The Ultimate Vow: Being The Best Aug 13, 2016 20:46:13 GMT -6
Post by Matt Slater on Aug 13, 2016 20:46:13 GMT -6
The Ultimate Vow: Being The Best
The fires of hatred are burning you away. Yet you’re still so cold.
A typical speech of metaphorical rhetoric; that was usually her way of speaking, Matt thought. She commonly annunciated these phrases with her alcohol and smoke-laden tongue, aided by ruby lips that were pleasantly soft to caress.
Seated in a mentally-constructed location of absolute white, Matt thoughtlessly kept his cigarette above his relaxed thigh. Even the floor matched the surrounding nothingness, as if it had been erased from existence. But he could feel it, eliminating the theory that he was suspended above the reach of gravity, floating amongst a pure, featureless purgatory.
Overcome by a strong sensation that she was physically present, he felt Cera settle against his lightly-arched spine. Although detecting that they were back-to-back, he could vividly picture her face as if she was directly facing him. She appeared content. Moreover, she appeared liberated and free.
You’ve forgotten who you are.
Raising the cigarette to his lips, Matt inhaled the warm smoke calmly, absorbing the nicotine and these words she had recently spoken. His wearisome delusions had captivated him. This mere illusion, concocted from his desperate conscience in order to prevent any kind of disaster, was so profound he believed it was real. Yet he could not turn around and face her. He remained still, staring ominously at the invisible ground.
Have you become my guardian angel now?
Moments later, he heard Cera adjusting her posture. Given his familiarity with her prefered actions, he figured that she had tucked her leg up against her moderately-bosomed chest.
I don’t have any wings.
Given her previous endeavours, if there was such a thing as Heaven and Hell, it was assumed she would be residing in the latter. Matt strictly forbade thinking of such an afterlife; those biblical tales he was forced to learn and memorize in school seemed too farfetched to be genuine. To him they were lessons in morality and human prosperity, not actual events chronicled by scholars. It was unfortunate that such stories had caused religious conflicts throughout history, bringing more death than the wholesome lives they aimed to create.
Nonetheless, she could have been an angel to him, much like he was a protective knight to her. But that was the past. Without her supportive fire, he had indeed turned colder. The emotional flames that existed within himself were a product of hateful circumstance, and he was still not used to the change.
When was the last time you honestly smiled?
Depressingly, Matt could not remember that pleasant detail. True happiness bloomed once Gabriel was born. Championship victories and Hall of Fame inductions paled in comparison. There had been minimal smiles here and there, even while enjoying intimate, romantic times with Amy and Cera respectively. But for the majority of the last few years, he was embroiled in stressful events and threatening rivalries. There was no legitimate reason to smile, not when another callous matter remained to be dealt with.
I don’t know.
A whimsical sigh from Cera entered his ears.
So what do you intend to do?
Another slow exhalation of smoke followed this curious question, gradually vanishing among the endless white.
Put an end to the wrath of Seth Iser.
Is that all?
Is that all?
Cera did not sound puzzled, instead speaking as if she knew what answer to expect. She usually expressed a sardonic tone, yet he was also familiar with her light-hearted commentary when she was in a relatively positive mood. His manipulative conscience understood everything.
I’ve not contemplated anything else.
Consequently, Cera laughed.
Still a fucking child.
That kind of insult, as subjective and humorous as it seemed, was not far from what she used to say. She would routinely lecture his weak emotional stability, attempting to toughen his spirit and inspire him to harness his rage properly instead of directing it inward as a form of self-harm. When no one could put him off his game and disrupt his concentration, he could be an unstoppable force worthy of respect and admiration. That was her guiding point. Now, once again, she needed to be the voice of reason, even as a formulated apparition.
He needed to listen to what he subconsciously knew she would say at a time like this. He needed to listen to himself.
The demon inside feeds on your despair. You can overcome it. Control the fire. Don’t be controlled by it.
Before her passing, that was her continuous method of success. Since her abusive childhood, she possessed malicious demons that would work endlessly to influence her actions. Unfortunately she succumbed to their power on more than one occasion, but she fought to reach a beneficial compromise. That was her battered soul reaching out for attention and sustenance, surviving to keep the demons from fully corrupting her entity. He witnessed its miniscule existence within her eyes, hidden beyond the radiating scorn and internal suffering.
He wanted to save that soul, and in turn save her.
Don’t blame yourself.
Reading his mind before he could utter a response, Cera preemptively sought to erase his guilt. Any shame or regret he pondered, she made sure to put a stern stop to it.
Matt’s throat tightened, unwilling to smoke any more of his largely-depleted cigarette and letting it burn away between his fingers.
You can move on… without me. You can live again as you proudly were.
Finally comprehending what was happening, his head lowered thoughtfully. She was not there, yet she was; at least not physically. This was his creation. This was his soul seeking rehabilitation, using her as a vital component. As if by design, he had inherited an almost-exact condition that she painstakingly lived through for many years.
They were nearly identical, almost one and the same.
Consider me a supportive memory.
Those were her passionate words, eliciting a point that she would always be there if he was able to remember. But that was no longer the case.
He felt her head lean softly against his, once again connecting; once again sending a message of forgiveness. Then just as quickly, the feeling disappeared.
I don’t have to remember you...
He closed his eyes, leading to absolute silence and numbness.
... You’ve become a part of me.
‘Hey! Wake up! Wake up, man!’
Hearing a completely different voice, Matt steadily opened his eyes. His surroundings were no longer absolute white, but instead that of Stansbury Hall’s monitored car park. Blinking away fatigue, he acknowledged the cigarette in his hand, which had now burned down to the cotton filter.
‘Did you pass out? You look like shit.’
Heath Williams stood several feet away from Matt’s seated form, straightening his long hair with his fingers to prevent bothersome curls. The “Hardcore Hero” looked refreshed yet bruised after his controversial match against Seth Iser, a contest which Tyron Bickerton had despicably interfered in. The proceeding fight with his former friend was broken up by security, but Heath knew he had another chance to make amends, gaining retribution after Tyron shattered the essence of brotherhood months prior.
‘So what do you need from me, man?’ Heath shrugged his shoulders, cautiously waiting for a proper explanation. Matt had sent Heath an offer on Twitter to meet him at this precise location, and he had interestingly obliged. Whatever it was, Heath was ready to start the negotiation.
Matt looked beyond Heath at the mostly empty parking lot. Heath's son Ryan was nowhere in sight. Less questions to deal with, he soothingly thought.
Disposing of the now-useless cigarette, Matt forced himself up to a standing position away from the brick wall. Painful throbbing coursed through his neck and spine as he did so, courtesy of another Deprivation DDT from Seth Iser earlier that evening. However, the pain he felt was nothing compared to the satisfaction he developed after giving Vincent Moretti a second Raining Shadows, shortly before he was captured by the astonishing quickness of his rival. Attacking Tyron and Seth during the culmination of the show was warranted; at least he believed so. He was not going to remain idle against Seth, no matter what "The Deity of Destruction" would do to him.
‘I need something from you.’ Matt rotated his neck, loosening the tension in order to dilute the effectiveness of his anguish. ‘Something that was given to you in good faith.’
‘You’re gonna have to be clearer than that, man. I’m not exactly looking for any freaky shit, if you know what I mean.’
Scowling wearily, Matt wiped away the saliva congregating on his lower lip. Trust Heath to turn a standard comment into something raunchy and grotesque. ‘I’m requesting a specific object, something you still have in your possession.’
Heath furrowed his eyebrows, searching the ground as he thought of what it might have been. Suddenly he clicked his fingers, locating the source of Matt’s interest. ‘I’ve got it. Follow me, man.’
Leading Matt across the spacious expanse of the parking lot, Heath cheerily reached his car and stroked his hand across the bodywork. Coming to a stop at the trunk, Heath disabled the lock mechanism and smirked. Once Matt froze next to him, he lifted the trunk and revealed its protected contents.
Instantly, Matt spotted the object he desired, an object he knew all too well. Heath did not even need to point it out, but he did so anyway with a sense of pleasure.
‘Is that what you’re talking about?’
Without reaching for the item, Matt nodded affirmatively.
‘That’s exactly what I’m talking about.’
Heath chuckled giddily, as if creating a situation in his head involving Matt and the aforementioned object. ‘Sure, you can have it, man.’
Unable to restrain himself, Matt finally reached into the trunk and gripped the object firmly in his hand. It was surprisingly light, but it felt useful. It felt like it correctly belonged with him.
‘But the thing is… what if I need to use it?’ Heath stared at Matt, intrigued by this agreeable development. But Heath failed to understand its importance. It was a necessary commodity, a blessing in disguise that could finally put his nightmares to rest.
Soon Matt turned, displaying a cold, focused expression that caused Heath to smile broadly.
‘Not as much as I do.’
‘I’m often asked, more than anything else, why I decided to become a professional wrestler.’
As his words reverberated off the walls of a small, desolate gym deep in the center of Norfolk, Matt straightened his posture on the chair which he had placed inside the old, worn-down wrestling ring. A lone camera had been erected to record his actions, and the premises were vacant of other people, save for the caretakers who had allowed him to use the facility to stage possibly the most important personal address of his career.
Mere days away from writing history, he could remain silent no longer. He needed a break from the extensive endurance training, a regular routine which had occurred non-stop since he signed the contract to battle Seth Iser one last time. It was far from an ideal place to rest, but it was an ideal place to get his message across and get the viewing public to listen.
‘It seems like a rather easy question to answer... and it was for a time. But as the years wore on and the sacrifices piled up higher and higher, the effortless form of my responses began to dwindle. I started to question myself about why I chose to pursue this profession and cling to it, tantamount to a small child unwilling to be deprived of its favourite toy. Originally, it was my lifelong passion… my lifelong dream. Eventually… it became the only meaningful thing I had left in my life… as flawed and negatively documented as the sport is.’
Taking a moment to scan the amenities lining the perimeter of the small gym, Matt briefly thought back to the early days of his career. Places such as this one, including armories, public leisure centers and vacant council buildings, housed his earliest matches in the sport, watched by a miniscule group of people. Some of them ridiculed the wrestlers, but others were present to support the future. He remembered one man in particular saying that he had the potential to be great.
Little did he know how far Matt would go based on his experiences across the British Isles and overseas, honing his craft on a daily basis in order to reach the absolute peak of the industry.
‘Wrestling has been through some seriously tumultuous times. From steroid scandals, to shady dealings in management, to competitor suicides, community groups and the media have often painted this sport with a negative brush. And really, can you blame them? Take Visionaries of Wrestling, formed to establish the finest in professional wrestling and to regain faith with the masses who adore a consistent strictness to the rules. Recently, they have allowed maniacs and psychopaths to infiltrate this company for the sole purpose of causing destruction and chaos. Not exactly an acceptable business decision. Yet despite the negativity, I choose to remain in this company… because I still believe I have much to offer in my career in a place that actually rewards true talent and desire.’
After rubbing his hands together, Matt leaned forward to accentuate his next point.
‘Consider it stubbornness or stupidity, but the injuries that plague me will not keep me away from this sport or the variety of competition it provides. As much as I see its flaws and discrepancies, it still maintains a special place in my heart. I walked away from a perfectly acceptable coaching job in Barrie, Ontario for this sport, because I believed I still had what it took to compete again. I am a devoted professional wrestler… and will be known the world over as a professional wrestler until my dying day.’
Momentarily looking down at the canvas, Matt exhaled thoughtfully. He surveyed the grey sheet that was stained with accumulative sweat, chronicling memorable matches and moments that were brought to prominence in rings such as this one. The road to the present wrought tears of joy and tears of despair, but he would never regret his decision.
Lifting his head, he looked back at the camera with a contemplative essence in his eyes.
‘But lately, I’ve been hearing another question. What exactly do I have left to accomplish?’
According to the people, he had accomplished everything worthwhile. In his mind, there were still achievements which he had yet to add to his impressive résumé.
After a moment of silence, he decided to count off his key accolades with his fingers.
‘I’ve been a two-time World Champion. I’ve been honoured as a Hall of Fame wrestler by two different organizations. I’ve unified championships and achieved numerous awards, and I have beaten some of the most well-known legends to have ever stepped foot inside this ring. At 32 years of age, I could call it quits right here and walk away with my head held high, returning to a simpler, more convenient life. Except... that I can’t.’
Finally reaching the heart of the matter - the sole basis for this entire address - Matt’s humble tone changed drastically.
‘I can’t… because of Seth Iser… the Deity of Destruction.’
Almost instantly, he reminisced on the callous and vile methods Iser had used to try and shorten his career and take him out of wrestling forever. But before he could get too involved travelling down memory lane, he cancelled his thoughts and glared directly at the camera with an expression of contempt.
‘You and I have known each other for many years, Seth. We have crossed paths in numerous promotions, at one point standing on the same side. We’re deemed veterans of this sport… even active legends. But after what you have done to me and summoned from my core… I can’t walk away as you remain there in my wake, gloating and shoving your superiority down everyone’s throats.’
Matt caressed his neck, slightly wincing from the pain that uncomfortably remained. His medical analysis prior to Breakthrough #49 had turned up positive results; to an extent. The doctor examining his injuries had strictly advised that he avoid another confrontation with Seth Iser, or any other wrestler for that matter, until he had properly healed.
Angered by the prospect of potentially waiting months for another shot at his nemesis, Matt refused to accept the doctor’s best wishes. Not even Ryan Omega or Sky Sangue could stop him, hence the liability forms that had been quickly commissioned.
He was going to do things his way, whether it would cost him his future or not.
‘First you were an Apocalypse… and then you became a Deity. It doesn’t matter what you’re known as, because you’re still the same person to me, no matter how many layers you add on top. Sure you have your sobriety and your smart, observant daughter as positive factors… but that’s as far as I’m going to stroke your ego. As much as I respect your tenacity and commitment deep, deep inside… I can’t respect the person you ultimately are. I loathe and despise every fibre of your being.’
Aiming his finger towards the camera, as if Seth was presently standing in the vicinity, Matt scowled and prepared to spew truthful venom.
‘I… hate you, Seth Iser.’
After uttering this strong announcement, he shifted his weight backwards, residing once again with his spine touching the steel chair.
‘You are the embodiment of foulness. And you’re right… you’re absolutely right. I too contain a grim, repulsive core that you have experienced so many times before. We’re two sides of the same coin. However… how will it feel to you to know you were beaten and submitted by the darkness you’ve become so familiar with? Because that is exactly what is going to put you down in Norfolk, Virginia.’
He could feel the anger increasing; his rage was bound to escape, but he wanted to remain subdued, speaking to Seth with a composed, professional attitude.
‘Ryan Omega doesn’t expect a straight wrestling match between us. He would be a fool to assume otherwise. Foolish people fail to make good General Managers, which is why he inserted the terms that VoW will not be liable for any damages that can arise. And they will arise, Seth. We know it… and they know it. This Submission Match has been sanctioned to take place with no rules, other than to make the other man tap out or vocally submit. I consider that a blessing, because not only are you stepping into my skillful domain… but for the first time in my career, I have the legal opportunity to annihilate you with whatever I can get my hands on. Rarely have I resorted to using weapons of any kind... but for you… you will be a very justifiable exception.’
Rubbing his hands together for second time, he looked up towards the low ceiling before a personal atrocity emerged inside his mind. The rage was further escalating, bringing him closer to crossing the threshold.
‘Yet what aggravates me the most… is not what you’ve done to me. It’s not even what you’ve said to me personally. It’s that you stand there, in my presence… as the only legendary wrestler I have never beaten in my career. You have cheated and weaseled your way out time and time again… and for that, you are not the man you claim to be. You have proven nothing but how cowardly you act in the face of strong adversity. For a supposed deity, you have much to repair in terms of credibility. But preaching to the masses about how you’ve never lost a match to me… that has really gotten under my skin.’
For a few moments Matt recomposed himself, taking long breaths as a way to hold off the anger. Both sides of his personality were battling again, seeking to gain control of this current situation.
‘But the weirdest thing is… I have managed to successfully triumph above your closest allies and your bitterest rivals.’
Suddenly, a smirk appeared on his cleanly-shaven face.
‘I defeated Mike Park in our first ever encounter, inside a steel cage no less. It took you approximately seven years to get the job done, whereas it took me one night. One night. And I’ve beaten him a number of times in the span of three years. And how about your mentor Noish? The man with a philosophical penchant to spout his own egotistical greatness and obnoxiously define himself as a man-made God? That sounds eerily familiar, doesn’t it? Know what happened? I made him tap out. The man who taught you everything he knew in order to prepare you for the daring heights of this business… I forced him to quit and swallow his pride. He was a changed man from that point onward. His aura of invincibility had been damaged forevermore, all because of my technical ability. Did you ever beat him in that fashion? I don’t think so.’
Crossing his arms at his chest, he decided to maintain his proud smirk a while longer.
‘The thing is, Noish ended up finding someone else to teach his well-travelled lessons to. The Red Dragon. Remember him, Seth? He was another Noish protégé, someone who outlasted me to win the TEW World Heavyweight Championship in a brutal Warfare Match. The next time we competed against one another? I pinned his shoulders to the canvas after one Shockwave. Did you ever do that, Seth? The answer… is no.’
Gradually, the smirk faded, all while Matt stared away from the camera. His mind was racing. His emotions were brewing and boiling. His dark, aggressive personality was gaining control.
‘Your mentor… your legendary foes… I have conquered them all. Yet you… you… despite your inferiority to those men… have escaped my wrath time after time. Well it comes to an end at Heatstroke.’
With his goodness struggling to create a balance, he pressed his hands against the sides of his head, beginning to shudder from the building fury.
‘I will gain vindication… and as a promise… as a vow… you will never ruin my legacy. I will continue surviving in this sport as a real professional wrestler. I will... survive...’
The change was coming. A characteristic shift was pending.
‘And let me tell you exactly why I will!’
Unable to restrain himself, Matt’s vocal delivery increased in volume as his face reddenned considerably. His internal fire had become an uncontrollable inferno.
‘For over twelve years, I let my skills and determination do the talking for me! I never needed a microphone to announce how good I was and why I should be respected. The people knew it! They knew it every single time I stepped foot in that ring! Every night I went out, I left them believing that I was the best wrestler in the company. Every night! They applauded my efforts and treated me with the utmost respect that I never asked for! I demanded nothing! All I asked for was an opportunity to prove to those fans who considered me a legend… who still consider me a legend… that I was the best. And I went out there, focused and driven to abide by my word, and I gave them everything I could to solidify their claims that I was the best!’
Standing up from the chair, Matt thoughtlessly toured the ropes before he returned to his previous position.
‘I have never walked away from a challenge. Never… not once! Even if I was outnumbered or at risk of severely damaging my health and career, I never backed down from anyone or anything! I have fought arrogance, I have fought the power of ego, and I have fought tyrannical authority! If they wanted to break me, end my dream and throw me out of this sport, I told them to bring it on! They put me in the Terrordome, I fought through the weapons, the barbed wire and steel in order to overcome five other wrestlers! They put me in a 60-Minute Extreme Iron Man Match with the most hardcore, crazy son of a bitch I have ever known in my life, and I took him to the fucking limit and beat him! They put me inside Hell In A Cell, and I left that Cell the undisputed victor! Four times! Four times!’
Enraged and unhinged, he grabbed the chair and roughly slammed it closed. The metal connection triggered a loud snap that flowed throughout the building, yet no one appeared to inspect the commotion. Either they were leaving him alone intentionally, or they were too nervous to depart the offices and inadvertently cause further unrest.
After dropping the chair onto the canvas, Matt focused all of his energies on the lone, undisturbed camera.
‘They put me in a Warfare Match with 39 other men, each one coming out with a weapon… and I come out at number 3 in the draw... Number 3! With no weapon in my hands! And I went the distance! I was there at the finishing line, having survived against 38 other wrestlers, and fatigue and blood loss was what cost me against the only man left… a man who entered the ring over two dozen places after me! That same night… that same fucking night, I won the Tag Team Championships against the man who was fortunate enough to dispose of me at my most vulnerable in the Warfare Match, and against his monstrously-aggressive tag team partner, and neither of them could keep me down! I pulled double duty, and I went the distance!’
‘Whether I was lacerated and bleeding from every orifice, my determination and ambition kept me going through the pain! Whether I had my shoulder dislocated or was astonishingly close to being paralyzed and wheeled out of wrestling forever… I came back and did it all again! Nothing in this life has stopped me from continuing to remain in this sport that I hold dear to my heart! Nothing!’
Seconds after screaming “nothing”, Matt collapsed onto his knees. By this point the color of his facial skin had darkened to a shade of deep red, and a couple of veins were protruding as emotional stress marks.
‘I have been through two car crashes… two of them! During the second crash, the car barrelled over, and the mangled, twisted components of the car broke my ribs, broke my arm and gave me a concussion! I was within range of death, but I recovered and persevered! I have seen a man get gunned down and killed on the street, three steps away from his car! One shot, dead! I have watched a loved one die in front of my eyes, trying to cling onto life with every shallow breath she took! I've been thrown off ladders, thrown off cages, been driven through tables, and I've taken so many chair shots to the head that I'm surprised I can still remember my own name! Do you honestly think I should fear you and pray for mercy?!’
While clawing at the canvas with trembling fingers, Matt finally stopped and exhaled tremendously. He stared down at the canvas for a long while, attempting to de-stress and cleanse his mind. Eventually he looked back at the camera, but his face had yet to return to normalcy.
‘Maybe… maybe… maybe that is foolish pride, isn’t it? Maybe I should have thought carefully about who I was dealing with, because I am fully aware of what you are capable of. Maybe I’ve become so consumed with the task of delivering my promises that I never sought a way to remain healthy and dignified... but guess what? I might be riddled with injuries, my neck might cause my body to atrophy one day, but I’m still standing here now! No one has ended me! Not you, not anyone! You will not end me!’
But he could not keep his anger at bay; there was still so much more left to release.
‘If I submit to you… if I give up and quit to you… I will never be able to live with myself. Everything… everything… fucking everything I have achieved in this sport will be flushed away! Everything I have proven to every wrestler who doubted my ability and heart will be worthless! If I submit to you… I will end my career and walk away from this sport! You... you...!’
Shaking his head, Matt sprung to a vertical base.
‘Defeating you... is more important than any accolade I have ever won and cherished! Defeating you is more important than any Main Event I have ever been in! Defeating you is more important than being honoured at a Hall of Fame ceremony! Defeating you is more important than everything else in my tainted life! You can knock those concrete blocks you call fists into my head all you want… I’m not giving up! You can tear my flesh and break my bones all you please… it won’t help! You can try and break me with the Deprivation DDT a thousand times! You will not conquer me! And the Black Magic?! The Black Magic?!’
Acknowledging the folded chair, he stormed towards it and picked it up from the canvas. Within a few seconds, he sent the chair flying out of the ring, not even waiting to see it crash onto the concrete floor before recommencing his passionate words.
‘Bring it! Snap my neck in two, you son of a bitch! You’re not defeating me in Norfolk! Do it twice! Do it three times! It won’t make a difference! You won’t tarnish my dream! You won’t tarnish my pride! I will not let you vandalize and forever corrupt a legacy I have built with pure desire and determination for over a decade! You will not be the mark that re-defines me! Even if you kill me… I will submit death itself to return to the realm of the living and finish you off!’
Pausing, Matt extended his arms out to his sides and bellowed ferociously.
‘If I’m stepping into the ring at Heatstroke against God… then I will make God tap out!’
Coming awkwardly close to the camera, Matt settled onto his knees once more as he breathed through exhaustion. He could not let Seth Iser win again, not like at Fate of the Gods II. This was his last chance.
‘After all is said and done, Seth Iser… I will make history come true again. Those people who believed… and still believe… that I am the best wrestler in the world… will know that I am better than you. My ultimate declaration will be clarified inside the Norfolk Scope... and God will become a mere, defeated mortal.’
‘The Deity of Destruction… will cease to be. Your Godlike entity will be disproven… and your vanity will crumble within a solitary second. You could end my career in the process… but at least I will have the eternal gratification of knowing I defeated you with no controversy attached. For the days I will spend in solitude until our moment arrives… the vengeful beast inside will feed and grow… but I will not regret my decision. I regret absolutely nothing.’
After wiping the sweat from his matted brow and spreading it onto his shirt, Matt spat away excess saliva before he continued his unique, arguably iconic address.
‘But after I have broken you apart, eradicated your delusions and relegated your supremacy… I will leave you with one thing. I will leave you… with one thing.’
He pointed one finger up towards the camera, letting it linger as his eyes burned with unparalleled determination.
‘The cold, hard reality… that you… for as masterful and Godly as you claim to be… will never… ever… be... Matt... Slater!’
Culminating his promise with another passionate shout, he forced the camera over with his hand. Viewers would see the images twist and blur until the tripod resided on the worn canvas, but Matt did not care. He was done talking. At Heatstroke, his actions alone would complete his most important objective to date.
With the camera facing the distant wall of the gymnasium on its side, Matt finally crawled over to the expensive device and stopped the recording. Despite the aggressive nature of his final act, he realized the plastic casing would protect the internal files from permanent damage. Soon enough his message would be uploaded to the main servers, and his message would be heard loud and clear.
All that was left to do was to deliver his promise and strengthen his historic journey once more.
Soon the deed would be done.
Soon he would finally defeat Seth Iser and have his arm raised in true victory.
Soon he would prove, without a shadow of a doubt, that he was the better wrestler... the best wrestler in the world... and the man.