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Finn Kühn · (11-27-2022)

15 November 2022
Frankfurt, Germany

"Home sweet home..." I felt myself muttering under my breath as the high-rise buildings and skyscrapers stretched themselves to the heavens above. Even though I had been in Germany for years after my first departure from the XWF, I had never returned to Frankfurt for the purpose I was here on this trip for. "You're... sure this is going to help, right?"

My voice came out wary, uneasy. Skyla Hawkins was in the front seat, driving through the city's busy streets with fingers being drummed against the steering wheel as she did so. Having to slog through the traffic of such a busy city was enough to grate on almost anyone's nerves, and she was certainly no exception. "If I didn't think so, Finn, I wouldn't have suggested this to you. It's that simple."

"Fair enough," I sighed in response, reclining deeper into my seat as I did so.

Family was a sore subject for me. Of course, the matter of my mother and my father - may their souls find peace - was something that was near and dear to my heart. But given my more... remote upbringing away from the rest of the family given we were forced to move to America, I had to grow up without them. It wasn't that I disliked them or anything, but there always felt like there was a... rift. To me, they largely felt like strangers. My Aunt Claudia had attempted to reach out to me multiple times, but nothing had ever... truly come up.

Of course, once Skyla had managed to needle that out of me during another of our talks about the matter of 'family,' this road trip became her idea in an attempt to 'break my mental barrier.' We were just on our way to the hotel to check in first before we do anything like that the next day, but unfortunately, traffic was trying to make us turn old and gray in the process.

It was odd. For someone who claimed that they were no therapist, she was truly attempting to get to the bottom of things like one. Her help was appreciated, certainly... but a part of me felt almost ashamed that things had to be at this point.

I should be better. No, I had to be better by now. I was coming away with a couple of wins, but until that point came, I was easily in one of the worst slumps one could be in for a career. An entire month. Winless. I had to try to keep pushing forward so I could avoid falling into that slump again, but considering the circumstances...

The weight of failure felt heavy on my shoulders.

"Well, Finn," Christine chimed in beside me in the backseat, trying her best to try keeping a chipper tone. Her mood had certainly improved as of late. There was less of an icy tone to her words now that had once developed after our discussion in the trainer's room after the topic of my injuries. I didn't care either way, but I supposed it was easier on me at the end of the day if she wasn't lashing out at me. "All things considered, how are you feeling?"

"About as fine as I can be," I responded almost out of instinct, pushing the thought of 'weakness' out of my mind. "My head and neck feel better, I came out with the truth about Peter Vaughn, and I'm having a match against the two men I've been looking to get my hands on at full strength for ages now. How could I not be feeling good about things right about now?"

"You've been keeping up with the dossiers though, riiight?" Christine's voice was almost nagging at this point, lecturing me almost as a parent would as they try to keep their child on track. It was enough to make me roll my eyes in response, as I gave a simple nod yes.

In truth, I knew I didn't need it for Buster. The two of us knew each other intrinsically at this point. Multiple encounters within a short span in the confines of the ring will do that to you. I've seen and experienced almost everything he could dish out, and likewise, he's seen just as much of my revamped moveset.

Vaughn, however, was the known unknown in this instance, so to speak. The sniveling coward who needed his just desserts. He was the man I needed to keep eyes in the back of my head for.

"Good!" Christine said, taking my nod at face value as she reclined right back into her own seat, as well.

A moment of silence passed between the three of us as we sat in the sleek black rental car Skyla had purchased for the next few days. I knew she had plans for days, and hated being forced to just... wait like this was practically murder on her. She did not show it, but the death stare behind almost stormy green eyes told the entire story. There were things to do, people to meet, training sessions to accomplish...

This felt almost like the calm before the inevitable storm, right about now.

Sensing the almost awkward silence being able to drag on to a deafening level, Christine turned to me to try and make casual conversation. "Sooooo... you speak often with your extended family?"

"No," came the painfully blunt answer from myself.

"Did they... come out for your mom and dad's funeral, at least?" Christine asked. Her pause indicated that she was trying to figure out the best way to frame that question gently, but didn't see a way to do so, and instead decided to be more direct in her speech.

My eyes brought themselves out from looking through the nearby, sun-flooding window, and instead deadpanned themselves right at her. "Yeah, they did."

"Oh! That's... good, at least." Christine said, trying to prevent the car from being flooded with the stench of quiet once more. She eventually settled on, "You, uh... have a lot of other friends?"

"I... used to have more," I admitted as my eyes drifted back to the world outside. "I distanced myself from a lot of that. I just need to focus on trying to be the best, is all."

Skyla's eyes looked back into the rearview mirror, locking her gaze onto me for a brief moment before giving a small noise of indignation and looking back to the slowly moving line of cars. Christine tried gathering her thoughts on how to respond. Finally finding her voice again though, she managed to mutter out, "I don't think that's really healthy..."

"So are a lot of things," I responded with a sigh. "Friends are nice, but they're not what I'm looking for at the end of the day. What I'm looking for is to try and make the industry of pro wrestling the best it can be. It should be of matters of strength and will, not underhanded tactics and filth. A certain opponent of mine coming up at Bad Medicine could do with being reminded of that fact."

It was clear who that little jab was meant for. Christine nodded her head slowly, knowing that we already went over some of this before in our discussions. "You... really wanna be the best for that then, huh?"

"I have to," I corrected Christine. My brows furrowed together as I turned over my shoulder, looking at her right in the eye. "I must try to become the best if I want to improve things for the better. Many people talk about wanting the best for others, but they do little to try and act on it. I've seen it just from being back. There are many good men who say good things, but they're absorbed with themselves first and foremost. For some, there's hypocrisy behind their actions. For others, there's a level of arrogance. Maybe me wishing solely to become the best and label myself as a ruler might be the height of hubris, but I say it because I know that if I don't do it, who will?"

And once more, the sound of silence returned to the car. The line of vehicles ahead stopped, and once more Skyla's eyes bore right into my own, deeply intrigued by what I had to say as she stared into the rearview mirror. Christine tried to find the words to speak out, debating several different times internally. Each time she thought she'd come to a conclusion on what to say, she'd make a small noise, a small indicator that she was trying to ask a question, only to quiet herself down.

Exhaling, I went to look back out the window, and that was exactly when Christine decided to speak.

"So, are you doing that because you want to, or because you're thrusting self-imposed expectations at yourself?"

The question made me pause. My gaze hadn't returned to looking outside the window, but the words themselves contained a deep weight behind them. What I wanted? I exhaled at first, thinking it a simple answer. I wanted to do well for others around me, to give them a better life, to give the people watching a better experience than some of the other people that infested the XWF and pro wrestling as a whole like rotting corpses.

But that was a motive that served the others around me. If and when I ever manage to complete this goal... what then? What would happen for me? Was there a silver lining for Finn Kühn himself?

I pursed my lips, humming and tapping my fingers on the armrest in tune with Skyla's still-drumming fingers on the steering wheel. I knew I still wanted to do what I was doing... but was my mental barrier trying to find a personal reason for self-satisfaction outside of all the titles and names I could label for myself?

"It's something worth thinking about, Finn," Skyla chimed in from the front seat. The line of cars began moving once more, and so did the rental car the three of us sat inside of. "Finding all the more motivation can be helpfu-"

Skyla suddenly cut herself off, looking into the rearview mirror in realization of what was coming. The cars ahead stopped, and so did us, but the car behind us was still wheeling along. Her eyes widened, and she whispered under her breath, "Don't you fuckin' dare...!"

THUD!

The event itself happened in what felt like slow motion. The car lurched forward ever so slightly, bumping us along with it. We, ourselves, were completely fine - the perks of such slow-moving traffic that was ongoing. However, the back bumper of the rental car received one solid dent on the point of impact.

Skyla's knuckles began turning white as she gripped the steering wheel.

"U-Uhm, hey Skyla..." Christine said in a desperate attempt to calm down what was about to be incoming. "Maybe you should-"

The sound of a Scottish accent becoming FAR more noticeable than usual ripped me right out of my thoughts as Skyla began fiercely muttering under her breath, unbuckling her seatbelt and bringing herself right onto the street as she shouted at the top of her lungs, "YOU DAFT FUCKIN' CUNT!"

"Oh no..." both Christine and I felt ourselves muttering in unison. We both remained still within the rental car at that moment. We knew that we were spared from an actual car crash wreaking havoc about us, but perhaps the real wreckage would be ongoing outside at that very moment as shouting and honking could be heard outside.

"THAT WAS A RENTAL CAR, YA SHITTY BAWBAG!"

The shouts of fierce German and broken English flooded through the air in response to the stark-mad woman's march forward as a young man got out of his car. "What is problem you have?! Du krasse Schlampe, du hast wohl nicht mehr alle Tassen im Schrank!"

"YER GONNA BE THE ONE TO EXPLAIN WHAHAPPENED 'ERE, YA JOBBY!"

"Why would I help you?! You are CRAZY woman!"

"AND YER DA SELLS AVON! NOW PICK UP YER BALLS AND-"

Gritting my teeth in a desperate attempt to block out the blaring horns coming from behind us, I looked to Christine and hoped for some level of innate support from her. Fists were likely about to start flying any second now, more than likely. However, much to my despair, she was already looking back at me as she quickly got out, "Not it!"

"..." The level of disgust my gaze had for the liaison sat beside me could not be properly placed into words. It shifted and morphed into a deep scowl, as I proceeded to start unbuckling my seatbelt and prepared myself to have to drag off the lion, so to speak. As I did so, I muttered to myself, "Thanks for nothing."

"Thank you, Fiiiiiinn!" Christine shouted behind me as I opened the door out.

"You are foul," I spat back at her while walking off.

Present Day

"One hour and fifty-two minutes."

"Over the course of one week, with four matches in total, and back-and-forth trips between the mainland US and Hawaii, I spent one hour and fifty-two minutes within the confines of the squared circle in an attempt to better myself and show the entire world what I was capable of."

"Within the near-two hours of action, I've faced some of the best the industry of pro wrestling has to offer. I've gone up against a man I had plenty of respect for in a former champion in Ned Kaye, and in spite of his own mental stupidity, I faced who will likely be a future champion in Goth. I went into Tara Fenix's Rumble match, and I stood toe-to-toe with and outlasted some of the best the industry has to offer."

"Holden Ross."

"Mike Mason."

"Giovanni Santana."

"Xavier Lux..."

"And not a damn soul could match my performance that night."

"And then, going back to Savage, on a night full of title changes and a Pay-Per-View-level card, do you know the match people were talking about most of all? It wasn't that wretched whore who I've beaten before in Jenny Myst winning the Xtreme champion. It wasn't Maddy Junior teaming up with his crush Angie Vaughn to win the tag titles. The only reason why they talked about the main event was that Dick Powers ended up dying before somehow making it back to Madness in the days after in one piece."

"The actual match people talked about was Finn Kühn going out there and stealing the show against Raion Kido. Finn Kühn went out there and he did far better than anyone gave him credit for. And though there was one other match in that span that I will get to, it was still more of the same in the end. Facing the best, and putting on the best performance."

"Now, at this point, one will probably be able to speak up and say 'Finn! You didn't exactly win any of these matches, so why are you bragging about them?"

"An excellent point. 'Almost' doesn't count for much in the world of pro wrestling. 'Almost' doesn't prove that you're better than your opponent. But I forged myself in the fires of those matches. I drove my broken, battered body through Hell to prove a point in that I was willing to do whatever it took in order to try bettering myself. You learn best through failure, as they say. And do you know what happened after that?"

"Two victories, just like that, and one of them came over the number one contender to the Universal Champion. Micheal Graves can try to make excuses about how genuine the win was all he wants, but the fact of the matter is, he knows on his best day his cheating won't buy him a win against me. On that night, I proved myself to be well and truly better, and there is not a damn thing anyone can say about that."

"So with all the rest in the world..."

"With all of the work I've been putting in on my end..."

"And wanting nothing more than to win and put all of this behind me, once and for all..."

"Imagine what I am going to do to the both of you."

"There are no disqualifications in this match. There are no count-outs in this match. There are no rules I have to worry about adhering to for the sake of a 'clean' victory, because so long as I get the win with my own two hands, I can do anything I want to."

"There will be no more asterisks for this match. There will be nothing stopping me from doing what I need to do. I'm going to go into Kansas City with a fire in my eyes, and this will be the first step on my coronation."

"Bank on it."

16 November 2022
Claudia Kühn's Home
Frankfurt, Germany

"Ach, Grüß Gott, Finn!" The tight bearhug Claudia Kühn wrapped me in as soon as I walked through the door was enough to practically crush my damn rib cage. Even though the old woman was pushing nearly 60, she took great care to keep her body in good condition. Her strength was downright deceptive in how much there was as I groaned out.

[meaning="'Hello, Aunt Claudia. How are you?' - Na is an informal expression meaning both hello and how are you?"]"Na, Tante Claudia. Wie gehts?"

"Oh, wunderbar, Finn! Especially now that I get to see you again!" Claudia said as she released the hug.

It took me a minute to realize what had happened, between being able to breathe again and my ears being far too used to English over the years again. Did Aunt Claudia just...?

"You learned English?" I asked, almost flabbergasted with a raise of an eyebrow. "I'm surprised. I knew you had trouble learning it, from what I've heard from Mother."

"It is... not so perfect," Claudia admitted in English that was only slightly broken, waving her hand in the meanwhile to show how her grasp of English was only 'so-so.' "I wanted to be good for if you ever came home to here! I figured you'd be so used to English, that Deutsch would be hard for you to use again!"

That... earned an exhale from me. As if my skill in my mother tongue would decay like that... but more importantly, how long did Aunt Claudia wait for me? The last time we had ever really spoke was... Mom's funeral, basically a decade ago. I was just becoming an adult by that time, and I remembered her for not being able to speak a lick of English, but she was basically the closest thing to the remaining head of the family. Dad spoke a lot about her when we were at home, but until now... I just tried dismissing it.

"I'm... pleased that you did so much to plan for me," I said in an attempt to keep my English basic so my Aunt could understand properly. "I'm sorry I couldn't come sooner."

"Oh, Finn. It's fine, I don't blame you. Please come along now, and I can make sure food is ready for later." Claudia gestured for me to come along, her posture straight as the small yet fanciful bungalow seemed rather inviting. "I had seen you wrestling again! I know you speak with some friends now. Did they come along for this trip?"

"They had... business in the area," I quickly responded. I figured I'd spare Claudia the insane stories of Skyla's training plans. If she even knew about those stupid candy bars... "They wanted to tend to that first, and I decided I'd meet with you again while we were alone instead so that we could... catch up."

Claudia gave an approving hum while we walked, and gestured for me to sit down at the dining room table. Well... so far, so good, at least. I still wasn't sure about this, but at least things felt... okay. I still didn't think reconciling with my family would be what would get past this mental barrier in my mind like Skyla kept going on about, but I could at least try stomaching through a meeting like this if it meant we could try something else later.

Speaking of, Claudia went right into the nearby kitchen. With no walls getting in the way, we could freely keep speaking as she peered into her turned-on oven, checking the progress of her dish in there.

"Speaking of your friends, I hear you get along with them well! Do you have your eye on one of them...?"

"Wh- N-Nee! I mean... I haven't been seeing anyone like that!" Bringing Claudia's laughter out of my senses, I quickly shook my head as I felt my cheeks practically catching on fire. Being into Christine or Skyla like that... Christine and I had such a fragile peace as it was, and I didn't think we were compatible like that in the slightest. Skyla... maybe if she wasn't as crazy as she was, there might be something there, but I barely even considered her like that. I was always more focused on my training than looking at her like that.

"I'm only joking, Finn. It's nice to see you laugh like that, though." What did she mean by tha- "Now then, while I have Käsespätzle being baked, I figure I should show you something."

"What do you mean?" I asked while sitting up.

"Give me one second, if you don't mind..." Aunt Claudia took things upon herself to quickly scurry into the other room, clearly intending on bringing something out...

...

And then, there was silence again.

Present Day

"Of course, I'm not going to beat around the bush any longer. The last match I had in the aforementioned week was against none other than Buster Gloves back at the Tara Fenix Charity Event, and I lost. I have no problem admitting that. On that night, he was superior. He used his emotions to his advantage, and I couldn't keep up with him given the rigors of my earlier matches."

"Buster once called me his peer. His 'ring equal.' I think it goes deeper than that. I think, in spite of our differences, our similarities are there. I believe that deep down, we are two sides of the same coin. We both try to fight with honor, with tact, with dignity. We both fight to try to escape our past. In that vein, I respect him. I respect him for trying to walk his own path, fight the people he feels he needs to face in order to get his World title shot."

"But there's a difference between us. One notable thing that will set us apart."

"Buster Gloves fights the people on his list because he sees them as his obstacle. His mind is single-focused. Incensed on them. Because he wants his World title shot more than anything despite seeing himself - by his own words, mind you - as nothing special. It's his one shot at greatness that will come for him."

"My Road of the King paves itself through any and all who are deemed fit. Any former champion who walks in the XWF's halls are on there. It doesn't discriminate. It doesn't go against anything of the sort. And because it is as expansive as it can be, I don't hyper-focus on any specific target. They're not all I think about. I'm not losing sleep thinking about getting my hands on any one specific champion unless if they've done something to cross me."

"And I walk on my Road of the King for the sake of betterment. A man once said 'in order to be the man, you've got to beat the man,' and I plan on beating every man in front of me."

"Buster's way of looking at things is flawed. Because of the fact that he focuses only on those eight targets, it starts opening himself up to mistakes. For instance, you take a look at his match with Xavier Lux on Savage. This isn't just me trying to point out his failures and say he sucks because of it - but it's the way he lost. A last-ditch effort by Lux kept himself in the match, and Buster didn't think for a second that somehow Lux would be able to keep going, but he did. A taste of false success was enough for him to drop his guard, and Lux capitalized and got the pin."

"And now guess what's going to happen? Buster's going to go into that ring and focus all of his effort, all of his attention onto Peter Vaughn because he's the man who fooled him, who started this entire charade live starting on Pay-Per-View, and he's going to make a beeline on him. He's going to think he's got Vaughn down and out, and think he's got this match won, just like he did on Lux. The difference is how his party is going to be spoiled."

"It's going to be spoiled by me."

"If we're anything like each other, Buster, then you'd know I don't back down towards anything. That isn't going to change, even here. Because this is a match I need to win. Not just for the sake of beating Peter Vaughn, but to settle the matter between us once and for all. My win against you at Relentless can hardly count now, all things considered. If anything, you hold the upper hand over me record-wise now."

"This entire time, I've been trying to surpass myself. I've seen the similarities with myself in Isaiah King, Ned Kaye, and you... It's not even the me that's reached the mountaintop that I need to prove I'm better than, it's the me that only managed to come close and yet so far. That's all I've been able to do up to this point. But I know I'm better than that."

"Because every single time I look in the mirror, every single time I try to fall asleep, I always just end up thinking about what could have been. What should have been. But there is no room in life for could-haves, should-haves and if-onlys. I need to walk down a new path in life. The path provided to me by the Road of the King."

"That path is going to continue when I win at Bad Medicine. So be ready, Buster."

16 November 2022
Claudia Kühn's Home
Frankfurt, Germany

"Here it is!" Claudia declared with gusto in her voice as the weathered, dusty old tome was placed on the table. With a loud blow from her mouth, much of the dust scattered away and into the air, leaving me to peer at it with a curious expression.

"What is this...?" I asked.

"Oh, it's... nothing major. It's a... picture book, of your father and I with the rest of our family when we were children. I only just found it recently, but I figured... you'd like to see it. I know you never got the goodbye with him that you wanted..." Claudia looked back up at me, offering me a warm, genuine smile.

My heart felt like it froze. No, it was frozen ever since I stepped inside this home.

Seeing Dad like that... this entire time, every time I thought about him, my mind always ended up driving itself to him on his death bed. It horrified me. To sit and stew in that dread. To watch as the man who tried to give you the best life possible suffered in his sleep, suffering from kidney failure as all the liquid pooled in his body to turn him into some pudgy mess with his tongue lulling out of his body and knowing you couldn't care for him and you couldn't help him and you could only watch leading up to this point as he forgot your name and who you ever were-

I blinked. I took a deep breath. I calmed my quivering hands, trying to guide myself back into reality and resist the urge to let things out. I had to... try and keep strong. That wasn't an issue. It was a decade ago. I've moved on. I've moved on. I've moved on. I've moved o-

"That sounds good," I nodded. "If you'd like, then... I'd be happy to."

Claudia gave me a sad smile and shook her head. The hesitation and sorrow were evident in my eyes. The bulletproof persona I was trying desperately to keep up was shattering.

"It's okay," she nodded. "He loved you, Finn. I hope you know that. Both he and your mother. Before... before Dirk's mind was bad" - in this moment I was able to just ignore the poor grammar from Claudia given her still-growing handle on the language and just listened - "he used to call me every now and again and we'd catch up. You'd always be something we talked about, Finn. He had such high hopes for you. And he knew - he knew you could do it. He always brought up how you wanted to go into wrestling, and..."

Claudia's voice trailed off, fading as she looked at the scrapbook. "I miss him too. I never got to say goodbye, too. So maybe, this will help us both."

In that moment, what felt like a truly extraordinary weight was beginning to lift itself off of my shoulders as I nodded.

"Please," I whispered, feeling the hot sting of tears beginning to well up in my eyes. "I... I'd like that, more than anything."

Claudia turned to me one last time, and behind her own tearful eyes, she smiled and nodded at me.

And so, she turned the book open to the first page.

Present Day

"Peter Vaughn is a main event-level talent with a midcarder's mindset."

"He has a special talent. Put his silver tongue to good use to make himself look as good as possible, to cast doubt on his opponents, and let those seeds grow so he can try to win. He makes himself look like the hero of his own story, and you know what? Maybe others might be able to see him as a hero... but then he throws it away by just cheating."

"It's disgusting. It's hypocritical. It's repulsive. Peter Vaughn is the antithesis of what I stand for. He babbles on and on and on, but at the end of the day he uses his cheating as a mere crutch to try and get the job done. But that crutch gets taken away when it comes to matches where his opponents show no problem sinking to the same depths he goes to, especially in a no-disqualification match. Just ask Charlie Nickles, why don't you?"

"It's a shame. Because I meant what I said about him being a main event talent, but he refuses to just... better himself and instead plays along with fanciful fairytales! Instead of earning his way through his title defenses, interferences in his favor and cheap tactics are the norm."

"You know what I think, Vaughn?"

"You're pathetic."

"Empty."

"Hollow."

"You look at a title and you gravitate towards it. You clutch onto it with your cold, dead, clammy hands because you crave success. You crave success more than anything for the sake of it. Because it lets you know that your life isn't a failure. It reminds you you're more than just the janitor that you were in the past. It lets you bask in the knowledge that maybe, just maybe, the first maybe... the first decades of your life weren't just a waste."

"So you cling to a title like it's your lifeline, and you try manipulating everything around you with those seeds of doubt, to make others think you're as good as you try to make yourself seem. Even when it's just so, blatantly obvious."

"I'm going to even call it right now. I don't know what Peter Vaughn's said, but I'm willing to bet you money that he's going to come up with some garbage lie about how I never objected to the result at Relentless, how I was fine to just go along my merry way and enjoy the win."

"How do I know this? Because Ned had this same exact talking point himself. And if Ned thought this was a somehow salient talking point, you would have too. And if that was the case, then others were probably going to chime in, thinking it's some grand 'aha!' moment that will surely reveal me as a fraud. And if anyone cared to do some research - even though we all know Pete and the truth don't exactly mix - he'd know that I never was willing to just bask in a tainted win."

(09-25-2022, 05:27 PM)Finn Kühn After Relentless Night 3 Said: Finn's expression turned into that of a scowl as he looked at Sayors. "I said it before when I was gearing up to face Lexi Gold and John Black, and I'll say it again. I despise cheating. There is no glory to be gained in that ring with dubious means like that. I'm going to figure out who got involved in my business, and if Buster Gloves - and yes, I'm going to say his name out of respect for the man who brought it out there tonight - thinks I was responsible in the slightest for that, then he can meet me in the ring on Warfare while I'll be out there talking, and we can discuss this like grown-ass adults."

"Well, that's... certainly an answer then..." Sayors managed to stumble out, straightening himself under Finn's harsh glare. "Oh, but if I may... you'll be talking on Warfare? What about?"

"Simple," Finn said. "For too long I've been trying to figure out my next move in this company now that I'm back, and intending to prove I'm better than ever."

"Before my match on the next Warfare, I intend to show everyone how I plan on doing so while I figure out who got involved in my match at Relentless."

"So that would explain why I decided it was okay after all to jump through hoops and help Buster out, because I wanted to know the truth alongside of him, huh? Oops."

"Let's face it, Vaughn. You can't even lie right to save your life."

"You're a fraud."

"A sham."

"A writhing, pathetic, disgusting maggot."

"If you want to manipulate Buster into believing you after I showed him the truth, then by all means. It doesn't change facts. Your little scheme is crumbling down right in front of your eyes. I'm going to beat you, and him, because at the end of the day it's a Triple Threat match and I have no qualms with saying it's going to be every man for himself in there."

"I'm going to place this into perspective for you, hypocrite, because I don't think you understand the predicament you're in that began as soon as you entered yourself into my business."

"I will make you watch as I make you bleed."

"I will make you see me as I break your damn arm."

"I will make you see every ounce of false progress you've accumulated in your career crumble to bits."

"And you will know that this - all of this - is your fault. You did this from the start. All of this happened because. Of. You."

"You will come to grips with that fact and realize the fact that your miserable life is going to fall down because of the consequences of your actions. You'll realize that in the end, your talent is going to go to waste, and you'll realize that at the end of the day..."

"You're just a janitor, Pete."

"Then, and only then, will I pin you."

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