11-11-2014, 06:12 PM
Hello, Ghost Tank.
I haven't forgotten the little spat we got into that provoked this match. The one where you were crying and complaining to a reporter of all people about his opinions, despite the fact that you call yourself a monster like you know the slightest bit about what that word means. Posturing yourself to be a frightening, intimidating force and then deciding to show off your parkour skills. Make up your mind, man! You're wearing more hats than can fit on your head and to be frank, it ain't such a flattering look for you. Though I guess I'm not the best judge of that so let's move on to your comments about me, shall we? Like how you talked about not being impressed by me right after filming your workout session. Right, working out for our match? But why, why would someone expecting to walk into such an easy match decide to train for it anyway? Seems a waste of time to me, but then again, you're the big star here isn't that right? The pawn desperately grabbing for straws of respect when even after his "remarkable accomplishments" no one takes him seriously. Constantly asserting that you're here to hurt people when every time they walk away and walk away in tact. Nothing more spectacular than the average wear and tear a wrestling match takes. Nothing spectacular. Those are the words I'd choose to describe you. Your inflated ego? Par for the course. Your boisterous claims? Not even scratching the surface. Every word you say? Said a thousand times and each of them better.
And yet you're a new breed of monster.
Maybe there's truth to that claim. You're a new breed of monster, but not a better one or hell, maybe not even a good one. You're a Frankenstein monster of underwhelming proportions. Everything recycled, but then again is anything original anymore? Not my place to say but surely it isn't you. A man who claims to be a monster. A monster that has been stopped. Like I said in our previous exchange on that fateful day, monsters are manifestations of fear and as such only have as much power as allotted. I don't fear you. I don't think I have to spell out the results of that, do I? Are you that dense? Well, you cling onto the label of monster like a child clutches to his blanket despite the failure you've already faced so you might be. So please, let me explain it to you.
You hold no power over me.
You think I'm stepping into the ring with a monster. A "New Breed of Beast". In reality, I'm stepping into the ring with a man so lost in his own delusions he can't separate fiction from reality. Like in my match with your brothers. I didn't give a shit. I put in as little effort as possible intentionally to make a point because I'll admit, I'm not much of a team player and come Warfare, your friends won't be able to help you. Not unless you want a "cheap win" the way you claim me to have. Though, you're the one rambling on about wanting to hurt people; and now you're talking about wins? Right, that's rich. The man who's MO isn't about winning bringing up wins like it means piss-all to him. Oh, and before you claim I'm making excuses, let's not forget your masterful excuse about testing Frodo. That's about as believable as your claims of being a monster. So, in words you can understand; unbelievable. I don't buy it. Right, but my opinion doesn't matter, right? Please, tell yourself that. Tell everyone that. Guard your supposed honor with every ounce of your being. I want you to. Keep that pride of yours, it's always better when they have their self respect to lose.
But better yet is when they have delusions to shatter.
You claim to be a monster but the more and more I think about it, you aren't even a man. You're a slave. Bound to a higher power and your brothers in arms who will drop you like a bad habit the second you stop being a benefit. A blind, soiled slave. Nothing more, nothing less.
Pestilence. Plaguing enemies minds? Or plagued yourself? Sick in the head, lost to whims and desires so long that he can't even remember what was real or if he was ever real in the first place.
That's the sad reality of things.
You claim to be so much and yet you aren't. A so-called monster brought down by a mere man. And will be brought down again. Your higher power must be looking on with disappointment right now, if indeed it is all-seeing and all-knowing because it would know the inevitable outcome. Its champion defeated by no one's champion.
It's your reality, and mine. I eagerly await while you dread.
No gods.
No masters.
Good night, Ghost Tank.
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