-from the Grave

The Muse offered me the last word, but she can keep it. See you in the parking lot at the Cow Palace.

But that's a fight. Nonsanctioned. Is it going to be aired? I don't know, and frankly, I could give a shit. Let the reporters suss it out. That's their job. Guy looking like Jason Snow told me and some of us at a convention Colossus week that we generate clicks. Consider this a bone thrown for a summer bonus.

I'm sure all this publicity has Rose thinking that, come ReVival 52, my focus is going to be on The Multitudes. That I'm seeing her as nothing more than roadkill I'm just passing on by on the road. That this is a sign of disrespect, and something you can put on the bulletin board and get your team of KING all around as a unifier to try and 'shock the world'. You can do that. Please, be my guest. Get that dander good and ready. Put those extra reps in the gym. Envision my face at the end of your fist, or your boot, and what it means for what you set out to do. You have no fear, and you aren't someone to be pushed around, not by Ivan Stanislav, not by Nate Colton, not by RIA...and not by me. You're going to come down to the ring, buoyed to the ring with this mentality, this inner strength, this conviction, and do what people think is inconceivable.

I want you there. Need you there. You've won three in a row. Hell, in this jungle, that should put you in line against Kerry Kuroyama for the Alias. Hell, Daytona Diamonds is sitting there. Why not Don Winters? He defeated you, but development can happen in leaps and bounds. All those opportunities, the glitter of gold, they appeal to the heart. To the mind. And The Pariah...The Diamond...definitely understood that. More 5 Star Championships than anyone in history. An Almasy and a Jewel in the Crown. Nobody has finished in the top four more times in the Halo or the Murder Rumble. Two Universal Championships with more defenses in this era than the rest of the field combined. More wins in singles competition than anyone in the history of the greatest promotion in all of combat sports.

I'm the title you covet. The cementer of status. You survive me? You beat me? You're respected. Taken seriously. Feared.

I don't have time for meek challenges. I need ravenous hounds with blood in their eyes. I need the entirety of your being squeezed into the space when that bell rings. You want to stand up to Stanislav? No one, not even FLAMBERGE, harmed him like me. Nate Colton? He carries The Next Diamond as part and parcel with himself. With the richest prize in all of sports at stake, I took on and snuffed out the hopes of The Anglo Luchador twice. The stand you're trying to make, your actions, they too have consequences. You're not some arbiter, able to dictate where the lines are. You challenged me as some false leader in the face of Colton. You tried to run down and tear apart RIA.

This isn't a lecture; it's a summons.

Bring all you are, everything you are, to that ring on July 26. You're not the cherry on top. You're not some side show. The bell is going to ring, and when it does, I am going to hit you harder than you ever have before in your life. I will strangle every bit of air out of your lungs. You will try to move, only to find me as your shadow, ready to strike, ready to grab you and throw you up and down and across the ring. If you try to run away, I will chase you and throw you back into the ring and destroy your leg so you can't escape. You father faced me once before. All his heart for this sport, all his skill, his determination, he gave it in the ring that night.

Like father, like daughter.

That isn't expectation. That is mandate. Because if you don't come to San Francisco with all that, there won't be anything left of you to move forward. You have everything to gain if you beat me. You think I have nothing to gain if I beat you?

No. You're putting up the most important thing of all; your dream.

I can't wait to kill it.