Straight to the point

“Whether I like it or not, you’ve been tattooed into my life. But unfortunately, you’re something I can’t cover up or laser off. You’re permanent. No matter how much I want to personally usher you out of Wrestleworld, which I do wholeheartedly, I’ve come to terms that you’re not going anywhere, for you are part of this company’s fabric. As am I. You are many things, mostly bad, that should go without saying, but perhaps what describes you best is well, you’re a cockroach. You never die. You survive, usually by the skin of your teeth. So it isn’t as simple as squashing you by the weight of my boot. I wish it was, but oh well. Havoc, you keep coming back into my life like a boomerang as you continue on with your odd obsession of me. Even when I snatch that European Championship from your grasp and beat you with it senseless this week, our paths will continue to cross when I expect it the most — usually when my back is turned. Therefore, this match isn’t the end when it comes to us like advertised, far from it, consider it a mid-season finale. But this time, when we return, you won’t have your ‘precious’ you Gollum looking motherfucker and you won’t be challenging for the European title for a very long time. Or better yet, never. Yeah, let’s go with that.”

“You’ve left your mark. You’ve left your mark in Wrestleworld with your shortlist of accomplishments — and you’ve left your mark on my body. The scars on the back of my head and neck prove just that from that dirty — or as you would probably put it, that tactical offense of yours. And of course the bruises as well. So it’s fair to say that you have DONE your damage. But it’s just you haven’t DONE enough. Because here I am, standing on my own two feet. Feeling peachy. And I’m sure you’re going to tell me you want that. That you want me as healthy as possible when it comes to this match because you want to prove to the people that you are the better man, or ‘the true king’, officially. But that’s where you fucked up. I notice you fuck up a lot. You should maybe work on that. Because you’ve been a little too cocky throughout this entire process.”

“Counting your eggs before they hatch. Planning yourself this big parade for a win that will never come. Tsk tsk tsk. A huge downfall you are creating for your own damn self there. I should know because I’ve been there. I’ve lived with my fair share of regrets, Havoc. I lived with a laundry list of regrets. Lived being the key word, since here I am now with a clean slate. As for you, you are about to live with a regret of your own. The biggest regret of all — not putting me down when you had the chance -- it’s gonna cost ya. You had the chance on many occasions. But you didn’t pull the trigger. Through your lens, this could be a classic example of you playing with your food. When in reality it comes down to two things. The first being the most logical and that’s you just can’t. You don’t possess the talent to do major damage to me. All you’ve done up to this point are little scratches that can be recovered from in no time. But the main reason, which is reason number two, is you need me. I know I’ve said this before, but it seems you still do not get it, so I’ll repeat myself and hopefully it reaches through that thick skull of yours this time. You need me around. Just like you need me in this match on this pay-per-view because it is dedicated to the title you hold ever so tightly when I’m lurking. You need a big match and an even bigger opponent. Tristan Killebrew is larger than life, after all, so good call. Havoc, I’m your blessing and your curse. Yep, it can’t be one or the other. You have to take the good with the bad. Because on one hand, this is going to end very badly for you. With a lot of losing. Losing this match. Losing that title. Losing that aura. Losing yourself. But most importantly, losing me. You would never wish for something so harsh, but it’s going to happen. And when I go on to do bigger and better things, kinda like I’ve already been doing, you lose your purpose. You were put here in Wrestleworld to create this magic with me. To partake in THE rivalry in all of Wrestleworld. No contest. But with me no longer in the picture, with me hovering above you, being a clear level above you, you will be left with nothing because you are nothing. And that’s how it should be. As for the good? Well, there is always -- uhhh, shit, for you, I guess there is none. I misspoke. My sincerest apologies.”

“You wish this could end differently. You don’t want us pitted against one another — no, instead you much prefer the idea of us standing side by side. Or at least you did. To rule Wrestleworld together. To create the dream team. Now the old me would have found that offer enticing. He would have been all over that — because it’s all about power. Something we both have. Something we both crave to get more of. But believe me when I say you wouldn’t want that. Sure, the beginning would be great. Everything would go swimmingly as we dominate Wrestleworld with our skill alone. But the honeymoon phase would quickly pass. Because you’re right, I’m a ‘snake in the grass’, as you put it. A wolf in sheep’s clothing. Therefore, I would have used you as a pawn by week three, give or take. A meat shield. You would do my bidding without you even realizing it. Playing you like a fiddle. Making Vance and Babayka look like amateurs. But I know Havoc, I know you would plan on doing the same. Thinking you were one-upping me as you keep your one and true enemy close. Thinking you have me right where you want me. Being one step ahead. But you wouldn’t. If you think so, then you are clearly and quite frankly, foolishly underestimating the lengths I would go to put myself in a position to succeed. If I would have to sacrifice you at any point, I would push you off the nearest cliff, as I watch your deadweight splat. See, this is me. The real me. I choose to be upfront with you. I let my intentions be known. There is no code to crack or riddle to solve. What you see is what you get. No hidden motives whatsoever. I mean, what do I have to hide from you anyway? You talk about insecurities but I have none. We may only know each other for what, five months? I don’t fucking know. Point is, it feels so much longer than that doesn’t it? And I don’t mean that in a good way where new friends feel like they have known each other for years because they are so similar.”

“Because contrary to your own belief, we aren’t alike. You can go dig into my past again and again and again and AGAIN -- and try to draw some comparisons, even if they are minuscule, but I am talking about the now. I am talking about the Tristan Killebrew that signed with Wrestleworld. The one you are listening to right now -- well, except for you since my words often fall on your deaf ears. But that’s another problem of yours. You are so fixated on the past. Trying to pull the past Tristan out of me and let him come to surface like you, Christopher, did with Havoc. I hate to break it to you -- and when I say break, I mean that cold and black heart of yours, the old me isn’t there anymore and for whatever reason, you can’t accept that fact. Sure, I may have an outburst here and there and sure, I may let loose in the ring and elbow the fuck out of your skull, but does that make me complete and utter filth? I don’t see it that way. While you are watching me closely, trying to pinpoint exact moments in time where the ‘evil’ Tristan is shining through as you try to pass it off as proof, it’s just me being human. I have never once said I am this perfect human being, Havoc. I have emotions. And one of those emotions is anger. Yeah, I have that. Especially when it comes to professional wrestling, there will be times where you lose your cool, even if it's for a split second. It’s hard not to when it’s your goal to defeat an opponent in that ring with physical force. So when someone punches me, I punch back. When someone kicks me, I kick back. You see? You get it?”

“I’ve tried so hard to make this personal. When this first started, it was. I was going to say I hated your guts back then, but it was never that deep. You have never ruffled my feathers enough for me to feel that strongly about you. But like I said, I have tried so damn hard to create this beef, this deep hatred when it comes to you, but I am struggling to pretend that’s the case for even five more seconds. I tried to take personal shots. Bringing up your wife. Briefly mentioning your upbringing. When it comes to you, and when it comes to listening to the words that come out of that loud mouth of yours, they mean nothing to me. And we are at the point that you mean nothing to me in general. These matchups of ours no longer excite me. And you can claim it’s because you have got the better of me more than I have you and sure, you know what, you can have that, even though when it comes to us, I officially count it 1-1, tied. You can talk about the triple threat match for the European Championship as a tiebreaker, when I don’t see it that way. You beat Babyaka that night, not me. And no, I am not going to go on this whole spiel about how I didn’t lose because you didn’t pin me that night like so many people say when they failed to get the outcome they had hoped for, in order to save face. It’s nothing like that. I just don’t count it because I never expected for the monster that is Babyaka, who managed to survive Chernobyl, to tap out like a little bitch after I removed his mask, assisting you on your win -- you’re welcome, by the way.”

“But as I was saying before I went on that tangent, there is no magic here. It’s tiring. Listening to you talk, looking at your smug face. Having the endure whatever the fuck that last video of yours was -- felt like I was watching the worst Black Mirror episode by far, even beating out that Miley Cyrus one. And I don’t even blame you for it. I like the effort you bring. I like all the costumes you wear. In fact, I used to enjoy dressing up too at one point -- but then I turned seven. I guess what it boils down to is in a rather short period of time, we have been involved in quite amount of matches, as well as speak our minds to one another, whether it be at one of the Chapters or when it comes to promoting our stuff while recording it outside of Wrestleworld’s walls. Meaning, there are really no new points to be made. You can only talk about my past and how you want us to be allies so many times before I no longer care. Because I don’t. I don’t even care about the European Championship anymore. That is how much these exchanges of ours have pained me. But I am going into this match with one goal and one goal only -- and that is to become European Champion. I realize that might sound contradictory since I literally just said I don’t even give a single fuck about the title, like I have said this week already, but at the same time, you can never have enough accolades. And the stipulation of when you lose, you go to the back of the line and I get to face fresh meat from whoever wins that Carnival Carnage Battle Royal, my interest only grows, even if it’s slowly. So with that said, this match is for me. I am not going to win that title just so I can end your uninspiring reign. I am not going to win for my mentor Ray or for any one of my fans. I am doing this for me. I am doing this because I am the king. I am doing this because this is my kingdom. I rule it. And it’s about time you are reminded of it.”

“The king has spoken.”