Who's it going to be?

It could be anybody.

It will be SOMEBODY.

Somebody that I can beat.

I can beat any single one of them.

I will beat every single one of them, if that's what it takes.

Who's it going to be, then?

Vyle?  Mister American?  The God's Army fan boy promptly turned flaky nobody promptly turned American patriot and now apparently sufferer of schizophrenia?  Does this man pose a threat?  To a certain degree, of course.  Does this man pose too much of a threat?  Not a chance.  Vyle wears his most glaring of weaknesses on his sleeve.  That is, his little knack for somehow blowing his own chances in big-match situations.  Chris Cairns' Creation Trophy, Battle Royale.  Vyle's in the final five and he does what, exactly?  Eliminates himself by falling off a fucking ladder and out of the ring.  His two title shots to date: United States Heavyweight and Intercontinental Heavyweight.  A procession of no contests.  Beautiful.  Oh yes, Vyle poses a threat alright.  To himself and himself alone.

So what'll happen if he's the one unfortunate enough to be paired up with myself at Glory Through Honor?  He'll lose.  I simply won't let him pass.  It'd be bad for business.  Vyle's whole persona nowadays depends on his hunt for the US Heavyweight title.  It'd be an absolute disaster across the board if he got sidetracked with the considerably more prestigious crown of Lord.  He's skating on paper-thin ice even entering his hat into this particular draw, but from one not so proud American to a confused Englishman, I can assure Vyle that I'll keep him from slipping through these potentially fatal cracks.  Mister American in his current state doesn't belong up there.  I'll make sure he doesn't set foot anywhere near it if he should happen to cross my path.

It's the least I can do.  I'll say that it's a shame.  Why he - or the creative team - set his personal glass ceiling so low, that is the US title itself, is beyond me.  Regardless, he's a grown man.  He's made his bed and put all of his eggs in the basket of that particular, vacant, championship belt.  Far be it from me to defer him off course.  Vyle, if you end up on the far side of my ring at Glory Through Honor or indeed at the so-called Legendary Night itself, then rest assured that I'll have you back playing tag with Shane Ryder before you can say 'heavily limited gimmick'.

Next on the agenda, according to the memo I received only today for whatever reason, is our own Extreme Heavyweight Champion, Jon Kellar.

Human Dynamite.  Leader of the toXic Trio and capable of intercepting the satellites of a multinational corporation.  I'm physically shaking already.  To give the little bastard some credit, he has already tapped out to me.  He succumbed to the kind of defeat that only the Silencer can provide and made me Champion of Champions.  As makeshift an accolade as that was - and still is - it's still just one more notch on a paarticularly long bed post that nobody else in this entire organisation could dream of matching.  Of course he'll be looking for some retribution.  I mean, since he and I last met, he picked up that little Creation trophy.

I'm sure that felt good, picking up the win and representing a company whose existence he's surely too ignorant to even know of.  Off the cuff that man couldn't drop a single name from there that hasn't competed in GZW.  Not that he'd even know that.  Some champion he turned out to be.  So, he went from nothing to winning a Battle Royale and right back to square one.  Except this time he's got a fucking army at his beck and call.  IM-PRESS-IVE, Kellar.  Combine that with those classic, inaccurately rehashed Simpsons and Kenan & Kel jokes and you're really onto something...  Or not. 

You proved to the world that you're not in my league during the Champion Of Champions match.  Don't be stupid enough to do it again.

Normally I'd be courteous enough to leave a Prima Donna of Vernon Vanderbilt's stature to last, but I can't go upsetting the formula, can I?  No.  In Vernon is a man who in mere months has been skyrocketed to such superstardom that he is unbelievably the ONLY contender in the rankings for Seth Raide's World Heavyweight Championship.  So trusted was this youngster that GZW2K1 actually allowed him travel outside their walls and compete in an international - I'm sorry, 'INDY' - tournament during the summer.  Faantastic.  He entered as the next big thing of this company.  He battled valiantly against some big time players...as the next big thing of this company.  I really would love to say that it all ended happily, but it didn't.  That tournament did something to Vernon that ten years in GroundZero Wrestling couldn't do - It reminded him of his own mortality.

It reminded him that he was beatable.  That's important.  It's imperative to his long-term survival to truly know his limits.  It was my namesake, 'Neon' Leon Taylor that proved that to him, and for that I thank whatever it is that Leon is supposed to be.  The way Vanderbilt had been going, he wouldn't have been able to fit his head inside my Coliseum.  We wouldn't have been dealing with a man pretending to be a diva, we would've been dealing with the reincarnation of Marilyn fucking Monroe.  Thankfully, Glory Through Honor will see a very different Vernon Vanderbilt.

He's not the man he was going to become.  He's began to stall.  He's showing early signs of fatigue, weakness and enthusiastic decay.  The RoughKut final match was all it took to bring Vanderbilt down to Earth, and THAT is all it'll take for me to make him tap out.  Tapping and crying out, he won't even be able to tell what's hurting him more, the Silencer or his deflated would-be ego. 

New business, and we've got Chris Cairns...  Is this some sort of joke?  That Cairnsy is even getting a look into this thing is a travesty, but I can't help but be amused.  According to the man himself, I'm 'getting there' as regards being boring.  If he's the one poor fucker that draws me I guess I'll just have to prove him right by not giving him an inch to breathe, let alone crack a hearty British joke or three.  However, let's say he's paired up with a Kellar, Vanderbilt or Root...and wins...then I'll be a satisfied man at Glory Through Honor right off the bat.  Somebody needs to stamp a hard reality check across the foreheads of more than a couple of this year's entrants.  Sadly there just aren't enough hours in the day for yours truly to do that to each and every one of them.  Think of this particular Englishman as a controlled experiment.  I'll ensure that he doesn't win the thing, but I certainly won't cry foul play if he passes by an ahead-of-himself up-and-comer or two beforehand.

Very few words of offence are needed against double C, seeing how his own actions are sufficient in that regard.  He can dress up as me all he likes and pair me up with a white-wigged Bane, but after that last courtesy laugh has died down nothing would've changed.  All I've got to say is 'look at how far all of that got Sean "Magic" Fiery last year.'  Whether he trounces everybody else in the thing or not, he'll still have to beat ME to win it.  And that just isn't going to happen...

It's nice to see that I'm not the only LotC veteran this year.  Far from it.  My statistics tell me that I'm merely one of four going at this for a second time.  Nathan Williams and Seven will be shooed away later, but for now Zachary Sharp has piqued my interest.  Much like the aforementioned set of boobs, Mr. Sharp's record in this tournament is less than impressive, and certainly couldn't hold a candle to my own.  His prior appearance was in 2002, as he took on a soon-to-be Lord Deacon Kane in the opening round...and lost.  Mighty impressive for a man that has held this company's top title twice, surely.  He fell, early and hard, and that was that.  This year, I truly hope to have the honour of preventing him from getting even that far.

Come to me, Zachary.  Draw me at Glory Through Honor and then see what happens.  You and I really should've wrestled by now, actually.  It's a crying shame that we haven't already.  I beg of you, talk to your people.  Hang with Kandi and play footsie with Monarch.  Do whatever it takes to end up in the far corner from me on the 28th.  I want to be the man to prove to the entire world that the time of this particular ace was truly overrated and is now truly over.  Keep up the tango with James Corbin by all means; we all know where it's leading.  Just think of this tournament as a bump in your predetermined road.  

For just this one night, I'd be honoured to grab you by the scruff of the neck and show you what GENUINELY REAL Real Wrestling is all about.

Is there anything that even needs be said of Necron at this stage?  Whether Amun Ma'at likes it or not, I pinned that unbeatable monster just last week.  He brought everything I'd expected and more, and if he shows what's left of his face on the night, he'll make quite a showing for himself at GTH.  The only thing that sets Lord John Taylor apart from everybody else is that I know how to beat him.  Vyle, Quake and their nWo alumni may've spent months in his presence and for sure they know how to talk the guy up...  That'll do nothing for them at the end of the month.  Two victories over the Grim Harvester in as many matches certainly sounds tempting, and perhaps this time the doubters would simply cease to function.  See you soon, Necron.

Eddie Fever?  What?  It's a proven fact that recent debutantes struggle in the Lord Of The Coliseum tournament.  Jay Jameson fell last year in Round 1.  I've got little doubt that this sack of baseless self glorification will follow the format, should he survive Glory Through Honor.  Just imagine what it'd do for the child to draw the defending Lord this early.  His name would shoot right the fuck up in a heartbeat.  He'd quickly become infamous to most of the world.  But not to me.  In my eyes, Fever - or whoever - will simply be the second in a long list to fall to a rejuvenated Lone Gunman.

Some people...a lot of people...think that I'm past my proverbial sell-by date.  Bullshit.  I've been on vacation.  I've yet to reach that utmost peak, believe it or not.  Will Eddie Fever be on hand to support my ascension?  He'd be lucky.  It could just as easily be the man of a thousand heatless comebacks, Nathan Williams.  The Tyrannosaurus Rex.  The big lug.  Whatever he's called.

Last year he made his LotC debut and promptly fell to me.  This year he makes his sophomore appearance and has to be hoping, for his own sake, that he can at least make the tournament itself before tasting bitter silence once again.  He won't, of course, but he at least deserves a mention...  Right?

...Or wrong.  It doesn't matter to me.  Whether it's to me, Chris Cairns or Quake, he'll drop to his knees and succumb defeat and then fade right back to absolute nothingness.  The end.

Handily speaking of Quake, actually...  He's another one that could quite possibly give me something of a challenge.  He's a funny guy, I'll give him that.  Sun creamed title belts and his own brand of milkshake.  Fantastic.  He's a racist, male chauvinist.  Even better.  He's held the W.C.E.K. TV Title - itself a belt for up-and-comers - for months on end now.  This is all sounding just lovely, except none of it gives the Quake One nearly enough to match me.  The fact that he's held a transition title for what, half a year, speaks VOLUMES.  He's comfortable where he is.  He's comfortable with his segment slots and his courtship of Chris Cairns.  My advice to him would be to leave well enough alone.

He's comfortable where he is because of where he is.  His toughest challenges on a day-to-day basis tend to be on the level of Seven and Viktor Kovalex - GZW2K1's D students.  He talks a big talk because he's simply bigger than the rest of his peers.  By rights he belongs in a division higher-tier than that, but in reality he wouldn't last anywhere else.  He's carved too nice a niche where he is...  By entering this tournament he's thrown himself out of his comfort zone.  Big mistake.  A happy ending that will not make.  That said, I'd be lying if I said I were against his entry.  He just can't seem to forget the Champion of Champions match and exactly how it ended.  Let's hope you and I cross paths, Quakester...  I really wouldn't mind clearing that up for you, once and for all.

The GZW2K1 booking committee is a cruel beast.  Just when it seemed as though Seven had had enough of The Lone Gunman and had moved on to trying to verbally berate Seth Raide and Nathan Williams instead, the committee draws him right back in.  The potential of yet another match between it and I has to have whet his appetite and I'm really counting down the hours until he unleashes all kinds of speech impediment-fuelled insults solely my way.  Every time I've wrestled Seven in an actual match, I've won.  Every time we've been paired up in a pissy little throwaway, such as at the most recent Contest Of Champions even, he tends to pick up the victory.  That is, with all kinds of help through reams of technicality and bureaucracy.  To date, that moron hasn't come close to beating me convincingly.  I dare anybody to walk up to me and tell me it's going to be any different at Glory Through Honor.

Right at the bottom of my list is Amun Ma'at.  The Root.  The Crown Prince of GZW, whatever he thinks that means.  Wouldn't he be a nice appetiser at Glory Through Honor?  He never did too well against the LORD of GZW, actually.  Months ago he and I had a little heart-to-heart.  I gave that man advice and he took it, whether he wants to admit it after the fact or not.  A couple of months after that, we stumbled upon each other during the Contest Of Champions Battle Royale.  Lo and behold, it was me that cut that particular dream of his short, swiftly throwing him out on his confused little ass.

I say confused because he never is quite sure of who he is.  He's spiritual and honourable, yet he's got a potty mouth and kills Shane Ryder look-alikes.  He's a compassionate romantic with Mia Norrick, yet he likes to set off explosives in people's faces.  If he's foolish enough to think that in the months since our last meeting that he has somehow passed me out, then I guess it'll be up to me to sort out that confusion of his.  Up for putting that crown on the line, prince?

That's all of them covered as far as Glory Through Honor goes.

The bare fucking minimum.

It really should eat you all up from within knowing that that's all it takes when you're the Lone Gunman.

The Gunman that will be Lord.

For the second time in a row.

You're all far more beatable than you'll let on at this stage, but time will only play against you in this one.

I just can't wait to see the deterioration and the fatigue get to each and every one of you.

It'll be quite a spectacle, really.