"I know. It has been awhile since we last saw one another. I am hoping that you an forgive me for that little transgression but you see, when I first made my return to Sin City Wrestling a few months back, I had come into an arrangement where I was not going to be on as full a schedule as many of my peers were. I was cutting back my time on the road, and my time in the ring. The better to make certain I rested well and avoided re aggravating old injuries that had been a bane on my wrestling career for a fair number of years now."
"Rest assured, had I had my way entirely, this would not be the case. If I were able, I would be appearing on each and every show that Mister Ward and Mister Underwood promoted. I would be signing autographs at every given opportunity and making publicity appearances anywhere and everywhere that they needed or wanted me. After all, it would be the very least that I could do after their willingness to work with me, and more importantly, forgive me for my past sins and the embarrassment I laid on their shoulders, as well as my own. And more importantly, I would again be right where I feel that I belong. Right where I will be this coming Sunday in Munich, Germany. I would be inside of the ring, testing my skills against the very best that SCW has to offer."
"Who knows? Perhaps one day I will have earned the trust of friends and family to again be where I once was. But for now, I am here as I am -- and I have nobody to blame other than myself."
"It's something that happened that I can barely even remember, but one that I would just as soon forget. I had to sit there and listen to both Mister Ward and Parker tell me in graphic detail of everything that happened that morning in Las Vegas, both in the hotel room where they found me, and the way there for what would be the most horrific day of my life."</color>
It was still early enough in the morning where the sky overhead was blanketed with a colorful arrangement from nature's own pallet, as pinks, yellows and oranges tinged the skyline overhead with a blanket of blue and golden overcasts. A scant few clouds hovered overhead in the heavens with a tinge of gray, hinting to the previous night's weather forecast of rain in the very near future. One would have to give wonder to whether those who called Vegas their home would prefer to enjoy such a beautiful morning as they were blessed with at this given moment, or wish for the rain to be drawn in that any city surrounded by dry rock and desert would need.
A crowd gathered outside of the Hilton in the famed "City of Sin", doing what crowds were often wont to doing: getting up close and personal with matters that were none of their concern. It was simply he nature of the beast. A person witnessing something interesting or even horrific involving someone else would want to get a closer look and gawk unabashed with open curiosity. They would talk and gossip with friend and neighbor alike who were as nosey as they, but somewhere in the deep recesses of their minds, they truly believed that they had a right to know whatever was going on. Simple because.
The ambulance had pulled up only minutes ago before the medics had piled out from within and hurried as fast as they were able to the inside. Those watching from outside the hotel and inside in the lobby while 'pretending' to go about their own personal business, watched with eagle eyes for any new developments as to the ongoing drama that was unfolding before their very eyes. One might think that in a city like Las Vegas, people would have better things to do than to pay such close attention to such things happening to others.
One would think.
However they did not have long to wait before their idle curiosities were satiated as the doors to the hotel lobby were swung open and the crowd parted like the Red Sea as the paramedics wheeled the gurney past the door and through their own masses, en route to the waiting ambulance. The man lying on the gurney was a familiar site if one followed the world of professional wrestling. If not, to them he was just another man. His long black hair was scattered on the head rest of the gurney and his bare upper torso was tanned with tribal tattoos with what exposed flesh that they could see. An oxygen mask was firmly set over his mouth and nose, the elastic wrap draped back around his head to hold it in place as his soft, chestnut brown eyes wavered about weakly, as if he were unaware of what exactly was happening, trying in vain to take it all in.
"Move!" The loud bark of command ordered, a voice deep in resonating tone and heavily laced with a Southern twang. "God damn it! MOVE!"
Austin Parker, Bo Dreamwolf's manager, mentor, and if you want the truth, father figure, was following the paramedics, hurrying in their wake as Bo's other friend and mentor, 'Hot Stuff' Mark Ward, and the woman who had captured his affections only too recently, Brandi Shotze, were right there alongside him. And they had little to no patience for dealing with the 'looky loos' who were starting to crowd around them and block their path, all in the name of getting a better view of what was happening.
Right up until one man got right in Austin's path to stand on the tips of his toes to get a better look and Parker proceeded to shove him from out of his way and sent the guy sprawling to the pavement, scattering those around him to get out of his way.
"Hey!" the man bellowed, more embarrassed from the spill than hurt, but he was indignant over the actions. He rolled over and started to stand up. "What the hell is your problem!?"
But showing quite the amount of uncharacteristic restraint as opposed to his usual demeanor, Austin simply kept on walking, picking up the pace and ignoring the shouting man behind him. The guy came ever so close to making a most foolish mistake at following and confronting the group, but Brandi herself turned around and pointed a single digit in his face and said, simply, "Back <Be>off</Be>!" And the look in her eyes and expression on her face was all the man needed to decide that discretion was the better part of valor and he tucked his tail between his legs and stepped back.
"Is someone going with him?" The lead medical tech asked as two others swung the rear doors of the ambulance open.
"I am."/"I am." Came the unified response of both Austin as well as Brandi. Their heads turned sharply toward each other and before Brandi could utter her own argument, Austin put a finger in her face and growled only loud enough for hr ears to hear, "No. Not after what you caused."
Austin turned his back to her and she stepped up with a frown of disbelief on her face and she practically shouted, "What the <Be>hell</Be> is <Be>that</Be> supposed to mean!?"
Mark was prepared to intervene if need be. Brandi was under contract to Sin City Wrestling, and was thus his responsibility. On the flip side of the coin, Bo was like a second soon to Austin, dear to his heart and as such, he thought of the young Cherokee as his own responsibility. Plus, Mark knew full well when it came to protecting and defending his own, Austin would not hesitate to lash out physically. Formidable as Brandi had proven herself time and again through the years, a physical confrontation between the pair would be no contest.
Just as Austin spun around, seething anger on his face, Mark was right there with his hand firmly gripping Parker's shoulder, possibly the only thing preventing his old friend from knocking the busty Bombshell aside for what he now laid at her feet.
Austin's glare was hot -- dangerous -- and he shook his head slowly from side to side before he spoke in barely a whisper, "Liquor ... and his medication." His tall form tensed and Mark silently pleaded for Austin not to do anything that he might come to regret later. Instead, Austin fought down his white hot anger and pointed at Shotze before he blurted out, "If anything -- <Be>anything</Be> happens to him, it's on your head!"
"Sir?" The lead paramedic again called to gain their attention. Their heads turned and he looked at the two men and one woman imploringly. "If one of you is going, we need to leave and get him..."
"Hey!"
"Calm down!"
The other two paramedics called out, gathering everyone's attentions to a situation quickly unfolding in front of them. They had just about started to lift the gurney into the back of the ambulance when Bo, sudden realization dawning on him, started to struggle.
"Bo! Calm down!" Mark barked before either Austin or Brandi could do so themselves as they rushed over to his side and grabbed his arms, holding them down while the two paramedics strapped his arms down too prevent him from doing himself any harm. Bo's eyes were wide with fear but he could not speak while the oxygen mask was over the lower half of his face.
"Stop!" Austin said, almost hollering but refraining in order to hopefully prevent the nosey bastards behind him from getting anything further from the situation to yak about over breakfast. "God damn it Bo, ah said calm stop!" And his own hands clamped firmly on Bo's shoulders, preventing him from further movement until he had been secured.
Those same brown eyes darted bout and locked onto Austin's own, and there was a fear deep within. Fear and now, possibly -- anger.
"Yer goin' to the hospital." Austin commanded, not willing to even listen to any arguments from Dreamwolf against the notion. "An' <Be>ah'm</Be> comin' with you."
The last part of the statement was spoken as much for Bo's sense of security, as much as to inform Shotze that the topic was not up for debate. As Bo was lifted up and placed into the ambulance's back, Austin gripped the sides of the frame to follow when Mark quickly grasped him by the arm and looked at him dead serious.
"His family." Mark spoke quietly. "Do we call them?"
Austin glanced back into the ambulance only briefly before he looked back to Mark and shook his head. "Not yet." he answered. "Not until we know more about what's happening." And he then climbed into the back of the ambulance and the driver closed the door and secured it.
As the driver went around to the front to climb in, Mark, Brandi, and those who had crept closer during the ongoing drama, stepped back and watched as the siren quickly sounded, the lights flashed and the ambulance pulled out of the Hilton's parking lot, taking Bo to the hospital.</color>
"What is a monster?"
"Merriam Webster defines a monster as being a strange or horrible imaginary creature, something that is extremely or unusually large, or lastly, a powerful person or thing that cannot be controlled and causes trouble."
"You will forgive me, Lord Raab, as I am not one to perform the typical amount of trash talking like my peers, but if I am to be honest, none of these really sounds very much like you. Well, not really. I admit that from what I've seen, you have caused a great amount of trouble for those you set foot inside of the ring with, and there is a distinct lack of control where you are concerned. Yet also from what I've witnessed, there is even less of a desire from those who are meant to look after you, whether they be that muscled backup that follows you around like a whipped puppy, Samuel McPhereson, or your anger management professional. If that is indeed his profession, and given the nature of your recent displays, I would dare say the man needs to work on finding for himself a new profession because his current is sorely lacking in any areas of success."
"And then there are your own teammates in that stable known as the Rejects. They obviously see something special in you, otherwise they never would have sought to include you within their ranks. Makes sense, yes? So why on earth would they want to control what instead they would do better to see let loose against their collective enemies and professional rivals? It just makes the term 'monster' move even further from our person in regards to accuracy than I would have initially imagined."
"Now when I think of a monster, I think of the varied examples set in stories and mythology in tales that I've been privy to since I was a boy. To me, a monster is something like a vampire, but you do not drink blood, nor do you sparkle in the sunlight. And yes, that was a joke. Monsters have been a part of history since the very dawn of time, and I have read so many stories about fearsome and deadly creatures from cultures the world over. You have werewolves that have existed in tales from every nation. Zombies from Louisiana to as far as Africa. A Basilisk that could destroy life with its very breath and eyes that could kill with a simple glance. Harpies that spread disease and tormented those that offended the ancient gods of Greece. Giants. Griffins. Lamia. The Kraken, a sea beast that could easily sink the largest of ships and drag sailors to their watery deaths. And the tragic tale of the maiden Medusa, who was cursed to lose her beauty and become a sight so horrific that one look would turn any living thing to stone. Her crime? She had been raped by one god in the temple walls of another."
"Those, Lord Raab, to me are monsters. True monsters. Now I understand that these examples are from tales of fancy, but the true horror of this thing we call life comes from the stories we see on the evening news on our fellow man. Mortal monsters. The very same ones that walk side-by-side alongside of us on the random, every day streets. Historical human 'monsters' such as Elizabeth Bathory, the so-called 'Blood Countess' that killed hundreds of virginal girls and bathed in their blood in a misguided belief that doing so would preserve her youth, vitality and charming beauty. Perhaps England's most infamous serial killer known as Jack the Ripper. A man that systematically terrorized Victorian London by killing and dismembering an upwards of eleven prostitutes, and as he was never caught or discovered, that number could very well be grossly inaccurate. Then in more modern times, there is Jeffrey Dahmer, a sadistic killer that murdered several young men and not only violated their corpses, but cannibalized them as well. And there are others, far too many to mention as they are most likely ones that we have yet to even discover the heinous crimes they have committed. If they have even committed them as of yet. Just your random, every day men and women who walk the streets, laugh at their tables in restaurants, and hide what darkness lies within."
"So, that being said, I am led to wonder where that leaves you, Lord Raab. It makes me want to know just what kind of 'monster' you really and truly are. I've had the pleasure of watching you since you first debuted here in SCW, and if I am to be blunt, I have seen very little to live up to the hype that you have given yourself. Oh don't take my words for the usual insults and trash talking that tends to plague the every day promotional video of me and mine, but to me, you are just like every other man that enters this sport and declares himself a monster. The only difference is, you are much, much smaller."</color>
The first thing I actually remembered was my laying back in that hospital bed, my arms strapped down to the rails on the bedside. Why, you might ask? The better to prevent me from reaching up and attempting to pull that tube from down my throat. Have any of you had a stomach pump? A tube pushed forcibly down your throat to drain whatever toxins you have in your system, out? Trust me when I confide in you that it is anything but a pleasant thing. It hurts -- horribly. The gag reflex alone made me wish I were dead but what is even worse is you find yourself getting almost used to it. Almost. It's just not something I thought I world ever have to get used to.
Whenever something happens like that, to anyone, we all think the exact same things: how and why. How did this happen to me. And why me, out of all the people in the world. Why did it have to happen to me.
If I am to be perfectly honest, I wasn't even altogether certain at the time what had happened. I was in detox from almost killing myself by an accidental overdose, thanks to my preference for not allowing any to know my weaknesses or to admit that I did, in fact, need help. I was -- am, after all, only human.
"Hey boy." I heard the voice from somewhere to my left and I turned my head as best I could.
The grogginess did not make it any easier, nor did the tube itself. My head simply felt as if it were filled with small rocks that were being ground together and it made it rather hard to focus, or even think. Still, it took little effort to recognize Mister Parker's face as he was now standing over me and looking down into my eyes, as if perhaps he were examining me himself. Knowing the stubborn man as I do, he probably didn't trust the doctor enough to know and wanted to see for himself. It was for that reason alone I could have laughed, and why I loved the man as a friend and pseudo father alike.
My eyes cast slightly to the side to spot a chair that looked more torture device than it did comfort, but a half empty bottle of Coke and an open novel on the bed stand.
"Yeah." Mister Parker spoke again, and I slowly (painfully) tuned my head back so that I could look up at him. "Ah been here awhile. Most of the day as a matter of fact. Sent Angel back home an' promised ah'd call her. Docs said you'd be here at least overnight, but ah insisted you get released soon as possible `cause you had a family to get back home to."
That awoke something in me, and I could have coughed that tube back up from out of my insides so that I could speak of my most immediate fear. I pulled on the harnesses that held my arms secured and felt just so frustrated at my inability to move. How I ever let Brandi talk me into doing this that one night is beyond me. (Don't judge me.) My point is, I wanted loose. I wanted to swing at something. I wanted to grab hold of Mister Parker so that I could voice my concerns but he knew already what was going through my head as he placed a hand on my shoulder and spoke,
"No, they don't know." He said, a trace of disappointment all too evident in his voice and facial features. This only added to the immense wave of discomfort and guilt I was already experiencing. He went on, "Ah didn't want to worry yer gramma before we knew anything. Mark phoned and told yer sister that you were more banged up than we thought an' was bein' examined. Thought it might buy us enough time until we get you released and home."
He massaged my shoulder as a man might until he gripped it tighter than any may have appreciated and said, "There, see? Now you made us all liars."
I wanted to just lay down and die after he said that to me. I mean, I was already laying down. Why couldn't he have just pushed my pillow over my face and end it for me? I was at my lowest point then, having done this to myself and dragging those I cared most for down along with me. Instead, I was reduced to being given something by my nurse to make me sleep so I'd be blessedly oblivious to the next several hours and slowly I went to sleep. I did, however, notice that not once did Mister Parker leave my side. Not once until it was time for me to leave the hospital the next day.
It only got better (worse) from there, and I say that with as much sarcasm as I can muster now that I can look back on it. Before they would release me, I had to talk to both a police officer, as well as a psychiatrist. Both wanted to question me in regards to the morphine that I had been (legally) prescribed, as well as the circumstances behind my being hospitalized. In short, they wanted to be certain that I had not attempted to kill myself purposely. Nice, huh?
But I suppose that I have nobody else to blame but myself. Speaking of which, in case some of you were wondering, yes Brandi did try to visit me. Many times as a matter of fact, but somehow, some way, Mister Parker stone walled her at every turn. he believed then, and perhaps still does to this day, that what happened to me was her fault. Only, it was not, and I told him as much. Brandi did not force the alcohol down my throat. I did that to myself. I just never realized at the time how much I had been drinking that night. I don't even think Brandi was aware that I was on such a terribly powerful pain killer as I was. Had she known, I doubt she would have let me take so much as a sip of anything stronger than buttermilk.
Go try telling Mister Parker that, however. Man is the most stubborn individual I've had the pleasure of knowing since -- well, since my sister, Abigail. Until Mister Parker and Mister Ward discovered my pill bottle, Abigail was the only other person that was aware that I was taking something like that. And she, too, was asked to keep it fro our Grandmother.
Go me.
So that being said, after the doctors and police were satisfied and convinced it was all a gross accident, I had my pills confiscated under orders to speak with my doctor in Tahlequah about possible alternatives, and I was released. After all that, it was already nightfall and Misters Ward and Parker decided that we would stay at a small hotel out of the way of the public eye for the night, and we would be on the road first thing in the morning to take me home.
"Yes, Grams. I'm fine." I said through the phone to my Grandmother back in Oklahoma. "She had been told the cockamamie story from Mister Ward about an injury without much detail, and I had to have known it would have her concerned. Especially given the fact I was going to be an upwards of two days late returning home from Las Vegas.
She was concerned about my voice, and why it sounded so raspy to her ears. One of the perks of having that damn tube shoved down there. My throat would be sore for days and I'd be talking like Froggy from those old Little Rascals shorts.
"That's where I was hurt, Grams." I told her, and in a twisted sense, I wasn't exactly lying per se. I had been hurt in the throat -- thanks to that tube. I know. Grasping at straws and all that. Split ends or hairs or however that saying goes. All I know is, I couldn't face the truth with the woman I loved more than life itself. I couldn't hurt her with the truth after everything she and Grandfather sacrificed to raise us to do right and give us such a blessed life both then and now.
"Yeah. I should be home tomorrow afternoon." I told her. "We're just staying one more night so we don't have to drive at night. We'll be leaving first thing in the morning."
I turned around from where I was standing against the wall, and for the first time noticed that Mister Ward and Mister Parker had entered the room. I was so distracted by my conversations with Grams and Abigail over the phone that I hadn't heard them set foot inside. Of course, I was sharing a room with Mister Parker. I guess he wasn't feeling too trusting after what had happened and wanted to keep watch over me personally. And really, who could blame him? I tore my eyes from theirs as they watched me, and returned to my chat with my Grandmother.
I said, "Yeah, tell Abbey I love her. Yes, you too." I smiled, for what felt like the first time in forever, even if it had only been a couple of days. "Bye bye." And with a flick of my thumb, I ended the call on my cell and turned to face the two men who, along with Brandi, had saved my life.
I waited for the storm to hit, but all Mister Ward said was, "How's your nan?"
I fidgeted, oddly enough as I reacted as if he had struck me when all he did was ask gently how my family was. I shifted enough to lay the phone down on the table beside my bed and sat up against the headboard. I answered, "Fine. She and Abbey are both fine. Just worried is all."
"Understandable." Mark nodded, his eyes and voice both serious. I could tell when the man known as "Hot Stuff" was neither smiling nor joking, it wasn't the best of signs. He was as obviously disappointed in me as Mister Parker was I imagine.
"You shouldn't be on the phone." Mister Parker said as he stepped further into our room and set a tall bottle of raspberry tea purchased from the convenience story across the street for me down onto the table beside me. "The doctor said to let your throat rest so it might heal faster."
"I had to call them." I stressed with a touch of defiance I had no right to feeling. Not after everything that's happened. "I had to let them know I was okay and would be home soon."
"One of us could have done that for you." Mister Ward pointed out, and yes, he was right. Still, the two men whom I respected the most in this business had already reduced themselves to lying enough on my account as it were. I would have them doing no more.
I looked to the drink they had purchased for me and reached over to take it. I twisted the cap off and took a drink, and almost wished I hadn't as my throat was in a terrible amount of pain, and even a sweet tea such as this burned going down. I grimaced and only heard Mister Parker speak, and it was only a moment later that I took to understand his words were for Mister Ward and not myself.
"Can ya step outside for a minute? Got to have a private word with the kid here."
"You sure?"
"Yeah. Everything's fine."
That last part should have been a glaring warning signal to me that it was anything but. When Mister Ward yells, you can tell he's, well, pissed. But when he's upset and quiet as he just was talking to Mister Ward, it would send shivers down the average man's back.
"Alright." Mister Ward nodded. "I'll be right outside." And he turned and pulled open the hotel room door and set foot outside. God how I wished I had the foresight to have asked him to stay, or at least keep the door open, but I simply wasn't thinking at the time and could only watch as the door shut with the soft click of the latch.
"Bo," Mister Parker said as he set his bottle of beer down atop the small television across the room. He then turned around and approached the bed I had claimed for my own in this double room. "You an' ah, we need to have ourselves a little chat."
And before I knew it, Mister Parker struck me with such a vicious backhand that it sent the bottle flying out of my hand and the contents splashing against the far wall. To hell though with my lost drink! That blow was the hardest I think I have ever been as unfortunate to feel in all my days in this business! It sent me flying right off the bed and I fell to the floor, jamming my shoulder. A sharp pain had went straight up my arm. It wasn't broken but damn did it hurt! Then, before I could right myself, Mister Parker was right on top of me and he unleashed all that pent up anger and bitter disappointment on me with his fists!
For the second time in twenty four hours, I had no clue what the hell was happening! That first shot alone was enough to knock me senseless and now I had this man on top of me, beating the living hell out of me! I struggled, yes, but after everything that happened, there was no way I could throw him off. The man weighed an excess of almost two hundred and sixty pounds for god's sake! Plus, deep down a part of me now believed I thought I deserved what he was doing. I just was unable to appreciate the fact at the given time. I'm sure you understand.
"Drugs!" Mister Parker bellowed as he continued to drive fist after fist into my skull. "You stupid, ignorant jackass!" And each word he yelled brought yet another of those meaty fists of his into my head. And I have to tell you something: it sucked!
My head exploded with pain. I could tell my lips and nose were bleeding. I could taste and smell the blood. The left top half of my face started to go numb from the flurry of blows he was laying into me when from somewhere I could hear the door of the hotel swing open and Mister Ward yelling.
"Hey! HEY! What the bloody fuck are you getting at!?" He pulled Mister Parker off of me, perhaps the only person that would have been able to do so. He secured his arms around his waist for a better grip and even then Mister Parker gave him quite the struggle, trying to get loose and get back to me. "Stop it! STOP!"
With a twist of the waist, Mister Ward actually used some of his wrestling expertise to throw Mister Parker back onto my bed and before my mentor could get up and return to beating the snot out of me, Mister Ward stepped between us and held his hand up, stating calmly, "Just. Stop. Kid's been through enough. Look at him."
I must have been quite the sight because whatever Mister Parker saw caused him to stop from any further attempts to kick my head further in.
"Go. You're staying in my room." Mister Ward said. "I don't trust you not to beat the shit out of him while he's sleeping!"
"I..." Mister Parker started to say, but he was cut off.
"Go!" Mister Ward yelled, and to his credit, Mister Parker actually listened. He started to step through the door, but not before he turned back to look as I was helped up off the floor.
Mister Parker said, "Soon as we get you home, yer tellin' your gramma an' sister exactly what happened. The truth."
I could already feel my eye swelling shut, but it did not stop me from starting to look up and trying to look to him and shake my head no, pleading, but he was having none of it.
"You tell them." He said. "Or I will." And with that, he slammed the door shut behind him.
I swallowed what felt like a rock sized lump in my throat, and turned to face Mister Ward. I thought he was going to help me to the bathroom to clean the blood off of me, but all I saw was his fist flying towards my face.
It was the last thing I can remember from that night.</color>
"You know what's funny, Lord Raab? I was more scared of that final threat Mister Parker threw my way that night, than I am of anything you think you could do to me when we have our match this coming Sunday."
"I admit that I am not a man of many words when it comes to these promos. It's just not my way to trash talk ad belittle the skills of the men that I am up against. After all, they are just out to earn a living in this business, just like I am. They want the same things that I do, namely championships and recognition. yet I can't help but state in all honesty that as a monster, you fall short of the reputation of others in this business who called themselves the very same. Men such as the late, great Andre the Giant was thought of as a monster inside of the ring during his prime. Tag team legends like the legion of Doom or Demolition. The Big Show. Kane. The Undertaker. Men like that by sheer stature alone are monsters. You sir, are not."
"I myself have never heard of a monster like you. A monster that stands a mere six foot four and barely outweighs me by 13 pounds. You have violent tendencies inside of the ring, that much I have to give you. But go and show me a wrestler that isn't capable of putting up a fight when he has to. I myself have been forced into some situations in the ring that I am not altogether proud of. Ask Blaque Hart Bruce Evans. He and I had one hellacious hardcore match a few years back that forced him out of SCW for the time being, so like you, I am as capable of wielding a steel chair when I have to."
"I just prefer not to."
"That is the key difference between you and I, Lord Raab. You consider yourself a monster. Not because of stature, but because of attitude. You inflict pain on your opponents because you like to. Plain and simple. You use the ring as your own personal therapy session, and your opponents are your lab rats to take out every little frustration on. Didn't get that bike when you turned ten? Give them a shot across the head with a chair. Expected a car on your sixteenth birthday and got disappointed? Deliver a piledriver on the outside of the ring!"
"The point is, you are no different than any other hardcore style competitor that I have come up against since I first set foot inside of the ring nearly ten years ago. You're all the same. You talk loud and growl at anyone who looks your way, thinking it'll intimidate your opposition and thus hand you the advantage going in. Then you simply throw punches and kicks, and if the opportunity presents itself, you start using whatever you can get your hands on. All in the name for making up in your lack of actual skill inside of the ring. A skill set that I have painstakingly worked my butt off to hone under some of the greatest competitors this business has seen. Skills that have allowed me time and time again to take a man down and break him apart until he's just another man."
"You're not the first so-called monster I've faced. I've went up against bigger, badder and certainly better, and I fully intend to prove to you what I proved to them: that on any day, a talented wrestler can and will best a talented brawler once that bell rings. I would apologize for spoiling your homecoming Lord Raab, but I'm sure you understand that it's just business."
"Every monster has it's proverbial Achilles heel. Dracula had Van Helsing. King Kong had Fay Wray. You know what I see when I look at you, Raab? Not a monster, but a man. A man in a mask with an inflated reputation for violence. Yet if you were a monster, then you would be staring at your Achilles heel across the ring once that bell rings this coming Sunday."</color>
