And finally.

The root of the problem.

The reason why this week, Warfare's top champion is stuck in the ring with three mouth breathers he plans on easily dispatching.

Wallace Witastick.

Really throwing in the towel here, huh?

I understand. You must be wracking your brains, trying to answer the question every GM before you has tried to solve...

How exactly am I going to do away with Mark Flynn?

And sure, like a mother trying to admire the deformed circle her mentally challenged spawn has presented as a cowboy?

I could pretend that your most recent efforts have been admirable before this week.

Putting me opposite Crimson Cobra, then calling an audible and sending your canine companion Tyrone to officiate.

I appreciate your under-handedness as a 'legitimate businessman.' I almost enjoy how physically ill you make me.

And sending that mental midget Peter Gilmour to try and out-muscle me? Perfect. You even that brilliant idea of sending your toy Angelus to toss out a couple insults to hurt my legitimacy.

What I mean is. Your attempts to get me off your show? Before this week?

Very impressive.

Clap clap.

Good show across the board.

But, this week?

Looks like someone is out of ideas and is trying to stall for time now...

Sorry, I get taking me out of the main event because, let's face it, any of the trash you throw in the ring with me immediately drops a grade level when they're forced into a ring with me.

But how desperate are you? In what dire straits must you be in?

When these three hacks are legitimately the best you can put against me?

Angelus might stammer out 'could of's and trip over himself like an incompetent child. But at least I'm fairly certain he's trying to speak English.

Who in the Hell are these people? How did you expect me to react to these three rookies bum rushing me with gibberish?

Oh no... I'm so scared of that maniac, Chris MacBeth...

What am I going to do? Look at how incredibly he lists items off a menu. The only thing that would have made that promo worse is if entering that elevator, he listed the buttons he saw on the inside.

50

49

48

Skip a few, except he wouldn't because HE DOESN'T HAVE THE SLIGHTEST CLUE HOW TO ENTERTAIN THE MASSES.

And L

Honestly, MacBeth? It's more likely that the child pointing and screaming near you was encountering his first elevator and amazed by the wizard that could levitate the floor beneath him.

Than he was actually excited to meet some never was like you.

Egads. How can I possibly contend with the mountain of a threat presented in World-1 International?

Look at that talent, that sheer unstoppable power.

Watch him carefully prepare to decimate his opponents this week, finally snapping his career long losing streak as he…

Goes on xwf.com and finds out his schedule…

And that’s it.

Seriously, why do you scum keep doing this? Sarah St. James pulled the same strategy to little avail. Seems like every child fresh off their mother’s breast that tries to immediately leap into the XWF thinks the ultimate plan, the best means by which to leap past me into the XWF.

Is to check my XWF profile page.

Listen to me, you pond sludge.

I am not going to be beaten by an errant comma or my hometown.

If you want to have a prayer against your United States Champion, I recommend you bring a game worthy of beating anyone.

Don’t worry. I know you can’t. You’ve proven that every week before.

And this week is no exception.

Ay-YE. How in the name of God almighty am I expected to contend with truly the greatest champion of all time, Knightmask?

The man who dropped seven promos? A Herculean feat not seen since Warfare’s End of the World Special. When two idiots refused to turn off video cameras for a full 168 straight hours to no one’s enjoyment.

But, no one wants to remember that. The same way no one wants to willingly watch Knightmask.

No, but sincerely, Knightmask is a superhero so he probably inspires someone. He might be a hero in his native lands, which can’t possibly be America or anywhere moderately familiar with English.

And yet, here he is.

KnightMask: Yeah, yeah, I radiate that mess!

I can’t imagine anyone who has a comfort with the English language could possibly be writing this garbage.

KnightMask: Mark Flynn...dude is a joke, straight-up. Straight-up joke. Tries to act all crazy, he ain't crazy! If he's crazy, where'd he get all them skills an' all that muscle?

Oh. The guy wearing the Power Rangers mask and carrying around a sword is calling people crazy. That one adds up.

KnightMask. Let me break this simple concept down for you on a fundamental level.

Wrestling ability, exercise and body building have only two real requirements.

Obsessive dedication bordering on pathological self-hatred.

And a comfort with repeating the same basic self-destructive tasks to observe little no physical or mental gain.

What part of that isn’t conducive to a crazy person.

You know what your stupid attempt at trashing me has clarified?

Just how completely in over your head you are.

How unconditionally screwed you are in your attempt to take me on longer than a minute.

How YOU HAVE ABSOLUTELY NO CHANCE IN HELL OF LANDING A MOVE ON ME, MUCH LESS PROPELLING ME OVER THE TOP ROPE!

…

Witastick.

Let me offer you some advice. A series of actions you should force yourself through so you can realize just how erroneous and fruitless your actions are this week.

Look over my contract. Recognize that even though, as your United States champion, I’m one of the highest paid XWF superstars on your roster.

Realize that fact by itself is probably a good reason for me to be taken seriously. A great reason not to be forced in the ring to try and have an entertaining wrestling match while babysitting three jabbering idiots.

Now, look at this of names. Or get someone else to. Someone on your staff must be comfortable looking at lists considering they’ve led Chris MacBeth to think that’s how you put on an entertaining show.

Sinister.

Benjamin Crane.

Cassius Stonne.

Crimson Cobra.

Neonero.

Do you recognize a similarity between these times?

Does anything pop out when I list these five together, one after the other?

I’d give you a minute to solve the puzzle, but I don’t want you to put any stress on that inferior mind of yours so I’ll just give you the answer.

These are all rookies that were on a roll. Neonero, Crimson Cobra and Sinister had a combined one loss between them before facing me.

Benjamin Crane and Cassius Stonne were reviewed by their fellow XWF superstars as championship-caliber superstars.

Then, they took me on.

And each of them fell.

Stonne was never the same.

Sinister dropped off the face of the Earth, recognizing that as long as he lived, he could never actually beat me.

Crane now can’t tell the difference between Canada and Texas.

Crimson Cobra’s current record is 5 wins and 6 losses.

And Neonero is strapped to a chair somewhere after losing his belt to Jeff Hardy.

Do you understand yet, Witastick?

Do you comprehend what I do to your cash cows after they enter the ring with me?

I don’t just beat rookies.

I don’t just decimate rookies.

I end careers.

When they enter the ring with me, these apple-sauce chewing rejects hit the biggest opportunity they will ever see in their entire wrestling career.

And then, inevitably, they blow it.

They blow it like Peter Gilmour has three times in a row.

They blow it like Angelus did in the Finals for the US Title Tournament.

Now, follow along just a couple steps more.

You're almost to the end.

Take out your cell phone.

Activate you Alarm Clock.

Set it to 7:00 pm.

When Warfare starts, if you're not already aware.

Turn on your television. Set it the appropriate channel.

Watch your monotonous predictable program meander for what feels like hours.

Then, feel the air change.

Watch, after your three hapless oaf prospects join center stage to silence and disinterest.

Observe as the crowd throws daggers to my throat and rose at my feet.

Realize that I draw... That the crowd may cheer against me. But it's still my crowd.

That over the last weeks, amidst the hatred you try to force on those people on a weekly basis.

I've not only captured an audience but found fans with the necessary brain cells to admire my undeniable skills.

Check the stats. Never been pinned on Witastick's Warfare. Never tapped out on Witastick's Warfare.

The only loss I have on me is the one where Peter Gilmour was pinned.

Big surprise since that's all he knows how to do.

Then, keep watching. Keep your eyes glued to that screen.

Don't you dare try to take your eyes from the train wreck that you put on television.

And watch as I break your toys. Watch as I physically erase the talent scout reports that have you false information.

'Great Mat-Based Abilities!' Gone.

'Incredible physique!' Invalidated.

'This kid wearing a stupid mask is the future!' Disproven.

'Will have a long career in the XWF!'

...

Debunked.

Turn off the television.

Do the math. And realize how much money I cost you every time you put me in the ring with a loud mouthed rookie.

Try to go to sleep.

Try to count the number of men that really have a chance of taking on the boogie man you could have gotten rid of by just letting me sit in that bay unemployed.

Realize the count is at zero and you're halfway through your roster.

Stare at the clock.

Realize you're stuck with me. Watch the seconds tick by...

And keep trying to sleep...