"So, it seems as if I'm to face the combined forces of darkness and evil, megalomaniacal leaders commanding armies of incredible might," pause for smirk. "Only in their own, deluded minds. Sad, truly. Which jest do I comment on first; the bogus, monotonous claims of John Austin: the very man who claims so often to do the Devil's work and makes the exact same threats to every opponent he goes up against, despite the fact that no matter how many times he says it, he never ever has made those claims come anywhere near fruition? Or, do I speak of Andrew Morrison, the man who actually lived up to the word of creating an army, no matter how small, how weak, and how pathetic the end result actually is? If I may be honest, the order is inconsequential, as is the fact that two different people exist and yet are so similar. One just so happens to be an angstier, dare I say whinier version of the other, complete with musings as to the existence of God. Screaming to the heavens like a typical neckbearded internet Atheist about the same, tired arguments about why even if God were to exist, he is a terrible deity because he didn't fix your problems for you. Tsk tsk Morrison, for shame."

I reach down to the ground below my feet, and pull a half full bottle of water up to my face. I rip the cap off and toss it to the side - for I no longer need it, and take a sip. Oh, right. The setting behind me? Nothing special, honestly. Just the setting sun, its dark hues of orange and yellow contrasting with the typical vibrancy of the field I'm standing in. This place has no actual connection to me, no, not in the slightest. However, it did occur to me that while I found this place with little trouble, and it is rather breathtaking, I don't think it pops quite well enough to fit in with the wannabe darkness that exudes out of every corner of a promo that either of these interchangeable lost causes puts out. Oh well, a little bit of brightness won't kill them.

"As for you, Austin. What is there to say about you? No, really. You are the epitome of generic, wannabe dark but unable to commit, stereotypical Satan worshiping pawn in a game whose rules aren't written in any language you speak. Go on, make your idle threats about sacrificing my soul or leaving me at the altar of Satan. The others you've said the same things to have surely been dealt with by Satan, have they not?

Oh right, they haven't.

But, on the topic of these threats, I do remember that both of my opponents have aired promos regarding this match and frankly I'm surprised Morrison hasn't spent all of his time antagonizing The Congregation to even recall that this match is to take place. This is the point where an older version of me would be clapping sarcastically and making wisecracks about his truly asinine vendetta, but there's a reason why I said older version. However, I feel as though it is an obligation to address the statements made by the pair of directionless philistines who show a distinct lack of individuality.

Since he was the focus of my attention before I got off on that tangent, I'll start with the ever tiring John Austin. I'm sure the older version of me would have had a field day with the comment of me being 'one half of the trios' champions, though I'm sure he meant the fact that of the trios champions that are still around, I am one half. That's forgivable.

I wish I could say that about the rest of his claims. Such as his grandiose albeit completely uninspired, cliche ridden conjecture about being, and I quote 'one of the baddest motherfuckers that I will ever lay my eyes on.' Is that so, Austin? Is that really so? This leaves me at an impasse as to what he exactly means by this: is he claiming that I've been sheltered my whole life or that he is actually intimidating? Surely, it can't be the latter, right?

Oh, it is, isn't it? Very well then.

John, I'll lay all the cards on the table right now. You aren't threatening. You aren't intimidating, and you sure as hell are not the baddest motherfucker I'll ever see, nor are you even close to that distinction. Your inconsistencies and inability to procure a victory when it actually matters are the bane of your existence and it doesn't matter how many empty threats you throw my way, or how many times you screw up your English, nothing you do will ever serve to faze me. Just stop trying and accept your inevitable defeat like a man, pup. Then go right back to suckling on Mama Satan's tit for the next surge of bland words to regurgitate. Sooner or later, someone will fall for it."

Another sip from the bottle. Hydration is important, you know. There, educational factoid out of the way, I'm no longer willingly letting these two intellectual black holes corrupt the minds of the youth with their rants that persisted despite the fact that whatever it was they were talking about ran dry before they even began speaking. Such are the breaks when you're in a business where people who think like you are dime a dozen. I sigh, then immediately clamp my mouth shut to stop myself from projectile vomiting at my newest revelation; I still have Andrew Morrison to get to!

"Fuhuuuuuuuuck." Maybe if I drink this entire bottle of water instead, the camera battery will die and I won't have to subject myself to the mind numbing trauma caused by Morrison's attempts at speaking ill of me. I reach up to my head, feeling the individual strands of hair for something, any inconsistency. Anything more worth my time than recalling Morrison's spiel. Alas, nothing.

"So, Andrew Morrison. He's a thing. A loudmouthed, slightly obnoxious thing but a thing nonetheless. He isn't the brightest though, and while he isn't the dimmest of folks I've seen since my eyes were reopened, so to speak, he isn't exactly one for making the most well spoken arguments, or in this case insults. Insults directly related to a transcript he somehow obtained access to. It was bound to leak at some point, but so soon? Tsk tsk, some people seem to have too much on their hands. Oh well.

Let me see if I recall this thoroughly and respond to each idiotsyncrasy as they occurred.

-First; allowing the pair of Christine Nash and John Austin into your ensemble. That alone speaks volumes for your judgment skills. I don't have the best memory of every one, but as I already demonstrated, I know all about the failures of Austin and I can provide evidence of me beating Nash.

-Seattle's Sweetheart? While I appreciate good alliteration as much as the next gal, I sure hope that I at the point was being ironic, at the risk of sounding like a hipster. If I wasn't, then I was an idiot. However, in my lapse into what you would've likely called insanity only served to make me meaner and nastier than I already was, so I don't understand how you think I became weaker as time progressed. Is it because I wasn't as level headed, I didn't say 'fuck you and fuck everything' with a wide enough smile? However, one thing that's remained even in my reawakening: I don't do things to impress people. So, stop flattering yourself Andrew.

-Wait, wallowing in self pity? Didn't I say in the log of my reawakening that I was doing the opposite; touching upon it without spending too much time reminiscing over things that ultimately, I can't fix? Right, I did. You however, with gems such as:

Quote:"Where were you while my mother wasted away, you let her suffer for YEARS while you let my "father" beat the shit out of me, beat the shit out of my brother, let us waste away in that run-down piece of shit in the slums of Houston...where were you when you took my mother away from me...and you left me to cry. You left me to mourn. You left us all to try to mourn that is, but you left our father there to keep torturing us, to beat us, until by OUR OWN strength, myself and my brother got away from that place..."

Screaming for a deity that may or may not even exist because you couldn't deal with your own problems? I admit, in a moment of weakness that I found myself powerless to deception flawlessly executed by a far from flawless woman in Tigris, mention the Egyptian Snow Pharaoh in passing and you interpret it as me throwing a fit on par with what you put out as promos, hoping that people forget you releasing an entire promo, possibly more where all you did was whinge and cry to god for stuff you should've been able to deal with. You're living in a glass house Andrew, and you chucked the first stone. When the walls cave in around you, it'll be known that it was all your fault.

Always.

The world may be watching, but they'll tune in to see you and Austin bowing before your superiors. Sorry to break your illusion. Oh wait, no I'm not.

However, if you two are going to preach and parade your words around like gospel, I feel like I should do the same if not just to make you see how utterly ridiculous you look doing it:

My word is the right one because I said so! Come with me and throw your own individuality away for acceptance, you're wanted here because you aren't wanted anywhere, rejects with low self esteem! I'm your fearless leader, overlord and god and with a touch of my hand, I can turn your life to...

Gold."