Change of the year, Change of the man…
Ever wondered how an average man becomes a psychopath?
How a taxi driver becomes a cold blooded killer, firing at will in drive bys against people he doesn’t even know?
How a doctor, a professional, becomes fixated with poisoning his own patients who come to him at a time of need?
Provocation.
Pro-Vo-Cation.
It isn’t the fault of the common man for what he has been forced to become, nor is it the fault of the mind of such a man. Killers, murderers of this type should be forgiven and instead of being killed and left a voiceless soul floating amongst the air for which we take for granted, we should understand them, speak to them, gain wisdom from them.
Because those who are to blame are those who have pushed a human to the edge of his wits, who have forced him to move into another gear of his mind to find resolute peace and a new understanding of retribution and revenge, choosing to kill rather than merely smashing up some garden ornaments.
Those who are to blame are the opportunists, the fakes, the bullies and the scammers, the people who do whatever they can to destroy the lives and well being of another human being, the men who choose to sleep with another man’s wife knowingly, the women who sell themselves for sex and abuse their own bodies with drugs and alcohol, sick perverted human beings who stalk children, who lust for things that are not natural or correct in modern society.
It is the people of this ‘sick society’ that I am no longer permitting to ‘put up with’ or accept, people who want to stir the pot, people who want to cause trouble in the lives of others although it is not relevant to them, people who bask in the misery of the common man for no reason other than their own enjoyment.
…Provocation…
A provocation that was stirred in me by a slut wanting a cheap payout, a slut that wanted to gain cash while destroying my reputation, my name and my future, by making an evil symbol out of me and costing me everything I hold dear, my family, my loves, my home and probably my career. She was willing to do all this for a handsome sum of cash and in turn, sold herself for the betterment of her own person, she is, like so many, apart of this ‘sick society’.
She provoked a reaction and now the world is going to see one, because 2012 isn’t about the humble, homely Lethal Weapon any longer, it isn’t about the safe, stable family man, it isn’t even about the dedicated, professional sportsman that the world knows as The Lethal Weapon, no, 2012 is the year when I finally find a new purpose to my life, a new purpose to my career, a new purpose to my being in this world and that is to rid us of this ‘sick society’ of the selfish, the manipulative and the twisted.
2012 is the year I clean this worlds slate clean of the scum that occupies it.
**********************************************************************************
“Dad, it’s Scott, can you answer your phone? Me and Mum are worried, we haven’t heard from you since everything happened and we want to talk.” The voice on the answer machine was that of my son, the love of my life, the boy I bought up and cherished, the boy who was now starring in movie flicks all over the world and making a real success of himself.
“Nick, it’s me… Please pick up. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me and I know you didn’t hurt that girl, it’s the reason the case got dropped because she was proven to be a liar, so please, this is over now, you can come home or we can come out to you, whatever you want… Please answer…” Sheryl’s voice was desperate and filled with emotion as she took the phone from my son, however I didn’t move, instead I sat on the end of my bed listening to them, trying to blank out there voices, doing whatever to took to disconnect myself from the emotion that made me love them, that made me a weak man.
BEEP.
As it had done many times before, the answer phone turned off, my wife, my son had given up hope that I might answer the phone and speak to them and rightly so, for I had no wish to turn back now and become the man who was so easily fooled, so easily manipulated…
I glared down at the ground, though not at the ground itself, but the opening of my imagination that beamed onto the carpet like a projector from my mind, I was remembering the past, putting together images of the last five years of my life like some kind of collage to my achievements or lack of them and angrily noting down all the times when my ‘feelings’ and my ‘emotions’ have held me back and made me do the right thing, when my selfless nature has gotten me into more trouble than I can handle, more trouble than it is ever worth.
I breathed out heavily, my sigh deep and filled with rage as the images of that young girl, her face as she accused me of rape seemed to appear and then pause itself in front of me, I wanted to stand up and stamp on her face, I wanted to keep that image on the ground in front of me and beat it till it bleed so bad, her features were no longer recognizable to the eyes of another human being, that she would regret forever crossing me like she did.
…But I couldn’t, this was merely an image from my mind, a memory that I wanted to forget but simply couldn’t. This was the memory that would encourage and motivate change, the change of me, the change of the Lethal Weapon, the change that would make me a stronger, much more dangerous person, much like how I use to be, much like how I use to be remembered.
I stood from the bed fully dressed in shirt and grey pinstripe trousers, my top button undone at the collar to show the definition of my body underneath. I placed my feet into my designer shoes and glanced around at the dark, dingy room that surrounded me, with a smile I just walked across to my suit jacket that hung off the back of the chair and placed it on finishing my suave appearance.
“Amazing what something dirty can do to make you clean your act up…”
I spoke out loud with a humour in my tone, the irony of such a dirty place being the catalyst to allow my focus to change, to allow me to become a bigger, better person, that I had to dive so low to realise my own importance to this world.
How a taxi driver becomes a cold blooded killer, firing at will in drive bys against people he doesn’t even know?
How a doctor, a professional, becomes fixated with poisoning his own patients who come to him at a time of need?
Provocation.
Pro-Vo-Cation.
It isn’t the fault of the common man for what he has been forced to become, nor is it the fault of the mind of such a man. Killers, murderers of this type should be forgiven and instead of being killed and left a voiceless soul floating amongst the air for which we take for granted, we should understand them, speak to them, gain wisdom from them.
Because those who are to blame are those who have pushed a human to the edge of his wits, who have forced him to move into another gear of his mind to find resolute peace and a new understanding of retribution and revenge, choosing to kill rather than merely smashing up some garden ornaments.
Those who are to blame are the opportunists, the fakes, the bullies and the scammers, the people who do whatever they can to destroy the lives and well being of another human being, the men who choose to sleep with another man’s wife knowingly, the women who sell themselves for sex and abuse their own bodies with drugs and alcohol, sick perverted human beings who stalk children, who lust for things that are not natural or correct in modern society.
It is the people of this ‘sick society’ that I am no longer permitting to ‘put up with’ or accept, people who want to stir the pot, people who want to cause trouble in the lives of others although it is not relevant to them, people who bask in the misery of the common man for no reason other than their own enjoyment.
…Provocation…
A provocation that was stirred in me by a slut wanting a cheap payout, a slut that wanted to gain cash while destroying my reputation, my name and my future, by making an evil symbol out of me and costing me everything I hold dear, my family, my loves, my home and probably my career. She was willing to do all this for a handsome sum of cash and in turn, sold herself for the betterment of her own person, she is, like so many, apart of this ‘sick society’.
She provoked a reaction and now the world is going to see one, because 2012 isn’t about the humble, homely Lethal Weapon any longer, it isn’t about the safe, stable family man, it isn’t even about the dedicated, professional sportsman that the world knows as The Lethal Weapon, no, 2012 is the year when I finally find a new purpose to my life, a new purpose to my career, a new purpose to my being in this world and that is to rid us of this ‘sick society’ of the selfish, the manipulative and the twisted.
2012 is the year I clean this worlds slate clean of the scum that occupies it.
**********************************************************************************
“Dad, it’s Scott, can you answer your phone? Me and Mum are worried, we haven’t heard from you since everything happened and we want to talk.” The voice on the answer machine was that of my son, the love of my life, the boy I bought up and cherished, the boy who was now starring in movie flicks all over the world and making a real success of himself.
“Nick, it’s me… Please pick up. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me and I know you didn’t hurt that girl, it’s the reason the case got dropped because she was proven to be a liar, so please, this is over now, you can come home or we can come out to you, whatever you want… Please answer…” Sheryl’s voice was desperate and filled with emotion as she took the phone from my son, however I didn’t move, instead I sat on the end of my bed listening to them, trying to blank out there voices, doing whatever to took to disconnect myself from the emotion that made me love them, that made me a weak man.
BEEP.
As it had done many times before, the answer phone turned off, my wife, my son had given up hope that I might answer the phone and speak to them and rightly so, for I had no wish to turn back now and become the man who was so easily fooled, so easily manipulated…
I glared down at the ground, though not at the ground itself, but the opening of my imagination that beamed onto the carpet like a projector from my mind, I was remembering the past, putting together images of the last five years of my life like some kind of collage to my achievements or lack of them and angrily noting down all the times when my ‘feelings’ and my ‘emotions’ have held me back and made me do the right thing, when my selfless nature has gotten me into more trouble than I can handle, more trouble than it is ever worth.
I breathed out heavily, my sigh deep and filled with rage as the images of that young girl, her face as she accused me of rape seemed to appear and then pause itself in front of me, I wanted to stand up and stamp on her face, I wanted to keep that image on the ground in front of me and beat it till it bleed so bad, her features were no longer recognizable to the eyes of another human being, that she would regret forever crossing me like she did.
…But I couldn’t, this was merely an image from my mind, a memory that I wanted to forget but simply couldn’t. This was the memory that would encourage and motivate change, the change of me, the change of the Lethal Weapon, the change that would make me a stronger, much more dangerous person, much like how I use to be, much like how I use to be remembered.
I stood from the bed fully dressed in shirt and grey pinstripe trousers, my top button undone at the collar to show the definition of my body underneath. I placed my feet into my designer shoes and glanced around at the dark, dingy room that surrounded me, with a smile I just walked across to my suit jacket that hung off the back of the chair and placed it on finishing my suave appearance.
“Amazing what something dirty can do to make you clean your act up…”
I spoke out loud with a humour in my tone, the irony of such a dirty place being the catalyst to allow my focus to change, to allow me to become a bigger, better person, that I had to dive so low to realise my own importance to this world.
I lifted the key from the bedside table and walked out the door back into the lobby, it was a short walk through badly lit corridors before I reached the hatch opening where the owner of this shoddy, disgusting establishment sat, the paper opened widely in front of him, the room keys all hanging from hooks behind him. Though the access hatch was small, it was clear he had a lot of living space, with the room going back quite far, though it was no more hygienic or healthier than the rest of the place.
“I’m checking out” I said bluntly as I placed the key down in front of the man who glanced over his paper, squinted a look at me and then twizzled on his chair toward the hook with my room number on it.
“You paid for another night though champ” He said, but as a common means of speaking to somebody, not in reference to me personally or to any of my actual achievements, it would have shocked me to find that this man even knew who I was.
“I did? Oh well forget what I just said, I’ll happily stay in this luxury accommodation one night longer!” I said sarcastically causing the man to stop and stare a hole through me, yet, it was amazing, because the look clearly said that the fat lummox of a man clearly understood how bad this place was himself and yet, he did nothing to change it.
“I don’t do refunds” He finally said, turning back to me on his chair, his new York accent coming through even though we were deep into the centre of Rome, Italy.
“Keep it. I don’t need the money” I said with a smug smile across my face that offered him a visual representation of a class divide, as if the suit wasn’t already enough.
“Ok, so what is some high flying smug piece of crap like you doing in my hotel huh? You want to keep making gestures and pissing me off!?! So tell me, what the fuck are you doing here if you don’t want to be here?” He suddenly said in a shocking outburst that caused him to stand from his seat and aggressively lean toward me, his eyes angry.
“My apologies, I am being rather smug aren’t I? Well the truth is, I owe you some thanks, because this hotel, this establishment, it has given me some meaning to my life, it has made me understand my inner self, my inner worth, it has allowed to harness the rage and the selfish instinct that made me what I was so many years ago at the height of my success and it has given me the realisation that I can mix the underground, gritty, anger that I had when I was young with the power and riches that I have now I’m older and not lose any of the substance and class that makes me one of the most feared men at what I do.” I suddenly said, glaring the man in the eyes the whole time, watching as his face contorted with confusion.
“Wha?” He suddenly blurted out with every ounce of disgust that I felt when I looked at him.
I grabbed the man by the head, suddenly slamming him down cheek first against the counter of the hatch, his face slamming hard against the grainy cheap wood of a shelf he had fitted into it, with my strength I held him there, his legs and arms swinging wildly to escape like a cat that had been gripped hard around the neck.
“I fight. I fight for a living. It’s what I do, it’s who I am. They call me The Lethal Weapon, the toughest son of a bitch in the business, the king of kings, the legend to rule ALL legends… Your hotel has done me a favour, a big one, because it has enlightened me to the reasons I hate mankind, it has enlightened me to the reasons why I hate people like you and it has made certain that my focus, my aim, my GOAL has been realised and that the depths of scum, the deep dingy bags of sickness that drag this world down are made to suffer” My eyes slowly glanced down at the man, wildly trying to escape from my grip.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, if you want a refund, if you want anything, please just take it!” Said the man desperately, his voice full of fear of the unknowing.
“I told you already, I don’t need money. I need you… To suffer” I felt the smile climb up my face gently and slowly as if it had a mind of its own, as if the expression had come from my deep subconscious to tell me that finally, I had found my true calling.
“What are you going to do to me?” He gulped heavily as I considered his question for a moment, before glaring back down at him with a satisfied answer in my head.
**************************************************************************
“In other news today, a hotel owner has been found alive, but badly beaten in his establishment, New York born, but now living in Rome, Jeremy Gallen was found tortured, beaten and left hanging from his living room ceiling by one ankle! Police were initially baffled and still have no idea who had done this, however, during their investigation, Mr. Gallen was found wanted for crimes back here in the United States on charges of rape and manslaughter, crimes dating back to the late ninety eighties!”
Riley Addison:
Sick son of a bitch.
Riley just shook his head as he glared at the television from his glass dining room table, he lifted a sandwich from his plate and just placed it in his mouth before taking a large bite of what looked to be a sandwich filled with egg and sausage. As he continued to watch, the house phone begun to ring, he sighed heavily and glared across the room to watch a pretty young maid lift the phone and bring it to him.
Riley:
Thank you very much princess.
He said with a wink.
Riley:
Hello?
Weapon:
Enjoying your trip over to the United States?
Riley:
Weapon? What can I do you for?
Weapon:
… It’s more what I can do for you.
Riley seemed confused and placed his sandwich down before muting the television, he shuffled in his seat to find a more comfortable spot, his eyes squinting as he listened to a very composed, but dark tone in the voice of his friend.
Riley:
What can you do for me Lethal?
Weapon:
Exterminate, destroy…Take out the weak and remove the wasteful. I can be the man who cleans up FWA.
Riley:
Clean it up? Lethal, are you ok? Have you spoken to your wife recently? She’s been calling the offices like mad looking for you.
Weapon:
I have no time for weakness. At Carnage, you will see… You will see what I have become, what strength I now possess.
A click of a button and the dialling tone became a dead noise, the monotone but high pitched drone ringing in Riley’s ear as the owner of the FWA sat perfectly still at his table, glaring at the television screen and the pictures of the man found in Rome, Italy, his imagination surely playing tricks on him.
What was going on? What was Weapon talking about?
*******************************************************************************
Legacy…
The surname of the young man I am set to face in only a few days time, a man who enjoys to claim the scalps of the legends, the foundation names, the top athletes, a man who believes his climb to the top is unstoppable, unpenetrable, unbeatable, a man who has come so far in such a short space of time and has a mountain of confidence to back him up in everything he says and does.
Legacy…
The surname of a man so egotistically blinded that he believes he is something of a legend already, so charismatically overwhelmed that he doesn’t have the faintest idea of what he is up against, a man with so many strengths that he confidentally ignores his weaknesses and his short comings of which there are many.
Eli… Legacy.
Boy, let me speak directly to you through this camera in front of me, let me speak to you live from Munich Germany and only minutes away from the arena where the two of us are going to battle in the middle of the ring until the world has one winner and one loser.
Let us speak frankly and let me tell you why the luck and the ability you have been able to make your friend in your matches up until this moment are no longer going to help you are no longer going to be enough.
I am not Simon Cagero, I am not Jackson Adams, I am not Michael Kyzer and I am not Kirsta Lewis, I am not Rayne Young and I am not Jacob Laymon, I am not any of these names, nor am I any other name you care to mention and throw at my feet as yet another trophy victory that is meant to, in some way, intimidate me, worry me, make me afraid of what you might be able to do, no, because all of those are normal wrestlers, some of them are legends and as such… They are not me.
I… AM THE LEGEND, TO RULE, ALL LEGENDS!
THE KING OF KINGS!
I AM THE 20 YEAR VETERAN KNOWN AS THE LETHAL WEAPON!
…
“I’m checking out” I said bluntly as I placed the key down in front of the man who glanced over his paper, squinted a look at me and then twizzled on his chair toward the hook with my room number on it.
“You paid for another night though champ” He said, but as a common means of speaking to somebody, not in reference to me personally or to any of my actual achievements, it would have shocked me to find that this man even knew who I was.
“I did? Oh well forget what I just said, I’ll happily stay in this luxury accommodation one night longer!” I said sarcastically causing the man to stop and stare a hole through me, yet, it was amazing, because the look clearly said that the fat lummox of a man clearly understood how bad this place was himself and yet, he did nothing to change it.
“I don’t do refunds” He finally said, turning back to me on his chair, his new York accent coming through even though we were deep into the centre of Rome, Italy.
“Keep it. I don’t need the money” I said with a smug smile across my face that offered him a visual representation of a class divide, as if the suit wasn’t already enough.
“Ok, so what is some high flying smug piece of crap like you doing in my hotel huh? You want to keep making gestures and pissing me off!?! So tell me, what the fuck are you doing here if you don’t want to be here?” He suddenly said in a shocking outburst that caused him to stand from his seat and aggressively lean toward me, his eyes angry.
“My apologies, I am being rather smug aren’t I? Well the truth is, I owe you some thanks, because this hotel, this establishment, it has given me some meaning to my life, it has made me understand my inner self, my inner worth, it has allowed to harness the rage and the selfish instinct that made me what I was so many years ago at the height of my success and it has given me the realisation that I can mix the underground, gritty, anger that I had when I was young with the power and riches that I have now I’m older and not lose any of the substance and class that makes me one of the most feared men at what I do.” I suddenly said, glaring the man in the eyes the whole time, watching as his face contorted with confusion.
“Wha?” He suddenly blurted out with every ounce of disgust that I felt when I looked at him.
I grabbed the man by the head, suddenly slamming him down cheek first against the counter of the hatch, his face slamming hard against the grainy cheap wood of a shelf he had fitted into it, with my strength I held him there, his legs and arms swinging wildly to escape like a cat that had been gripped hard around the neck.
“I fight. I fight for a living. It’s what I do, it’s who I am. They call me The Lethal Weapon, the toughest son of a bitch in the business, the king of kings, the legend to rule ALL legends… Your hotel has done me a favour, a big one, because it has enlightened me to the reasons I hate mankind, it has enlightened me to the reasons why I hate people like you and it has made certain that my focus, my aim, my GOAL has been realised and that the depths of scum, the deep dingy bags of sickness that drag this world down are made to suffer” My eyes slowly glanced down at the man, wildly trying to escape from my grip.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, if you want a refund, if you want anything, please just take it!” Said the man desperately, his voice full of fear of the unknowing.
“I told you already, I don’t need money. I need you… To suffer” I felt the smile climb up my face gently and slowly as if it had a mind of its own, as if the expression had come from my deep subconscious to tell me that finally, I had found my true calling.
“What are you going to do to me?” He gulped heavily as I considered his question for a moment, before glaring back down at him with a satisfied answer in my head.
**************************************************************************
“In other news today, a hotel owner has been found alive, but badly beaten in his establishment, New York born, but now living in Rome, Jeremy Gallen was found tortured, beaten and left hanging from his living room ceiling by one ankle! Police were initially baffled and still have no idea who had done this, however, during their investigation, Mr. Gallen was found wanted for crimes back here in the United States on charges of rape and manslaughter, crimes dating back to the late ninety eighties!”
Riley Addison:
Sick son of a bitch.
Riley just shook his head as he glared at the television from his glass dining room table, he lifted a sandwich from his plate and just placed it in his mouth before taking a large bite of what looked to be a sandwich filled with egg and sausage. As he continued to watch, the house phone begun to ring, he sighed heavily and glared across the room to watch a pretty young maid lift the phone and bring it to him.
Riley:
Thank you very much princess.
He said with a wink.
Riley:
Hello?
Weapon:
Enjoying your trip over to the United States?
Riley:
Weapon? What can I do you for?
Weapon:
… It’s more what I can do for you.
Riley seemed confused and placed his sandwich down before muting the television, he shuffled in his seat to find a more comfortable spot, his eyes squinting as he listened to a very composed, but dark tone in the voice of his friend.
Riley:
What can you do for me Lethal?
Weapon:
Exterminate, destroy…Take out the weak and remove the wasteful. I can be the man who cleans up FWA.
Riley:
Clean it up? Lethal, are you ok? Have you spoken to your wife recently? She’s been calling the offices like mad looking for you.
Weapon:
I have no time for weakness. At Carnage, you will see… You will see what I have become, what strength I now possess.
A click of a button and the dialling tone became a dead noise, the monotone but high pitched drone ringing in Riley’s ear as the owner of the FWA sat perfectly still at his table, glaring at the television screen and the pictures of the man found in Rome, Italy, his imagination surely playing tricks on him.
What was going on? What was Weapon talking about?
*******************************************************************************
Legacy…
The surname of the young man I am set to face in only a few days time, a man who enjoys to claim the scalps of the legends, the foundation names, the top athletes, a man who believes his climb to the top is unstoppable, unpenetrable, unbeatable, a man who has come so far in such a short space of time and has a mountain of confidence to back him up in everything he says and does.
Legacy…
The surname of a man so egotistically blinded that he believes he is something of a legend already, so charismatically overwhelmed that he doesn’t have the faintest idea of what he is up against, a man with so many strengths that he confidentally ignores his weaknesses and his short comings of which there are many.
Eli… Legacy.
Boy, let me speak directly to you through this camera in front of me, let me speak to you live from Munich Germany and only minutes away from the arena where the two of us are going to battle in the middle of the ring until the world has one winner and one loser.
Let us speak frankly and let me tell you why the luck and the ability you have been able to make your friend in your matches up until this moment are no longer going to help you are no longer going to be enough.
I am not Simon Cagero, I am not Jackson Adams, I am not Michael Kyzer and I am not Kirsta Lewis, I am not Rayne Young and I am not Jacob Laymon, I am not any of these names, nor am I any other name you care to mention and throw at my feet as yet another trophy victory that is meant to, in some way, intimidate me, worry me, make me afraid of what you might be able to do, no, because all of those are normal wrestlers, some of them are legends and as such… They are not me.
I… AM THE LEGEND, TO RULE, ALL LEGENDS!
THE KING OF KINGS!
I AM THE 20 YEAR VETERAN KNOWN AS THE LETHAL WEAPON!
…
Eli, Eli, Eli, you suddenly stepped into waters that are far too deep for you to survive in, you walked into waters that will see you drown before they let you cross to the other side. When you slapped me across my face and tried in some way to embarrass me to make a name for yourself, you signed a death toll against your own name, you signed a declaration of war against the biggest, baddest son of a bitch in the business!
Eli, you said a lot of stupid things to me recently, but you also said things that are more true then you can ever understand, because the foundations of this business, of this industry were indeed laid by me, they were laid by me and many like me, old school wrestlers that, live, die and breath this business every second we are awake and every moment that we sleep! I am the last of a dying breed of legends who defied the odds, who made this business boom like it has never done before, I was apart of an era, a generation that led the way and entertained the millions week in and week out and I’m not talking the kind of gates FWA gets, nor the gates MCW gets, nothing even close, because unlike today, the wrestling business was something to be excited about 10-15 years ago.
Eli, I say I was ‘apart’ of it, modestly speaking like I was merely a foot soldier in the entire thing, but the truth of the matter, is that when this business boomed, when the wages of the wrestlers went up, when the ticket sales exploded, when the demand for more and more wrestling every single week erupted across the world, the man standing at the top of that mountain, the man who had done it all and was continuing to defy the odds and surprise the world, was none other than me, it wasn’t idiots like Doctor Ian, it wasn’t idiots like Greg Venom or Rayne Young, it wasn’t people like Chris Bomber, Jeremy Diaz, The Fallen Angel, Caleb Hart, Desolation, none of these wrestlers had a god damn thing on me, NONE OF THEM, some of them were up and comers of the business, some of them were not even heard off when I ruled this damn business and now, sure, they are household names, the same as Orlando Cruze is a household name, the same as Johnny Kingdom is a household name and oh, hey, by the way, take a look at the guy who gave them the fights of their lives and got them there!
Eli, I am a man who makes and breaks careers, a man with so much power, so much influence, so much reputation that beating me is near enough a one way ticket to becoming a future World Heavyweight Champion, do you think Simon Cagero could say that? What about Jackson Adams? Come to think of it, do you think there is one single superstar in this federation or any other federation that survives today who has that kind of ‘pull’?
Bottom line is, nobody can do what I can, nobody has achieved what I have, nobody will ever be remembered as greater than me and Eli, no pun intended, but if you want to see a true Legacy, a true story of inspiration for any young talent in this business to follow, then in a few days time, you can glare it right in the eyes, you can touch it, you can fight it, you can do whatever it takes to try and get the upper hand on it, but like so many before you Eli, like so many cocky, brash, over the hill egotistical sons of bitches JUST LIKE YOU, you are going to fail, you are going to fall down and you are going to get hurt.
It’s been a long time since I felt like this Eli, a long time since I had this kind of anger and fury and losing to Jacob Laymon like I did at Carnage has only furthered my temper more, so come Carnage, I am out to make a point, I am out to send a message, no more will I be the man who helps the young get ‘over’, no more will I be the man who offers advise to guys in the back, no more will I be the nice guy in the back who modestly ignores all his own successes to help others to get ahead…
…No more…
…The weak, the disgusting and the stupid are going to fall at my hands and the drags of society are going to be destroyed in my wake and Eli Legacy, your own stupidity to slap me, to call me out, to try and offend me, to agree to this match with me… Is enough reason for me to start my path of devastation with you.
The end of your success is coming near and the career you enjoy so much right now is under serious threat…
But good luck to you Eli Legacy, good luck on trying to claim the biggest scalp you could possibly claim, the scalp of the King of kings, the legend, to rule all legends…
The Scalp of the one and only…
Lethal Weapon.
For your sake… I hope you succeed, even though I already know, you won’t.
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