Post by Holden Orson on Aug 22, 2015 22:24:36 GMT -5
You think you can just steam roll me like a rookie that's four matches into his career? Do you think a bunch of empty threats and boring big man talk intimidates me in the slightest? I've been in this business for 15 years and your kind is a dime a dozen. You're so concerned about not looking weak, you don't even think about the terrible legacy you've left in your wake. You don't realize everyone writes you off as a bully with a complex who will never rise to the top.
You're the biggest, meanest, and strongest guy on the roster, but not even Larry is intimidated by you. You do nothing try to be sinister and try to convince the world how scary you really are.
Are you trying to convince us, or yourself?
You're pathetic. Someone who brags about dominance should be able to beat a small Japanese woman. Someone who brags about 'success' as if he were Alan Wallace himself shouldn't be fourth-string in a four man team.
You always got something to say, and no one cares to hear it.
You're the worst wrestler I've ever seen.
You're no Alan Wallace.
You're, laughably, just Zane Scott.
The Mainstreamer exits the shower with a towel around his waist. His partner sits on a bench unlacing his boots.
>\/<: Did you see Fear's face when I hit him with that Ham on Rye?
The Mainstreamer smiles.
The Mainstreamer: Well not really. His face was obscured by the aether. Only once I've faced my true fears will the veil of uncertainty and doubt truly be lifter. Then, and only then, will the veil of my fears reveal the face of The Man they call Fear.
>\/<: Well, dude, I wish you could have seen it. He got a big streak of mayonnaise on his face. It was hilarious.
The Mainstreamer: Damn. I'm going to have to conquer the fears that lie within the deepest parts of my heart so that I can go back and watch the tape. That shit sounds hilarious.
Larry walks into the locker room, holding a ice pack to his swollen eye. Both >\/< and The Mainstreamer grimace.
>\/<: You alright man?
Larry nods, slowly. His face stoic.
The Mainstreamer: You sure you don't need us with Zane? I absolutely hate that presumptuous asshole.
>\/<: Wow, presumptuous. I'm surprised you spelled that right.
The Mainstreamer: What?
>/V\< begin joking around as Larry, remaining stoic, prepares his things and quietly leaves.
We've been playing our games for the better part of the year. A month together locked into an apartment with a bunch of other misfits gave us a very unique opportunity to dive into each others psyche. You analyze everyone else, but you won't get past the surface with me.
The only thing we have to Fear is Fear itself. I'm sure a lot of your opponents have said that. But I ask, what is Fear afraid of.
Two storied wrestlers with nothing to prove. Two men who need neither wins or titles to command respect from their peers. But I've leapfrogged you. I'm just like you. Just better.
Is that what you Fear? Is this the puzzle that you'll never figure out? How could someone do what you've always been the only one to uniquely do, but better?
It's called Mainstreameraphobia. Don't worry, I've left many people with it in my wake.
You're a man, that sandwich wars aside, I'll always respect. I'm just better than you.
You're no Alan Wallace.
You're just Phrixis Deimos.
The Mainstreamer sits on the plane to Australia with an empty seat beside him. He can't help but remember traveling with Travis Roberts not too long ago in a very similar situation.
The topic then was Vain. There was an upcoming cluster fuck with World Title implications on the line then, also. Now, symbolically, the seat is empty.
He wanted to be in the Main Event at Wrestlestock. But now, he won't even show up.
We're destined to headline against each other one day. The Mainstreamer thinks. I just hope I didn't leave him behind.
There was one last match before the finals last year. You stared me down and in the end, then you beat me before going on to win it all.
You were the challenger in a heated feud with the current champion. The whole world knew you'd be making it to the final to take on your heated rival.
Sound familiar?
You had but one obstacle. A masked upstart that seemingly came out of nowhere. He had just pinned your partner, the reigning Cross Hemisphere Championship, and you had to face him down in the most unlikely of pairings to decide the last man to make the main event.
You pulled it off. Then you went and defeated your nemesis.
Then what?
You got sick at Horizons. You traveled the country after Eden ruined your good thing. You recently jumped out of your obscurity to show yourself as the snake you've always been. Then you managed to ride the buzzsaw that is Chaos to yet another title reign.
You've probably started to take yourself seriously again.
But I know better. The tough-as-nails World Champion caliber man that rescued me from my own self imposed exile needed the support of PMN. When it fell, he fell. Now you manipulate the greatest Chaos Champion we've ever had in an attempt to reclaim his former glory.
But you and I both know I'm not the masked newcomer I was last year. We also know you aren't the talented and successful athlete you were last year. You're just a shell of that man. I beat Chaos, I beat you. I'll focus on the real threat.
I'm no longer prone to falling out or relevance. But you've already done it.
Because you're no Alan Wallace.
You're just Jet Somers.
The Mainstreamer watches as the man who made him the first overall pick in the Outlast draft walks into the terminal. Jesse Williams looks like shit. He's been pushing his limits in two different elite federations for some time now and his most recent battles have left scars. This is a man who is obviously looking for glory. His limited experience gave him an unbiased look when he made the first pick for an Outlast teammate. He picked the only man with any real chance at toppling Wallace. He chose wisely.
The Mainstreamer thinks about what to say when approaching him. They haven't even had a conversation yet. Jesse had to pick a team to go against Chaos. Chaos himself is a big enough threat, and assembling a team would make the challenge even more difficult. Chaos showed that to be true drafting three former World Champions. Jesse picked a team with none. Jesse drafted potential. Chaos drafted reputation.
The Mainstreamer walks up behind Jesse Williams. He ponders what to say. Small talk has never been his strength.
The Mainstreamer: Funny seeing you here.
Jesse turns around, luckily knowing he was being spoken to. When Jesse's eyes finally rest on him he grimaces. The Mainstreamer has to wonder if that sounded like a pick up line. He fights with himself at being so poor at these initial interactions.
The Mainstreamer: And by funny, I mean not funny at all...
The Mainstreamer wants to rewind. Now he sounds like he's insulting Jesse.
The Mainstreamer: How was the flight? A real shit fest, right?
Common ground. Those long flights suck. Maybe he sounds like less of a bumbling idiot.
Jesse Williams: You're telling me. How about you? Did you just get in?
Jesse's obviously better at this small talk. Jesse cracks his neck. The two go on, with The Mainstreamer loosening up and pointing out Jesse's poor choice in footwear. After discussing Chaos and Vain, they venture out to meet up with El Blanco Leo and PKA.
You've been my best friend. You've been my worst enemy. You've tormented my friends and nearly killed my god son.
The people here don't know it, but you defined the early part of my career. Our collaboration and our feuds have brought feds to their knees.
Now, with still just a handful of friends, I realize I'll never be able to trust you around them. You'll manipulate them, use them, and drive most of them away.
It's the cost of your friendship, and I've always known that.
Don't sell Klaus short though, my friend. He's got a lot more tenacity in him than you realize.
But right now, you're quest to shake up UGWC seems to be centered on restoring the dangerous man I can be. Don't worry, friend. I'm already there.
Someone else was able to bring me to that point before you did.
You're not Alan Wallace.
You're Ichabod.
During an excursion with his teammates, The Mainstreamer manages to find El Blanco Leo alone, walking well behind the group. The Mainstreamer falls back to walk with him. Leo looks up at him and remains silent.
The Mainstreamer: I lost my parents as a kid. Luckily, they were wealthy, and my trust fund paid for a host of people to take care of me until I turned 18. What you and Gabriela do is amazing. No one's going to give you the credit you deserve for it.
Leo looks on silently.
The Mainstreamer: I know the pay-per-view offers you a large paycheck. Making it to the main-event will mean even more of a payday.
The Mainstreamer looks ahead, not looking into the masked face of Leo.
The Mainstreamer: I really want you in there with me at the Main Event. I want all four of you. But for you, the payday could really help. But if finances are your major concern, I can help. I'd love to see you fight without that burden. Main Event or not... I'd like to help.
El Blanco Leo remains silent.
The Mainstreamer: I know what it's like to fight with a bunch of problems and a mask. You seem to genuinely be a good person. If you ever need help, let me know.
Without another word, The Mainstreamer and El Blanco Leo speed up to rejoin the group.
You're a survivor. You've managed to fend off Zane. So badly that everyone makes jokes to him about it.
But is that what you really are? The better end of a joke?
We've crossed path very few times in my tenure here. You once dubbed me as 'mainly a tag team competitor.'
You obviously didn't do your research. You've been so wrapped up in your own world and your own agenda, you haven't realized how low you fly.
Phoenixes have wings. Learn to use them.
You aren't Alan Wallace.
You're just Seito Risa.
The Mainstreamer sits at the foot of his bed in the hotel room digging throw his bag. A knock is heard at the door. The Mainstreamer answers it to see the face of a long time associate in PKA. PKA stumbles into the room and falls back first onto the bed.
PKA: Dude. I can't believe we're on a team.
The Mainstreamer shuts the door.
The Mainstreamer: Yeah, it's not what I expected.
He walks over and looks down at PKA.
The Mainstreamer: You got your shit together yet?
PKA sits up with a slight struggle and looks on at The Mainstreamer.
PKA: What do you mean?
The Mainstreamer kicks his bag across the room.
The Mainstreamer: You've been like a tragic story from the 80s since you've got here. You seem doped out half the time and like you don't give a shit the other half of the time.
PKA: What? Man you just haven't seen the shit I've been through the last few-
The Mainstreamer slaps PKA across the face. A furious PKA jumps up and grabs The Mainstreamer by the shirt and slams him back first against the wall. The Mainstreamer grins.
The Mainstreamer: There he is.
PKA: What?!
The Mainstreamer: The man who warred with me in Netlink. The man who put me on the map. That's who I want in my corner at Outlast. This guy... right here.
PKA seethes for a moment before letting go of The Mainstreamer's shirt. He paces towards the door before stopping.
PKA: Martin... that man isn't around anymore. He never will be. Don't worry, I'll be there for Outlast. But don't act like I’m still that guy.
PKA exits the room and The Mainstreamer states at the door for a little longer.
The Mainstreamer: Perfection Kicks Ass.
You're a god damned drunken lunatic. You're a fucking buzzsaw of unpredictability. One moment you're tearing a person apart, the next you're standing in a kitchen in the nude eating a watermelon.
I won't pretend to know why you're suddenly so out of your mind. I won't pretend to know why you've not allowed yourself to be you own man. If the DMW isn't controlling you then you're letting Jet Somers do it. It's a shame. You'd probably World Champion material if you'd wake the fuck up.
You may be close, but you're no Alan Wallace.
You're Chaos.
The Mainstreamer: Perfection Kicks Ass.
The Mainstreamer says again, very proud of himself for the reaction he got from PKA. Another knock comes from the door. The Mainstreamer's brow furrows.
The Mainstreamer: What the hell? It's not as impressive if you come right back after storming out.
The Mainstreamer opens the door to see Larry. Larry stares at his god father with a scowl.
The Mainstreamer: Larry, you-
Larry lifts a fist to expose a with a pair of brass knuckles on it. He drives a fist into the head of his god father. The Mainstreamer hits the floor with a pool of blood trickling out of his head. Larry huffs over his god father.
Larry: I'm not a fucking joke anymore.
You may be in a little over your head. You're an awesome guy, and I've always wanted to learn to ride a bike with you and live the life you've held so dear. I could grow out a beard and cut the sleeves off a leather jacket. It'd be awesome.
But my focus is in the ring, not on the road. I'll have a beer with you one day, but you aren't the man I want to see in the ring right now. You're old ties with Chaos just drug you into this match, but you don't belong.
Don't take it personally when I get rid of you.
Because you aren't Alan Wallace.
You're Cypress Morgan.
Everyone's gunning for you now Wallace. Everyone's watched me try and fail to dethrone you and suddenly think that they can do it. I told you I'd not challenge you again directly for that World Title if I lost the last time we meet. But Outlast forces me into your life again. I'm ready to move on. But fate has decided it's not over yet.
I tired to send you through a world of suffering and pain, like I once experienced. What I did instead was help forge the greatest champion reign UGWC has ever seen. You're skill has everyone second guessing themselves now.
At the same time, they want their chance in the ring. I've set the bar to where if they try and fail, they can chalk it up to facing the greatest UGWC Champion of all time and just simply falling short. If they triumph, they have a shot at being the greatest themselves.
You're actually the victim here. You're historic reign may end due to a random group of individuals rushing the ring at the end of the night. You've defended that title better than anyone would have expected. And now they're hoping I softened you up. Maybe they'll end your reign like I couldn't do. Some of them even have to go through me to do it. But I don't plan to let them.
If someone else knocks you off, then they take your glory at my expense. I can't let that happen.
I won't allow you to lose that title to anyone but myself Wallace. Not at Outlast, anyway. I won't allow trash like your Syndicate brethren to ruin your reign. I won't let part-timers like Cypress or Forewell score a lucky pin fall over you and end your reign with a trip.
There's only two options at the end of Outlast. You retain, or I become the new Heavyweight Champion.
No other options. But can you Outlast me for a fourth time?
I'm not so sure if you can.
You're a pathetic man who should have left himself off the draft list for Outlast.
You've somehow won the hearts of these idiots in a string of failures and you've managed to find a loophole in your own, self imposed declaration to never fight HIM again.
You're a glutton for punishment who can't stop putting himself in impossible to win situations.
You even let me resurface.
You're weak.
You're no Alan Wallace.
You're The Mainstreamer.
The Mainstreamer jolts awake in a cold sweat after hearing the voice that had left his head for so long return.
The Mainstreamer: FUCK!
You're the biggest, meanest, and strongest guy on the roster, but not even Larry is intimidated by you. You do nothing try to be sinister and try to convince the world how scary you really are.
Are you trying to convince us, or yourself?
You're pathetic. Someone who brags about dominance should be able to beat a small Japanese woman. Someone who brags about 'success' as if he were Alan Wallace himself shouldn't be fourth-string in a four man team.
You always got something to say, and no one cares to hear it.
You're the worst wrestler I've ever seen.
You're no Alan Wallace.
You're, laughably, just Zane Scott.
The Mainstreamer exits the shower with a towel around his waist. His partner sits on a bench unlacing his boots.
>\/<: Did you see Fear's face when I hit him with that Ham on Rye?
The Mainstreamer smiles.
The Mainstreamer: Well not really. His face was obscured by the aether. Only once I've faced my true fears will the veil of uncertainty and doubt truly be lifter. Then, and only then, will the veil of my fears reveal the face of The Man they call Fear.
>\/<: Well, dude, I wish you could have seen it. He got a big streak of mayonnaise on his face. It was hilarious.
The Mainstreamer: Damn. I'm going to have to conquer the fears that lie within the deepest parts of my heart so that I can go back and watch the tape. That shit sounds hilarious.
Larry walks into the locker room, holding a ice pack to his swollen eye. Both >\/< and The Mainstreamer grimace.
>\/<: You alright man?
Larry nods, slowly. His face stoic.
The Mainstreamer: You sure you don't need us with Zane? I absolutely hate that presumptuous asshole.
>\/<: Wow, presumptuous. I'm surprised you spelled that right.
The Mainstreamer: What?
>/V\< begin joking around as Larry, remaining stoic, prepares his things and quietly leaves.
We've been playing our games for the better part of the year. A month together locked into an apartment with a bunch of other misfits gave us a very unique opportunity to dive into each others psyche. You analyze everyone else, but you won't get past the surface with me.
The only thing we have to Fear is Fear itself. I'm sure a lot of your opponents have said that. But I ask, what is Fear afraid of.
Two storied wrestlers with nothing to prove. Two men who need neither wins or titles to command respect from their peers. But I've leapfrogged you. I'm just like you. Just better.
Is that what you Fear? Is this the puzzle that you'll never figure out? How could someone do what you've always been the only one to uniquely do, but better?
It's called Mainstreameraphobia. Don't worry, I've left many people with it in my wake.
You're a man, that sandwich wars aside, I'll always respect. I'm just better than you.
You're no Alan Wallace.
You're just Phrixis Deimos.
The Mainstreamer sits on the plane to Australia with an empty seat beside him. He can't help but remember traveling with Travis Roberts not too long ago in a very similar situation.
The topic then was Vain. There was an upcoming cluster fuck with World Title implications on the line then, also. Now, symbolically, the seat is empty.
He wanted to be in the Main Event at Wrestlestock. But now, he won't even show up.
We're destined to headline against each other one day. The Mainstreamer thinks. I just hope I didn't leave him behind.
There was one last match before the finals last year. You stared me down and in the end, then you beat me before going on to win it all.
You were the challenger in a heated feud with the current champion. The whole world knew you'd be making it to the final to take on your heated rival.
Sound familiar?
You had but one obstacle. A masked upstart that seemingly came out of nowhere. He had just pinned your partner, the reigning Cross Hemisphere Championship, and you had to face him down in the most unlikely of pairings to decide the last man to make the main event.
You pulled it off. Then you went and defeated your nemesis.
Then what?
You got sick at Horizons. You traveled the country after Eden ruined your good thing. You recently jumped out of your obscurity to show yourself as the snake you've always been. Then you managed to ride the buzzsaw that is Chaos to yet another title reign.
You've probably started to take yourself seriously again.
But I know better. The tough-as-nails World Champion caliber man that rescued me from my own self imposed exile needed the support of PMN. When it fell, he fell. Now you manipulate the greatest Chaos Champion we've ever had in an attempt to reclaim his former glory.
But you and I both know I'm not the masked newcomer I was last year. We also know you aren't the talented and successful athlete you were last year. You're just a shell of that man. I beat Chaos, I beat you. I'll focus on the real threat.
I'm no longer prone to falling out or relevance. But you've already done it.
Because you're no Alan Wallace.
You're just Jet Somers.
The Mainstreamer watches as the man who made him the first overall pick in the Outlast draft walks into the terminal. Jesse Williams looks like shit. He's been pushing his limits in two different elite federations for some time now and his most recent battles have left scars. This is a man who is obviously looking for glory. His limited experience gave him an unbiased look when he made the first pick for an Outlast teammate. He picked the only man with any real chance at toppling Wallace. He chose wisely.
The Mainstreamer thinks about what to say when approaching him. They haven't even had a conversation yet. Jesse had to pick a team to go against Chaos. Chaos himself is a big enough threat, and assembling a team would make the challenge even more difficult. Chaos showed that to be true drafting three former World Champions. Jesse picked a team with none. Jesse drafted potential. Chaos drafted reputation.
The Mainstreamer walks up behind Jesse Williams. He ponders what to say. Small talk has never been his strength.
The Mainstreamer: Funny seeing you here.
Jesse turns around, luckily knowing he was being spoken to. When Jesse's eyes finally rest on him he grimaces. The Mainstreamer has to wonder if that sounded like a pick up line. He fights with himself at being so poor at these initial interactions.
The Mainstreamer: And by funny, I mean not funny at all...
The Mainstreamer wants to rewind. Now he sounds like he's insulting Jesse.
The Mainstreamer: How was the flight? A real shit fest, right?
Common ground. Those long flights suck. Maybe he sounds like less of a bumbling idiot.
Jesse Williams: You're telling me. How about you? Did you just get in?
Jesse's obviously better at this small talk. Jesse cracks his neck. The two go on, with The Mainstreamer loosening up and pointing out Jesse's poor choice in footwear. After discussing Chaos and Vain, they venture out to meet up with El Blanco Leo and PKA.
You've been my best friend. You've been my worst enemy. You've tormented my friends and nearly killed my god son.
The people here don't know it, but you defined the early part of my career. Our collaboration and our feuds have brought feds to their knees.
Now, with still just a handful of friends, I realize I'll never be able to trust you around them. You'll manipulate them, use them, and drive most of them away.
It's the cost of your friendship, and I've always known that.
Don't sell Klaus short though, my friend. He's got a lot more tenacity in him than you realize.
But right now, you're quest to shake up UGWC seems to be centered on restoring the dangerous man I can be. Don't worry, friend. I'm already there.
Someone else was able to bring me to that point before you did.
You're not Alan Wallace.
You're Ichabod.
During an excursion with his teammates, The Mainstreamer manages to find El Blanco Leo alone, walking well behind the group. The Mainstreamer falls back to walk with him. Leo looks up at him and remains silent.
The Mainstreamer: I lost my parents as a kid. Luckily, they were wealthy, and my trust fund paid for a host of people to take care of me until I turned 18. What you and Gabriela do is amazing. No one's going to give you the credit you deserve for it.
Leo looks on silently.
The Mainstreamer: I know the pay-per-view offers you a large paycheck. Making it to the main-event will mean even more of a payday.
The Mainstreamer looks ahead, not looking into the masked face of Leo.
The Mainstreamer: I really want you in there with me at the Main Event. I want all four of you. But for you, the payday could really help. But if finances are your major concern, I can help. I'd love to see you fight without that burden. Main Event or not... I'd like to help.
El Blanco Leo remains silent.
The Mainstreamer: I know what it's like to fight with a bunch of problems and a mask. You seem to genuinely be a good person. If you ever need help, let me know.
Without another word, The Mainstreamer and El Blanco Leo speed up to rejoin the group.
You're a survivor. You've managed to fend off Zane. So badly that everyone makes jokes to him about it.
But is that what you really are? The better end of a joke?
We've crossed path very few times in my tenure here. You once dubbed me as 'mainly a tag team competitor.'
You obviously didn't do your research. You've been so wrapped up in your own world and your own agenda, you haven't realized how low you fly.
Phoenixes have wings. Learn to use them.
You aren't Alan Wallace.
You're just Seito Risa.
The Mainstreamer sits at the foot of his bed in the hotel room digging throw his bag. A knock is heard at the door. The Mainstreamer answers it to see the face of a long time associate in PKA. PKA stumbles into the room and falls back first onto the bed.
PKA: Dude. I can't believe we're on a team.
The Mainstreamer shuts the door.
The Mainstreamer: Yeah, it's not what I expected.
He walks over and looks down at PKA.
The Mainstreamer: You got your shit together yet?
PKA sits up with a slight struggle and looks on at The Mainstreamer.
PKA: What do you mean?
The Mainstreamer kicks his bag across the room.
The Mainstreamer: You've been like a tragic story from the 80s since you've got here. You seem doped out half the time and like you don't give a shit the other half of the time.
PKA: What? Man you just haven't seen the shit I've been through the last few-
The Mainstreamer slaps PKA across the face. A furious PKA jumps up and grabs The Mainstreamer by the shirt and slams him back first against the wall. The Mainstreamer grins.
The Mainstreamer: There he is.
PKA: What?!
The Mainstreamer: The man who warred with me in Netlink. The man who put me on the map. That's who I want in my corner at Outlast. This guy... right here.
PKA seethes for a moment before letting go of The Mainstreamer's shirt. He paces towards the door before stopping.
PKA: Martin... that man isn't around anymore. He never will be. Don't worry, I'll be there for Outlast. But don't act like I’m still that guy.
PKA exits the room and The Mainstreamer states at the door for a little longer.
The Mainstreamer: Perfection Kicks Ass.
You're a god damned drunken lunatic. You're a fucking buzzsaw of unpredictability. One moment you're tearing a person apart, the next you're standing in a kitchen in the nude eating a watermelon.
I won't pretend to know why you're suddenly so out of your mind. I won't pretend to know why you've not allowed yourself to be you own man. If the DMW isn't controlling you then you're letting Jet Somers do it. It's a shame. You'd probably World Champion material if you'd wake the fuck up.
You may be close, but you're no Alan Wallace.
You're Chaos.
The Mainstreamer: Perfection Kicks Ass.
The Mainstreamer says again, very proud of himself for the reaction he got from PKA. Another knock comes from the door. The Mainstreamer's brow furrows.
The Mainstreamer: What the hell? It's not as impressive if you come right back after storming out.
The Mainstreamer opens the door to see Larry. Larry stares at his god father with a scowl.
The Mainstreamer: Larry, you-
Larry lifts a fist to expose a with a pair of brass knuckles on it. He drives a fist into the head of his god father. The Mainstreamer hits the floor with a pool of blood trickling out of his head. Larry huffs over his god father.
Larry: I'm not a fucking joke anymore.
You may be in a little over your head. You're an awesome guy, and I've always wanted to learn to ride a bike with you and live the life you've held so dear. I could grow out a beard and cut the sleeves off a leather jacket. It'd be awesome.
But my focus is in the ring, not on the road. I'll have a beer with you one day, but you aren't the man I want to see in the ring right now. You're old ties with Chaos just drug you into this match, but you don't belong.
Don't take it personally when I get rid of you.
Because you aren't Alan Wallace.
You're Cypress Morgan.
Everyone's gunning for you now Wallace. Everyone's watched me try and fail to dethrone you and suddenly think that they can do it. I told you I'd not challenge you again directly for that World Title if I lost the last time we meet. But Outlast forces me into your life again. I'm ready to move on. But fate has decided it's not over yet.
I tired to send you through a world of suffering and pain, like I once experienced. What I did instead was help forge the greatest champion reign UGWC has ever seen. You're skill has everyone second guessing themselves now.
At the same time, they want their chance in the ring. I've set the bar to where if they try and fail, they can chalk it up to facing the greatest UGWC Champion of all time and just simply falling short. If they triumph, they have a shot at being the greatest themselves.
You're actually the victim here. You're historic reign may end due to a random group of individuals rushing the ring at the end of the night. You've defended that title better than anyone would have expected. And now they're hoping I softened you up. Maybe they'll end your reign like I couldn't do. Some of them even have to go through me to do it. But I don't plan to let them.
If someone else knocks you off, then they take your glory at my expense. I can't let that happen.
I won't allow you to lose that title to anyone but myself Wallace. Not at Outlast, anyway. I won't allow trash like your Syndicate brethren to ruin your reign. I won't let part-timers like Cypress or Forewell score a lucky pin fall over you and end your reign with a trip.
There's only two options at the end of Outlast. You retain, or I become the new Heavyweight Champion.
No other options. But can you Outlast me for a fourth time?
I'm not so sure if you can.
You're a pathetic man who should have left himself off the draft list for Outlast.
You've somehow won the hearts of these idiots in a string of failures and you've managed to find a loophole in your own, self imposed declaration to never fight HIM again.
You're a glutton for punishment who can't stop putting himself in impossible to win situations.
You even let me resurface.
You're weak.
You're no Alan Wallace.
You're The Mainstreamer.
The Mainstreamer jolts awake in a cold sweat after hearing the voice that had left his head for so long return.
The Mainstreamer: FUCK!
x2
2013, '18, '23 
2013 
