Reality.

Mike, responding to you feels like I’m talking to a damn wall sometimes.

And since this is the fourth time I need to address you this week, it’s only fitting that I really dig in my heels.

It’s been fun watching you talk out of your ass several times, but I think it’s time we set the record straight on a few things so this speaking of tongues can cease and desist.

You pretending to hold my hand and teach me how to “cut a promo” can stop, first of all. Telling me to mash my head against a keyboard over and over and see what sticks is rich, coming from Mr. “Discredit Any Point My Opponent Makes, Every Single Time” himself.

You were the one bitching at me before about a “lack of creativity,” and yet here you are with the millionth version of the same basic structure. It’s annoying, it’s grating, but at least it’s an opportunity for me to shine.

It has fascinated me to no end watching one of the many who accused me of living in a fantasy talking the way you do. Who’s living in their own world now? Fucking hypocrite.

And there you go, still coming up with dumb nicknames for me. That’s honestly fine at this point Mikey, every nickname you make gives me another reason to bash my fist against that smug face of yours.

Since you felt a need to address the same point across three different promos, it’s only fair I address this just once more…my beef isn’t with the rest of the HOFC division right now, it’s with you.

You come down from the heavens, barely squeaking a win over Dan Ryan, and expect what…another year or so undefeated streak before you have to vacate the title again, or something?

Fuck that.

It’s kinda like you said, Mike…we’re hungry. I’m hungry.

And I will be fed.

If you acting high and mighty is supposed to be motivation, I have some good news…it’s working.

I am VERY motivated to bash your teeth down your throat, bend your knee in a manner it shouldn’t be, and take that title from you in the process.

Why murder, when you can maim?

Why go for the jugular, when you can commit a death by a thousand cuts?

The ongoing suffering is much more satisfying than a one and done tactic.

You keep going on and on about how you’re gonna kill me in that cage, but all I have to do is start poking holes in your argument and I can cut your legs right out from under you.

For one thing, you can scream until you’re blue in the face about making people quit out of fear of facing you…in case you haven’t noticed, I don’t give a shit about people who aren’t relevant.

I don’t know who Andy Murray is, or what the fuck DEFIANCE has to do with anything. No clue who Eric Dane is, and I only pay attention to Twitter when someone tags me on something.

Kostoff? Like you said, seemingly disappeared off the face of the earth. Next.

It’s mentioning Max Kael, a man you take full credit for murdering, that has me needing to take a pause.

You sure are speaking a different tone now than at the man’s own memorial show. Gone is the visible remorse for your actions, gone is the blaming of the fans for putting you in that predicament.

Some would say you finally reached acceptance, but upon closer inspection…a man’s death is just a footnote in your history, now.

And THAT is the heart of the beef I have with you.

Everything has to be about you, doesn’t it?

Committing full-time to the HOFC division so you can have a spotlight all to yourself, thinking one of us won’t knock you flat on your ass.

The fact you killed a man once is no longer treated with the weight it deserves, but is just a thing you mention in promos to show off your “killer instinct.”

That shit won’t fly with me, Michael.

It’s like people denying the earth is round, or that gravity exists.

You can believe all the bullshit you want, but reality eventually comes crashing down.

Just like my fist crashing against your face, just like your face crashing against that steel cage.

And deep down, I think you’re starting to realize this yourself.

Unfortunately for you, it’s already too late. The throne’s already crumbling down, motherfucker.