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**03-28-2013, 10:48 PM**

Leave it to Sebastian Duke to blow his first three promos straight out of his ass and not have the intestinal fortitude to put together even a bit of competent trash talk.

Of course, don’t worry, Dukey lovers. I’m sure he’ll grow a pair and start dishing it out soon enough.

I mean, this is the man that puts out such cutting trash talk as

Quote:Wrong again, man-child, I'm not MY worst enemy. I'm YOURS!

...Yeah...And of course…

Quote:You might say there is a razor thin line between good and evil. If that is the case then I assure you I am that razor thin line! I stay in the Darkness residing on that line and swinging back and forth like a pendulum.

…Gotta tell you, I don’t actually know what that one means. Is that like, not good nor evil? I… I honestly have listened to that sound byte for a good hour and still don’t know what the fuck he’s talking about.

Kid should maybe stop putting razor thin lines of powder of his nose and try to actually take a swing.

But I’m sure he’s got other classics, such as…

Quote:"Remember one thing, Chris Hartt, there is nothing to fear....

"But fear...

"HIMSELF!"

…

Jesus…

Wow…

All right, guess I’m going to be doing all of the work this week.

No, that’s all right, Duke. You just keep telling your long ass story about your drive into Gauntlet City and how annoying Jonathan was the whole way down and the crazy misadventures that happened along the way when you pulled into Starbucks and they mixed up your order. I’ll just start putting out stuff that people want to watch.

It’s okay, kids. I know Duke isn’t actually brave enough to watch me decimate him so completely.

I know he would be stupid enough to actually try and tangle with me one-on-one verbally.

Sebastian is sitting in his coffin somewhere, already six feet under as they shovel dirt onto him, thinking he’s still got a chance. Decaying, slowly running out of momentum as he keeps shoving out this shit, having all these half-formed conceptions of modest intrigue dancing in his head.

Fantasizing like a child in a cardboard box how great it would be to fly to the moon and stun the world.

And wouldn't it be though? It won’t happen, couldn’t happen in a million years, I could break down for you bunch of mouth-breathing scum how scientifically impossible the event ‘Sebastian Duke becomes the XWF United States Champion’ is to occur ever, let alone on Sunday.

But, wow, you idiots continue to murmur to one another. How crazy would it be if the kid could pull it off?

Yup. Duke sure is the plucky underdog this week.

If there's one man who should be walking into Gauntlet City wearing a ball gown and matching tiara...

Well, Bryce is a viable candidate with his incessant bitching about being ignored.

You know the reason you keep hearing "It could get better for you", Bryce?

Because you never seem to follow the condition after that statement. You know, the IFs.

IF you actually show up.

IF you manage to stop whining for five seconds about how ignored you are and give us a reason to pay attention.

IF you manage to win a match... Ever.

But, you don't. Never have. Never will. So. Leave. Come back in a month with a different name. Keep acting like there's not a constant countdown around this cycle.

The only thing I hope is that after Mystery, you're the second man I meet in the Gauntlet.

Cuz after that triumph, I'm going to want to take a victory lap.

But anyway, onto other people who disappoint frequently.

Runner-up to the crown Prom Queen of Gauntlet City goes to Sebastian Duke.

Because, let's face it. He really is the Cinderella Story.

He's gone undefeated in the last Blah Statistic weeks.

Beating such prestigious names as...

Man Preaching Nothing.

Chris Hartt.

And Peter Gilmour.

Yes. This is the winning streak of conquering hero. The incredible triumphs of the future king.

Against a bunch of nobodies with below .500 winning records and PETER GILMOUR.

The man who lost to Chris MacBeth and still claims his 0 for 3 record against me proves how invincible he is.

But lo, cries the XWF, for the king has reclaimed his rightful place.

He has defeated the first no one to ever best him, Unknown Soldier!!!!

In an Elimination Match.

As part of a 3 on 1 assault.

After you had already been eliminated from the match.

... I'm sorry, is this really the victory Duke wants to claim as his big one? As the proof that it’s his time to finally claim a championship? This is the ID he tries to flash when people ask him what he’s doing at the Big Boy’s table?

Wasn’t the entire point of Soldier being someone you had to overcome was the fact that he beat you fairly? That every other loss wasn’t fairly won, which is why his victory was such a big deal?

Is that not a two way street? Can you break all the rules you want and have your victories count but all those losses to Angelus shouldn’t go in the record books because of you’re too oafish and clumsy to get out of the way of a geriatric behind the wheel?

And don’t get me started on this being your first shot at the gold. On the supposed idea that you’ve worked through the dirt and grime of the middle card and this is your first real chance at the big time. On people acting like Duke has never held a title before. He was handed the X-Treme Title.

The reason you simpletons don’t remember it?

He held the X-Treme Title for two days and then lost it to that loser Angelus, who immediately dropped it to a superior athlete. Yup. Me. I’m two food chain levels above the kid you’re praying can take me out.

Seriously, Duke? You held it for two days? You can’t even pull the week long champion card everyone else does when they roll in the ring against me. You couldn’t keep the belt for 48 hours. Your two ‘successful’ title defenses were against AJ Powell and The Crimson Dong.

Honestly, kids.

The only real similarity between Duke and Cinderella this Sunday.

Is that a goddamned force of nature is about to wreck his little dream and send him back to the basement trying to make no-shows look good.

For the real Cindy, it was time and Benjamin Franklin setting clocks back an hour.

For Dukey, it’s Mark Fucking Flynn. Mark ‘King of the Goddamned MidCarders’ Flynn.

Mark ‘YOUR UNITED STATES CHAMPION’ Flynn.

Duke can keep playing in his cardboard box all he wants. He can close his eyes and cover his ears and imagine he’s in a magical faraway place where there’s a chance, the slightest modicum of a possibility that he could take me out on the mike or in the ring. That maybe just maybe, with the help of his loyal friends, the anarchist without brain, the heartless filthy Nazi and the dickless whatever the fuck Michael James is, that they can skip down the road to Sunday and wish their way to championship gold.

But a big storm cloud is rolling in, about to melt your little imagination land.

And unless you have the stones to get out of that box and actually take a swing at your.

Yes, YOUR UNITED STATES CHAMPION.

Then I suggest you take your box somewhere safe. Like indoors. Away from windows. Maybe turn the lights off so the rain can’t even see you.

And don’t show up this Sunday.

But don’t worry, Dukey. Just because the rain clouds rolled in and it’s too wet too play, doesn’t mean you can’t be part of the fun.

Maybe you could throw down $50 and watch it on Pay-Per-View. Like the fan you are.

Pick up an exercise belt, draw a little design on the front with your Crayolas and wave it over your head and pretend you’re me as I do the same on your television screen. Maybe you can set up a playdate with Tyler Decker and the two of you can make a game out of who sounds more like Mark Flynn and who he’d like more if he met the both of you in person.

And yes, I just compared you to the lowest conceivable biological entity in the XWF.

For the record, it goes, in order of intelligence and ability…

Sebastian Duke.

Tyler Decker.

And that fungus that starts growing when someone leaves a green room sandwich plate out for too long.

But sorry. You’re probably familiar enough with Tyler Decker.

Since

’s probably hand-picked you to take out the easiest of his perceived threats from Donathan’s little Union.

Most especially since Michael James proved to be a gargantuan flop.

It’s funny how clearly

needs someone to become the King of the XWF.

Because with his stooge Witastick failing to get either of his hounds to chew off my belt.

Now, he takes it upon himself to personally train this new people.

Carry him under his wing.

Give him the easy ones week after week after week to build up his legitimacy.

And finally give him the big chance to take out the man that no one else has been able to.

Sorry. Still undefeated one-on-one this year, kid.

Sorry. Still outlasted you in the five-on-five elimination match.

Sorry. Still in every conceivable way. Better than you.

And if you think I’m going to drop my championship to this delicate tulip bitch just because

, Witastick and the rest of the locker room have their fingers crossed.

You’ve got another thing coming.

But, let me close with this little side note.

If the reason you’re scared is because you know that this Sunday, I might hand you your second inexcusable victory? The second one you lose despite no one cheating.

You know, besides that one against BENJAMIN CRANE and lying down for Griffin MacAlister.

Then, don’t worry about that.

I don’t plan on beating you fairly.

Because I don’t give a fuck about legitimacy.

I don’t make bitch excuses like ‘I got run over by a car!’ and ‘The sun was in my eye while I was getting run over by a car’ and whatever other bullshit you regularly pull out explaining why, gosh darn it, you just have the most rotten luck against Angelus.

If I lose, it’s because I lost.

It’s because I pulled out every stop I had to take a win from your cold dead hands.

And let me tell you something, Duke.

If you don’t pull out everything you have.

If you don’t bring your three stooges to ring side and make this a party.

If you don’t whip out and start dual wielding those Asmodeus canes you seem to pick up in bulk by the Dollar General.

If you don’t… start trash talking against me.

Then, believe me.

It doesn’t mean you have a better chance of avoiding me beating the shit out of you verbally.

As you can see above, I can do just fine curb stomping you into dust without you being around.

All you not showing up where it counts.

In the one ring where beating me is a significant accomplishment.

All that does is prove how fucked over Cinderella is now that the clock is striking twelve.

And this isn’t a fairy tale that ends happy for you.

This shit is Grimm.

Trust ME, Duke.

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