AGGRESSION 55: MAIN EVENT: KOTC FINAL: Layne Winters vs. Anarky
- Thread starter DBrunkGXW
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JLevinson
Diva Tree
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(FADEIN to a very nearly empty bar. A single TV sits on mute, replaying highlights of NFL games from Sunday. Anarky sits alone, at the bar, a pint glass of beer half-empty in front of him. He leans back and surveys the scene before he speaks. He’s wearing street clothes and no facepaint: a black Mars Volta t-shirt and jeans with black boots.)
ANARKY: “So this is what it’s come to. The King of the Cage Finals. After all that’s said and done. It’s between me and a man whose great claim to fame is… apparently whining his way to the top.
“Congratu-f*cking-lations, Layne. You managed to turn a paltry run as a Television champion and six months worth of running your mouth into a Finals match you don’t deserve.
“Instead of facing off against Erik Black – y’know, the man who BEAT YOU to get here – I’m stuck with you. The man who beat Fusenshoff for the TV Title and then immediately started running his mouth at Sean Stevens.
“You are the perfect representation of your generation, Layne. A generation of petulant whiners. A generation of children who think they’re ENTITLED to something. Nevermind that you hadn’t earned a f*cking thing. Nevermind that you’d been here for hardly any time at all.
“You decided that maybe if you just kept running your mouth about what you DESERVED, you’d get it.
“See, I thought Dan Ryan was a man of integrity. I thought he wouldn’t listen to the ungrateful whining of a child like you. But I see I was wrong.
“Apparently, after six months of listening to you b*tch and moan about why you think you’ve earned a shot at the belt, y’know, despite the fact that you half-assed your way through this tournament and apparently got a shot despite, y’know, not WINNING… Dan Ryan just couldn’t listen to one more week.
“So rather than, y’know, realize that a federal indictment on a f*cking marijuana arrest is a hilarious NON-ISSUE, I actually have to deal with YOU.
“I thought Empire Pro deserved better.
“See, Layne, I didn’t get here on my name. I didn’t get here because I dropped Sean Stevens’ name a thousand times. I didn’t get here because I wouldn’t stop pestering Dan Ryan about what I DESERVED. About what I’m ENTITLED to.
“See, like Erik Black, I went out there, week after week, and I f*cking EARNED it. And now I see it’s a f*cking joke. Now I see there’s no point. This was all a waste of my time. I could’ve just cried the loudest and gotten a shot anyway. Why have any self-respect? Why bother earning anything? They’re just going to take it from you anyway.
“Well f*ck you. F*ck Dan Ryan. F*ck Empire Pro.
“You might’ve whined your way to the top this time, Layne, but I’m done with this sh*t. You want a shot at the belt? Well for once on your pathetic little career, you’re actually going to have to EARN IT. Cause if you think for one f*cking second I’m going to lay over and let you DISGRACE THIS F*CKING LEAGUE WITH YOUR SELFISH BULLSH*T, you got another thing coming.
“I’ve sat by and watched. I watched the First spend a year crying about what he deserved because of a narrow loss. I sat by and watched as you name-dropped people you had no business fighting because your ego was too big and you refused to actually EARN your way to the World Title picture.
“Enough is enough. I looked forward to facing Erik Black. Because at least I knew that at the end of the day, he knew his place here. He was going to go out there, show after show, and bust his ass, and maybe he’d find the sneakiest way out of that ring, but at least he’d have f*cking earned it.
“You? You, Layne? You’re a f*cking joke. An accidental contender. You don’t belong here. And it’ll be my f*cking pleasure to put your back in your f*cking place, looking up at the people who go out there, week after week, and make Empire Pro the league it is today.
“Or, y’know, maybe Dan Ryan will change his mind and give you the title shot anyway.
“It won’t matter, Layne. Because you’ll know. And I’ll know. And the whole world will know. That you couldn’t get it done when it mattered the most. That you don’t belong here.
“Congrats, Layne. You’re the flagbearer for a generation of entitled children who b*tch their way to the top. And me, I’m an old man, a relic of the past, a bygone era where people went out there and busted their asses and just hoped that someday, someone noticed, and gave them their day in the f*cking sun.
“Well I guess I’m the fool, then, aren’t I, Layne. No matter.
“We can only be what you are. And I’d rather be me… I’d rather be a man of integrity, a man who earned every ounce of his spot on the card…
“… than a whiny little b*tch like you.”
(FADEOUT.)
ANARKY: “So this is what it’s come to. The King of the Cage Finals. After all that’s said and done. It’s between me and a man whose great claim to fame is… apparently whining his way to the top.
“Congratu-f*cking-lations, Layne. You managed to turn a paltry run as a Television champion and six months worth of running your mouth into a Finals match you don’t deserve.
“Instead of facing off against Erik Black – y’know, the man who BEAT YOU to get here – I’m stuck with you. The man who beat Fusenshoff for the TV Title and then immediately started running his mouth at Sean Stevens.
“You are the perfect representation of your generation, Layne. A generation of petulant whiners. A generation of children who think they’re ENTITLED to something. Nevermind that you hadn’t earned a f*cking thing. Nevermind that you’d been here for hardly any time at all.
“You decided that maybe if you just kept running your mouth about what you DESERVED, you’d get it.
“See, I thought Dan Ryan was a man of integrity. I thought he wouldn’t listen to the ungrateful whining of a child like you. But I see I was wrong.
“Apparently, after six months of listening to you b*tch and moan about why you think you’ve earned a shot at the belt, y’know, despite the fact that you half-assed your way through this tournament and apparently got a shot despite, y’know, not WINNING… Dan Ryan just couldn’t listen to one more week.
“So rather than, y’know, realize that a federal indictment on a f*cking marijuana arrest is a hilarious NON-ISSUE, I actually have to deal with YOU.
“I thought Empire Pro deserved better.
“See, Layne, I didn’t get here on my name. I didn’t get here because I dropped Sean Stevens’ name a thousand times. I didn’t get here because I wouldn’t stop pestering Dan Ryan about what I DESERVED. About what I’m ENTITLED to.
“See, like Erik Black, I went out there, week after week, and I f*cking EARNED it. And now I see it’s a f*cking joke. Now I see there’s no point. This was all a waste of my time. I could’ve just cried the loudest and gotten a shot anyway. Why have any self-respect? Why bother earning anything? They’re just going to take it from you anyway.
“Well f*ck you. F*ck Dan Ryan. F*ck Empire Pro.
“You might’ve whined your way to the top this time, Layne, but I’m done with this sh*t. You want a shot at the belt? Well for once on your pathetic little career, you’re actually going to have to EARN IT. Cause if you think for one f*cking second I’m going to lay over and let you DISGRACE THIS F*CKING LEAGUE WITH YOUR SELFISH BULLSH*T, you got another thing coming.
“I’ve sat by and watched. I watched the First spend a year crying about what he deserved because of a narrow loss. I sat by and watched as you name-dropped people you had no business fighting because your ego was too big and you refused to actually EARN your way to the World Title picture.
“Enough is enough. I looked forward to facing Erik Black. Because at least I knew that at the end of the day, he knew his place here. He was going to go out there, show after show, and bust his ass, and maybe he’d find the sneakiest way out of that ring, but at least he’d have f*cking earned it.
“You? You, Layne? You’re a f*cking joke. An accidental contender. You don’t belong here. And it’ll be my f*cking pleasure to put your back in your f*cking place, looking up at the people who go out there, week after week, and make Empire Pro the league it is today.
“Or, y’know, maybe Dan Ryan will change his mind and give you the title shot anyway.
“It won’t matter, Layne. Because you’ll know. And I’ll know. And the whole world will know. That you couldn’t get it done when it mattered the most. That you don’t belong here.
“Congrats, Layne. You’re the flagbearer for a generation of entitled children who b*tch their way to the top. And me, I’m an old man, a relic of the past, a bygone era where people went out there and busted their asses and just hoped that someday, someone noticed, and gave them their day in the f*cking sun.
“Well I guess I’m the fool, then, aren’t I, Layne. No matter.
“We can only be what you are. And I’d rather be me… I’d rather be a man of integrity, a man who earned every ounce of his spot on the card…
“… than a whiny little b*tch like you.”
(FADEOUT.)
LQJT86C
Where's my money, Chad?
(FADEIN: LAYNE WINTERS sits at his kitchen table, digging his fork into the meat in front of him and cutting it with the knife from the other hand. Only a few pieces to go before the plate is clean, but seeing the camera in front of him and impatient to say his piece, he makes an early finish. Layne smiles, drops the fork and knife on the plate, and leans back)
WINTERS: Hey Erik, you listening bud? You said somethin’ to me about magic tricks once. So how ya like me now, boy? Disappeared from the tournament, reappeared in the finals YOU STUPID BASTARD!
You know Anarky, I woulda been content to just give my lungs a rest before showing up to give you a beating. I can’t say you’re a coward, like Erik Black. Can’t say you ever ducked a challenge, like Stevens. You worked your way, I give you that. But as far as saving my lungs? Not tonight. (presses index finger into table) Not now. Knowing how you think, how you see the landscape, anybody who ever said we were the same kind of anything don’t know sh*t from shelter. And now I got something to say.
Don’t guess you’re the fool, KNOW IT. And know the reason you’ve never done anything but come up short in EPW, is because you thought it was someone else’s business to notice YOU and not your job to grab their attention. Sh*t, I learned that lesson working the indies, and here you are, 40 f*cking years old, still wondering why they never called your number.
You wanna talk generational gap, there it is motherf*cker. You’re from a generation of leftovers; nameless, faceless, waiting for a train that ain’t never f*ckin’ coming. Slackers, doing just enough to get by and then wonder why nobody gave you any credit for doing what you were expected to do in the first f*cking place. Sorry pal, you don’t get a raise for punching in.
So maybe I kicked in my boss’ door. So what? Maybe I made some demands. SO WHAT. What of it? Come do something about it, sh*thead. You ain’t nothin’ special. Far as I’m concerned, you’re just an old man in skeleton facepaint who never did anything in EPW that ever earned him the right to talk down to me. Where are you from anyway? Castle f*cking Grayskull? Why am I cursed to contend with retards in facepaint?
Yeah I HAD a great run with a belt. What the f*ck have you done in the last, I don’t know, DECADE? I went undefeated for longer than Stevens did, while facing better competition, and took an unfortunate draw against the current champ, all while defending a belt. Why shouldn’t I call out Stevens? And frankly, that’s ALL I intended on doing. King of the Cage was lost for me, no hope of getting back in…or so I thought. I had bigger plans, like breaking open Sean Stevens. Who knew the itinerary of a fallen champion with better things to do included non-title bouts against Karl Brown?
But thanks to the general dumbassery of Erik Black, there was hope yet for ol’ Layne. Dan Ryan needed a replacement, and why not me? WHY NOT? Don’t tell me Erik Black earned his way into sh*t. He beat me because the door doesn’t f*cking work, and he beat First because the DEA rushed the cage. *I* had more earned wins in this tourney than that f*cker did, so let’s put that to bullsh*t to rest.
Now I realize the people in Dallas are gonna be saying, “LAYNE WINTERS?! WHEN THAT BOY GET HERE?” Let ‘em. I’m here for the title, THAT’S IT. I got into this tournament thinking it was gonna be a brawl to the top of the bracket. Instead, it was all about “who’s feet touched first?” and “I’m the escape artist!” and all kinds of Dog The Bounty Hunter horsesh*t. Sometimes life is a bunch of crap, what do you want me to tell you?
You can debate from here to hell who the real “King” is. And you and Stevens can jerk each other off into that imaginary crown all you want. But if I beat you, I get to First. And if I can get to First, I can get to the title. Then try disputing me. Then try telling me I ain’t the f*cking goods.
In between accusing me of crying and then crying about it, and yelling for me to get off your damn lawn, I heard you say something about “EPW deserves better.” Man, didn’t you see the end of Unforgiven? Don’t you know “deserve” ain’t got nothing to do with it? Don’t you know that sometimes, the bad guys win?
Ponder that, while you cry in your beer wondering why the EPW tooth fairy never brought you any dollars. Keep punching that clock, looking like a Kobra Kai Halloween party, thinking it’s gonna get you somewhere.
At Aggression, the clock punches back. It’s gonna leave you lying there, beaten, thinking hard on retirement. Then the bill comes due on The First. And when Sean Stevens wants to matter again, he can check in with me about a match.
(FADEOUT)
WINTERS: Hey Erik, you listening bud? You said somethin’ to me about magic tricks once. So how ya like me now, boy? Disappeared from the tournament, reappeared in the finals YOU STUPID BASTARD!
You know Anarky, I woulda been content to just give my lungs a rest before showing up to give you a beating. I can’t say you’re a coward, like Erik Black. Can’t say you ever ducked a challenge, like Stevens. You worked your way, I give you that. But as far as saving my lungs? Not tonight. (presses index finger into table) Not now. Knowing how you think, how you see the landscape, anybody who ever said we were the same kind of anything don’t know sh*t from shelter. And now I got something to say.
Don’t guess you’re the fool, KNOW IT. And know the reason you’ve never done anything but come up short in EPW, is because you thought it was someone else’s business to notice YOU and not your job to grab their attention. Sh*t, I learned that lesson working the indies, and here you are, 40 f*cking years old, still wondering why they never called your number.
You wanna talk generational gap, there it is motherf*cker. You’re from a generation of leftovers; nameless, faceless, waiting for a train that ain’t never f*ckin’ coming. Slackers, doing just enough to get by and then wonder why nobody gave you any credit for doing what you were expected to do in the first f*cking place. Sorry pal, you don’t get a raise for punching in.
So maybe I kicked in my boss’ door. So what? Maybe I made some demands. SO WHAT. What of it? Come do something about it, sh*thead. You ain’t nothin’ special. Far as I’m concerned, you’re just an old man in skeleton facepaint who never did anything in EPW that ever earned him the right to talk down to me. Where are you from anyway? Castle f*cking Grayskull? Why am I cursed to contend with retards in facepaint?
Yeah I HAD a great run with a belt. What the f*ck have you done in the last, I don’t know, DECADE? I went undefeated for longer than Stevens did, while facing better competition, and took an unfortunate draw against the current champ, all while defending a belt. Why shouldn’t I call out Stevens? And frankly, that’s ALL I intended on doing. King of the Cage was lost for me, no hope of getting back in…or so I thought. I had bigger plans, like breaking open Sean Stevens. Who knew the itinerary of a fallen champion with better things to do included non-title bouts against Karl Brown?
But thanks to the general dumbassery of Erik Black, there was hope yet for ol’ Layne. Dan Ryan needed a replacement, and why not me? WHY NOT? Don’t tell me Erik Black earned his way into sh*t. He beat me because the door doesn’t f*cking work, and he beat First because the DEA rushed the cage. *I* had more earned wins in this tourney than that f*cker did, so let’s put that to bullsh*t to rest.
Now I realize the people in Dallas are gonna be saying, “LAYNE WINTERS?! WHEN THAT BOY GET HERE?” Let ‘em. I’m here for the title, THAT’S IT. I got into this tournament thinking it was gonna be a brawl to the top of the bracket. Instead, it was all about “who’s feet touched first?” and “I’m the escape artist!” and all kinds of Dog The Bounty Hunter horsesh*t. Sometimes life is a bunch of crap, what do you want me to tell you?
You can debate from here to hell who the real “King” is. And you and Stevens can jerk each other off into that imaginary crown all you want. But if I beat you, I get to First. And if I can get to First, I can get to the title. Then try disputing me. Then try telling me I ain’t the f*cking goods.
In between accusing me of crying and then crying about it, and yelling for me to get off your damn lawn, I heard you say something about “EPW deserves better.” Man, didn’t you see the end of Unforgiven? Don’t you know “deserve” ain’t got nothing to do with it? Don’t you know that sometimes, the bad guys win?
Ponder that, while you cry in your beer wondering why the EPW tooth fairy never brought you any dollars. Keep punching that clock, looking like a Kobra Kai Halloween party, thinking it’s gonna get you somewhere.
At Aggression, the clock punches back. It’s gonna leave you lying there, beaten, thinking hard on retirement. Then the bill comes due on The First. And when Sean Stevens wants to matter again, he can check in with me about a match.
(FADEOUT)
Last edited:
JLevinson
Diva Tree
- Joined
- Jan 1, 2000
- Messages
- 707
- Points
- 0
- Age
- 43
(FADEIN to the empty streets of the north end of Hartford. Anarky sits on a graffiti-covered bench, smoking a cigarette. He stares out at the desolate areas. A single bodega is closed and covered in bars.)
ANARKY: “Game don’t change. Game always stays the same. Me… well, I’ve been changin’, I suppose. Not the man I was yesterday. Won’t be the same man I am tomorrow.
“Still, the game don’t change. Y’know how I know that, Layne?
“Cause you came out here and did the same ol’ f*ckin’ song and dance as everybody before you. You think I didn’t hear this sh*t before, Layne? You think you’re so clever?
“Heirs of Wrestling said it. Karl Brown said it. Fusenshoff said it.
“What have I done lately, hm? What have I accomplished? Why do I keep coming up short?
“Well, Layne, perhaps if you’ve spent a little more time paying attention to the people around you and a little less time jerking off while watching videotapes of yourself absolutely STORMING the TV Title Scene, you’d realize what I’ve been doing.
“But you’re just like Karl Brown. You only see the glitter of gold around the waist. The only accomplishments you understand are in title reigns. You’re just… like… everyone… else.
“So every week… every round of this f*cking tournament, I have to explain, AGAIN, that I don’t give a f*ck what the Layne Winters of the world think about what I’ve accomplished in Empire Pro. I don’t give a f*ck if it doesn’t impress you.
“You know the last time someone pinned me, Layne? Do you?
“Of course you don’t. Cause you’re too f*cking stupid and ignorant to pay attention to anything but you. And I’m not going to tell you, because quite frankly, I don’t CARE if you know. *I* know. And for me, that’s enough.
“I didn’t ask for credit, Layne. You misunderstand. I get all the credit I need in the ring. Every time I get to slap around some punk b*tch like you, some ungrateful, whiny little child… that’s all I need to accomplish.
“But I’m done with that, Layne. I’m done sitting by and watching people like you come out here and pretend like you are something new and fresh, cause you ain’t. You’re the same ol’ song and dance as always.
“You come out here, and you list your f*cking resume, and you tell me how great you are, and how you should be the Champ, and blah blah blah. Never heard that one before, Layne. And you tell me how I ain’t sh*t. Yeah, I get it. You ain’t scared. Nobody’s ever scared, Layne. Nobody is ever convinced of anything.
“You think they never called my number, Layne? Please. If I wanted the Title shot, Layne, I’d ask for it. Simple as that. I certainly f*cking earned it. But I don’t NEED it, Layne. I’m not like you. You crave the attention. You need people to know what a big man you are.
“You’re just another nobody out here tellin’ me I’m a freak in facepaint, crackin’ jokes about the Karate Kid and tellin’ me I ain’t done sh*t. Well congratu-f*cking-lations, Layne, I’ve never heard any of those before. You should join the Heirs of Wrestling with that material. You’ll go far. I promise.
“The truth is, Layne… I’ve grown weary of the bullsh*t. You beat a few TV title contenders and suddenly you can’t stop waving your d*ck at the screen. I mean, for f*ck’s sake, man, you act like such a badass, but the moment something doesn’t go your way, I know you’re gonna go cry like a little b*tch.
“Y’know how I know, Layne? Cause you’re just like everybody else. You subscribe to the same notions of success. You can’t take a beating. You can’t take a loss. ‘Cause in your tiny little brain, you actually believe – you actually believe that you’re the best wrestler in this league. You believe it. Sean Stevens believes it. First believes it.
“F*ck… Karl Brown believed it, the Heirs of Wrestling believed it, High Flyer believed it, Fusenshoff believed it.
“You all f*cking believe it. It’s f*cking pathetic. I’m here with a bunch of f*cking children who think they redefined the business because… well, I don’t really get that part. Because you crack a few jokes? Cause I haven’t impressed you?
“How lucky for me. To be in the same ring as the great Layne Winters. Slayer of Gods. Beater of Nobody Who Mattered.
“Up until this moment, Layne, I didn’t really give a f*ck about your self-aggrandizing behavior. I don’t give a sh*t if you go kick down Dan Ryan’s door and demand a title shot for beating Karl Brown that one time. It meant NOTHING to me.
“But see… while I was advancing through this tournament, you were busy making excuses about why you couldn’t put Erik Black away. And now you find yourself here. Just dumb luck. Stumbled ass-backwards into a shot.
“And now, Layne, now it’s MY business. Because, quite frankly, I don’t think your type of childish behavior should really be rewarded. You had your chance. You f*cking blew it. You got excuses. Everybody’s got excuses.
“Fine. You got your second chance. A little angel came and gave poor ol’ Layne Winters another shot to be the King of the Cage. Doesn’t matter now. What’s done is done.
“You’re right about one thing, Layne. Sometimes the bad guy does win. But you, my friend, are no bad guy. You instill fear in the heart of nobody.
“You’re just a petulant little whelp who stumbled through a tournament he lacked the skill to advance in. You’re an asterisk. A parentheses.
“So talk your talk, Layne. Tell me how little I’ve accomplished. Explain to me how the business works, kid. Drop some f*cking wisdom.
“It don’t matter. Come the KOTC Finals, I’m going to do what I’ve been doing. And it might not impress you. It might not impress Dan Ryan.
“But it’s enough for me, Layne, and believe it or not, that’s enough.
“Don’t worry, Layne. I don’t expect you to understand. Nobody else did, either.”
(FADEOUT.)
ANARKY: “Game don’t change. Game always stays the same. Me… well, I’ve been changin’, I suppose. Not the man I was yesterday. Won’t be the same man I am tomorrow.
“Still, the game don’t change. Y’know how I know that, Layne?
“Cause you came out here and did the same ol’ f*ckin’ song and dance as everybody before you. You think I didn’t hear this sh*t before, Layne? You think you’re so clever?
“Heirs of Wrestling said it. Karl Brown said it. Fusenshoff said it.
“What have I done lately, hm? What have I accomplished? Why do I keep coming up short?
“Well, Layne, perhaps if you’ve spent a little more time paying attention to the people around you and a little less time jerking off while watching videotapes of yourself absolutely STORMING the TV Title Scene, you’d realize what I’ve been doing.
“But you’re just like Karl Brown. You only see the glitter of gold around the waist. The only accomplishments you understand are in title reigns. You’re just… like… everyone… else.
“So every week… every round of this f*cking tournament, I have to explain, AGAIN, that I don’t give a f*ck what the Layne Winters of the world think about what I’ve accomplished in Empire Pro. I don’t give a f*ck if it doesn’t impress you.
“You know the last time someone pinned me, Layne? Do you?
“Of course you don’t. Cause you’re too f*cking stupid and ignorant to pay attention to anything but you. And I’m not going to tell you, because quite frankly, I don’t CARE if you know. *I* know. And for me, that’s enough.
“I didn’t ask for credit, Layne. You misunderstand. I get all the credit I need in the ring. Every time I get to slap around some punk b*tch like you, some ungrateful, whiny little child… that’s all I need to accomplish.
“But I’m done with that, Layne. I’m done sitting by and watching people like you come out here and pretend like you are something new and fresh, cause you ain’t. You’re the same ol’ song and dance as always.
“You come out here, and you list your f*cking resume, and you tell me how great you are, and how you should be the Champ, and blah blah blah. Never heard that one before, Layne. And you tell me how I ain’t sh*t. Yeah, I get it. You ain’t scared. Nobody’s ever scared, Layne. Nobody is ever convinced of anything.
“You think they never called my number, Layne? Please. If I wanted the Title shot, Layne, I’d ask for it. Simple as that. I certainly f*cking earned it. But I don’t NEED it, Layne. I’m not like you. You crave the attention. You need people to know what a big man you are.
“You’re just another nobody out here tellin’ me I’m a freak in facepaint, crackin’ jokes about the Karate Kid and tellin’ me I ain’t done sh*t. Well congratu-f*cking-lations, Layne, I’ve never heard any of those before. You should join the Heirs of Wrestling with that material. You’ll go far. I promise.
“The truth is, Layne… I’ve grown weary of the bullsh*t. You beat a few TV title contenders and suddenly you can’t stop waving your d*ck at the screen. I mean, for f*ck’s sake, man, you act like such a badass, but the moment something doesn’t go your way, I know you’re gonna go cry like a little b*tch.
“Y’know how I know, Layne? Cause you’re just like everybody else. You subscribe to the same notions of success. You can’t take a beating. You can’t take a loss. ‘Cause in your tiny little brain, you actually believe – you actually believe that you’re the best wrestler in this league. You believe it. Sean Stevens believes it. First believes it.
“F*ck… Karl Brown believed it, the Heirs of Wrestling believed it, High Flyer believed it, Fusenshoff believed it.
“You all f*cking believe it. It’s f*cking pathetic. I’m here with a bunch of f*cking children who think they redefined the business because… well, I don’t really get that part. Because you crack a few jokes? Cause I haven’t impressed you?
“How lucky for me. To be in the same ring as the great Layne Winters. Slayer of Gods. Beater of Nobody Who Mattered.
“Up until this moment, Layne, I didn’t really give a f*ck about your self-aggrandizing behavior. I don’t give a sh*t if you go kick down Dan Ryan’s door and demand a title shot for beating Karl Brown that one time. It meant NOTHING to me.
“But see… while I was advancing through this tournament, you were busy making excuses about why you couldn’t put Erik Black away. And now you find yourself here. Just dumb luck. Stumbled ass-backwards into a shot.
“And now, Layne, now it’s MY business. Because, quite frankly, I don’t think your type of childish behavior should really be rewarded. You had your chance. You f*cking blew it. You got excuses. Everybody’s got excuses.
“Fine. You got your second chance. A little angel came and gave poor ol’ Layne Winters another shot to be the King of the Cage. Doesn’t matter now. What’s done is done.
“You’re right about one thing, Layne. Sometimes the bad guy does win. But you, my friend, are no bad guy. You instill fear in the heart of nobody.
“You’re just a petulant little whelp who stumbled through a tournament he lacked the skill to advance in. You’re an asterisk. A parentheses.
“So talk your talk, Layne. Tell me how little I’ve accomplished. Explain to me how the business works, kid. Drop some f*cking wisdom.
“It don’t matter. Come the KOTC Finals, I’m going to do what I’ve been doing. And it might not impress you. It might not impress Dan Ryan.
“But it’s enough for me, Layne, and believe it or not, that’s enough.
“Don’t worry, Layne. I don’t expect you to understand. Nobody else did, either.”
(FADEOUT.)