MATCH PROMO Somethin' about the Queen tone that's bothering me


cd&p but also balls
Answers World Champion
EAW Hall of Famer
Grand Rampage Winner
Double down, now let's turn that into a triple, shades of Clemente on the diamond. You trigger me all right, Sarah, you triggered my next bowel movement. I hear you speak and I can't help but wish somebody else, somebody preferably far more patient than I, could play spectator to it. Sometimes there's no substitute and I've just gotta keep my feet in the shoes and adorn the clown's veil. In your hubris and self-flattery, you have convinced yourself that you're unique because you manage to elicit a venomous energy from Impact. But I think that's one of the biggest reasons we don't see eye to eye. Nobody takes more liberties with the truth than you, twisting and contorting it every which-way, at no point is that more apparent than when you say I've only hit these goons up with my oratory blessings, or for the unsophisticated "promos," more than once per week when I'm involved in a match either with or against you. You're a certified grade-A bullshitter, worst of all, you *know* you're a bullshitter, and a bullshitter whose last concern is factual accuracy. You get fact-checked and you can spew some nonsensical roundabout retort nothing-burger and have these cats eating out of the palm of your hand as if you didn't just blatantly lie to all of them. That's my problem. Absolutely nothing you say ever matters. While logs of my speeches are kept in what seems like it's the library of congress, everything you say amounts to a revolving door, in one minute, out the next. You're supposedly better than me yet in my alleged twilight I effortlessly manhandled you and Harper out of the ring just weeks ago. When you notched that countout victory, you couldn't even feel good about it, because you knew you didn't really defeat me. You escaped me. I answer questions that are asked of me, doubts that are directed toward me, not with periods, but with exclamation points. The sound of those answers reverberates through the belly of EAW. Every step and misstep of mine is monitored because I'm constantly a target. You're in a stage where you can misrepresent the truth and not only will people not check you on it, they will celebrate you for it. I challenge you -- and every other moron gassing your shit up -- to vet your little claim that I've only addressed my opponent once per week except when I'm competing against or alongside you for this entire year. You, like the rest of the memory-challenged EAW roster, are prisoners of the moment. Prisoners of narratives you have created that exist in the absence of even the most surface-level background check. You're lying to the people and they love you so much they'll still take it as the gospel, truth be damned. And yeah, I can concede, something about that just bothers me. Something about that doesn't sit well with my spirit. It's a demon lurking in EAW, using the collective consciousness of our roster as its host, feeding off of it to support its own life. I'm the only one with the balls to take on the task of the exorcism. The only one with the balls to call a spade a spade and speak the truth as I see it around me instead of deliberating what the most delicate way to phrase my issues are for the sake of not hurting anybody's feelings. The only one with the balls to tell you, mean it, and prove it every single time I cross paths you with you no matter what you say, you ain't shit. It's funny how you mock Justin Windgate when you're a gender, division, and a fleet of white knights standing behind your back away from actually BEING Justin Windgate. And Justin Windgate ain't bad. Justin Windgate's caught some bad breaks, snapped enough that he's a punchline in a Sarah Price joint, but have you earned the right to poke fun at his expense? Or are you just taking it freely because the masses have given you a far longer leash than you've proven you deserve?

I think about Justin Windgate. I think about his career as it began in 2010 and the kind of promise he boasted, his presence, his training in the industry before he became a professional. And I think about his hiatus from the company and what it took for Justin Windgate to get back to being the competitor he is today. It's still a trial-and-error process for Justin Windgate, but the blood, sweat, and tears he's shed is carried over from his past vessel. You look at a veteran who's struggled to get back to square one and the instant instinct of the self-professed Crusader of the PG Patrol is to guturally shit on them. Tear them down. Yeah, at Territorial Invasion, I'm gonna beat the fuck out of Justin Windgate, and there's no doubt about that. But Sarah Price? I don't know which artist's brush is painting on her, but you haven't earned those stripes. You haven't earned the right to discredit Justin Windgate. You haven't earned the right to dismiss him so carelessly. You think because of the adulation you receive from the crowd it entitles you to flippantly make judgments on those who have suffered hardship you have never endured yourself? Survived crucibles that you can only joke about because you've never experienced them? Because you're not battle-tested like them? Think again. Because at the end of the day, everybody's been screaming at me and I'm still singing the same tune as the birds flying around me just keep chirping, who the fuck is Sarah Price?

At my lowest, at my worst, I've never no-showed any event. I'm not even going to bother getting into sample sizes and debating logic with someone it simply doesn't compute to. I'm telling you, and everyone in this company and outside of this company that believes anything you're saying, very matter-of-factly - Not only have I never no-showed public speaking in this company, you can count the number of instances I had only one public speaking appearance in any given week against any opponent, throughout this year, or hell, even the last FIVE years, on one, maybe two hands. Just because you don't follow my shit doesn't mean you can go around flapping your gums making unchecked claims about me thinking I won't knock you into next week. "I'm not the only girl in EAW," what kind of girls do people seem to gravitate to most in our society, rat? The conventionally attractive blonde white ones. Serena Bennett's twice as talented as you, more articulate than you, and a better in-ring technician yet she somehow gets a third of the recognition. I can't qwhite put my finger on it. And it's still on sight for her, too. See, hunny? You ain't special, the lethality is dispensed indiscriminately. You're just the latest to catch the brunt of it. Your recent fame in this industry is born of your see-through girl-next-door personality, this "spunk" you show every week when you bullshit these people enough to justify fifteen Snopes "fact or fiction" articles, the hunger in the brass to coronate the female Great White Hope. Sure, it coulda been others in that division, but now you've been chosen, ball palmed firmly in your hand, with seemingly a larger margin for error than anyone else in the company if your Pinocchio promos are any indicator. These people are easily impressed and they're drawn to that kind of newfound luster I just described like a magnet. By the way, you straight-up made this shit up - the "Answers" in EAW referring to captivating crowds - good for you if that's your attempt to make sense of a fairly illogical name. Listen and learn: YOU don't get to define greatness in EAW. I define greatness, because I have literally lived it almost as long as you have been living, period. It's like those dweebs that decided they get to amend the dictionary because they want to make a word mean what they think it should mean that it never has before.

Oh, you're more fluent in German? "That's a bit meta," she says! Take your ass back to Comic-Con. You think that's going to deter me? It won't. If you're the leader you've gotta be giving clear instructions! Now suddenly certain things are off limits when they're not convenient for you? You're gonna have to ask someone to accommodate that request. Maybe go talk to Angela Merkel.

Nobody ever said you weren't a good wrestler or a good talker. That's where you've got me wrong, sweetie. I think you're a good wrestler! I think you're a good talker! I just know what your asskissers won't admit: You're not the best. You're not a leader. You damn sure ain't a Captain. Mark Macias? Good wrestler. Good talker. Just like you. But you know what's strange about Mark Macias's career juxtaposed to yours? The lack of fanfare. I wonder why that is. I wonder.

Summed up, all I heard was "because of recency bias I'm going to ignore the natural incredible all-world ability possessed by Mr. DEDEDE and Impact, poke fun at all their losses like careers sporting a combined twenty-five years should be completely spotless without any ups and downs, so that I can feel better about myself, as I jubilantly hop and skip on to the next!" But you let Sarah Price tell it, I must be deaf. News to me.

And I'm not lazy like Sarah. I'm not going to only address someone whose words stung and hurt my pride. I'm also going to address two people whose words have done neither of those things: Sierra Bradford and Harper Lee. I was chosen based off of nostalgia! You do realize how all of this is cyclical, yeah? I get selected and I'm an unqualified, past-his-prime nostalgia hire. Sarah Price is named Captain on the back of nothing else but recency bias. Nostalgia is the first arrow, then we arrive at recency bias, and last we all just debate who's argument is more merit-based. Inconclusively, of course. But I'm not with the shits, Sierra. I'm not going to get into a pissing contest against you and argue about my ability. Your willful ignorance does not constitute a burden of proof on my part. My ability was already demonstrated last month when I took Charlie Marr behind the woodshed. I fought Charlie Marr, but if we're being honest, fighting against Marr meant I also fought doubt, skepticism, and slights against me, those both real and imagined. Doubt, skepticism, and slights not just toward myself heaped upon me by others, but from myself. I faced the man in the mirror and in doing so I did what none of you seem to be capable of every time I tell you to stare back into your own eyes and perform that evaluation as I did: Shattered the mirror. Defeated him. Sarah Price mentioned my will against her enabled the kind of effort I showed out in tag team competition on Dynasty weeks ago. And that seems like an insult, but from where I'm standing I can't help but take it as a compliment. Because it's someone else confirming what I know for me: My will is indomitable. I simply decide on the snapping of my fingers if I'm going to win, and then I do it. I'd gotten lulled to sleep but I awoke, and I awoke inside the most comfortable bed I can possibly think of: The wrestling ring. Let's say ego is my biggest motivator, and then what, Sierra? My ego doesn't decide the outcome of Dynasty, my ability does. My ego doesn't decide the outcome of Territorial Invasion, my ability does. My ego doesn't decide anything. My ego is manifested in my personality and that alone. When I'm in the ring, my ego isn't an inhibitor. But you know what's a driver? Execution and ability. And that's a vehicle that I step on the pedal of whenever the fuck I want. Do you understand me? Or need I make that crystal for you? You say I'm releasing my anger. I beg to differ. In speaking to Sarah Price, I'm just drowning the person who opened the floodgates. She's going with the waves, and I'm going up. On an even playing field, in a match where I was paired with someone who gave more of a shit about defeating her compettion than defeating me, you would lose. I can't guarantee victory on Dynasty because I simply don't know what kind of carnage is going to unfold before me. I don't know if anyone's going to interfere and turn the bout into a veritable crapshoot. What I can do is focus on what I can control, and what I can control is my own performance. And I'm far more confident in my ability than you are in yours. Those are admissions we don't make because we want to maintain that tough exterior, we don't want to let anyone see us vulnerable, but I see it. I smell it. The scent of a loss, and winners in every stage of competition need losers for the game to make sense, that's how I earn cents, and since you're playing such a small supporting role for me in my career what am I going to be banking? Chump change.

You know I had to do it to 'em. Harper, lady, it comes as no surprise to me you see the events of last week's Dynasty as some sort of egregious offense committed against Sarah by Mr. DEDEDE and I. But did you hear the Queen's tone? DDD and I showed all of you just a taste of what happens when you disrespect us. But it's not an isolated incident. DDD and I have long memories. It's that trait that has been a great separator for both of us on the food chain through the years. We don't forget an opponent's strategies used against us. We don't forget their tactics. We don't even forget their movements they made against us. It's why the air of familiarity was so palpable in our famous clash at Pain for Pride 6 the world called "Match of the Universe." DDD and I are predicting your moves - correctly - before you've even committed to making them. I told you, Harper - I told everyone - while I know my words cut like a dagger with a jagged edge, I promise it's nothing personal. I'm still willing to put my differences with Sarah Price aside and form the kind of cohesive unit that's so dominant they constantly get name-checked by everybody in the EAW landscape. I use this platform to the fullest extent, and I don't want to breathe tainted oxygen so I simply air my grievances. I just want to make it abundantly clear to you and everyone else in EAW that when DDD and I win at Territorial Invasion, whether we partnered with Sarah or anyone else in the company wouldn't have mattered. We willed it. We shot for it. We hit our mark. I never said Sarah was going to be a liability, and in fact I just complimented her ability as a wrestler. I just know what all of you have a tough time stomaching: She's expendable. A cog in the machine, I could maintenance it and replace the wheel with any other and it'd still turn with just as much haste. We could replace Sarah Price with you and let Harper Lee be the honorary Captain at Territorial Invasion and still emerge victorious. You catch my drift? I realize I hadn't properly elucidated that for you, my sincerest apologies dearest Gertrude.

I've only been this way since DDD returned? Bitch, I've ALWAYS been this way. I continue to be shocked at how people who claim I don't pay attention, don't actually pay attention! And your message isn't aligning with Sierra Bradford's "your ego will be your downfall!" lecturing ass either. The well-oiled machine has begun to squeak. How pitiful. Oh, wow, you said Charlie and I would get between each other and cost ourselves the match? Tell me the winning lottery numbers, Nostradamus. You're patting yourself on the back for stating the obvious. The fact Charlie and I didn't win doesn't matter. I showed that I was more than capable of handling both of you two, simultaneously. Or are we seriously going around talking shit to people because we "beat" them by a countout when your opponent beat each other more than you did them? Goalposts shifting, I can already feel it. The hot stove is sizzlin'. When I said you were blinding yourself to potential insights, I was explicitly referring to the fact you're given more attention than your peers for no apparent reason. I touched on this with Sarah. You can't explain why you're given more attention, why you've gained more fanfare, certainly not because of your ability and talent, and then you wonder why you're getting bitterly namedropped by others who are overlooked in favor of you on the social hierarchy of EAW through absolutely no fault of their own. You wonder what insight you could have possibly missed. You don't realize how privileged you are to be in your position. You're taking it for granted. You used that word, "jealous." I'm jealous I'm not getting the title opportunities that you and Sierra Bradford have. Yeah, I'm jealous. Why the stigma? Insecurity exists in all of us. Insecurity drives us. Insecurity breathes new life into us and also suffocates us. Insecurity exists in everyone who feels jealousy - "Why are they taking everything where I am given absolutely nothing? Am I not good enough?" - I know I'm good enough because I've already proved it. Countless occasions, countless times. I proved it twelve years ago and I proved it last month and I prove it every single marquee I'm featured on. So... Yes? I'm jealous. I'm pissed off. I'm insecure. I'm jealous, pissed off, and insecure because I'm passed up on opportunities for wrestlers that I'm demonstrably superior to. Wouldn't you be? And that's a bad thing now? I guess the new wave is to just idly sit by and watch someone take your spot. Watch someone perform worse than you and then be handheld afterward while the rope you were attached to is cut with a knife. I couldn't give a fuck less about your tag team endeavors. But the principle remains the same: there's a lot of overlap in the bitter and hungry. And I'll sing till the cows come home, it's never been anything personal, but I am bitter. I've always been bitter. I'll always be bitter. No worries, sweets: It's dinner time.
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