“Well guys, I totally decided I’d play in the battle royal after all.”

“You’re happy, right?”

“Yeah, of course you are…”

“If I were wrestling on Heritage, like I still wish I were, I’d assume that everyone figured out what my deal was already, but since this is Evolution League and we have idiots like Jimmy, Pete, and… whatshisname with the mask he stole from that other guy.”

“Here goes.”

“I hate Evolution League.”

“I hate Elijah Goldman.”

“Evolution League… represents appearance over substance.  It represents every Adrien Cochrane, Chris Kaladaro and Noah Hanson who’s ever set foot into the business intending to be the pinnacle of pretty-boy cocky heels, it represents the kids who got into wrestling after they decided to put their porn careers on hold after finding out they’d have to do it with guys, it represents everyone who watched some over-tanned musclebound oaf lumber around the ring and thought that it looked pretty cool.”

“Evolution League represents scum.”

“If, like me, someone ended up in Evolution League because they wanted to be there, well, fine.  Wrestling’s a tough business, I know that.  It’s tougher for me, I’ve stood up to abuse that would send most guys whining to the bosses desk.  I’ve seen it happen.  But it’s tough for everyone because there will always be more people wanting a job than jobs available, and so sometimes you just have to handle it.”

“Unless of course you’re not a wuss.”

“If you’re not a wuss, you fight back.”

“So I guess it’s laundry list time then?”

“Beef Jackson… Lone Wolf… Rich Mahogany… yeah.  I look at you three, and what I see is nine points for the taking.”

“Pete Whealdon?  Glad to know you don’t think I deserve to be named.  Awesome.  One time World Tag Champion talking down to a three time World Heavyweight Champion.  Brilliant.  Dolphins.  Mustache.  Sleaze.  Sex references.  I’m totally glad you decided to ignore me, actually, I’m just saying it wasn’t bright.”

“Christopher Barton?”

“I remember you.  And as far as I remember, we never had a problem with each other… you were trying to win the OLW Heavyweight Title from Python while I was involved in the trios tag division.”

“Actually, I sort of remember you being one of those wrestlers who didn’t really like Sports Ent very much.  What was it that internet guy nicknamed you, Grumpy At 24?  Chris, if you’re interested in getting on board with this ‘fuck evo’, I mean, ‘ruin evo’ thing, I just know someone’s going to be a smartass and deliberately misconstrue it… well, if you’re interested, you can totally have my number, we’ll work something out.”

“Til then though you’re 3 points.”

“Curtis Penn?  Don’t know you.  I do know you’ve been around long enough to know better.”

“Mike Sloan?  You voluntarily worked for Elijah Goldman… but you did it to get at Bronson Box.  So that kind of balances it out.  However, fuck you, because you spent all your time worrying about the paper tiger.  Thanks Pete, I’m going to keep using that one.”

“Which leaves the two people who I think need to be hurt the most.”

“And I’ll start with the fat sack of shit in the stolen mask.”

“Let’s be honest, oaf.  You ramble around living your normal life and you make a point to rant about each and every one of your opponents – except me.  You bend over backwards to avoid mentioning me.  And I’m sure that once the battle royal starts, you’re going to do one of two things.  Either try to wrestle entirely with open hand slaps, or try to bend over backwards to avoid going anywhere near me.”

“Year 2001 called.  They want their douchebaggery back.”

“Unlike some people, I’m smart enough not to try to fistfight someone who outweighs me.  What I’m smart enough to do is avoid you until the ring clears out and I have some room to move, and then I’m going to kick you on the leg.  Dance like a butterfly, sting like a bee.  Kick like a cassowary or a Deinonychus.  And in the end, you’ll be nothing but a helpless bag of meat.  And you know something?  I probably can’t throw you out of the ring.  That’s fine.  I’ll just kick you until they either award it to me through match stoppage, or award it to you through disqualification, because remember, I don’t give a damn about anything other than hurting people.”

“Which brings me to you, Jimmy Kort.”

“Hell’s wrong with you?”

“Are you the same man who shot Goldman in the face back in Defiance 1.0?”

“And here you are carrying the company line?”

“Hey, remember when you were treating Justin Brooks like a slave?  At least he had the dignity to walk off after a while.  That’s not much, but it’s better than doing his bidding with a big ole Tejas smile on your face.”

“Jimmy, in all seriousness.”

“You should be siding with me.”

“You should be saying to me, ‘Heidi, let’s show these fools what a couple of Defiants can do’, and then we’d hang ‘em high.”

“Instead, you want to convince all these idiots to help you team up on me?”

“Jimmy, let me explain this really carefully.  I have been fighting for credibility for years, in a way that most men will never have to, every single time I step into the ring.  If someone tries to bury all the things I’ve accomplished… well, then yes, I’m going to bring out my past achievements, and remind them that they can SHUT UP, until they’ve done it too.  And they never can.”

“And the best part?  As long as I’m motivated to make sure of it, they never will.”

“Ever.” 

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