have - but, I will. I didn’t think that I would say it as confidently as I am now, but like I’ve said - I have no doubts about King of Elite. That day is nobody else’s but mine. The day I shatter the only glass ceiling that has managed to knock me down. Good luck, Methuselah - it’s just a shame that luck isn’t going to enough to stop me.

Each collapse creates a new form in a timeless cycle. 

And with the amount of collapses and mishaps you have had, it is no surprise to see yet another new construction of you, Zack Crash.

There is no doubt that the praise for my title is warranted in many ways. I am the King of Hall of Famers that stands above all champions here, but you are wrong in proclaiming that I am not deserving of holding such a prestigious honor. If my showing has been considered sub-par since returning then your showing has been significantly mediocre. Despite my persistent shouts and claims to be a higher entity, I still have value to show for all my success here in this company through this gold whilst you have not shown a sign of relevancy ever since your previous gold. I have taken on the trouble of carrying endowments from all my predecessors but the difference between you carrying it and someone like myself carrying it is that I have reassured hands that they can trust whereas you come with the benefaction of slipper and unstable hands with no upside to offer. And it has gotten to such an outrageous level that you have to refer to many different forms in your life in order to constantly revive and compensate for your career just so you can try to prove yourself once more. You are no more damaged than you were when you first stepped into this company but letting yourself believe in this delusion is adding fuel to the idea that there is some kind of invisible aura that makes you significantly more tenacious when that is not the case. But perhaps I do not give you enough credit for your intuition because after all this time, you still somehow find a process to one up yourself on your pipe dreams. After all, there was once a form of you that won two world titles, had self-respect, fought against the very proprietors for this company and someone whom I would have been more than content with in facing in the ring this week but at the same time, going into the Hall of Fame with. And it is ironic you talk about unreasonable accolades when one could argue that your very own addition to this prestigious clan was based off a mere run more than any long career merit. I have constantly proven myself to be par regardless of the era I have competed because I have constantly adapted and transformed to the situation at hand, not just my personality in order to accommodate for myself.  When I was told that I would have to fly in order to build my frame in this company, I flew higher than any competitor ever has in this company. When I was told that I would need to use technique in order to be the brand elitist in this company, I used my style in a capability which would help me succeed. And now that I am being told that I need to use all the experience I have gained and utilize all of it to compete with some of the greats that have ever competed in that ring. That is where you and I differ and what will ultimately define the result of me overwhelming you for my title this weekend.

There is no real reason to believe that you pose any peril to my championship because there is no merit there. It must not be omitted from history of facts that we have faced off a few times ourselves, lest not too long ago and I have came up victorious in almost all occasions. So whilst you can continue to make falsified claims of your forthcoming exigency, I know that regardless of your form, there is no talent beyond your theatrics. And I will continue to snicker at these theatrics until I sense that urgency imploring from you that proves to me that this is an authentic attempt for the Hall of Fame Championship and not a futile one just to further your disconnected career. The reason for those slight disassociation in your careers is precisely because you magnify yourself to be much larger than you really are, claiming your former selves to be superior to my present self is just an example of that. In your attempt to appease me with petty claims, you only create the opposite effect in which I feel more than a drive; no a desire to end your so much dignified Hall of Fame career once and for all. There is this inaccurate perspective that there needs to be respect based on the sole fact of timeliness and even more so for the deranged but when you have based your career off of belittling others for your own benefit, I see it as my sole full obligation to take every blow with a delight in respect to each and single career you have burdened over the years. It is only so fitting that the culmination takes off at the King of Elite too, the event that I have thrived in but has thoroughly escaped me a few times but this time, there is really only one way this match is going to go and that was verified the moment you decided to plunder the opportunity of extending my reigns across the lands. There is so much promised to this form and perhaps if there was hype or momentum surrounding you, I would be obliged to believe your superiority but matter of fact is, you are more likely to be screaming bullshit out of a dredge hole in the ground. What I possess however does not need to be exaggerated in words; I already built that reputation a long time ago but rather how I perform in the ring is proof enough of how capable I can be. It is my very own calm serenity, satire and fortitude that allows me wait you out throughout the match and once the promises you once claimed become too heavy for you to carry and you zone out. All of this; everything is just a process of time and being fed from a golden spoon far too early, you have become anxious and irritable and that alone will give me all the advantage I need heading into this match against you. Whereas I have already found my limit, you are testing yourself with fire and getting burned faster to the ground than possibly any other Hall of Famer to ever step in that ring. So if nothing else, you can grant yourself with that accolade. Through it all, new form or not, you have not really changed at all and victory will have never come so straightforward to me.

In dealing with a man with multiple persona forms, there is just one way to take him down..
.. put him down slowly with a knife through his heart, which is what I intend to do
because rest assured, my Hall of Fame championship is going to be with its King for a long, long time.

(Drastik is sitting back in his hotel room, munching on a big bowl of popcorn as the cameraman works on various angles to get the best shot. On the TV screen is the movie Moneyball with award-winning actor Jonah Hill in it. Drastik turns toward the cameraman and asks him if he thinks being called Jonah Hill is an insult. The cameraman hesitates before Drastik cuts him off and starts listing all of the great movies that he was a part of, both serious and comedic. The cameraman doesn’t really comment, so Drastik keeps talking, saying that if this really was like 21 Jump Street, Ahren Fournier would be Channing Tatum. The cameraman rolls his eyes. Drastik starts talking about the scene where Jonah and Channing take turns fingerbanging each other’s mouths, which is immediately cut off by the cameraman who encourages Drastik to just start his rant on Tiberius instead of talking about this. Drastik begins.)
 
It’s becoming more and more apparent that the child within the man Tiberius Jones is starting to withdraw himself from this. I don’t know exactly what happened—exactly what was said to make things click in your head. I don’t know what worry finally stood out above all else. I don’t know if you’re just tired of this relentlessness coming from me or the degree at which the three of us have been applying ourselves, but I see it. And I think Jamie O’Hara probably sees it too. The well is running dry and time is running short for you. We went from seeing this pristine trophy of a superstar—poised, ready, determined, daring me as you looked into my eye. When I first heard from you I thought that maybe this was someone that I had missed out on facing. I joked around in the past and said that I was disappointed in the competition, disappointed in hyping myself up over facing Nathan Fiora for the first time before destroying him, same to Carson Ramsay and others. But you, TJ, you brought that fervor right back when I first heard from you. But the storm’s worn on you. The hail has chipped at that trophy I once saw glimmering, and now I can see that you weren’t really gold. You’re airbrushed. You’re painted. I saw little slips of the child inside of you that’s been hiding behind a strong young man. You’ve built your own confidence up and kept appeasing the child inside of you, hope holding out a hand to reason and saying, “Don’t be scared. Trust me.” Maybe you did take hope’s hand and follow behind him. But when I came in as relentlessly and as pestering as I’ve been these last few days, I can see that your hope has been worn down. And as a result, that grip of reason’s hand has loosened. The child inside of you has been left alone to fend for himself. You say that only the weak get bullied—that I couldn’t possibly be bullying you because you’re strong. But you’re not. Maybe you, as a whole package, are strong, but the child you’ve been devolved down into is anything but powerful. You have BECOME weak because of having to deal with me. I have worn you down and stripped you more and more of that undying hope that has kept you afloat since the days you first spent alone without Hexa-Gun. You were all-powerful with Hexa-Gun. Your confidence and determination seemed unending. That’s actually the kind of guy that I got excited about facing, TJ. When I saw some of the stuff you did with Hexa-Gun, some of the stuff you’ve cited this week, I have to admit that I was impressed. Maybe I was even fooled into thinking that you could stand on your own—that you didn’t NEED that support group around you. But Hexa-Gun is in the past now. You don’t have that group behind you, and thanks to your blind hope, you’ve convinced the child inside of you that there’s nothing to fear when the only person you have is yourself. I shouldn’t hold it against you because you obviously don’t know better, but you can see why I speak to you the way I do.
 
I’m in this tournament not because I’m some bored legend that likes to take opportunities away from the new guys—though I’ll admit, leapfrogging guys on the depth chart is always incredibly fun—but because I know that EAW would never hand me the things that they hand guys like Y2Impact. Y2Impact and even Methuselah are around, sure, and have had their opportunities with the world championship, sure, but it’s their clean record that allows them to be inserted into a situation like that. Elite Answers Wrestling feels safe when they throw out a guy like Jaywalker to take on Lannister; matches like that draw interest immediately, and the company knows that Jaywalker wouldn’t do anything to burn them. There’s trust there. There’s a professional agreement where Jaywalker or Y2Impact or Methuselah or whoever else has forgiven this company for the sins they made against them. Everyone pretends everything is absolved. It’s not that way with me. This company knows what kind of wild beast they’ve signed up for when they call on my services, so they do their best to avoid me at all costs. I only slip in here because I can see that a general manager needs me desperately, or I see a loophole in the system that can let me in, or I find the weakest access point and I’m here. EAW, just for a moment, forgets what I am or at least convinces itself that I can probably be contained this time before they are quickly put in their place. I don’t get to ask for championship opportunities because this company doesn’t trust what I’d do behind the wheel. That’s what makes opportunities like this so special to me—it’s an opportunity to force my way behind the wheel even when the company pleads with god that I don’t get that kind of control. I slip in. I take. I leave. I slip in. I take. I leave. I slip in. I take. I leave. EAW’s board already sees the possibility of it and it leaves a nervous anxiety brewing in the pits of their stomachs. They know what could come of this now that I’m this close. In a way, maybe they’re pulling for you, Tiberius—maybe they want you to win this one because you’re just as innocent and obedient as the legends that I listed. But I know that they’ve fallen into the same trap as the little boy inside of you has—they’ve taken the hand of hope as it reached out to them, “Take my hand. Trust me.” They have a blind hope leading them into this weekend’s festivities, and it’s kept them from seeing what you’ve been ground down into. You’ve become the type of guy that talks about playing with a different scoreboard. You’re already revving up the motors to the “There’s beauty in defeat” speech that Jamie O’Hara has been equally tuning up for since god knows how long. That’s how I know that your hope—your leader—has failed you. Your leader has fallen. Luckily for you, a new leader is set to become king this weekend. And while you may not want to follow me, it’ll be your decision to be left in the dust.
 
(Drastik turns his attention back to the television screen, turning the movie up and taking another handful of buttered popcorn. Much of it spills all over his bed. The cameraman flicks off the camera to prepare for the high-anticipated new editing of solid white text flashing on the screen once before fading to black. Incredible. Monumental. A masterpiece. I wish Jonah Hill was in this.)
    
SAIL

It is time for Lannister to rise once and for all, from this silence. For Lannister can hear the rhythm of the banging of drums in the distance, a faint tune beginning to gain cadence of belief. A salvation born anew, with voices echoing the battle cry. For The Pizza Boy has set his battle plans, and come to invade Lannister's lands once and for all, upon his own terms. Seeking to serve as a prophet on his campaign claims, to take back what he lost. The tune calls out to the ideals of redemption and vengeance - one that surely hopes to speak in premonition folk. But there is not refuge to be sought in this forgotten chord, in which the Pizza Boy boasts. For The Pizza Boy has once more exhausted his casting of shadows, the one that follows his every step. The figure remains indeed, an isolated memory, of what was this shallow accolade that this man continues to cling onto. It has filled his head with glowing esteem, even though the recollection itself should come to create a void within. For there is madness to be had within the mind, knowing that Lannister knocked you down from your pedestal before you could even take a step on it. Oh yes, how the salt is apparent, and made anew by every single encounter with the one that rings true. Lannister has etched his code into your soul now, and oh yes, how the anthem of the underdog can no longer be associated with this man who molds himself around a pizza. It was nice for you to allude to such obvious statements Pizza Boy, just so you could save Lannister the trouble from devouring within the back drop of it all. For this is the barren ground that Lannister lays waste to - the one that you keep alive, this idea - that the Answers World Championship was ever yours. How your fallacies and passionate rage will only consume you in due time, P.B. - for Lannister's current of absolution always finds a way to be the rising tide of truth. A run of the mill that grinds your empathy and desire down to the atoms. But don't let Lannister's words be the course of the belief, let the reckoning that Lannister has bestowed upon the Showdown kingdom, ever since he set his ambition towards its toll. From Matt Ryder, Zack Crash, Tiberius Jones, Lioncross - all the way down to you, Pizza Boy - Lannister has conquered the land in full. Lannister admires your continuous resiliency, as you have willingly come back for more - and in your view, a proper encounter this time forward. But let Lannister serve as soothsayer, and proclaim to your likeness that your base of an argument is soon to come to no avail. All your cheerleading, all your petty words, your self-righteousness - will come to crash and burn at King of Elite.

You've spoken in a manner that would like to suggest that if Lannister had cashed in the "fair" way,  that The Pizza Boy would be reigning as Showdown's champion. But that is exactly why Lannister is looking forward to this stake of high risks, this challenge from just not one, but two overachievers. Lannister shall bring a halt to all the white noise that surrounds the controversy of his stature once and for all. So perhaps it is time, now more than ever, to lay down the masks that have since been said in this facade, and let the chips fall where they may. But let Lannister be the first to say, he warned you, if they happen to lead you astray and shelled. For there is no atonement to be had in this madness you pursue, this wave of self-assurance. You've led yourself to believe that Lannister is one to run. How foolishly naive, and bitterly convenient for you to state such an preposterous generality.

For Lannister is The Disciple of War, The Elite Lord, The Keeper of the Reign... and EAW's Champion of Champions!

Lannister is not bothered by your presence enough to run away from it, for until showcased, you shall remain a non-threat to Lannister's stature of means. So continue on with this casting Lannister in negative light, it will prove feeble, just like the five minutes of fame that you call your own. This is a casting of the ages, in truth, one that prepares for the ancient wisdom of Lannister's self-serving accord. Nothing is more self-satisfying to Lannister than applying pressure upon those that linger, either physically or simply through their harbored illusions. And you have lingered long enough upon the ideals of calling yourself the Answers World Champion. Let Lannister take this burden from you once and for all, and squash the dream-like sequence that has since flowed through your subconscious. You may no longer be the underdog, but you surely aren't the one in Lannister's favor, either. It will be Lannister's honor to humble the Pizza Boy from his newly formed perception. That's what Lannister does best, after all - serving as the lone man in EAW history to ever humble the Bastard of Vendetta.

But he is only one name out of many, isn't that right Tyler Parker?

Oh yes, dear old "friend" - don't think Lannister has forgotten to sing in tune about you. But don't mind Lannister, he forgets from time to time, of the psychological damage that he displayed on you over the last couple of months. You had it damned in your mind, after all, that it would be you to cling to the title "Disciple of War". But petty. Lannister stood in your way then, and he stands in your way now. How frustrating it must be, for Lannister to continuously serve as a roadblock to all your worldly desires. But you and The Pizza Boy have more in common than either of you would like to lead on - and this is just the most glaring of examples. Lannister won't speak far too long in the past, no, because there are greater horizons to broaden the outlook towards. But nonetheless, it is useful to recollect once and awhile, let the speck of time serve as a testament of Lannister's sudden surge to his ranking, to his status. It all started with you, Tyler Parker. You and your unrelenting pride. And look where that got you THEN. Lannister can't help but wonder, what makes you think this time will be different? You are still the same petty of a man that Lannister had come to align against then, but just now with a tail straggling between the legs. And Lannister himself has only gone on to embark on even greater challenges - and foes - since those rivaled days. Which is why Lannister showcased no surprised look when you seemed too deeply eager to team up with Lannister this past week alone. Lannister played along for a little while, just to see how far you would go with it - but when it became too apparent that you were fixated on being Lannister's ally, he just simply had to pull the plug on the whole ordeal. Even to a man like Lannister, it'd be cold to leave you hanging onto the idea that there would somehow be a synergy between us. So Lannister put it as painfully clear as he usually does - and lifted you high into the air, on a date with the infamous Feuer Frei.

Now Lannister is sure you are destined to speak some ill-advised words Lannister's way, but that matters not. Because Lannister sees the motive behind it all - and would come to realize it's just the envy speaking. Feel free to admit that Lannister was just one step ahead, Parker. Lannister would bet on house money that you had the stars perfectly aligned in your head, when given the opportunity - Strike Lannister when least expected. But a pity, once more, Lannister again serves as the thorn. Perhaps you and Lannister are destined to serve the re-occurring roles than previously thought. Lannister is not one to complain, obviously, and neither should you, because after all - you are receiving a world championship opportunity that you have longed to even deserve. Your affiliation with The Pizza Boy serves as a detriment to Lannister's odds, but even then he cannot be fazed by it all. While you have the Pizza Boy to thank to why you are even being awarded this opportunity at all - it will be Lannister that delivers the enlightening truth on the trending slope of your once promising career. Lannister sees it in your eyes, Parker - the light in your eyes has never burned so low. And perhaps the superficial beings of the EAW land have called upon Lannister in this troubling time, to extinguish this flame and burden from you once and for all. Or perhaps, you welcome the chance to be in the spotlight one final time, much to the credit of being Lannister's sacrificial lamb. Or maybe, just maybe - you see this as the opportunity for war, the opportunity to make amends for the troubled sins, the breakdown of what was once your own ascendance. But let Lannister be clear, and let him say it just once - Only HE is the one that brings war home. For there is no war to end all wars, just the means to wage it. And Lannister is simply a man that embodies war, molded by its shade. There is a price to pay, Tyler Parker - Pizza Boy - for seeking justice of your own afflictions.

And it is the Lannister price, that comes to the end's meet. Heed these warnings, in a state of red flags - serve the Lannister banner and sigil as nothing less than absolution - and perhaps, just perhaps - these regards Lannister sends will not fall upon deaf ears. But Lannister expects that the convergence of ambitions are only bound to collide, so collide they shall.

And when they do, it will be Lannister that puts an end to these two usurpers and their unfortunate conquests...

ALLES FUR LANNISTER... LANNISTER... LANNISTER!... In this power to be dare.

There is a famous quote shrouded in mystery of who truly said it, but typically it is represented by a young royal who when confronted with the famine of her people and how they had no bread only had one thing to say in response. Now this isn’t particularly how I intend to rule, unless I am angered by the masses, but it is a way I intend to respond to the likes of Jamie O’Hara. For when she was told her people had no bread, and I’d like to lean on the interpretation that she was crueler in the mind rather than slower, she said they could eat cake! So when O’Hara says he needs this crown that is soon to be mine,

I say, let him eat cake!

Let O’Hara have a world championship!

Let O’Hara main event Pain for Pride!

Let O’Hara become a hall of famer!

All the while knowing, a sword of Damocles is hanging over his head that will likely make sure that never happens, and I know damn well there are great punishments in store for O’Hara on Dynasty if he doesn’t get the job done. That doesn’t give me pause, no. That makes this all the more sweet!

I just can’t wait until I slap you upside that bald head of yours, Jamie. In fact, I don’t know how it didn’t occur to me sooner, but I really hate all of you bald bastards. Fuck Lannister for taking CITV. Fuck Nico Borg for saving Ares’ championship reign! And especially fuck you Jamie O’Hara, fuck you for getting all the spoils in this world only to mess it all up while I had to scratch and claw to where I am, and fuck you for thinking you can now stop me when I am oh so close to ultimate supremacy! I am going to be a sovereign of this company! You can fight O’Hara, just like you can look up from the ground begging for mercy only for your face to be stomped on. You can fight O’Hara, just like you can run desperately towards the finish line only to be tripped up by a malcontent before the finishing line. You can fight O’Hara, but you will fail at gaining anything from the fleeting struggle you put on in that fight of yours! People always fight, they fight the passing of time with their vanity pleasing products like makeup or motorcycles, but the hands of time move on forward. People fight, they cling to life on their hospital beds and anything to stay alive, but you know what comes in the end. You can fight me, but my crowning achievement will be putting an end to that fight of yours.
I’m not like the others. It may not look like it all the time, in fact sometimes some might think I’m less driven than the others because I kick back, I have fun, and I’m just not the type of person everyone can get their finger on because I refuse to conform to the typical attitudes of EAW. But I am more than them. I don’t quit. I don’t falter. I don’t break down, and my emotions never get the better of me. I’ll do anything to get ahead, I’ll pretend to be Mr.CITV just to create the idea that maybe I should be, no matter how many idiots started thinking I had lost my mind instead of playing games to get my way. I’ll put on a thousand masks, and remove them when need be to reveal my true character, I’ll smile in your face and then knock your teeth out the in the next moment. O’Hara, you’ve always had something coming to you, and never knew it until now. In these misty dark alleys, you’ve had the pleasure of evading my presence for so long, but thankfully for me right before the fog is lifted and my castle is revealed, I get to put a dagger in your side.

As for Drastik, you’re quite the funny guy with your talk of the college system and confusing people for your age, you’re a regular Jonah Hill if you catch my drift in all the ways, but this isn’t a Jump Street movie where false bravado is going to get you the prized trophy wife championship or have you narrowly escape all the dangerous people you’ve come to cross at the wrong time. You ask why I don’t seem to take you as a threat? It’s because I’m the brazen beast, I may be cognizant that you have some skills, but I’m far from being forced to deviate from my nature and all of sudden have cold feet because you’re trying to sham the slickest person on the EAW roster. It’s a wonder that you’re still trying to get all these little things into my head, it’s like you don’t get that I play by an entirely different scoreboard than most of this roster. What matters to most of you, what keeps you up at night, and what you think matters, mean little to me. You think you bully me? Others have given you that position against them, but only the weak get bullied, the strong only see “bullies” as pests with fragile egos. The fact you even consider yourself a bully is a detriment to yourself, tell me of one adult, one great fighter or athlete, who goes around proclaiming themselves a bully? What is this, a jungle gym where you’re hanging kids by their underwear and trying to steal people’s lunch money because mommy and daddy didn’t have enough love and money to give you? Ha, maybe there was more to what that kid was saying, you really are out of place for your age. Much like how you’re meant to be a legend, yet you had to enter this tournament for stars to be. Thing is Drastik, maybe the system ain’t broke, maybe it’s a matter of fact that you despite all the bluster and noise, just don’t cut it.

And lo, dear lad, I tell you so: while I bear the world's weight on my back, I too ignore your muffled sobs on the world's shoulders.

For you have cried and cried and cried! "Poooooooooor miiiiiiiiii, forgotten by this world, dismissed by my peers, whatever shall I do!?!??


Aha, of course! I shall fill my belly with tasty treats, cream filled delicacies and self-righteous indignation until I balloon into a man with so-called "purpose!" Yes, purpose I shall have, because it is purpose I seek! Therefore I must antagonize the Zen Guardian Methuselah who has done me no wrong at all; he is simply a man who had beaten me, utterly, and proved me of being a fraud.... A FRAUUUUUUUD, a charlatan indeed! For he has made me into a fool, and retribution I will now seek!


But little do I know, it is not simply Methuselah who I have trifled with! It is the Lord of Flies himself, the God of Numbers for whom he serves, for whom he has been the leading paladin in the first line of defense when waging war against all who opposeth him! And as the dominoes fall, I find that I have put at risk much more than my own reputation! I have put at risk every morsel of what brings me any sense of purpose and meaning, for I hath incited the wrath of a deranged madman caught in his fantasies who, at the tug of a beard and bulge of the eye, undergoes a metamorphosis from a kindred spirit to a wrathful, spiteful, warmongering angry dragon! From soothing spirit to serpent! From peacekeeper, to punisher! And he forgives me not, even though I know not what I do."

Thus Spoke Xavier Williams.

There, I have spoken the truth for you! You, after all, have done nothing but lie. Now that I have your attention, understand that I laugh. Aye, I laugh, at every rotten vowel and every putrid word you spout from your tart eating dunghole of a mouth. Haha! Guffaw Guffaw! Indeed I chortle - in nearly rapturous glee - at every statement of contempt you sling my direction. A wonder how your stones you so sling do not fall back into your face, be it how I am so far above you. I digress; i CHORTLE, because I can see the venom in your words. It is venom that can be found beneath the fangs of the deadliest snake, bottled up and stored into a needle and injected into my veins until it enters my circulates through me! I smell and taste the venom. But I've developed an immunity. The words of weak, desperate men like you who have only remnants of a once respected and widely admired name. Now merely a sideshow exhibit in my Awesome tale.

Trifling with you has, by many accounts been, a vapid waste of time. A waste of Plord's time. Because I truly gain nothing from you worth flaunting. Relish, I may, in your punishment aside, you have had nothing for me to take. You contribute little to Plord's overall scheme. You are merely sport. At this point, Xavier, I can compare thee almost to a late blooming errand. My vendetta is not with you, for there is no vendetta for me to be had! I take only serious issue with the insolence you have shown my Lord. You have risen from the bowels of obscurity to challenge the "devolved, farcical God" or as you so specifically say, the "joke". If I am a joke, lad, you must be the punchline. Oho! You seem to have fallen for the joke! You are the subject of the riddle! Guffaw guffaw guffaw! Oh look, you have made the Soothsayer chuckle. You are a funny man Xavier Williams, shall I compare thee to a comedic device? And by comedic device, I mean device of comedic value who shall bring Plord joy and tickle him down to his teensy weensy toes when the sight of your laying, grotesque remains are plastered to the canvas.

Here you are: the funny but oh so important man responsible for altering the paths of careers such as Tarah Nova, Lucian Black, Jamie O'Hara, among many others. Aye, I should be impressed. Perhaps I should kneel. FORGIVE ME PLORD WHILE I KNEEL! PLORD? I BEG OF YOU, PLS, PLS FORGIVE ME PLORD, FOR I SHALL KNEEL TO ANOTHER BEING, THE GREAT AND MIGHTY XAVIER WILLIAMS! I KNEEL BEFORE YOU, THE ONE CALLED "SHI NO TENSHI", FOR YOU HAVE CHANGED EAW TO IT'S CORE!!!!!!!! YOUR FORGIVENESS I BEG, YOUR MERCY I SEEK, I DID NOT REALIZE YOUR AWESOME MIGHT! HOW COULD LUCIAN BLACK HAVE BECOME WORLD CHAMPION WITHOUT YOU? AND TARAH NOVA??? LET US FORGET NOT TARAH NOVA??? WHERE WOULD THE LAND BE IF NOT FOR YOUR GUIDANCE...... OVER TARAH NOVA!?!??!?!

You will have to forgive my blatant loss of bearings, my kneels cannot help but buckle when I think of your influence over Rex McAllister. I am weak. I am fainting. I am deceased. I have died! I hath been slain! May I rise again on the third day like Christ for I have been slain by your awesome might! On behalf of all who dwell the Land of Elite; thank you Xavier, thank you for your contributions. And yes, of course, moons ago I said there were none two more skilled in our craft than you or I. I suppose this means we must erect a statue of you in every corner and gather around a golden idol made in your image and kneel before it, for your contributions must never be forgotten, and you must never be forgotten!

I have misjudged you Xavier. Or perhaps I've judged you well. Perhaps, just as you have given, you have also taken. A man takes from one to give to another every day he draws breath and exhales following that very same breath. Let the basics of Buddhism serve as a brief guideline. The first noble truth in Buddhism is suffering, and one must suffer a great amount simply to 'give', as suffering must occur in order to 'take'. One cannot exist without the other, and while you have been the cause of many a man's suffering, you have also understood the pain and suffering that comes equipped with loss. And the sensation drives you to take more. That is why you have so much to take from me, in your mind. But you are a man with so much more to lose than I. I have proven to you that some of what I have, simply cannot be taken, even by might. However you have come for me regardless, which is why I believe you to be an utter fooll. Any man can want, for every living being possesses some form of desire. But to have what others want... that exists on a different plane entirely. For example, I want McKenzie. I want your precious little dove. I lust, and I crave, and I desire and want her. I want to see the horror on her face, and the pain in her eyes, as she understands that her fool of a father was not the hero she once thought him to be. I want her to wake from her slumber at night and scream not for her precious poppa, but for anything else, anyone else, because I want her to know that her father can never truly save her. 

Nothing can save her. As nothing can save you you.

Not from sin. There is no end to sin. And there is nothing that can save you from the comeuppance you will face for the sins you have yet to commit. You cannot simply be raptured from entropy. You must embrace the hellfire that surrounds you until you can resist it and form an immunity - even if the hellfire burns within like the feeling in your veins when a noxious lethal substance flows through your bloodstream. Little McKenzie must know the futility of your fight against the requital that comes with every misdoing of yours, and every vindictive deed you have and ever will commit.

Perhaps that is why I still take up the name Methuselah, it allows me to be the executioner. Not the judge, for your choices have condemned you to the proper punishment you will received. Not the jury, for you know in your heart of hearts you are a guilty, sinful being, and you have chosen your path. I enjoy being the executioner, without a conscience, without remorse, who can spill your blood by the buckets to the streets beneath you and let not a single drop bear on his conscience. And nothing that i do to you at King of Elite will sit on my conscience. I will rest peacefully in slumber that evening. 

Then again I myself am not without sin... Come to think of it, I have committed the most sins of all. Aye... very well... even if my very own demons are what cause me to wake in a cold sweat under the pale moonlight - at least the screams of your precious daughter reverberating through my head will lull me back to sleep.

(The scene starts with a mass of people walking out of what seems to be a classroom. Drastik is one of the last people out, shoving papers into a bag and tossing it over his shoulder. He waves toward the camera and then swings his arm out to invite the cameraman to walk with him. The cameraman tries to object because moving shots without any sort of expensive camera equipment makes his job harder, but Drastik doesn’t really care. He pats the guy on his shoulder and clears his throat, looking ahead before looking back at the camera and talking in a casual tone.)
 
Sorry for not getting right back to you guys. I realized as soon as Jamie O’Hara mentioned it that I do indeed have lysdexia—I mean dyslexia. I’m still trying to cope with the realization. Next thing you know someone’s going to run a DNA test on me and tell me that I’ve got Irish ancestry when I’ve lived my whole life as a good little Cambodian boy. But that’s another midlife meltdown for another day and another opponent. What I realized when Jamie said that wasn’t that he’s resorted to trying to call me dumb or something—because who needs logic when you can just call people names right?—but that I needed to get help. So I took his very subtle advice and enrolled into the Dyslexic Institution for Challenged Kids, otherwise known as…well you’re going to think that I’m trolling if I say the abbreviation, but I really just got out of class for it and they really did give me a cool nametag that I foolishly flopped letter clumsily around. And you know what we talked about today? We talked about how our disabilities don’t define us—how anyone who tries to dangle that disability in front of us as means to put us down just aren’t people we should listen to! So you know what? Screw you. You shouldn’t be making fun of me or Nick Angel or Liam Catterson for our learning disabilities. And any mention of it moving forward is only going to trigger me. You’ll immediately be reported to RH—Human Resources—wait, I mean HR. Goddamnit. Maybe I should just get to what actually matters. You’ve admitted to growing tired of this little game, and quite honestly, it’s showing more and more as time goes on and this discussion thickens. But what makes me laugh about that is that you’ve got an option that’s totally fine by me—you can just stop. You can stop preparing. You can stop responding. You can let me run my mouth and let me be the center of attention all the time since that’s what you really think of me—and trust me, since you mentioned it, I promise you that I’ll still find a way to talk about things even if dialogue turns into a true monologue. And when you’re all rested up and recharged from not having to engage me, you can lose outright. I’m not sure if you forgot this process, but this is how things work here. This is process every single time you’ve got a match here. And if you don’t like it—if it wears on you so much that you just need to stop—then maybe you’re even less cut out for this than I originally thought. Just so we’re crystal clear here, I’ve already forgiven you for mixing up your information and stuff. Hell, I even sent you the care package and used express shipping. So now you’ve got my merchandise, my autobiography, my DVD, and all that stuff. I even gave you a signed 8x10 since I’m sure if you have a kid, they’re a Drastik fan more than a Jamie O’Hara fan, so they should appreciate it. I’ve given you all the tools to learn almost everything about me so that you don’t need to rummage through the jungle that is Google or Wikipedia to find out how to spell my name or what my resume looks like. It’s all right there. Maybe I’m not yet convinced that you have it in you to actually USE any sort of tools to be able to succeed in something, but, hey, at least I can rest easy knowing that I set you up for it. And if not, you can just flip those items on craigslist and get a couple bucks or something. Maybe invest in Rogaine. I don’t know.
 
I should have stated this before, so I follow up my forgiveness with my own apology. Yes, I haven’t ALWAYS been the same kind of consistent that I was talking about when it comes to how I go about things. Though I was talking about the consistency of SUCCESS—which is absolutely, undeniably applicable to my career—I will agree that the Rated R Shaman of Sexy who won his third World Heavyweight Championship after his retirement-turned-hiatus was a whole lot different than the Drastik that came in and manipulated the machine to run the way he wanted it to. Both versions of myself were consistent, but in two different ways. The first type of consistency that I was is actually the same kind of consistency that you’ve mentioned before. I’m talking about the kind of guy who shows up to work every day, smile on his face, ready to set down his lunch pail and get right to work. I used to be that guy that would show up and do everything I could to demonstrate that I was a hard worker and that I was going to earn things through my dedication and all that noble jazz. The second kind of consistency though—the kind of consistent I have become—is so much better. It’s tactful. Brooding. Mastering. It’s not the same as showing up to work every day and leaving with a sore back and tired feet, no, but it’s the kind that leaves others asking themselves why everyone doesn’t just do it that way. It’s a good question to have; why wouldn’t people give up their aches and their pains and the routine that sucks them of so much of their time when they can just get to the top faster the other way? The answer, Jamie, is that not everyone is capable of being the second kind of consistent. So few are able to flip that switch on and off and on and off and on and off with the system still working the way it did before. But as I’ve proven, it works for me. I don’t bring up this consistency because I’m looking to be praised for it. I don’t expect people to look at me as some sort of philosophical genius that’s cracked the code and reinvented the way that people do business here. The only reason I mention it at all is because I’m answering the same fundamental question that we’ve all been trying to answer this week: Why am I a threat? Why am I the one in the best position to win? That, I have an answer for too—I’m the biggest threat because I’ve proven it over and over and over again. That’s why consistency matters. I honestly don’t know where the dyslexia comment came from—or what it even really means—but in regards to that message that came out of left field, I’ll tell you outright that I wasn’t saying your New Breed Championship run ran right up against your “needed” loss. I didn’t think that they happened back to back. I was saying that from the moment you went on your little New Breed Championship victory run, you let your mindset become so warped and your being so entitled that it carried all the way up to your elimination chamber match. I’m still not buying that you went into that match knowing that you needed to lose, just like TJ mentioned, but I won’t get into that the way he did. What I will say, though, is thank you. Thanks for the heads up on directing me to where you started talking about me. Just, in the future, I’d really appreciate it if you started your package off with that. Could you? Or maybe even just do one of those DVD chapter setup things where I can skip ahead? I’m trying to listen to as little of your voice as I can get away with. It’s tough for us guys with learning disabilities. Thanks!
 
(Drastik comes up to the top of a set of stairs before telling the cameraman to get a good shot. He sits down on the top of the railing and slides down very slowly before getting to the bottom and jumping off. He holds out his hands to show off and some kid runs into his arm. The kid remarks, “Aren’t you a little old to be going to school still?” Drastik yells at the kid saying that his interpretation of the American school system is fundamentally flawed because it’s restricted to the idea that college must come immediately after high school and remain uninterrupted during the duration of four years there. The kid doesn’t respond and keeps walking. Drastik calls for the cameraman to come down the steps as they keep walking.)
 
All right, I know I just came to grips with my dyslexia, but I’m going to try to match you, Tiberius. I’m going to make my own anagram for what I think makes up a king. Ready? Here we go. “K” is for “Kleenex” because Tiberius has cried about how unfair I am in almost every video package he’s thrown together. “I” is for “Intimidated” because the future-king turned boy has seen where he’s headed from the get-go. “N” is for “Nuisance” because that’s what you’ve continually tried to pin me as. And “G” is for “GONNA LOSE AT KING OF ELITE” because, well, you’re going to lose in the finals to me, whether I decide to pin you or Steve Irwin’s ugly nephew. Did I do that right? I hope so. I really hope Jamie doesn’t make fun of me for having a learning disability again after this. But I’ll keep the ball rolling and maybe he’ll just gloss over it. Tiberius, I actually really liked the story that you referenced about the leader who had fooled everyone into believing that he had power. And for the most part, I agree with you that you’re the child in that story. You see things honestly and innocently. You speak your mind and don’t hold back. You bring that youthful energy while still showing at least an ounce of respect for people who have come before you because you’re naturally obedient. But my question is this: why is this any different? What happened to honestly and genuinely analyzing a situation? If you’re so confident in your ability to point out the frauds from the legitimate threats, then shouldn’t you know that I am the biggest threat to you becoming King of Elite? Why don’t you see what I’m doing to you? You’ve devolved into a little boy throwing temper tantrums while I bully you. And worse yet, it appears that you’re lying to yourself now. If you really are as great at realizing the degree of things, then you would know better than to question what I bring to this match. It’s either that you’re lying to yourself for the sake of your own hope or you really have no idea what you’re talking about and that story of the boy and the fragile emperor is nothing more than just another story to be read before you drift off into sleep.
 
I don’t have any gold on my shoulders or around my waist right now, no. Not one of us in this match does. And it’s not because I’m not capable or you’re not capable or Jamie’s not capable—I definitely think that all three of us are of championship caliber because we have PROVEN that we stand above the rest of our brand in some capacity by making it to this match. So in the same token, that’s why we’re all here—to get gold to place around our waist in the near future. This is meant to be a stepping-stone to greater things. I could have ignored the opportunity that was King of Elite and kept my eye on the Hardcore Championship instead if I wanted immediate gold. I guess I could have even turned my attention to something else, like maybe a Hall of Fame Championship run since the list of contenders for that is so short. But in truth, none of those things really matter to me anymore because I’ve become fixated on dominating this industry by forcing its hand in making me the poster boy. My focus is on the very top of the ladder—world championships. Settling for less comes across as settling to everyone else watching. But standing tall as world champion? Who says you’re settling then? I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: when I came here and immediately went for the Hardcore Championship, it wasn’t because I was sitting at home, watching my television, and thinking, “Man it’d be cool to hold a leather strap with a gold-brushed plate on it again.” I didn’t go for the Hardcore Championship because I thought people would be in shock and awe of my ability to come back and win a championship that has pretty much floundered since 2009. I won it because it put my name in the mix—because it put me in line to eventually get here. It got me in the King of Elite bracket. It got me all the way to this point. And it’s going to take me to eventually cashing in my crown so I can become world champion once again. One move will always connect to the next for me, and that’s always how it’s going to be. Even when I win the world championship for the sixth time in my career, I’m going to make sure to take that to newer heights, to further strengthen my lesson that I am the disease that infects and controls Elite Answers Wrestling. I hold EAW’s fate in my own hands. And instead of doing anything outright with it, I’m going to make sure to toy with it as much as I possibly can before I decide that enough is enough and it’s time to head back home for a little bit. You know the drill. Come on in. Succeed. Show them who their daddy is. Skedaddle. It’s what I do. It’s what I’ll always do. Oh—and before I go, I agree that we shouldn’t talk about dates anymore. This whole thing about setting down our “performing” selves for the sake of discussing what’s real and not real hurts my head a lot. This is the reason I kept leaving Philosophy 101 early. I just can’t handle that weight, man. And besides, scheduling isn’t my thing anyways since I’m from Votlage. After all, I just keep a stretch of dates open, shrug my shoulders, and wait for my phone to ring to know whether I’m supposed to be wrestling on Sunday night, Monday night, or Tuesday night. So yeah. Random thought, but I wonder how Scott Oasis has been…
 
(The cameraman jolts out from behind the camera and quickly stops Drastik from continuing down the path he’s likely headed toward. Thankfully for the cameraman, a bus comes up right at the moment Drastik is going on one of his tangents. They go to get on the bus, but Drastik tells the cameraman to stay where he’s at so they can end the package with Drastik waving from the back window. The cameraman objects because he would have to wait for the next bus, but Drastik is insistent that he’ll tell the bus driver to stop and let him get on just down the road. The cameraman agrees and they go through with it. Drastik is shown waving from the back window, but the bus keeps on going down the road until it disappears from sight. The cameraman sighs heavily before turning off the camera. And then—bitch you guessed it—solid white text flashes across the screen. How bow dah?)
    
SAIL

Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. SHUT THE FUCK UP!

Can you please take a lengthy breather in between sentences, Nasir? Or do you just relish the sight of bullshit spewing out of your mouth too much for that? Either way, just stop it. Stop making a fool of yourself. Stop cooking up these rah-rah speeches thinking it would be able to depict you a more serious threat in my eyes. Stop pushing across the hero facade like there is a snow ball's chance in hell of anyone outside the confines of your pubescent fanbase falling for it. Or don't, I couldn't care less. As long as you refrain from weeping about the fun people poke at you. It's no secret that you've been awfully vocal about not being taken seriously enough by peers and fans alike for months now, Nas. Bitching, moaning and complaining; the holy trinity. But have you ever stopped to ponder their motive? Maybe, and take this with a grain of salt, they see through you like a castle made out of glass. Maybe there are folks out there who think with their brains instead of their hearts and can easily distinguish the phony from the real deal. I for one can do both. I mean, seriously, today was the first time you parted lips to speak about King of Elite and what did you do? You spend a couple of hours feeding your audience some sanctimonious gibberish that's seemingly supposed to "inspire" but really, it just made you out to look like a complete dumbass. Your first mistake was using our relationship to fuel your lust for sympathy; thus, painting yourself the martyr (as per usual) and me, the bad guy. Not that I have a problem with being labeled as such, it's the way that you went about doing it that doesn't sit right with me. Yeah, once upon a time, you and I were friends. Best friends, even. We carpooled together, closed bars together and caused mischief wherever we went. We both shared similar perspectives of the business as well, although they differed in nature. And we both strived to lead Voltage into a new and better age where the washed-up was no longer allowed royalties pertaining to their past stature. Do you see a pattern taking shape here? All of those aforementioned facts belong outside the realm of a wrestling ring. We might have been good pals before the show but once it gets on the air, we're EAW Elitists. Competitors, willing to go to hell and back in order to assert their dominance and prove their supremacy. The fact is, success in this industry doesn't stem from friendships. And yeah, I know that might be a hard pill to swallow. It doesn't change the fact that this is survival of the fittest. Every man and woman on this roster is in it for themselves. Why do you think tag teams don't last a lifetime? Scratch that, why do you think Aren's career was catapulted into the limelight as soon as he called it quits with you? He saw what you willingly blind yourself to. For what it's worth, it almost makes me sad to know that you view things the way you do, Nasir. The sole fact that you confirmed your inclination to live out the rest of your life in a fantasy world and under the assumption that sooner or later, reality will conform to the same norm, just shows how delusional you've grown to be. If that's not enough, Mister Moore went on to actually call ME jealous, envious even. Of who, you might ask? Why Mister Moore himself of course! Because there's so much to envy him for, right? Aside from the abundance of chances at carving a Hall of Fame worthy legacy that he proceeded to squander, that is. You did get one thing right in all of that talk, Nas; you are EXACTLY like the people you claim to be the choice of—whatever that means nowadays—as in you're all so... naive. Quick to jump to conclusions as well. I don't want your spot, pal. I never did. Why would I settle for a complacent man-child's place on the totem pole when my own is levels above it as it is? Let's face the facts; I'm better than you, Nas. I know it, everyone in the locker room knows it and deep down? You do too. The only reason why your career has managed to gain a lot of traction lately is because I wasn't around to nip it in the bud. The moment that I decided to put my foot down and do just that was the moment your stock plummeted. You went from vying for the opportunity to wrestle Y2Impact for the EAW Championship to facing me at King of Elite which, granted, is more of an upgrade than anything but still. Don't you get it, arkadaş? You're nothing more than a filler talent. You were added to large frays and big-time matches because the higher-ups needed a fresh, new lab rat to keep their product from obsolescence all the while maintaining the same Elitists formation since 2008. Don't get me wrong, you're a great wrestler and I'm taking anything away from your skills within the twenty-by-twenty scope. The thing is, you're not as great as you think you are. If you were, you'd already be a former EAW Champion by now. Instead you sit around, fishing for quotes that barely make sense in the context you throw them in, talking like you're hot on the heels of your twenty-fifth break-up. I never got that part. Why do you purposely mix personal feelings with business whenever the latter picks up? It's like you WANT me to utilize all the weaknesses that mar your flailing stint and absolutely humiliate you with them. I'm not going to do that though. Not out of the kindness of my heart, but because you do a better job at it than I ever could every time you flap your gums. 

I never took you for the type to put words in my mouth and twist those that actually came out of it, Nasir. Never once have I longed for the appreciation of your kind, nor have I felt entitled to anything that I didn't prove my worth of. Now admittedly, these past couple of months weren't necessarily my best. Every person has their share of bumps along the road and I was no exception. I find it ironic though, how you of ALL PEOPLE are stressing the setbacks that I faced when your entire life—not just career—is practically built on them. Pot calling the kettle black, if you ask me. But hey, at least I'm man enough to own up to it whereas you? You still chalk it up to that preachy, whatever-doesn't-kill-you-makes-you-stronger poppycock. One of the many differences that we share and one of the reasons why our "friendship" is probably not gonna see the light of day after this weekend. It's clear that you are indeed desperate for this win over me, Nas. Why else would you go as far as to draw lines of comparison between me and that traitorous scumbag named Kenny Drake and then laugh it off? You want to get under my skin so badly because disrupting my balance is your only chance at vanquishing me at King of Elite. Little do you know about your own "best friend", I'm not easily phased. Ice cold water runs through these veins of mine, boy. I would suggest you go back to the drawing board, but I'd be giving you false hope—and the last thing you need is another fantasy clouding your mind right now. It's bad enough that you consider yourself a hero; the one bestowed upon the land of elite to cleanse it of all the FILTH and spearhead it into better times! Jesus Christ, talk about too much Japanese cartoon watching. At this point, I honestly wish to see you get slapped back to reality before I die. That's how far-fetched such an occurrence is. Fret not though, I have a feeling it will happen sooner than expected. Say, as early as Saturday night? 

In digression, you're not a hero, Nas. You're not a knight in shining armor, you don't don a cape and you don't qualify as the prophet of the message that you constantly preach. And no, those are not a set of glass ceilings waiting to be shattered nor brass rings dangling down for you to grasp; those are the unchanging facts of life that you've chosen to sleep on for long enough. You said that you don't have anyone else but the people backing you up, and I couldn't agree more. Not only do you clamor for their adulation and support to feel better about yourself, but because you need it to still be employed. Simply put. Sadly, you don't offer much else to the table, Nasir. Merchandise sales are the only thing keeping your career afloat at the moment, whether you'd like to admit it or not. Which brings me to the point that you got entirely backwards; unlike you, I don't need people to help me stand up on my own two feet. Unlike you, I don't pander to the feebleminded by saying everything that would tickle their fancy, even when most of it is a bunch of lies. Unlike you, I know who I truly am. While you continue changing names, outfits and catchphrases, I'll continue changing opinions, records and history. While you carry on hoping and dreaming of sunshine and rainbows to fill up the sky, I'll carry on the climb up the mountain with rain pouring down my face and winds blowing in my back. A piece of advice? Stop thinking our match is gonna be another one of those feel-good fairytales where the underdog ultimately comes out on top. It won't. If anything, I'll see to it that it's your first contact back with the real world. I can't promise it'll be gentle, but I do promise that it will be memorable. 

You either die a hero, or live long enough to become the villain?

Well then, hero, prepare to meet your maker.

Dr. Frankenstein spent countless amount of hours of perfecting the perfect monstrosity he had envisioned.

It took you one match to create the persona you see before you.

You tortured the carcass of Brian Daniels until he was twisted and mangled. His spirit was slowly dissolving, and there was nothing to prevent that. He fought for justice, but did not attain the justice he sought out for. It was the pure emotion of envy that drove Ares Vendetta to become incomplete. He dreaded the thought of Brian Daniels awakening his unconscious father --- opposed to showcasing the emotion every wrestler shares; greed. I had never intended to once quarrel with the son of my mentor. It was he, who had lit the fire, but continuously added gasoline to watch it grow larger. He had every intention of tossing myself into that enormous fire, and by the time we finally combated one another. The fire engulfed us both, leaving us to fight each other, while turning into ash. But it wasn't Brian Daniels that walked proudly out of that flame with only minor burns. It was Ares Vendetta, who had finally thought that it was the conclusion of the power struggle. But he thought wrong, he left the man he had despised since the moment his name was added to his flesh with ink just barely alive with lungs capable to breathe, with a heart that pumped blood through my veins, a brain with the instinct to survive. I crawled out of the surrounding fire, hanging on by only a thread, and I only had one thought on my mind; "return the favor". I spent ninety-two days, mending to my own wounds, healing my spirit, preparing myself to recreate that same very moment. But instead, the tables were turned around in my favor. I had Ares Vendetta exactly where I anticipated; cornered. He did everything in his power to prevent that very moment from ever occurring. He tried fleeing, he tried reviving a short-term alliance with Nico Borg, but there was no shield to protect him. No Rook, Bishop, Damien Murrow, or the Agents of Extreme to shield you from this unfortunate fate. I only took from you, a fraction of what you took from me. I would most certainly call that mercy. You'll get a percentage of your strength back in that one arm, but that only makes you lesser of the barbarian that you've always been.

There was never a time where putting you in the same exact wheelchair that your father sits in, ever slipped my mind.

I want you to suffer, but your suffering has been prolonged.

I know how cruel of a human being you are. You're not unique at all. There's plenty of cruel men that walk this earth. You're just a number among millions of them. I can be just as cruel as you, if not more. You can hurt people, because you just simply can. You've been doing this for far too long, and I only wonder the thought process of a cruel man --- when he's fatally wounded. Can you describe every emotion you went through? From the moment I returned at Road to Redemption, all the way to the barbed wire baseball bat shattering your fragile bone. I wanted to feel the same regret you must have felt, when you were fully aware that I wasn't dead yet. You're only standing, because that's exactly how I want you to be. I could have taken another arm, a leg, or two, but I left you in near mint condition, because it was far too easy then. You should be kissing the very ground I walk on, because I spared your quite disposable life. You can wrestle one more match, because you temporarily lost one arm. I allowed this menace to survive, because we were far from through with one another. I would say it's almost destiny, that we are to end this where kings are crowned. I don't really believe in destiny though. I believe you put yourself in whatever situation, because you did that for yourself. It almost seems as if I'm dictating your destiny, Ares. Your strange obsession with Brian Daniels has brought this about. I never once wanted your Answers World Championship. I've stated this time after time. If I really wanted that same title you carelessly disrespected --- I would have patiently waited for you to enter the match. But I was way too eager to get my hands on you. I cared not for the match that I competed in, but the man that had sidelined me for far too long. I guess you can say that, you've created a new obsession in myself. I'm obsessed with finishing my career on a high note, but I'm temporarily obsessed with Ares Vendetta's complete demise.