Goodbye, Tony
Take my hand in Victory, Nathaniel

I finish watching some of the recent promo footage of my opponents this week and I turn off the television. I swivel in this rather comfortable office chair and face all of you. You all saw what I had to say about Tony Santos earlier this week and you all saw exactly what happened the very next day. Of course he spoke of me before our match. This was expected regardless of my brief mention of his accomplishments this week; I can't possibly emphasize this fact enough, in all of my emphasis. Tony knows exactly what I mean.

Thinking about what I just was listening to a few minutes ago, I begin to speak with words doused in sarcasm... "Am I surprised by Tony's reaction to my words earlier in the week? Hah!" I push myself up from my chair and begin walking over to the window of this dimly lit hotel room. "That would be like asking me if I expect to be physically attacked during the match. As I said before... he's not one to slack off and he knows he needs to come straight for me if his team stands any chance of victory... I could defeat a team of ten men by myself if I needed to, but this is an even two on two playing field. 'Even' to the naked eye, maybe... but when all is said and done it will be clear that Tony and NAZI walked into this match with no chance."

I fold my hands behind my back as I calmly gaze down out of the hotel window and see a woman arguing with a police officer about something. The woman appears to be drunk and is yelling at the officer, who eventually has no choice but to subdue the woman and handcuff her. I squint and try to get a clear view of this woman's face because she seems to bear a striking resemblance to one of my opponents this week — could this disorderly woman who just got wrestled to the ground outside be a relative of Tony Santos? If only I cared.

"After finally having a chance to fully listen to Tony Santos' rebuttal to my statements this week, what I find myself most concerned with is whether his recent mention of me was strategy based or if it was a reaction to me finding a trigger on this poorly constructed puppet that I wore on my fist while I smashed through our competition the last two weeks. Dare I ask the dreaded question... Was Tony Santos offended by the way I so prominently highlighted his entire Lethal Lottery quest? Is that what we're seeing here? I believe the positive things I said about Tony Santos to be true. I brought a performance that some would have called dismal up out of the trenches and washed it off, painted it gold and held it high above my head for all to see... and Tony is offended? Tony is embarrassed? Instead of thanking me and worshiping the ground I walk on for bringing up his accomplishments and helping to build him as a worthy adversary, he mocks and insults me by claiming I've been winning every week for him. Tony feeling ashamed of himself when he heard me repeating his accomplishments to the world has led to him not knowing how to fire back... does he deliver backhanded compliments or does he mock my finisher name?"

"Tony's uncertainty leaves me confused..."

"He's said so much; surely a retaliation is needed on my part in some fashion."

"Do I focus on the predictability of his onslaughts? Do I focus on the overwhelming evidence that supports my superiority to Tony in every way? Do I remind him once again what I've done or perhaps even tell him a little more about what's in store?"

"Then..."

"It hits me..."

"It's Tony Santos. He hasn't successfully claimed a single fall on his own this entire tournament; every match either ended in loss, controversial endings, or me winning matches while he coasted alongside me."

"Why in the emphatic fuck of all fucks would I even need to say anything further about the man before I annihilate him one final time and never look back? By the time Tony Santos finishes being treated by doctors and falls asleep Wednesday night, I will have already forgotten his name. His blood will still be encrusted under my fingernails and I won't even know it's his."

I turn away from the window I was looking out of, take my hand, place it over the camera lens and shove it back as hard as I can. The cameraman stumbles back several feet and trips over some wires as I subtly shake my head in disgust. "The same thing will happen to Tony at the Lethal Lottery. He's like an angry child who you can hold back simply by palming their head and letting them swing away at the air. Tony is that child, swinging and saying whatever he can think of to throw me off my game... but when I finally shove him back by the forehead and he crashes to the ground, he will be like a turtle on its back."

"Are you listening, NAZI?"

"How do you think you're going to carry your team to victory, Nathaniel?" I shake my head silently at the thought... What a shame. "I've done so successfully for the last two weeks straight with Tony Santos as my partner. It did not matter what he did throughout the week before the matches or what condition he was in when he showed up at the arena... He could have been suffering from constant convulsions and explosive diarrhea and still walked out of those matches—well, maybe not 'walked' out—as the victor. Are you prepared for the insurmountable task before you, Nathaniel? Just because you saw me do the impossible two weeks in a row doesn't mean you'll be able to hoist Santos up from his natural depths and sling him over your shoulder while you sprint to the finish line. I've defeated Tony Santos during this tournament and I've teamed with him twice — I know what it's like to have him on either side of the battlefield. I know exactly what it would take, Nathaniel, in order for you to bring Santos to victory and I will very easily ensure you do not deliver that required payload. You may be a powerful 'Nazi Force' of the Earth year 2013 but you will fall where I stood tall and thrived; your failure forever becoming another small notch on my belt as some might say..."

"How does that feel, Nathaniel? To know that you're on the inferior side of this race? The finish line is out of your reach because my partner is superior to yours, and I'm superior to you. You are now classified as an inferior being... hardly even a being. To refer to you as an actual life form is almost ludicrous because you're more of a representation or parody, aren't you? You represent the ongoing struggles of a small sect of the white race that can't measure up to their own demands and goals. Is a major part of your quest not to exterminate the weak; to cleanse these waters and these lands of all that is inferior; to purify the human race? If that is truly your goal, Nathaniel... I extend my hand and I ask you to join me."

"Join me, NAZI. For if your crusade is as pure and unbiased as you claim it to be, you will have no trouble allowing me to hold the door while you enter the gas chamber. You will step to the very center of that chamber, lower yourself to your knees, drop your head, and use your final breath to thank me — THANK ME for finishing the job and eliminating the one weakling who you could never overcome on your own. Finally, your struggle shall come to its glorious end as you are lifted to whatever celestial body you believe you will ascend to after your mortal demise. You'll be transferred into an paradise beyond your wildest imagination and rewarded for your many years of strife on Earth. You will be one of the few who fought that good fight and saw it through to the very end. Join me, Nathaniel. Allow me the privilege of delivering this perfect ending to your story."

"What's that you said? You've insulted my origins — or what you think to be my origins?"

"Noted."

"Now back to my point. I'm the one you've been waiting for, NAZI. All you need to do is accept that your journey has run its course... and a very successful one at that. Congratulations. It is my utmost honor to be chosen as worthy to guide you into the next life where you will be supplied with an endless sea of pure white virgins. Their touch will be like a thousand Earth orgasms compounded into a single point, grazing what you once knew as skin but now know as a canvas for transmitting pleasures no flesh and blood being could possibly experience. Take my hand and close those eyes, Nathaniel, for your time has come to be rewarded. I am the finish line. I will send that gas into the chamber and sing your praise to the Gods as you breathe it in with a smile, knowing you've won."

"You've won the only race you ever had a fighting chance in, and it was a race to extermination."

"And that's why..."

"My worthless, insignificant, inefficient medical disgrace..."

"There's not a damn thing more to say about you."

"Now take my hand and DIE."