Location: Golden Domes Hotel, San Francisco, CA
Date/Time: Monday 30 August, 2010

Cast

Steve Jason had to admit one thing - the Shockwave was certainly doing its job.

The devastating driver was a relatively new addition to Steve's arsenal of wrestling moves - mainly so he could use a finisher on the ground as well as off the turnbuckle - and already it had managed to bring down two of professional wrestling's finest. While he'd always keep the S3 in his arsenal, the Shockwave certainly seemed to be indicative of Steve's continuing evolution of talent. First Hunter Ryan, then Centurion - so far there was no telling if there was anything it couldn't stop.

And so, he emerged victorious from Thursday Anarchy in a damned hard fight with one of his best friends - a taxing battle both mentally and physically - and proceeded further down the Universal title tournament, one step closer to the belt. He could almost taste it now - all he had to do was down two more people - none of whom were people he even liked. Redemption was close - so close, and it was something Steve was working himself closer and closer to. A fourth Universal Championship seemed more and more of a reality every day.

Right now, however, he was doing something that he never thought he'd be doing for quite some time - playing a role in a 'meet the parents' scenario between two young lovers and their apparent families.

Not long after Steve moved to San Francisco and established his crew and base of operations there, Marcus Enderton had been romancing a young woman, and apparently things were proceeding very well, to the point where he had approached Steve and Talia as his representatives in some kind of 'meet the family' scenario. Steve didn't quite get his head around it - nor did he get why he'd come to Steve and Talia - but he'd agreed to it nevertheless and come along to a function that Luisa - Marcus' girlfriend - was attending at the Golden Domes hotel in the heart of Frisco.

"I can't believe we finally got you out of those ranger clothes and into proper attire, Steve..." Talia Richards commented wryly as she, Steve and Marcus made their way through the brightly-lit and opulent grand atrium of the hotel. She wore her honey-blonde hair loose today, spilling over the one shoulder left uncovered by her royal blue cocktail dress. Steve wasn't quite as glossed up, but he'd at least switched to a white short-sleeved button-up shirt, black leather vest and slacks, while Marcus had gone the whole nine yards and decked himself out in black suit jacket, pants, white pinstripe shirt and tie.

"Eh, this is important to the kid, and I'm not afraid to make concessions in the name of that." Steve remarked as they crossed a broadly-tiled bridge set out over an in-building pond complete with waterfall cascading from the ceiling. Once they reached the other side, they saw a large crowd of people milling on the broad side of the atrium. No doubt this was the place.

"Will you stop calling me 'the kid', SJ? I'm nearly twenty-five, you know."

"And I'm nearly thirty-three, yet apparently I'm filling in for your old man, so I get privileges..." Steve smirked. Marcus drew his breath in to prepare a rebuttal, but was caught off-guard by an olive-skinned young woman who suddenly flew into his arms, almost knocking him off-balance. She was small - taller than Talia, but not by much - and had long dark wavy hair, sparkling eyes and a bright look about her - about Marcus' age, if Steve were to guess.

"Ohmygod sweetie, you're here!" she said in a light-toned voice, "And they're here! These are the guys who are looking after you, right?" With a sparkling smile, she turned to regard Steve and Talia, "Hi! I'm Luisa, I'm sure Marcus has told you about me! Thanks for coming along."

"Not a problem," Steve smirked, "Figured I'd get out of the house and meet the lady who's locked Marcus around her finger so expertly. The name's SJ."

"So you're the wrestler Marcus was talking about! Wow, he wasn't kidding. You're massive!"

"The scary part is I'm considered relatively average-sized for a wrestler."

"Yeah, yeah, we get it, you're like a foot taller than us, don't rub it in..." Talia commented wryly, moving to hug Luisa, "Talia Richards. It's really nice to meet you."

"Ah, I see the young man has arrived..." That voice came from an average-sized man who moved in from the crowd of people to join Steve and his company. He was an average-sized man - older-looking, with black oiled curly hair and olive skin that matched Luisa's. There was clearly a familial resemblance there.

"And this is Luisa's father, Colonel Ramon Linares. Colonel, allow me to introduce Steven Alexander Jason and Talia Caley Richards."

"I didn't know your middle name was Caley..." Steve murmured beneath his breath before moving to shake Colonel Linares' hand firmly, "Colonel. Pleasure to meet you."

"And you too, Mr. Jason..." the Colonel replied, "Thank you very much for coming out. Marcus has been seeing my daughter for a while now, and he tells me that he doesn't have family here in the States but that you and your wife are the closest thing he has to it."

Steve and Talia both glanced between each other, then spluttered out laughing at that, both of their faces flushing red slightly. The Colonel raised a brow in confusion.

"I am sorry, was it something I said?"

"Oh no, just... we're not actually married, Colonel. I think Marcus might have been pulling your leg there. Still, it's a pleasure."

"Indeed. Feel free to enjoy the festivities, Miss Richards - Marcus, Luisa, show her around! As for you, Mr. Jason, I was wondering if we could take a little walk."

"Of course." Steve agreed, "I'll catch you kids on the flip side."

Talia, Luisa and Marcus scurried off into the main crowd, leaving Colonel Linares and Steve to walk alongside the pond in the centrepiece of the atrium at a slow and steady pace.

"I'm sure you know why I asked you to join us here this evening..." the Colonel said.

"I can take an educated guess. You want to check out Marcus and the company he keeps, right?"

"Yes. I have nothing against your friend, you understand. So far he has come across as a pleasant and respectful young man, and under most circumstances I would be happy for him to court my daughter. However, you must understand that Luisa has had... problems with men who have not been what they seemed before."

"Are you sure this isn't too sensitive a subject to be talking about with me, Colonel?" Steve asked cautiously.

"No, no. It's something you need to know. Prior to her relationship with Marcus, Luisa was involved with a young man who had a troubled past - indeed, a troubled present. He was a member of a gang with some antisocial youths, and he had problems with his anger. Originally he wooed Luisa with the impression that he was a charming rogue who was harmless, but in time his true nature came though. He became very controlling and abusive - originally verbally, then physically."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Colonel. That kind of thing makes me absolutely sick to my soul, and I'm sorry that it happened to Luisa. She seems like a nice girl."

"Indeed. So you can see why I'm a little concerned about this new relationship. I know that Marcus has also had a troubled past, and while he comes across as a good man thus far, I know that appearances can be deceiving. So I wanted to talk to you. You obviously know the boy fairly well, and while you are not his family you clearly have some kind of bond with him, or he would not have brought you along. What can you tell me about him?"

"Marcus is a good kid, sir," Steve assured the Colonel, "He's had an incredibly tough life. Growing up in post-independence Zimbabwe is... not an easy experience. He got thrown off his farm at gunpoint when he was a kid. Most of his teenage years were spent on the run or migrating. And the South African army is no place for a young man like Marcus. They sent him to the Democratic Republic of the Congo once. I've been there. It's a hellhole the likes you would never believe. The things that happen in places like that can cause you to lose your faith in humanity, but Marcus tried to make a difference. He's only one man, but he won't hesitate to stand up for what he believes in. You have my assurances that he's a good man."

"But what about you?" the Colonel replied as they continued to walk around the pond, "I hate to cast aspersions, but they tell me that you fight for money. I have seen this X-Treme Wrestling Federation, and with all due respect, some of the people there are... not of good character. They are violent, arrogant. With all due respect how do I know that your moral judgement is sound?"

That was certainly a question Steve hadn't seen coming. He'd figured that Ramon Linares would want to put Marcus' character to the test, that much was certain if even half of what he'd described of Luisa's past was true, but it didn't seem like he was just testing Marcus - he was testing those who vouched for him. Steve drew in a breath, then replied.

"Sir, I don't fight for money. If I wanted easy money, I'd have bailed and gone into movies a long time ago. I compete because I enjoy the thrill of competition and I choose the XWF because it is the one place I am continually challenged to improve and condition myself. Most of the people I fight, I am friendly with outside of the ring and respect inside it. The last man I had a match against was and is one of my best friends. By 'violent and arrogant' I'm guessing you're talking about the sociopaths. X-Dub does have them, it's true. There are bad men in there. I've fought some of the worst specimens of humanity in there. But believe me, there are good men and women in there too. They give to charity, they help kids, they seek to inspire people, some even take a stand against the bad guys in there. I would consider myself one of the good guys. In the end that may not be enough evidence for you, but that's all I can offer."

"Hrm." Linares didn't exactly sound convinced - and it was Steve's experience that such men didn't change their minds easily. As they passed over the pond and back towards the main area, they were suddenly distracted by a loud movement of three youths into the area. From the looks of them, they were rough, thug types - tight white wifebeaters, loose jeans, tattoos and shaved heads. There was clearly a leader among them, a tall youth with angry-looking scars and a contemptuous expression.

"Dios Mio..." the Colonel muttered.

"Huh? What's the problem?"

"It's Cesar. The man I told you about, the one who hurt Luisa."

Steve gritted his teeth and flashed a warning look over towards Talia, who nodded and flickered her eyes to the scene, watching cautiously. The youths looked around, then upon spotting Luisa and Marcus, the leader moved much quicker, and much more aggressively, pointing at Luisa.

"What the fuck is this? I hear stories about you seeing somebody else, but I have to see it to believe it. Who is this dickhead? What the fuck are you doing with him? You belong to me!"

"Oh dear God..." Luisa put the palm of her hand to her forehead, while the expression of the Colonel darkened, "Cesar, stop. Just stop! I'm not your property. It's over. It was over a long time ago. Go away and leave us alone!"

"I don't think so..." Cesar growled, continuing to menage his way towards Luisa. The Colonel shot Steve an apologetic look, then moved to intercept the hood and his escort, scowling and pointing at Cesar and his friends.

"You! Get out of here. You are not welcome he..." Without even acknowledging the old man, Cesar simply shoved him aside and continued his angry stride towards Luisa and Marcus, his fists balling. Marcus moved forwards, his arms folded and ready for a confrontation, while, to Steve's surprise, Talia even blurred forward in a five-foot ball of fury.

"Who the hell do you think you are, you bully?" she shouted at him in anger.

"Stop it, Cesar..." Luisa said, although her voice quavered with fear. Cesar ignored both, making a line straight for Marcus. Talia growled and rounded towards the group again, but stopped when Steve raised his finger quietly. A look of puzzlement crossed her face, then she stood aside. While Cesar advanced, Steve began moving in an arc, slowly and cautiously closing the distance while Luisa stepped in front of Marcus.

"Luisa, don't. I'll handle this..." Marcus seemed almost too eager to take Cesar on. Stupid fool. If he started a brawl, all Steve had said in Marcus' favor was for naught. Luisa ignored him, staring up at the three hoods bearing down on her.

"Move it, bitch. You're gonna learn the hard way that you belong to me - and I'm gonna do it by kicking the shit outta the guy who stole you from me!"

All the while, Steve circled slowly into position, his footsteps light as a feather. Luisa, however, was not so quiet.

"Stole me? Stole me?!? You don't own me, you pig. You hurt me, you mistreated me, you lost me. Marcus isn't like you. He's a gentleman. He's a good man. And I want to be with him. So go away and get out of my life!"

"You're gonna learn, bitch..." Cesar drew his hand back as if to strike Luisa - and it was at exactly that moment that Steve quickened his steps to intercept them, speaking in a single icy-cold command.

"Stop."

Cesar whirled on his heel, giving Luisa time to back up to Marcus' protection. He eyed Steve with nothing short of arrogant contempt, even going so far as to spit.

"Step back, motherfucker. You don't know what you're getting into."

"Neither do you." Steve uncoiled himself into a defensive stance, ice-blue eyes flitting from man to man. Cesar backed up for a moment, seemingly intimidated by Steve's cold front, then suddenly reached into his pocket. When he pulled his hand out, a switchblade was poised in his fist.

"SJ, he's got a..." Marcus began, but Steve cut him off.

"I know. I can handle myself. You take care of Luisa and the Colonel. I'll take care of this." With that, he rounded to face Cesar, "You are about to make a huge mistake. I'll warn you again. Stop. I don't want to harm you but if you leave me no choice, I will. It doesn't have to go down this way, Cesar. Just put the knife away, turn around, walk out of here, leave Luisa and her family alone and we can forget this ever happened."

"I got a better idea, ese," Cesar snarled and brandished the switchblade menacingly, "You can fuck off and mind your own business, or I can fillet you."

Steve's response was slow and carefully measured as he coldly eyed the hood, mentally preparing himself as he began his final warning.

"Cesar. I am a master of Shotokan Karate and Krav Maga. I have studied Tae Kwon Do, Capoeira, Muay Thai, Judo and a variety of other martial arts. I'm also a wrestler - of world-class caliber. I don't say this to big-note myself, I say this to warn you. Do not do this. Turn around and walk away."

"Fuck you!" Cesar shouted, and with no warning but a shocked gasp from the assembled people, moved in for the kill. His knife arced out for Steve's kidney...

...and skittered out of his grasp as Steve's hand grabbed Cesar's wrist and his elbow smashed down onto his arm with heavy force, the wrestler dancing to the side as Cesar howled and grabbed at his arm. That left Steve with an easy knockout opening, drawing his arm back, cocking it and cracking the hood just under the chin, dropping him like a ton of bricks. His two cronies could only stare in disbelief at the crumpled heap at Steve's feet as he turned to regard them.

"You gentlemen have two choices. You can follow your leader's example and do something incredibly stupid, or you can pick up your friend and take him to a doctor, and use the time in the waiting room to re-think your lives. I tried not to break his arm, but I had to use a lot of force to get that knife out of his hand, so I suggest you get it looked at. It's your call, boys, but you've got the benefit of knowledge. I suggest you take advantage of it."

Cesar's two cronies took one look between each other before skittering to the fallen form of their leader, hauling him up under his shoulders and dragging him towards the door. As soon as they were clear, Steve moved towards Marcus and Luisa, who were tending to the fallen Colonel Linares.

"You alright, Colonel?" Steve kneeled down next to the old man, offering him a hand up.

"I've been worse, my friend..." Colonel Linares hauled himself up using Steve's free hand, "I'm just glad that nobody was hurt. Thank you for handling that as effectively as you did." His eyes tracked over to Marcus now, "And you, thank you for keeping my daughter safe and for assisting me. Your friend told me you were a good man, and now I believe it. I would be honored for you to continue to court my daughter."

"So would I, sir." Marcus replied solemnly. Luisa smiled at that and moved in so Marcus' arms were around her shoulders, leaving Steve and Talia to watch with self-satisfied smirks on their faces.

"And that, my dear Talia, is how I work my romantic magic."

"By breaking some guy's arm and knocking him into next week? Remind me not to double-date with you any time soon!"

"What makes you think it'd be a double-date?" Steve replied enigmatically. Talia turned to face him, raising an eyebrow curiously, but before she could react, two hands clapped on each of Steve's shoulders - and for a man Steve's side, that was no mean feat. A booming, authoritarive voice echoed behind him, one that could only be of a security guard - and one of high class.

"You. The manager wants to talk to you. This disturbance is over."

[Flash Forward - Five Minutes Later]

They took him to the very top of the hotel - presumably where the base of operations of the hotel were located. The manager's office wasn't so much an office as it was a lavish palace - the wine-red carpeting was luxurious, a large golden chandelier was suspended from the roof. Each of the walls were decorated in a variety of luxurious murals depicting everything from scenes from classical mythology, to dollar signs, to women in bikinis. The furthest wall was solid glass, overlooking the streetscape of San Francisco, the Golden Gate Bridge lit up with a half-red, half-white luminosity. A variety of bizarre items such as swords, shields, grail cups and replica motorcycles were set up around the room, along with a number of statues of what appeared to be action heroes and superstars.

Sitting at an ornate desk was a stocky man in his mid-thirties, with a dark olive complexion and features of a Middle Eastern cast - yet with an oddly jovial cast. He was completely bald, and decked out in what appeared to be a golden-colored tracksuit set. He appeared to be hammering away furiously at a computer, obviously busy with some serious work. He was also shouting desperately at the screen.

"NO! This can't be happening! This isn't happening! WHERE IS MY FUCKING ANTI-AIR? WHERE ARE MY MEDIVACS?!? WHERE ARE MY MARINES?!? Oh, this is not good! NOBODY ZERG-RUSHES KHALID AL-BASRANI! YOU WILL PAY DEARLY FOR THIS TRAVESTY! I WILL... NO! DAMN IT! MY BASE! MY BEAUTIFUL BASE! FUCK! FUCKING ZERG! WHY?!?" All Steve could do was watch in sheer disbelief as the man steepled his head in his hands, a look of sheer dismay on his face. The guards accompanying Steve coughed roughly.

"Uh, sorry to disturb you, Mr. Al-Basrani, but Steve Jason is here."

"Ah! Thank you, gentlemen! I have... completed my important business for the evening. You may go!" With that, the two men turned and made their way back out of the office, leaving Steve alone with the businessman. After a few moments, Khalid rose up from his desk and turned to face Steve.

"My name is Khalid Al-Basrani, and I own this hotel - along with a great deal of other investments around the world. I called you up here because I would like to discuss this..." With the press of a button, Khalid's computer monitor turned a full 180 on its own, revealing what appeared to be security footage. In the main focus of the camera was Steve - and Cesar, right in the middle of their conflict.

"Mr. Al-Basrani, I'm honestly sorry that had to happen in your establishment," Steve apologised diplomatically, "I had no intentions on a fight - and I gave that man several opportunities to avoid violence. I had to do what I did in self-defense, and the defense of several friends. I hope you..."

"Sorry? Are you kidding!" Khalid's face was positively beaming in what appeared to be delighted excitement, "That was one of the best barfights I've ever seen in my life! That man was all like 'I have my knife and I'm going to shank you cause I'm from the hood, motherfucker!' and you were all Jedi Knight and like 'I don't want to hurt you but you will leave now or face the consequences', and then he went for you and you were like all WHOOOAYA HIIIYA WHHOOOOAR HAAAAAAAAAAAAI!" Khalid actually accompanied each of these screaming noises with clumsy martial arts impressions, finishing by actually putting his foot through his own computer monitor, "Real Jedi, my man! Fuckin' Jedi style!"

"You... uh... you're aware you just destroyed your own computer?" Steve deadpanned.

"Bah. I can buy a million more!" Khalid emphasised that by holding his hands up in the air, "So I did some research on you. They say you are a professional wrestler, and I have some interest in expanding my business opportunities. You see, I have a great family legacy to live up to - we have done some amazing things in Dubai - and they say you may be the next Universal Champion."

"I'm flattered that you think so, sir, but what exactly does this have to do with me?"

Khalid stepped away from the ruins of his computer monitor, circling around towards Steve, then leaned forwards and set his hands on the desk.

"I would like to propose some business with you."

-Promo: The Undeniable Words - 31/8/10-

Promo Music: "Heaven's Devils" - Starcraft II Wings of Liberty Soundtrack

That. Was. Tough.

It's very rare that you'll get that kind of concession from me after a match, but nevertheless it's pretty much what ran through my head after winning my last match. I always knew Cent was going to be a tough customer, but my God, he was even tougher than I'd anticipated. It almost seems a shame that effort couldn't continue in the tournament, but after that match, let's just say I feel sorry for the poor bastard who has to defend the Universal title against Andy Cortinovis in the future - and hell, if it's me, then I'm gonna be watching my back, big time.

Still, I prevailed - even though it was a damned tough thing, physically and mentally. And now it's almost within reach. One more victory - just one more - and I'm on a one-way path to Rage In The Cage and the Universal title match, and the redemption that I so sorely need. With every day, that fact sinks in more and more - the premier prize in the industry, one that I haven't tasted in over half a decade, grows closer and closer to being reclaimed, and a new era in the life and career of yours truly awaits.

Better yet, I don't have to be nice any more.

Here's a general lesson when dealing with me - if you're a respectable person, you'll get respect from me. You don't exactly have to do much to get it either - I do this for the thrill of combat and competition, not to work off my hate or to stroke my ego endlessly. But if you are not a respectable person - if you fall short of the standards I hold my fellow fighters to, if you act like a jackass on a regular basis - then the safety's off, so to speak. I can mix words with the best of 'em - hell, look at Jayzon Williamz, I somehow gave that man an apopleptic fit without even using his name last Anarchy - and make no mistake, if you're asking for it, I'll psychologically demolish you - and I'll have a hell of a lot of fun doing it. And as far as I'm concerned, the last three men remaining in this tournament besides myself have all asked for it. So kick up your feet, get comfy and grab a drink, folks, because the fun is officially about to begin.

Ah, Jason Mudd. So-called master of controversy, 'premier asshole', host of the Mudd Pit, nephew of Jem Williams, and all-around tool. I've been looking forward to getting a chance to put you in your place for quite some time, my friend - although I've got to admit, this tournament cranked that desire up big-time. You know, I'm not oblivious to the universe outside me - I pay attention to what others have to say - and while I may not use what they have immediately, rest assured, it is stocked and ready to be unleashed at any time. In plain English, Jason, I've been waiting quite some time to take some of what you've been saying and throwing it straight back in your face.

Of course, we all know your main angle in this - 'SJ's lost his way', 'SJ isn't the man he used to be', yadda yadda yadda. More or less the same bullshit quite a few people who've already been eliminated from this tournament have been spouting. Honestly, boys, we heard you all the first fifty thousand times, and you only make yourselves look dumber and dumber with every week I plow through the competition.

But I suppose I shouldn't deny people like that their safety blanket. After all, if they wrap themselves up in a cozy little fantasy world where I'm double my age and can barely move around without support, it pretty much makes it easier for me to win when I shatter that illusion and put them down before their feeble minds can even figure out what the hell is going on. Hell, some folks are so ignorant and delusional that I could probably win a boatload of matches by pretending to be Jerry Atrick until the match and then show my true colors and tear them limb from limb. I suppose I'm just too merciful for my own good. I feel sorry for such delusional folks like Mudd and Ace, not having the slightest of clues of what they're getting into, and I guess my better nature compels me to break a few illusions while there's still time to realise that mistake.

So let's cut to the chase, shall we? I've lost my way since the Golden Era, have I, Jason? I fail to see how. Yes, there have been, like, two failed returns where I wasn't ready to get back into the ring, but that hardly means it's going to happen again, does it? After all - you're pretty much the poster child for flaking, Jason. You're the undisputed master of getting a few decent wins under your belt before breaking down and vanishing off the face of the Earth for months. You can't honestly call that a critical flaw in me without identifying it in yourself. The only difference is I actually accomplished stuff.

Did that sting? I hope it did. Honestly, Jason, what have you accomplished before vanishing into the night only to return once again? One paltry cruiserweight run before Star snapped you like a twig? Oh, no, wait, there was your grand Lord of the Ring moment where you lost to Soul Bearer. Oh boy, wasn't that an 'oops' moment if ever I saw one? Other than that, what do you have to your name, really? You can say I've lost my way and that I'm not the man I once was - but dude, you never even found your way to begin with. I mean, look at yourself for Christ's sake - the mighty nephew of the legendary Jem Williams, reduced to trolling the XWF to draw attention to himself.

Let's talk about that, shall we? The so-called 'Mudd Pit'. Y'know, you talk about it being the most touted, lauded and applauded show out there, but the only person I've seen even be remotely entertained is you. Personally, I find it tacky, boring, and symptomatic of an attention-starved man jumping up and down going 'look at me! look at me!' In fact, Jason Mudd, that's pretty much your career in a nutshell. Attention-whoring, all bark and no bite. You desperately try to go for the whole controversial angle, because hey, any attention is good attention, right? That's the sad thing about this universe, ever since that transvestite pop star from New York decided that controversy and shock value were somehow valuable without any meaning to them, every knob's been trying it and all they've done is made complete tools of themselves. I wonder, Jason, will you be among the crowd of forty-somethings in the future looking back and going 'oh my God, what drugs were I on when I did that?' The Mudd Pit - and your whole philosophy surrounding it - is pretty much the XWF's version of Vanilla Ice's career. The guy doing it thinks it's a good idea, but everyone else cringes in embarrassment - and the guy doing it will join them when he grows up.

Supposedly I'm no longer needed - the XWF no longer needs a hero, Jason Mudd says. Given the state of the company just a few months ago, I'd actually beg to differ on that front. But I don't think Mudd's paid much attention to my history if he thinks my career's been based off saving the XWF from this or that. My first Universal title? Maybe that was, it was me fending off the CCWF. But my Lord of the Ring was built off nothing but revenge, and my second and third Universal titles were based off opportunity. I don't think I've actually made any move to save anybody from anything for years now. And furthermore - who said I even intended on being a hero this time around? I'm not here to save anyone from anything - I'm here to do the one thing that has been hard-coded into my blood since you were trying to cop a feel of the local cheerleading captain - fighting and establishing combat superiority. So save the 'dethroning the false messiah' rant for someone else. There's no heroism in what I'm doing this week or the next. It's all about glory.

And the hilarious thing is, despite talking smack about legends every single week like one of them pissed in your cornflakes, you've descended to using your uncle's moves - and hell, you drop his name every damn day just in case we forget. I would have thought that kind of thing would be considered demeaning, given how you talk smack about all the other legends. Yet here you are - a Realization here, a Realizing Pain there. In fact, when we really get down to it... that's what your preoccupation with bringing down legends is about, isn't it? Your sense of inferiority.

It's ironic, really - dozens of antagonists back in the day accused your uncle of living in my shadow - and now you're living in his almost willingly. You've got a huge yardstick in your family to measure up to and try as you might, you're not living up to it. I may not be the man I was, as you so poetically put it, Jason - but you're not a tenth of the man your uncle was. And deep down I think you know that, and it eats away at you, doesn't it? It chews away at your mind, and that sense of inferiority leads you to overcompensate - hence your shit-talking. Behind all the bluster, bravado and false confidence is a boy who continually falls short of any kind of meaningful goal here and who is - and always will be - trapped in the shadow of his uncle.

You're going to be shown this up close and personal, Jason. For two weeks I've bitten my tongue over various jibes and doubts cast upon me, and now the cold hard truth will be shown to you and anybody else who says otherwise. Make no mistake, Jason Mudd - I'm going to break that cocky little facade you show so often. I'm going to wipe that smug smirk off your face, I'm going to close your ever-yapping mouth and I'm going to show you that you are correct - I'm not the man I used to be. I'm something better. I'm something evolved - evolving. I'm your next Universal Champion - and I'm something you have absolutely no hope of derailing.

Live that, boy.