We're all destined to fail, Necron.  Nobody ever truly succeeds when it comes down to it.

You've done well in tearing apart my first line of meagre offence, but for what?  That's nothing but a Christmas cracker.  A small, short-term success.  I know enough about you to know that you just don't do 'short term'.  You're smart enough not to celebrate this early, right?  Of course you are.  We both are, believe it or not.

You're smart enough to so thoroughly dissect my opening statement, but I was smart enough to leave it there for you in the first place.  Acknowledge it or not, it was bottom-of-the-barrel bait - leftovers from my repertoire of ten years ago.  Like the blood-thirsty pike you shot right for it.  I would say hook, line and sinker but that would only be almost unique, correct?  Little monkey or not, I wouldn't want that, would I?  But, wait.  Even mentioning the cliché that I did in the context that I did would be contradictory on my part.  Oh, you've got me good here.  Indecisiveness is right.  Whatever should I do?

I've got it!  I'll instigate a vague and ambiguous rant, not focusing on anybody or anything in particular.  It works for you, why wouldn't it work for me?  As half-assed as my 'homework' so clearly was, teacher, I at least managed to pick that up from you.  Seems like a real time and effort saver, actually.  I'll remember it.

I come to you despondent and desperate?

That's what you've managed to deduce from my recent words?  I'm surprised.  Now, don't mistake this as being short-sighted on my part, but you really shouldn't look so far into everything.  Those leftovers I set out for you had a very specific purpose, and after hearing that voice of yours slash it apart today, I can't help but acknowledge the fact that said purpose was achieved.  And no, they weren't left out so that you could take that all-important look into my soul.  It was a lot, lot more simple than that:

I wanted to draw you out.

As I said, don't look so far into every little thing.  You'll know enough about me by now to know that it's once in a blue moon that I truly make a mistake.  Those words of mine, ripe for your picking, were as calculated as anything I've ever done.  I generally don't make mistakes and I generally don't wear my wounds on my chest...  Or channel them through something as ultimately impersonal as a promo.

I haven't extensively studied your history as it just doesn't matter all that much to me.  What does matter is your actions within the confines of a GZW2K1 arena.  The one thing that you've become known for, Nec', and I mean known for, is your deadly sloth.

Condemning you for it isn't my job, so rest easy.  The problem is that too many times I've seen you - yes, you, the one sees yours truly as half-assed - simply vanish.  Disappear from GZW TV.  Put in a poor showing in a match or simply not show whatsoever.  That's your business, of course, and I'm about as interested in yelling at you for that as you say you are in me, full stop.

The fact that you and I will wrestle at Crimson does, however.  And that's putting it lightly.  There was, yes, a time - a time quite recent, in fact - that I did feel dejected.  Now, before you give yourself a hernia over my sloppy debating and self-contradiction, think about one thing.  Just as you are, I'm a professional wrestler.  Just like you have (either in the past or right now, depending on which way you look at it), I've been handed some pretty flat 'gimmicks' over the years.   The no-feeling bit is older than GZW2K1 itself - and just as apocryphal.  Don't get in a twist about it.  Let it go and listen to me.

What I threw at you served its purpose, true and true.  The reason for your sporadic appearances on GZW screens is quite possibly (and quite understandably) down to a lack of competition in the verbal department.  I don't exactly blame you, but I felt compelled (and, dare I say it - MOTIVATED) to show you early that you were in for something different with me.  First things first, I had to show you that there was indeed life on my end of things.  Then I had to spin up a nice little monologue ironically as hollow as I never actually was in order to differentiate myself from your Tanners and Sevens.

The factor that I'm particularly proud of, however, was the flatness of it all.  As good or bad as it might've looked, it was all paper thin.  With your rebuttal you've proved to me that even that is enough to draw you out.  I'm not known for making groundless claims, but you obviously weren't thorough enough to learn even that and see that something was up.  Even James Tanner would've seen that there was something quite unlike me about the whole thing.  Not you, though, you went right for it and tore it apart.

A firm pat on the back, Necron - You can tear up paper.  Well fucking done.  You've dragged yourself out of the shadows and, willingly or not, been taken in by a world audience.  It's a scoop, Necron.  Nobody that actually wrestles me gets nearly as in-depth with me.  And for you, a rookie or a gimmick as far as they're concerned, to do it...  Wow.  Sensational.  Scandalous.  The fact that by arguing you were simply running a preset mill of mine hardly even matters.

You put up a fascinating argument, and I can assure you that the one-dimensional John Taylor of the mid-90's would be quivering in his boots after hearing all of that.  Not now, though.  Not at all.  Call it insolence if you must, but that's inaccurate.  By coming out of the woodwork and actually throwing words around with me - words that actually make sense - you've piqued my interest.  Have you got any idea how long it's been since I've felt this rush?  It feels like an eternity.  Seth Raide proved to be the double-layered brick wall of arguments and verbal sparring.  Jay Jameson was too stoned to even open his mouth and utter a single offensive word towards me.  In the last two or three months, that's as much as I've done.  Sad, I know.  The kind of thing that'd justify dejection and despair, really.  But I won't use those miserable months for that.  I don't.  These last months serve only as a warning of how truly evanescent the success every wrestler craves can be.

I've experienced that lull period firsthand.  I've just sat and listened as every clingy little twenty-something in GZW2K1 drags my name down further and further.  I won't dwell on it, though.  All that is is an incentive to get the fuck away from all of that as quickly as is possible.

I've said myself that success is a Christmas cracker.  Long-term success doesn't exist.  You've got to grab what you can and hold onto it with your life in order to succeed at the top.  Nobody knows that like I do.  The Cairnsies, Roots, Vyles and Vanderbilts tell me that my time is up or that I'm boring them from their comfortable little midcard divisions.  Foundation level wrestling and no pressure allows them to say what they like about whoever they happen to not like.  You're not one of them, Necron.  You actually know the kind of success that I do.

You know what it's like to be told by the smarmy little worm on the other side of the ring that they don't fear you.  It's why I played that particular card with you.  As much as you like to think that this is all a case of me having to earn the 'right' to come to you, it's not.  These days I'm hard to miss, Necron.  It's you that was tucked away under a rock or six feet underground or wherever.  It's you that from the start would have to come to me.  So I came up with the most simple of plans and got you out in the open.

There is no need for me to 'come back' to you, or to anyone, because I never went anywhere.  You think I've got to prove to you that I'm worth your time?

No.  I don't.  Do us both a favour and shed the remains of the superiority bullshit.  Six months ago you and I were mirror images - you at the top of WOWC and me at the top of GZW2K1.  We were equals.  Since then, for all intents and purposes, that's changed and not even you can deny that for now you've been dealt the shorter straw.  But I, for one, am willing to forget that.  It's proven that I'm better than just about anybody here, a couple of as-of-yet loose ends excluded.  Likewise your record in the WOWC proved that you were practically untouchable.  Unbeaten in singles competition, if memory serves me correctly.  Admirable.  That was then and there.  This is very much the here and now.

There exists no common link between the both of us, other than that we've both beaten James Tanner.  Nobody hasn't.  Talk of equals and superiors between us right now is just unsubstantiated trash-talk.  When you and I are pit against each other, no common link will be needed.  I'm not overlooking you, but I can wager you can't say the same back to me.  Maybe I'm wrong.  It doesn't really matter to me, as it's you that really hasn't proven a fucking thing here so far.  With me, you've got your chance to actually make something of yourself here.  By all means take it, but just realise that the prize resting firmly on your head will be even sweeter.

Mock my lordship if you like, but realise that that only drives me further.  You want to see some motivation?  Some incentive?  Something - one single reason that you should take me seriously?

Selfishness...  A (One last?) grab to rekindle the material success I've enjoyed - as briefly as it was - in the past.  I'm no Good Samaritan.  I'm no Saint.  I'll admit it openly: I will do what it takes to capture the Lord Of The Coliseum crown for the second time.  I'll put on Match-Of-The-Year-Contender after Match-Of-The-Year-Contender with whoever steps in front of me, just to remind myself what it was that fuelled my fire for so long.  Without intending to sound as though I'm writing our match off, Necron, it will certainly unfold as an excellent training exercise.  A win over Necron, arguably the best from the 'other side', leading into the qualifiers will shut a lot of people the fuck up. 

It'll tell quite a story when soon-to-be-defending Lord John Taylor begins the month of his professional life, 'warming up' against you, Necron, a dark horse for Lord Of The Coliseum yourself, while our World Heavyweight Champion Seth Raide valiantly defends against Nathan fucking Williams and Seven, right before his BYE into the tournament itself.  Quite a fucking story indeed.

In just over a month I foresee an entirely different landscape around here. 

Success is calling, Necron.  Apologies, but I've really got to answer this...

I'm the first to admit that it won't last in the long run, but at the same time I'm not prepared to bow out in my 'current state'.  I will retain my lordship and prove that I haven't lost a single step.  I can't not. 

It's totally possible that you and I will lock horns once again in the tournament itself, Nec', but for now your only choice is to sit back and play 'best supporting'.  I'm not overlooking you, I'm just being realistic.  I'm just calling it as it must be.

So, am I worth your time yet?

Yes or no, it doesn't really matter. 

I'm outwrestling you at Crimson and I'm walking out with my most important victory in months.

It can't go any other way.

The only variable is how you and I lead up to it.

Can I expect a rebuttal, Grim Harvester, or are you content knowing that you argued a moot point and haven't proved a thing?

Are you going to retire back into the shadows until Crimson, or are you going to try to make an example of me?

Try is the key word there.

As I said, we'll all fail in the end.

There's no harm in trying in the meantime, though...