WRESTLEVERSE II: Karl "The Dragon" Brown (c) vs. "Sensational" Steven Shane-IC Titl

[DBrunkGXW]

WRESTLEVERSE II: Karl "The Dragon" Brown (c) vs. "Sensational" Steven Shane-IC Titl

Post all RP Here.

 

[EpyonMarx]

Re: WRESTLEVERSE II: Karl "The Dragon" Brown (c) vs. "Sensational" Steven Shane-IC Titl

[FADE IN. A forest clearing, a hard frost on the ground, making the fallen leaves sparkle in the low sun.The only sound is of the cameraman walking towards a familiar tree, before peering up into its branches – and there, sitting serenly in jeans and his traditional fleece jacket, sits the Empire Pro Wrestling Intercontinental Champion]

Karl: And so, here we are, again. Fourth match in the ongoing saga that is Steven Shane’s attempt to prove himself worthy of being in this company. Not that there is anything wrong with being Dan Ryan’s personal lapdog and getting some attacks against IrishRed in – but it hardly seems to be something you could boast about. Though it has gotten Shane to be on TV more often than not, and if you’ll remember back, that’s what he wanted all those months ago.

It’s a pity for him, though, that his claims of grandeur and importance have thus far gone unfulfilled. In the two matches that have had decisions, he’s found himself staring up at the lights in defeat, beaten far more easily than he would have liked. And his only recompense? A cowardly attack, post-match, which he’ll probably claim he did to put me in my place and show the fans what a real champion he could be, standing tall, as I, who Cameron Cruise once said was a pretender to the Intercontinental throne, lay on the canvas.

It’s a shame that all he managed to do is give the fans another reason to laugh at how pathetic he is.

Really, Steven – will you expect the fans to buy what you’ve been saying now, after you’ve made a mockery of everything you’ve already said? They’ve seen you win an Intercontinental Title opportunity by not being able to finish me within the time limit. They’ve seen you attack IrishRed from behind, missing your chance to fairly win a number one contenders match – only to be awarded a title shot when someone else does your dirty work for you.

Then, the big chance you have to co-main event Aggression – and you find something better to do than even promote the match. Then, come bell time, in a match you’ll probably say that you either didn’t give your all or I was lucky to win, you couldn’t get the job done again.

That’s three matches you’ve been unable to get the job done in. What’s your excuse going to be, I wonder? I’ve given the one you’ve already used to explain your defeat in our first match. Or are you going to complain about not being able to read a contract again, like you did after our second?

Pathetic.

Still, though. You are going to be dangerous at Wrestleverse, because the veneer that covers you has been chipped away, revealing a scared little boy, who will do anything to keep the lies he’s been telling himself for so long from being revealed to the world. You call yourself Sensational, but have been far from it in every encounter we’ve had so far.

Because now, the Intercontinental Title isn’t your only goal. You’ve met someone who you haven’t been able to walk over, and it frustrates you. Your path to the top has been blocked by someone who is only twenty four years old. Someone who has taken on and beaten some of the best in this industry, and shown just how many Heaven’s have been lies.

The next level, for you, will be attained if you can actually beat me for the Intercontinental Championship.

But for me? I’ve held this title for over a year. I’ve turned back all challengers, and since the start of two thousand and five, I’ve only been beaten twice. By all accounts, I’m now one of the names to beat. It’s unfamiliar territory for me, I’ll admit. I’m more used to being the guy you hope will win, but you’re never quite sure. I’ve been the guy who has quietly worked his way to the summit, rather than shouting from the path how great I am.

You could say I’ve taken people by surprise. But, I think I’ve spent too long on this plateau in Empire Pro Wrestling. Whether the result of Wrestleverse is I retain, Shane becomes champion, or it’s another draw, it’s time for me to start on my journey along this path again. The summit is still a long ways off, and though this rest-stop has been nice, it would be to admit defeat to say this is as far as I’m going. It would be wrong for me to live in my comfort zone, where I am now, and stop trying to better myself, week in, week out.

Because that’s what this is all about. Proving to myself that I can improve, week after week after week, match after match after match.

So, Steven – try to test me again. Show me you’ve somehow leapfrogged this plateau and are already heading towards the next – because otherwise, you’re going to be left so far behind, that I’ll need a telescope to see you.

[FADE OUT]

 

[thegr817deuce]

Re: WRESTLEVERSE II: Karl "The Dragon" Brown (c) vs. "Sensational" Steven Shane-IC Titl

The scene opens to what appears to be a very large party. People are everywhere, dancing and holding their drinks to the side. The music is loud and nothing can really have much sense made of it as the camera simply remains on the large mass of people. Suddenly, through the crowd, there is a divide. People step out of the way as if they were the Red Sea and the man walking through them was Moses.

Finally, the man steps to the forefront and we see that the man is none other than The Sensational One himself, Steven Shane. Shane kicks back the last of his drink before sending a smile to the camera. He then gives a nice clap, very mockingly.

Shane: Karl “Freakin” Brown.

Man, I should be so honored to have yet another match with you that I could, quite frankly, care less about.

I mean, we’ve got a guy here that has only lost TWO matches since the start of the year of our lord, two thousand and five.

Nevermind the fact that he’s been facing anyone that signs an EPW contract, this guy has only lost TWO matches!

Nevermind the fact that he’s only had eight other matches.

Nevermind the fact anytime that Mr. Brown steps into the ring with anyone named Lindsay Troy or on the same level that winning always manages to slip right through his fingers.

Oh no…

Steven Shane should be sitting here trembling in his boots because Karl Brown can defeat any lower-level talent that Mr. Ryan wants to throw at him.

His only problem this week is that Steven Shane isn’t from that pool of lower-level talent…

You know Karl, I came into this match really not giving a damn.

I’m not going to lie. There’s no reason to.

Seriously, why would I worry about something as trivial as a title that you can successfully defend for over a year?

Your inability to defeat those that are above you automatically rules out any type of reasons for YOU being the reason that the title has yet to leave your waist.

I, like the rest of the EPW locker room, believe that there is a much better reason for why that title still resides around your waist…

The talent pool that is fed to you is what protects you and the title’s home.

And now, Steven Shane, a superstar all across the globe, is being placed down on the card as an attempt to kick this Intercontinental Title division in the ass.

And still, through all the times that Mr. Ryan has thrown me into this match, I had no desire. I’ve believed the title to be beneath me.

I’ve been in the matches with the Beasts and the Sean Stevens.

And here’s what gives us that little, tiny…

Shane squeezes his thumb and forefinger together to mean small.

Shane: Teensy, weensy bit of separation between you and I, Karl…

I’ve defeated them.

Hell, I didn’t even need to fight my own match to get a victory over Triple Douche.

I can hire any n00b off the street to handle him, and yet, he stills prevents you from “winning the big one”.

So, while you sit back and believe your OWN thoughts of grandeur about the greatness that is your Intercontinental Title reign, why don’t you think about what lies before you in that next level that you think you’re going to attain when I alleviate that title from you.

Why don’t you think back to when your time “just ran out” against Mrs. Troy-Windham?

Why don’t you think about how you lost out on the shot at the EPW World Title when it was within your grasp?

Why don’t you sit back and think about what life is going to be like when you see the electricity that flows through the Intercontinental division once Steven Shane takes over and finally answers the calling that Dan Ryan has had for him for several months now?

Would I call it the next level for Steven Shane?

No. In fact, I’d call it far from it. You see, I have what you believe that you have, and that is the talent to actually pull off the win against the world-title caliber people that reside here in the best damn company in the business.

The next level for Steven Shane is to be attained after I restore what you have destroyed in this I-C title division.

That next level is taking out each and every man (or woman) that stands in my way of attaining that big, gold belt.

Dan Ryan has instilled more trust in me to beat the hell out of Irishred this past month than he ever would have given you in some sort of effort to carry the torch and banner for this great company.

While you’re doing your damndest to save a career that’s being crushed by the best that EPW has to offer, I’ll not only be restoring competition to the division that you’ve killed, Karl. I’ll be solidifying my place where you think you should be right now.

The only difference is that once the second bell rings on our respective runs through that next tier, mine will be one that sees my hand going to the air while the only way that your hand will be raised, is when you reach for the ropes to pull yourself up after yet another ass-beating at the hands of those that really are better than you.

So go ahead, Karl. Go ahead and proclaim that you have achieved greatness by taking on all comers of mediocrity.

Go ahead and still think that you have what it takes to whisk your way right into that next tier and tear into it like you did with the never-will-be’s you’ve been facing in the I-C Division for the past year.

And once my restoration period is done, I’ll see you on that same rung of the ladder and give you a nod before a make my way on up to the next one…

Right before I tell you… “I told you so.”

That, my friend, is something that you can deem truly… SENSATIONAL.

Shane gives a smile and makes his way back into the party as the camera fades out.

 

[EpyonMarx]

Through Nothing, something comes. Through flames and steel, lies are forged.

[FADE IN and CUE UP: “Victoriae & Triumphi Dominus” by Turisas. As the first notes play, we’re on a forest path, the sun rising, light coming through the branches in solid shafts. This isn’t a winter scene – the forest is lush, green, vibrant – it’s alive. But we only a get a few moments of that, before we rush through, the entire scene rushing straight past us in a blur, the camera set so it’s a first person view. This rushing starts at the 13 second mark.

At the thirty four second mark, we’ve cleared the forest, rising up from the ground to see a monolith on a hill – a brilliant, golden sunrise behind it. As we pan round and towards the hill, the sun continues to rise, higher and higher. As the voices kick in at approximately fifty five seconds, the light grows in intensity, as we see what the monolith actually is.

A giant mirror. As the final voice part plays out, we find ourselves rushing straight towards the mirror, the sound coming in around us, as we plunge through, the sound cutting as the scene cuts to darkness.

We’re left in darkness for several long, drawn out seconds, no sound, no light – utter Nothing. It would be unfair to call it ‘darkness’ so much, as darkness is a thing – the absence of light, yes, but a thing nevertheless. This… this is total lack of sensation. The total lack of any and every Thing. It hurts the eyes, dulls the mind, stills the senses – it is Nothing]

Voice: And so, we may begin.

[A candle flickers in the distance, breaking the Nothing, giving us a focal point. It is only a small, tiny pinprick of light – but a pinprick is all we need, because Nothing cannot exist where Thing and substance are. We start to move towards the light, inexorably closer with each step, as a myriad of voices start to talk – nothing consequential, nothing that you can pick up – but voices nonetheless. That is, until one, clearer than the others, starts to talk. As the clearest voice talks, different scenes appear in the fire from the flame – flickering, dancing, now bright and vibrant, now cold and distant as the moment dictates]

Voice: As you sit, friend, in peace, tranquillity, and solitude, with your family, your friends – have you ever wondered what the minds of others might be? Have you ever looked at someone, listened to their words, and asked yourself what mind conjured such thoughts, gave birth to them and the utterance of their words?

Have you ever wondered what history made their present? Was it a history portrayed as an old man, with a wise brow and pulse-less heart, weighing all things in the balance of reason – or is the genius of history like a beautiful maiden, vibrant, alive, with a burning heart and flaming soul, humanly warm and humanly beautiful?

Have you ever looked upon another man, a woman, a child, and wondered what their minds held – what their innermost hopes, their deepest fears and desires are? Or have you shut yourself deep inside your own mind, furnished how you like, but nonetheless a prison?

Have you embraced your fellow man, your brothers and sisters in the human race, as equals, as sentient beings with their own dreams and pursuing their own happiness, or set yourself above them, a God in your mind, imprisoned, chained, and unable to see your own chains?

Have you ever listened to your own words and seen the hidden truths they have revealed to others about you – how your fears and shame have found a way through the traps, the checks and balances you carefully laid to keep your own sense of self safe, and spewed forth, weeping like puss from the wound for all to see?

Have you ever looked at yourself and seen what is true, through the clothes you have given your own Emperor, to the nakedness, the small child you keep caged because you fear letting the real you show through the rose-tinted veneer you have created?

Then, for a moment, I challenge you to remove the shroud, remove the veil and the lies, the pretences, and see yourself for what you truly are.

Live for yourself. Or fall into obscurity.

[At that, we rush through the flames, coming out into a Medieval church, the wooden pews in neat, orderly rank. As you gaze at the walls to either side, you notice on each a line of Saints – to the one side, St Michael, St Alban, St Peter, and the other male saints in procession towards the alter, where you are. On the other, St Mary, St Elizabeth of Hungary, St Briget of Sweden, and the other female saints, all bearing gifts for the altar of God. Come, let us walk against these processions, past the anchorage to one side, the stained glass windows showing scenes from the Bible – and stare, for a moment, at the cross above the door.

It is a shadowy cross, the outline barely visible as the light pours in from the window above it. There seems to be nothing strange about it at first… but a slight murmur catches your attention. You turn, and see nothing behind but the altar. The moan again, and you turn back, gazing carefully at the cross.

A movement.

It must be a trick of the light.

But there it is again – and a moan. A hand passes past the camera, moving up, as a sudden, slight jolt turns the view downwards, to one side – as the hand passes back, we see blood. Our gaze turns again to the cross – but nothing is there.

Concerned, a thumping pulse growing louder and louder in stereo, we walk outside, and see a wide, open yard, a gate on the other side. In front of the gate, a cross – the same as had been inside. There is a body on the cross, naked, but far enough away so as not to be explicit – and you can see blood dripping from the head, from the crown of thorns, from the hands, the feet, and from the side, the gaping wound. As we step closer, we keep our gaze on the face of the figure, a warped sound joining the crunch of stones, the beating of our hearts, until we stand mere feet from the figure, the warped and distorted voices overpowering, growing louder and louder with each and every breath. A moan from the cross, and a hand stretches out, touching it – it snaps towards us

And back to total darkness, before we can see any features]

Voice: The funniest part is that very few people see themselves for what they truly are.

[Another scene, in a forest clearing. A battle has taken place, and the dead and dieing lay all about, steam rising from the bloody wounds. We walk through this, seeing in the distance a castle – and before we can get a sense of our own bearings, we’re in that castle, moving through the torch-lit passages down a spiralling staircase. Deeper and deeper we go, for what seems like an eternity – until we see the iron bars of a prison. But the cells here are not what we’re interested in. It is not from them that the groans you can hear are coming. So closer, closer, across the straw-padded path we walk. If your imagination is powerful enough, then breath deeply, for the smell of death and decay, of feces and puss, of wet straw and burning pitch fills the air, a thousand other smells too repugnant to name likewise. As we reach the end of the passageway, we turn our gaze down, to see in outline a small child, in the darkness. It is chained round the ankle, tugging at the chain and sobbing. We gaze sympathetically at this wretch, when a sudden scream has us covering our ears – and again, the child returns to its sobbing and tugging, the clink of metal filling the air]

Voice: We are all prisoners.

[The voice scares us, and we turn – to see the Empire Pro Wrestling Intercontinental Champion, standing there. He’s dressed in his typical casual clothes, a jacket and jeans, but he’s very much a part of the scene, as we can tell by the way the light falls over his shoulder and face. Slowly, he walks past us, and we turn with him, as he kneels down, overlooking the child]

Karl: Every single person is a prisoner of their own mind. They all have things they want to hide. The battles we’ve fought stay with us, shape us, make us who we are. And we build walls to defend ourselves – walls as strong as any made of stone. And from the walls we’ve built in our fortresses, we hurl weapons at our enemies, weapons to keep back invaders, to keep back anyone who is trying to take this

[The scene changes quickly, to a throne room – fully decked, lavish, resplendent in all royal colours, with full pageantry. The drapes are of gold, the throne intricately carved – the beauty is such that it seems like no mere mortal could shape such lovely a thing, but yet it was made by man]

Karl: Our own little heaven, from us. Here, in the little corner of our mind, we reign supreme. It is here that we form our words, forging our weapons to use against the outside world, to elevate ourselves to the status of God. All of us, at some point in our lives, are guilty of this.

Yet, some of us manage to see in ourselves what lies we’ve been telling. We see deep down inside who we are, and free ourselves from the chain about our ankle. We free ourselves from the dungeon, and let the true Self take its rightful place on the throne. A self that seeks the betterment of itself, a self that is never satisfied with merely pretending to God. A self that goes and actively seeks to push back the walls that surround it, to break free from the limitations and fulfil its ultimate potential, so that we can move on to the next challenge, and defeat that. Time and again the true Self seeks to improve itself, physically and mentally, beyond all limitations of the human condition.

Sadly, some still wall themselves up with their lies to themselves. They guard those walls with hypocrisy. Their weapons are words that contradict themselves, and inadvertently, they hurl themselves deeper into the dungeons they have created.

[The scene changes again, to a forest clearing, with “The Dragon” sitting in the branches of a tree – and standing, looking up at himself. The one in the branches does not speak, but sits, motionless, gazing off into the distance]

Karl: I’m sure you’re wondering what the point of all this is. Some of you are wondering if I’ve gone mad. No. I can assure you I’m as free from madness as Steven Shane is from making sense. I’ve come in the past few months to understand myself in a very different light, taking time to explore my past, my present, and see the limitless futures that exist to myself and to all who care to exert some effort. I’ve learnt that appearances can be deceiving.

And I’ve also learnt that some things never change.

Like the people I face. Time and again I’ve faced the same delusional people making self-contradicting statements, claiming a position of grandeur, when in reality, they’re tugging at their chains. Some have been driven to weeping, throwing tantrums that you wouldn’t expect from a three year old – others have decided to cover their ears, whining like a three year old and going “NANANANANA! I’m not listening!”

And then there’s Steven Shane. A man who has admitted himself at once to be a God, and to be nothing. A man who has decided to make public his lack of appearances on the Empire Pro Wrestling house-show circuit, preferring instead to work on TV in other companies. I think it’s one of the few things I agree with Mister Entertainment on – and if you don’t know who he is, Steven, he’s a champion in another place you call home – when he said that people are diluting themselves. But that’s another topic entirely.

Let’s review based solely on TV exposure for now, because Steven’s made clear he doesn’t follow the house-show circuit. Let’s go back, right the way back, to Russian Roulette, before I became champion, and defeated Eric Davis. Or move forward, past Issac Byrnes, to placing fourth in the interfed Natural Selection Summer Solstice, where the best and brightest from the industry competed in a one night elimination tournament. Or beyond that, where I defeated JA for the Intercontinental Championship, despite being billed as facing Sebastian Dodd – when for the second time since I wrestled in the first match in this company, Dan changed the match on me at bell time. Or becoming only the second person that Lindsay Troy couldn’t beat one on one in Empire Pro – or beating JA and Joey Melton, or Steven Shane. Or backtracking a little, to the start of two thousand six, where I defeated the likes of Hida Yakamo and Viktor Molotov to further raise Empire Pro Wrestling’s profile. Or at the last Pay Per View, when I pinned Beast, marking his last appearance in Empire Pro Wrestling.

That is a quick summary of some of the things I’ve done to promote Empire Pro Wrestling, and some of the challenges I’ve turned back. In that same time, Shane has done what, exactly, in and for this company? Attacked IrishRed a couple of times, reformed a tag team for a couple of matches, and…

Not a lot else that I can think of.

I wonder if his not giving a damn about this match is true for his attitude towards Empire Pro Wrestling in its entirety, because it seems like it at times, with how rarely I’ve seen his name on house show cards, or on promotional tours. He’s probably busy gallivanting off somewhere else in TV land so he can claim to be a huge star.

Only, being on TV three times a week for different companies doesn’t make a star. It means that fans have more chance to see you, yes – but there’s something very different about it. If they miss Aggression, they aren’t going to think “Damn, I missed Aggression, I must tune in next week to see Steven Shane” – they think “Oh well, I missed Aggression, I can see Shane on another programme. Is he on RAUCOUS this week?”

Hardly helpful for Dan Ryan’s company, is it? Hardly being the saviour of the company as you claimed a few months back, is it?

But then again, it’s not like you’ve never contradicted yourself before, right? First, you claim that the Intercontinental Championship is what you’re after, to kick start saving this company, that you were going to take the title from me by beating me to win a shot, then beating me for the title, and that our first meeting was a fluke because you weren’t trying, because you didn’t want to injure yourself even though you had an opportunity to put Empire Pro centre stage yourself.

But wait – let’s not stop there. You’ve been in matches with Beast and Sean Stevens and beaten both, even though you weren’t in the country come bell-time to face the latter in EPW, and any match you’ve had on TV against Beast here has obviously caused such a big stir that no-one I’ve asked can remember it.

Does not wrestling someone count as beating them? If so then I hold wins over such names as Hulk Hogan, Lou Thesz, Hornet, and Big Dog – because I’m sure they’ve all lost matches at some point. Hell, I must be so great that I didn’t even need to be born to get a win over Thesz or Hogan.

No, I’m not daft. You, Shane, may be, but I most certainly am not. Maybe you’ve been hit on the head too many times, or I dropped you too hard in our last match. Something has to explain your delusions.

What’s next – are you going to claim that the reason you didn’t take the title from me last time is because you couldn’t be bothered, or because you wanted to do it on a grander stage, or because you wanted to try and boost ratings by losing – again.

Or do you not think back to when you had a chance to take the gold from me, but it was just out of your grasp?

[“The Dragon” that’s sitting in the tree stretches out a hand, reaching into the distance]

Karl: You know, I’m actually bored of facing you, Shane. Three matches in, and I’m already bored, because I’ve been able to predict every single thing you’ve said. You’ve done nothing to excite my interest in facing you again – because I already know what you’re going to say before you say it. Far from being Sensational, you’ve been very, very base and generic.

“Look at me, I’m the best.”
“I’m going to save this company all on my own.”
“I need to restore credibility to a title that’s been held for over a year”
“I’m great and haven’t tried in matches against that loser until now.”
“He beats no talent wannabes, but I’m different.”

Don’t ever wrestle for New ERA’s TV title if you can help it, Steven, because one of the people I’ve beaten in the past fourteen months would have a field day with the list I’ve just given. I was tempted to take a page out of his book and have a puppet come out, but that seemed somehow as cheap as what you’ve been saying.

You, part of the talent pool that’s been ‘fed’ to me since I won the title. In the same talent pool of “no-talents” as JA and Joey Melton.

I’m sure you didn’t mean that, though, did you? You’re different, aren’t you? The one who when you finally decide you want to beat me, will just snap your fingers, and I’ll be incinerated by a lightning bolt from on high.

Are you going to get Max and Jecht to attack me, Steven? Because out of the two matches that have had decisions, you’ve lost so easily that it’s rather embarrassing to face you.

I can’t think what it must be like deep down inside, being you. Away from the pomp, the show that you put on for the world – away from the masks you use to get yourself through every day social situations. A mask for family, a mask for the fans, a mask for friends, and a mask for the doctor. A mask for the dog, a mask for the kids, and a mask for the boss.

Bosses, sorry.

[With that, “The Dragon” that’s sitting with its hand outstretched stands, and walks to the end of the branch, which supports his weight perfectly. It is this Dragon that now speaks]

Karl: Let me ask you something, Steven – since you’ve been in this business longer than I. When did it become commonplace for people to try to demean the title they were fighting for? After all, you say that the Intercontinental Title somehow needs credibility restored, when if you look at all the titles in this industry, this is one of the few with any major credibility. I spoke this time last year to Lindsay about the pride that was at stake in our match – how a win for me would in effect elevate the Intercontinental Championship above the World Heavyweight title. I spoke to her about how nothing less than a win for her would be detrimental not only to her image as a wrestler, being unable to beat someone who is admittedly comparatively inexperienced – but also her image as champion, because fans would question whether or not the World Heavyweight Champion could beat the Intercontinental Champion.

Whoever finally beats me for this belt, gets the credibility that match gave this title.

After that, I faced and beat two of the biggest names in the industry today, one of which is one of the biggest names in the history of the business.

Whoever finally beats me gets the rub from that match.

I also won the Chad Merritt trophy, putting Empire Pro Wrestling in an even brighter spotlight, where people could see it wasn’t a soap-operaesque triangle between Lindsay Troy, Joey Melton, and Troy Windham. To do that, I beat some of the biggest names in this industry, as Intercontinental Champion. I beat the big names of yesteryear, and I beat the up and comers who were looking to launch their career the same way I had a couple of years earlier.

And this title, the Intercontinental Championship, got the shine from those matches.

With every match I’ve wrestled since beating JA for the belt, this title has done nothing but gain credibility. The only time it may have taken a knock was when I failed to unify the titles in the six person elimination match – but looking at who else was involved, and how many years experience over me they each had, then I’m not surprised I lost. Mildly irritated, yes, but I did something with that match that I sincerely doubt, yet hope, you’ve done with our last three encounters.

I stepped back, took a long, hard look at myself, and said “Right. Now you know where you are. Next time, you’re going to do better.”

[Karl takes another step, jumping down off the branch – and suddenly we find him in front of a mirror, on a hilltop – and in the mirror, we see another mirror, on a similar hilltop, but no reflection of either Karl or the camera]

Karl: You say you’re going to take this title from me. Then don’t talk about it. Don’t lie and give false excuses. Do what you’ve thus far been unable to do.

Beat me. In the middle of the ring, make me tap out, pin me, whatever it takes for you to take this title from me. Because each time you open your mouth, with each excuse, all you’re doing is making people laugh louder and louder at you.

Can you hear them, Steven? The fans who have heard your words, seen you wrestle, and realised that the two don’t match. The fans who have heard you talk about not wanting it the last time, have heard you talk about how this time you’re going to actually put in some effort and beat me, and have seen time and again how Sensationally you’ve failed.

The same fans who are going to witness at Wrestleverse just how much you have improved. I’m hoping for a challenge from you, Steven – and, just in case your plan has been to lull me into a false sense of security, I’m going to expect one from you. Because I know that with the potential you have, and the limitless possibilities that life throws us, there is always a chance you can make good, finally, on your threats, and pin me.

Prove to me that you’re worthy of taking on the honour of being a champion. Prove to me and the fans that you’re not just a thug for hire, that you actually have some skills as a professional wrestler. Because until you do, I’m going to be looking back over my shoulder, at the castle that you call home, where Steven Shane is God-King – and, sighing, I’ll carry on up the hill, as the earth shifts and casts your fortress further and deeper into the valley. Because if all the people I’ve faced since becoming champion have been mediocre, then what does that say about you?

Think about it, Steven. Think long and hard. Give me something that I can’t predict.

Because if you can’t, then it’s going to be even more painful for you when you get Bitten again, the wound festering, filling with vile puss as the weeks and months go by, and the self-doubt continues to creep in.

It’s hard to be Sensational when your heaven has been torn from you and you see, finally, that you’re nothing more than a prisoner of your own mind, tugging at the chain of your own self-inadequacies because you’ve built yourself up to be so mighty, and been proven so weak.

[The sky starts to darken]

Karl: Remember, Steven – if you don’t beat me this time, you’ve only yourself to blame.

[Suddenly, the entire scene warps, as we plunge past Karl into the mirror, moving as if through a tunnel, a cacophony of sound filling our ears as the lights move faster and faster and faster past us until

We pass through the Eye of the Dragon, who is standing in total darkness, ready to go out to the ring]

Karl: Good luck, Steven. You’ll need it.

[FADE OUT]