In the days leading up to my future match on Voltage, there has been one song that I’ve taken the time to listen to, and in all honesty I believe it pertains to my eventual encounter with you, Carson Ramsay. “Heavy is the Head”. It’s a song about how being on top, sitting on a throne, with a crown over your head; or put in simpler terms ‘being king’, is not an easy journey. There are many threats and problems that a king faces when he is given the mantle, and the title of king, and half of the time those problems are an absolute bitch to handle. They are hard problems to fix, whether it be by pleasing your people; sufficing them with security and an efficient supply of food, they are most of time problems that can take months, years just to fix one. And when those problems are done? Another of its kind rises up, with the possibility of it being even harder than the last one. To be a king, one must be aware of its challenges, and that even if you work hard, in the end you might not even be respected, nor will your words hold any meaning. You’ll be judged most of the time by the bottom-dweller critics, or opposers. These judgemental creatures always, ALWAYS find something to nag or whine about, even when the king has gifted his people the greatest of gifts that any king could supplant them with. But, some of these critics do have based and strong evidence to support their arguments, whether you like it or not. And that makes it even harder to stay seated on that throne, because you know that whenever you fix a problem, another one rises in it’s place, maybe even a problem so big that eventually you won’t be able to handle it, and you will fall. Fall deep, deep down into the depths of the shadow, where nothing but darkness envelops. That is what happens to kings, believe it or not. They become expatriates; men who once stood tall but now sit at the bottom of the mountain, their words becoming absolutely meaningless. How disappointing these men become, once revered, but now disregarded as nothing more than a failed experiment. Now I know what you’re probably going to ask, “Why talk about this, Lars Grier? How does this connect in any way to your match with Carson Ramsay?” Well, my dear friend - Is this not the story, of you? The story of Carson Ramsay? The man who blasted through the doors of EAW, taking down and dismantling everyone who came in front of your hike to the top of that mountain; the mountain of champions? Yes, it is. This is the story of you, Defiler of Elite. You were the man who walked into this company, guns ablazing, blasting at everyone who came at critiqued you, and through sheer willpower and lust, you managed to do it. You climbed the mountain, and stuck your flag at the peak; becoming the EAW Pure Champion. And for a while, all was well. A short while, yes, but a good time of championship glory, because you had everything after that monumental victory for your career. Your stock rose through the roof, earning yourself stacks upon stacks of money, all because you became a champion. You earned that glory, there is no denying that. You may have not broke the mold, but you stood out from the rest of the pack. That was the First Act of the story of Carson Ramsay. A short, yet sweet act indeed. One in which the world was one filled with lock doors, and you were the king with the key.
And then came the fall.
Oh, and how hard that fall was.
That empire that once stood, the one that you built from the pillars of your success….gone. It became dust, floating and drifting away in the wind, then eventually disintegrating into nothingness. That championship, taken away, and despite your best efforts to get it back within your arms, you came back fruitless. Months of hard work and glory became nothing; your stock depleting, the harem of women that surrounded you now leaving because you were unable to fulfill their needs, and you couldn’t get it back. You took a hard, long fall Ramsay, and you couldn’t recover. Your word was once the law - and yet here you stand, at the bottom of the barrel once more, coming off after such a brutal degradation by a physical monster, a man you don’t even remember. Not being able to remember the name who destroyed you completely is pretty pathetic in my eyes, but I suppose this is just a display of how far you’ve fallen. You grew COMPLACENT, Carson. That’s a scary word, isn’t it? Now you warn people of being complacent, because you know that is what happened to you when you were a Pure Champion. You felt that you were satisfied with what you had done, so you sat back, and relaxed, ultimately leading to where you stand now: at the bottom. You tried to regain that light, tried to spark that reign of gloriousness once more, even teaming with Kenny Drake, but you should’ve learned….never trust a snake, Carson. So - when all else failed, when your attempts at regaining and obtaining the success you were filled to the brimmed with once before, you went on a pursuit for revenge to get back at Kenny. You even dubbed yourself, “The Wolfslayer.” A cute name yes, especially considering Kenny Drake was the leader of the Wolvesden….but, even blind rage and revenge was not a quest you could conquer. Even that ended in failure. A quest that did not have pride or a championship on the line, and you squandered on it. And alas, when the dust settled, the only thing standing at the top of the mountain….it wasn’t you. No, by this point somebody else had already took your place. Somebody with far more competence and with far more determination to keep the crown you once had atop your head. So what did you do? You saw no end to your misery and suffering of being forgotten, so you quit. Maybe I exaggerated your departure from this company a tiny bit much by portraying it as you screaming “I QUIT!” from the top of your lungs, when that was not at all true. So let me speak the truth: You quit because you saw no end in sight to the limbo you were stuck within, and combined with the matters of personal problems, you dropped your ball and quit. That’s the truth, indeed it is, but there….there. There already is where you have shown me one of the very many problems in what you perceive as an unbreakable armor: Personal reasons.
PERSONAL...reasons.
That’s the key word there. Personal, meaning you. Personal, implying problems not known to many but yourself and a handful of people. Personal, implying friends, family, relationships, and things that you hold very dearly. You see - that’s already the first problem, Carson. That you are you have personal problems and connections. This - this is the reason why I stray away from relationships, from family, from friends, or anything that I might get too attached too, because I know that eventually they’ll just become roadblocks on my path to success. You meet them, and they seem like real nice people, but sooner or later, they’ll come up to you and beg, beg, and BEG for some money, or some spare change that you could be so fucking kind to give to them. It’s fucking pathetic, that you grow so caring and connected with family and friends, but eventually they’ll just become bricks tied to your legs, dragging you down. And by then? You can’t do shit because you really care about those people, and if you were to betray them by burning them to the ground, neither you or they will ever be able to recover, because you grew so fucking attached to them. That is why I don’t have “personal problems” or “personal conncections,” because these things are going to be the ones that burn you and set you tumbling down to the ground, where you can never recover. But then again…..maybe I’m assuming. Maybe I’m assuming once more, and making this seem bigger than it already is. Oh, the irony. This is ironic to you, is it not? The fact that I complained about liars being fools without the real and bigger picture, and yet there I went, assuming so much about you, Carson. I came and stated only half-truths and….lies. What I absolutely despised, but in a twist of heart-wrenching irony, I became what I hated the most. And to be completely honest with you….it’s funny. It’s really, really funny to see what happens when fucking voices in your head whisper into your ear what they want to say, instead of what your heart tells you. You end up saying the most idiotic statements of all time, and then sooner, you’ll regret it.
Fuck. I need to stay on track.
“No, no, Lars. Stray away from your path, and come with us! We know what is right for you, Lars Grier.”
You see? That’s them. That’s the voices again popping up attempting to make my life a living fucking hell. I don’t lie when I say that. You may think I’m insane, and maybe I am. But I’m nowhere near close to the insanity that Marx has, or to what Caine has. I still have enough brain power and cognitive thinking function to realize that you, Carson Ramsay? You are the epitome of the word “constant.” Staying. Flat-lined. A straight, constant line that never ends, nor does it change. Just….staying. Then, now, and forever is it a constant straight line, that can never, NEVER be stopped. That’s you, Carson. The reason why you have failed in the past, why you dropped your ball and went home, because you never bothered to take a glimpse at us; the future. The future of this business and what’s to come, because I know better than anyone that times is relative; always changing, forever and ever. “Times they Are-a-Changin’”, right? I’m not going to be judgmental and say that you’re a bad, bad man for coming to EAW for money, because I did that too. Once. A long time ago, when all I wanted was a job that could suffice me, and now look where I am: pursuing gold that in any other fields, doesn’t mean a damn thing. It’s really and quite honestly silly if you think about it from a technical perspective, but does it look like I could give a shit? No, it doesn’t. You could say that you’ve evolved over the years, and that you’ve learned from your past mistakes and that you absolutely know what you’re going to do to succeed once again, but you know damn well that you haven’t changed. If you did, you would have stood a chance against Apocalypse. You would have been defiant in his face. If you did, then your second run wouldn’t have been as depressing as it really was. You may have “tangoed” with the best of the best, and that you stood tall against them, but that only tells me one crystal clear thing: You’re only a survivor. A survivor; a person who only survives encounters with the dangers of this world, and in EAW? Nobody gives a shit about survivors. About people who endure. No - the sheep only care about wins, and losses, and all the statistical nonsense that comes along with them. They don’t care if you fought against StarrStan if you didn’t beat StarrStan, because that’s the way how our lives and how our world works. It’s sad and depressing, but true. There are no consolation prizes for being a veteran, or having experience, Carson. Nobody gives a shit about that if you can’t keep up with the rest of the future, and if last Voltage was any example? You couldn’t keep up with someone like me even if your life and your “personal connections” depended on it.
I know you regret that Fateful Eighty-Nine, Carson. I know you do. I know that you regret it because even when you placed all of your heart and soul into that driver, you still couldn’t keep me down. You regret that it will be the worst Fateful Eighty-Nine of your entire career, because it’s not one that could keep my shoulders down for the count of three. You’re not a wave; you’re just a tiny pond, dumped back from the hole in the ground in which you were spawned in. And you sure as well won’t bring my ship down, because it is powered by the engine of desperation. Although, if there is any consolation or solace required for your eventual downfall, Carson, It’s that I know, deep down...
You’ll be smiling all the way through.
“Canst thou, O partial sleep, give thy repose
Deny it to a king? Then, happy low, lie down!
Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.”
by 
Subject: Lars just cut a promo with a neat picture at the end of it 
