Who are you to talk to me about making up history, Simon Loveless? I’ve chosen to embrace my past, whereas you rejected yours. A second-generation wrestler who chose to go his own way instead of taking on the legacy of his parents…I can respect the path you’ve chosen, Simon, but I will not stand for you disrespecting mine.
It’s one thing for you to mock my goddess, it’s another for you to mock my history as if you know the pain I’ve put myself through. What’s the most dangerous environment you’ve been in, Simon? Have you ever been locked up in a prison, forced to fight your way out? Have you so much as even stepped into a prison?
I doubt it.
I shared my little history lesson because I have the least renown of anyone in this tournament. Guys like Shawn Warstein and Hudson Hughes had reputations they couldn’t live up to, expectations they fell short of…but me? I have nothing in comparison to those guys…but I proved my worth when I defeated Hannibal Frost.
You say that he was handed to me in the first round, but I see it differently: I took a proud man and made him humble before my goddess…I took a man that clearly couldn’t handle the level of competition involved with this tournament and I exposed him for the hack that he is…and I did it all in less than five minutes.
What did you do, Simon?
You went toe to toe with Bobby Dean, a talented individual for sure, but the way I see it, you took too damn long to get the job done. You are bragging far too much for a man who had to take his fight to the second round to finish…and the man you beat has a shot at the LSD Championship.
You? You’re stuck with me…and now you’ve got me angry.
I was serious when I said that actions speak louder than words, and that’s why I have stayed largely silent aside from when my goddess deemed it necessary…what everyone else does in this company is none of my concern, but the DeNucci Cup and the HOFC title are my primary focus.
You, on the other hand, are talking way too damn much. You hype yourself up to be this standard of excellence, but when it comes down to brass tacks you and I are on the same level. We’ve each had one win to our name in this tournament, and for all your yammering about how different our paths have been, destiny has brought those paths to this intersection…this crossroads, if you will.
Unfortunately for you, I don’t see my road to glory ending here.
Since you like to criticize my rhetoric, I’ll lay this out so plain that even you can understand it, Simple Simon…none of your hype will matter when the cage door closes in that octagon. Look at Hudson Hughes…all that talk went out the window when he got decimated by Clay Byrd. Look at Shawn Warstein..all that hype, and he tapped out to Johnny Dorn.
That’s the fate that awaits you, Simon Loveless. Those moments inspired me to shut you up, quick and easy.
That old saying about talking with your fists is about to ring all too true when we step inside that cage. Since you want to make fun of my history, the path that brought me to this point…let me show you what that history has taught me. Let me show you what I’ve learned over the years…hell, let it serve as a teachable moment to you and anyone else that dares to cross me.
The chaos I bring is a controlled one, Simon…and you’re about to experience that firsthand. You make your petty jokes about my goddess, but she has not restrained the fury within this vessel…if anything, she’s given the command to let loose.
I have all the confidence in the world that I can not only beat you, but run you off like Jatt Starr did last September. Hell, no one’s seen or heard from Hannibal Frost, that should be a clue. I will take this victory in stride, a worthy offering to my goddess as I advance to the next round…and watch you throw your little tantrum from my rearview mirror.
For all the shit you like to talk, I hope you remember to flush.
All hail Eris, all hail Discordia.