You Are Now Free To Move About The Midcard
Oct 21, 2018 22:58:13 GMT -5
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Post by Stephen Singh on Oct 21, 2018 22:58:13 GMT -5
October 21, 2018
United Airlines Flight 452
Somewhere over the Mason Dixon Line
Row 22 Seat C
The flight is sparsely populated which has allowed Stephen Singh his own row, the most prized possession in all of the skies. The rest of the flight is mostly solo flyers, painting a quiet backdrop for Stephen’s boisterousness.
Singh: Faithful Stephenites I come to you today from a soapbox in the sky with great jubilation! DW Wolf saw fit to shit out some semblance of promotional material for match! And while I take absolute zero joy in actually watching the damn thing, it is in absolute ecstasy that I return fire.
Fire. That’s what that was your best shot at it right? You were trying to let your little fire burn and fuel you into some serious shoot. I liked it to be honest, DW. You showed me some rudimentary ability to research, maybe turn a phrase or two and even tried to tell me who I was. But your promo was as lackluster and shallow as your ring work. You, once again, left me uninspired. My favorite part was probably the very open when with just my words, with nothing more than a few nouns and verbs strung together, I made you furious. That angry little child inside you came roaring out, tossing your cellphone like you’d just missed out on your first victory royale. Heh. Just some little opening shoot had you so out of sorts you were sounding like you belong in the Mustache family; you’re going to shoot a load down my throat? Don’t go blue, Wolf, it doesn’t suit you.
What does suit you is that same old, same old you spat in the promo about using your anger like a weapon, about honing it and taking advantage of it. That anger you’re holding so tightly isn’t being used by you, it’s using you. It’s that anger that’s going to fail you. It’s that anger that’s going to blind you with rage, fill your vision with red and then when it does, I steal another victory. While you’re giving into your lesser self and operating full of bloodlust and rage, I slip in like a Thief In The Night. The fuel in your fire is poison to your mind which is the most dangerous weapon either of us have. Either of us can grab a table or a chair or a bat or a brick as you seemed prone to but only one of us will have the self control to wait until the perfect moment. Only one of us will have the calm to see the perfect opening, to realize exactly what is the perfect weapon. That one of us is me. Take that “semi-automatic gun” back to the fucking range and calibrate the sights. Spray and pray all you want, you show me your head for a moment and I only need one shot to take it the fuck off. And what then? Where do you go then, Wolf. Back to the fucking bottle, back to obscurity, back to your self-pitying pathetic poonbaggery. And me? I go back to the fucking Champions’ Lounge, back to the top of the card, back to the main event.
You claimed to give credit where credit is due to Bernard Core, you credit the man with saving your life. You even said you’d take a bullet for him but yet..you couldn’t even swing a chair for him? You couldn’t do that one last thing before moving on and becoming this “new man?” So you could take a bullet but you couldn’t shoot one huh? You betrayed that man in his moment of need, while he BEGGED for your help. You’re five kinds of a coward. Your words and the “credit” you give are meaningless because your actions are weak, spineless. If my words betrayed me the way yours do you I guess I’d try to burn my past too. I’d put it all in that hideous vehicle and blow it the fuck up in an attempt to outrun the whole thing, to leave it all behind. If I were a coward like you that’s what I’d do. But I’m not. So I don’t. I’ve done terrible things, Wolf. I’ve lived a life with regrets and hardships. But I don’t burn it down. I don’t run from it. With that there’s no growth, there’s no education--you remember how important EDUCATION is, don’t you Dean? I carry my past around with me in the form of that albatross of a manager, Donna. She’s a constant reminder of the shit life I pulled myself out of and the shit life I pulled from my brother. These things are regrettable but they are mine and they teach me everyday. The drive me everyday to grow, to strive, to be stronger and better than I was before. I’m man enough to sit with my past errors in order to truly know them so that I never make them again. You’re not even man enough to stand near the pyre upon which you throw all of your life’s lessons. No, you cower in the woods from a distance, afraid of the flames you created.
That’s what you’ve done again here, Wolf. You’ve created these flames, you’re sparked this little fire in me and now you’d do your best to cower a half a block away. But I know you won’t. I know you’re too stupid to heed me advice. If you’d been here I’d have never gotten off the ground? If you’d been here you’d be another fucking check in my win column. You’d be another forgotten fucking nobody that I wouldn’t even namecheck in promos that I ran through in my sleep. Don’t worry, you’re still going to be that soon enough.
While you battled your demons and struggled to break free of Bernard Core, I worked. I honed my skills physically and mentally. You think I’m afraid of a nothing-to-lose bum in an alley? I’ve been tossing bricks with Joey Flash, Gravedigger, Odin Balfore while you cowered under the thumb of another man. Wolf you were supposed to be an Alpha but you faded to the back of the pack and now it’s time to put you down for good. Ever look out on the horizon at sunset or sunrise in the fall and there's a glow bouncing off the land, creating just a narrow band of gold that separates the Earth from the sky? The Mortals from the gods? I am that gold. I am that God. And the Sun is setting for Wolf and Rising on Thieving season. I will show no mercy and the Smite will be swift but the people can always #prayforwolf. He’s going to fucking need it.
United Airlines Flight 452
Somewhere over the Mason Dixon Line
Row 22 Seat C
The flight is sparsely populated which has allowed Stephen Singh his own row, the most prized possession in all of the skies. The rest of the flight is mostly solo flyers, painting a quiet backdrop for Stephen’s boisterousness.
Singh: Faithful Stephenites I come to you today from a soapbox in the sky with great jubilation! DW Wolf saw fit to shit out some semblance of promotional material for match! And while I take absolute zero joy in actually watching the damn thing, it is in absolute ecstasy that I return fire.
Fire. That’s what that was your best shot at it right? You were trying to let your little fire burn and fuel you into some serious shoot. I liked it to be honest, DW. You showed me some rudimentary ability to research, maybe turn a phrase or two and even tried to tell me who I was. But your promo was as lackluster and shallow as your ring work. You, once again, left me uninspired. My favorite part was probably the very open when with just my words, with nothing more than a few nouns and verbs strung together, I made you furious. That angry little child inside you came roaring out, tossing your cellphone like you’d just missed out on your first victory royale. Heh. Just some little opening shoot had you so out of sorts you were sounding like you belong in the Mustache family; you’re going to shoot a load down my throat? Don’t go blue, Wolf, it doesn’t suit you.
What does suit you is that same old, same old you spat in the promo about using your anger like a weapon, about honing it and taking advantage of it. That anger you’re holding so tightly isn’t being used by you, it’s using you. It’s that anger that’s going to fail you. It’s that anger that’s going to blind you with rage, fill your vision with red and then when it does, I steal another victory. While you’re giving into your lesser self and operating full of bloodlust and rage, I slip in like a Thief In The Night. The fuel in your fire is poison to your mind which is the most dangerous weapon either of us have. Either of us can grab a table or a chair or a bat or a brick as you seemed prone to but only one of us will have the self control to wait until the perfect moment. Only one of us will have the calm to see the perfect opening, to realize exactly what is the perfect weapon. That one of us is me. Take that “semi-automatic gun” back to the fucking range and calibrate the sights. Spray and pray all you want, you show me your head for a moment and I only need one shot to take it the fuck off. And what then? Where do you go then, Wolf. Back to the fucking bottle, back to obscurity, back to your self-pitying pathetic poonbaggery. And me? I go back to the fucking Champions’ Lounge, back to the top of the card, back to the main event.
You claimed to give credit where credit is due to Bernard Core, you credit the man with saving your life. You even said you’d take a bullet for him but yet..you couldn’t even swing a chair for him? You couldn’t do that one last thing before moving on and becoming this “new man?” So you could take a bullet but you couldn’t shoot one huh? You betrayed that man in his moment of need, while he BEGGED for your help. You’re five kinds of a coward. Your words and the “credit” you give are meaningless because your actions are weak, spineless. If my words betrayed me the way yours do you I guess I’d try to burn my past too. I’d put it all in that hideous vehicle and blow it the fuck up in an attempt to outrun the whole thing, to leave it all behind. If I were a coward like you that’s what I’d do. But I’m not. So I don’t. I’ve done terrible things, Wolf. I’ve lived a life with regrets and hardships. But I don’t burn it down. I don’t run from it. With that there’s no growth, there’s no education--you remember how important EDUCATION is, don’t you Dean? I carry my past around with me in the form of that albatross of a manager, Donna. She’s a constant reminder of the shit life I pulled myself out of and the shit life I pulled from my brother. These things are regrettable but they are mine and they teach me everyday. The drive me everyday to grow, to strive, to be stronger and better than I was before. I’m man enough to sit with my past errors in order to truly know them so that I never make them again. You’re not even man enough to stand near the pyre upon which you throw all of your life’s lessons. No, you cower in the woods from a distance, afraid of the flames you created.
That’s what you’ve done again here, Wolf. You’ve created these flames, you’re sparked this little fire in me and now you’d do your best to cower a half a block away. But I know you won’t. I know you’re too stupid to heed me advice. If you’d been here I’d have never gotten off the ground? If you’d been here you’d be another fucking check in my win column. You’d be another forgotten fucking nobody that I wouldn’t even namecheck in promos that I ran through in my sleep. Don’t worry, you’re still going to be that soon enough.
While you battled your demons and struggled to break free of Bernard Core, I worked. I honed my skills physically and mentally. You think I’m afraid of a nothing-to-lose bum in an alley? I’ve been tossing bricks with Joey Flash, Gravedigger, Odin Balfore while you cowered under the thumb of another man. Wolf you were supposed to be an Alpha but you faded to the back of the pack and now it’s time to put you down for good. Ever look out on the horizon at sunset or sunrise in the fall and there's a glow bouncing off the land, creating just a narrow band of gold that separates the Earth from the sky? The Mortals from the gods? I am that gold. I am that God. And the Sun is setting for Wolf and Rising on Thieving season. I will show no mercy and the Smite will be swift but the people can always #prayforwolf. He’s going to fucking need it.
