Thias Watts, the one, the only, the undefeated, the unreckoned with, the unstoppable force of nature. The man who breaks rings, breaks spirits, and breaks your wifey's back. The number four contender (or some shit) to the XWF Anarchy Championship. He towers before us, a hundred inches and four-hundred pounds of the trillest motherfucker the world has ever known. He stands alone, not in some funky ass dark room, or some cyber simulation shit, or right after tapioca pudding at the nursing home lunch room... nah. Thias ain't no mark ass bitch like his opponents. Thias is standing at the top of Mt. Kilimanjaro, wearing his usual, cleanest fit. All custom everything; black turtle neck sweater, black leather jeans, big ass black timbs, and that patented gold Avalanche medallion. He's unaffected by the choppy winds, the snowcaps, and the high altitudes. He welcomes the tussle with nature at it's harshest. It's the only thing even close to matching his force and will.

Fuck what you heard!

He roars, as the snowy peaks of the mountain tremble at his feet,

The time for playing on the ground with these tricks in the XWF is over! I'm too damn BIG, got too much POWER, got too much HEART to stay on an even keel with you clowns. I ain't just climb the mountain top, bitch I AM the mountain. I'm what calls the Avalanche that ruins you mice-dick-havin-hoes. It's time to blanket you bitches, tuck you in, get you SLEPT, while I bring the Anarchy Championship to it's rightful home on mount Thias: home of the Giant, home of the TYRANT, home of the MIGHTY!

His roar again quakes the mountains, the snow cracks and shifts,

The case with these jokers who think they standing in my way?

It's all the same.

It's been the same type of case with erry'body who's j-walked in front of the tank that's Thias.

Done-for. Murdered. Wrecked. Broken.

That's what this match will be, I gives a fuck about Fury's Rules. Shit won't even get that far.

A big boot for the crybaby cuck boy who don't even wanna' be champion. Having buyers remorse on domestic abuse and shit, just like a suit wearing smug ass wall-street looking bitch. Centurion get's wrecked first and easy. He doesn't want to be in this dance, and Thias Watts is going to show his ass the door. He acts like the Anarchy Title is beneath him, yet the motherfucker aspires for nothing other than being remembered. But he ain't gotta worry, what I'mma do to him will be spoken about for generations to come.

I'mma victimize that boy in one fell swoop of this foot driving up his ass. He ain't fuckin with me. This man has been trying to stave off them dick bobbin Bobbies for months, and only figured out how to beat up his flat-chested wifey. Stupid fuck. Erry' body is wreckin' BOB, but Centurion has gone limp. I'll put you out of this match first that way you ain't gotta' stress them pussies no more. Leave that work to the only trill motherfucker the XWF has ever seen.

See BOB has had the same problem on the reverse. These desperate little girls been trying erry'thing they can to get the Anarchy Title, and them pretending like Little Money suddenly got some juice in his tank shows how desperate they are. They're losing championships left and right, and now got a last ditch effort to try and grab hold of a brass ring that isn't some cheap prop on their knock off Anarchy show. BOB is trying to dole Little Money Oswald out like some pityfuck, acting like he can roll with a true big dawg. Motherfucker be real... Fury baked old-man Borden into this match as a contingency plan cause they know Oswald gonna' to get smashed. Look how he fucked things up for the BOBs in War Games, and these motherfuckers was all happy and shit to have this depressed do-little punk on they squad. Like clapping your hands for the first time a baby takes a shit in the toilet. Little Money has proven twice now that he can't beat Thias Watts. Terry Borden is only here because I ragdolled and softened up Gery Vayden for him, broke that poor bitches spirit. This motherfcuker couldn't even handle Solace Tatum, THE FUCK HE FITTIN' TO DO? The BOB ELITE ain't shit! They keep gettin wrecked by little girls. Dolly, Betsy, Solace, Vita. Ruby over and over.

You think them bitches is a problem for the Baddies? They're nothing compared to Thais. Nothing compared to the avalanche that's fittin' to smother out their existences. Like I said, I'm taking the Anarchy Title and bringing it up to a level it deserves to be at. Just my waistline is like a mountain you busta-ass marks. Y'ALL ABOUT TO GET SLEPT!

Thias roars again, the snow shakes and comes within a command of being forced form the edges of the mountain. Above Thias, in the clouds, the face of Ned Kaye appears, like some deity. His grin glowing, his hair flowing. He looks at Thias and knows that the times has come.

THE TIME HAS COME THIAS! UNLEASH THE AVALANCE!

Thias swings his arms open and roars into the skies, his muscles swelling, and his chest ripping out of his turtleneck sweater.

[shadow=blue]FUCK AROUND! FIND OUT!!!!!!!!![/blue]

He lifts his leg and stomps onto the center of the mountain. The snow rumbles away and falls down the slopes. An avalanche that covers the entire world. Ned Kaye's deity head in the clouds laughs a laugh that can be heard by every man, woman, child and creature on earth. Thias Watts marches in the snow like a trill motherfucker, all the way from Kilimanjaro, to killin-these-hoes Virginia to take his place on Anarchy.