Plainfield, New Jersey
Wednesday June 6, 2018
10:17pm Eastern Standard Time

The Last Quarter moon sits high in the dark sky surrounded by a bevy of variant lumen of stars. In the lower portion of the shot we see a flickering of reddish-orange light and hear the cracking of burning wood. As the camera pans down, we can see the fire coming from a small brick-lined pit within the center of a circular stone table. As the tips of the flames dance around we can see the face of Pestalance. The camera moves around giving us a better view of Pest as he takes a long drag from a cigar. A thick cloud of smoke escapes his mouth as he swirls a brown liquid in a class tumbler. He takes a sip from the glass and breaks the silence without looking at the camera.

So for the past couple of days I’ve been replaying some of the things that were a part of Robert Main’s first promo toward me in my head. I’ve been reflecting on some of the things I saw and heard, and I’ve got some questions.

Like, why in the fuck would this dude allow his mom to be recorded not only flirting with some rando cat, but also getting his phone number in the end?

What’s this dude’s dad got to say about that?

When did Morimoto start letting busted ass looking Asian chicks be the hostess of his restaurant as opposed to one of the man fine ass Asian women on the strip?

Furthermore, why is he letting that 3 out of 10 face ass chick walk around with terribly applied Geisha make-up on? I mean, I’m sure there are tons of make-up artists in Vegas that could have done a better job than that.

Is Robert Main into unattractive Asian women? I mean it’s really hard to find an unattractive Asian woman…So…is the rarity of it his kink?

Does that drink he ordered taste as delicious as it sounds?

But most importantly…

Just who…

In the fuck…

Does this guy think he is?

Pest takes another drag of the cigar before looking upward, releasing the smoke into the air.

Now before I continue, we all know who Robert Main is. He’s the Omega, the longest reigning and defending Hart Champion, “Designed for Greatness”, yada yada yada, blah blah blah…

We get all of that.

But what makes him think that the bullshit he has said and/or will say holds any weight with me? What makes him think that his empty threats have me trembling with fear?

I mean…Let’s think about this for a second. Robert Main wants me to believe that he’s this savage. That he’s some concurring warrior who’s nearly impervious from the attacks of the masses. He wants us to think that he’s the boogie man hiding under our beds waiting for our leg to hang over the edge so he can grab it and yank us into an endless void of pain and despair.

Cold-blooded remorseless son of a bitch.

A crude animal.

That’s what he referred himself as…

And unfeeling, uncaring, monster. A blood stained fanged beast with its red eyes fixated on destroying anything that crosses its path.

This is what he’s trying to convince us of what will be standing on the opposite side of the ring from me.

Pest chuckles as he take another sip from his glass.

I’m not buying it.

See it’s not that I don’t believe that he is capable of being all of these things. I mean…admittedly dude’s got skills; I won’t deny that. I just can’t say that in comparison to me he’s the scariest thing on two legs. Cause he’s just…Not.

Here’s what I want Main to do. I want him to take a minute and think…like really think about all of the people he has stepped into that ring with since he won the Hart Championship. Think about all of the things they said to him leading up to the match. All the preparation they did before they stepped into that ring. Think about the fight they put up against him trying to take that title away. Take all of those things into consideration. And then ask yourself do any of those people compare to me.

Pest takes another drag of his cigar, as smoke escapes his mouth he continues.

You know what…scratch that. I’ll save him the trouble. No…they don’t. Not a single one of them can hold a candle to what I’m capable of when I step into that ring with him. None of them pose the kind of threat that I do.

He doesn’t believe me…I know.

He think this is an easy match for him…a sure thing.

What a minute how did he put it?

Pest thinks for a second.

A layup, unproblematic, a piece of cake.

That’s how he described my threat level to Engineer. A man that he thinks he is equip enough to go toe to toe with. A man that he thinks he is on par with. Which means that by proxy, he feels that my threat level is the same in regards to him.

Pest chuckles.

Bless his heart.

Robert Main sure is one poor misguided son of a bitch, isn’t he? I mean…he actually requests that I show him how “inhuman and merciless” I can be. He wants me to be “uncivilized”. “Blood thirsty and heartless.”

These are all his words.

Now lest examine this for a second. Would someone pose these sort of requests to a person they think is even a small threat? Would someone ask Mike Tyson to punch them in the face with all of his power, whilst having the knowledge that a punch from him at half strength could break their jaw? That would just be plain old stupid. So we can safely establish that Robert Main thinks that when we step into the ring he’s going to mop up the canvas with me.

But see….That’s where he’s got it fucked up.

Cause I’m not like anyone that Robert Main has faced up to this point in his career. I’ve got different goals…different motivations. The fact that I don’t care about winning the Hart Championship, let alone this match should scare the shit out of Robert Main. The fact that all I care about at this point is hurting XWF’s golden boys should cause Main to have second thoughts about even steppin into the ring with me. But do you think Main is feeling any of those emotions right now?

Pest shakes his head.

Not even a little bit. Robert Main’s ego is too big; he’s got too much pride to even take a second to even think about what he’s getting himself into. He’d rather walk around blissfully ignorant thinking that he’ll take me out without breaking a sweat.

Good!

It will be more satisfying when the look of fear grows in his eyes as reality hits him. It will more enjoyable watching desperation surround him. It will feel so much better watching doubt grow in his heart. And then…

Pest snaps his fingers.

The end.

The end of your bullshit confident swag.

The end of the “King Shit” attitude.

The end of your role as the Hart Champion.

The end of…”The end”, Omega.

Remember what I said about time and the distance between two places?

We’re getting closer…And I can’t wait.

Holla at cha later, bitch!