Jesus Christ, shut the fuck up.
Just stop, Stevens. Just stop fucking talking. What part of this are you not understanding? You’re just a dumb fucking punching bag who doesn’t realize he’s getting smashed, pretending to have arms to swing back with. You have everyone going “OOH!” like you just landed a solid right hook, but everything that you just said is unredeemable garbage, Scott, and I’m over it. I’m over you. For ten years, you have been the butt of the joke, and I’m really just now realizing that you legit don’t realize it.
You actually do think you’re good, don’t you?
You didn’t take a shit in my cereal bowl, you’re just annoying. A fucking mosquito that has sucked for a decade, acting like it was your master plan to get swatted. Do you know how fucking easy your promos should have been? Do you know how embarrassing it is that you don’t have the skill or self-awareness to think of them?
The deathmatch should have been your idea.
“You’re right, Michael. You’ve taken everything from me. My dignity. My child. Now you’re trying to take my career? You’re right, I have nothing left. Nothing left to lose. So since you like to make bets, maybe let’s you and I make one more. If I can’t beat you at War Games, and finally get you off my back, then I have nothing left to live for. So put your money where your mouth is, Mr. HOFC… put your life on the line. Not against a brother who will have sympathy for you, but against a tough fucking Texan who you’ve managed to put down, but never keep down, not once in a decade.”
What the fuck is wrong with you?
But no. Bad improv sketches where you pretend that we made a secret deal to kid-cuck you on television. More references to the past, and a match from 2015 where you literally sucked my dick. Yeah, Stevens, I’m treating you like a joke because you’re a fucking joke. Just like I treated Xander like a joke, and Dan Ryan, and Brian Hollywood, and Scottywood, and every motherfucker I’ve faced in the division. That’s what I do. I make fucking jokes, and then I get into a cage and change people’s lives. No punchlines in the cage, you stupid fuck. Why should you care about this match, if I’m “phoning it in”?
BECAUSE YOUR CAREER IS ON THE LINE.
But that’s the thing… never any consequences for you, are there? You’ve been fired a handful of times now, and benched more than that. But you always get to come back. Lee has always had that soft spot for you, hasn’t he? Because you’re a good little stat keeper and a good little agent and once a pay-per-view period, someone needs a safe title defense to protect their PPV program. You are literally enhancement talent now, a worthless fucking bug staring at an ACTUAL GOD and talking about how you’re gonna give him the fight of his life.
No, Stevens, you aren’t.
Stop pretending that you’re a fucking mastermind, because you aren’t. Stop pretending that you’re going to shock the world at War Games, because you aren’t. Couldn’t even be a man and accept my offer to relieve you of your fucking life out there on the Octane, what a fucking joke. You want me to live forever “knowing that you retired me”. Yeah, okay, Stevens. Big fucking “okay” emoji. Your bullshit must be a replica HOW title, cause you’re the only one buying it. Fortunately, I have decided not to give you a choice– the USS Octane sails in international waters, and there are no disqualifications.
It’s time for you to shed that underwhelming mortal coil, Scott.
At War Games, I am going to physically end your life. No weapons. No gimmicks. No hardcore barbed wire bullshit. I am going to beat you to death with my own two hands. With kicks, and my elbows, and my fists. With the single most dangerous knee in the world. I am going to rid the world of a fucking disease that has been slowly poisoning it with disappointment, and the final blow will leave a fucking HOF ring imprint on your forehead, because it’s the closest you’re ever going to get to the Hall of Fame. I am fucking done with you. You think you helped me?
I am Dr. Death, moron.
Jack fucking Kneevorkian.
Your assistance is no longer required.