Three dumb wrestlers, standing in Jackrabbit�s way� Three dumb wrestlers, standing in Jackrabbit�s way� And if two dumb wrestlers, should accidentally get beat� There�ll be one big dumb Talon left standing� in�. Jackrabbit�s�. way. Aaaaaahahaha! Oh, isn�t the whole wide world just alive with questions right now? I can feel them in all of your na�ve minds, bubbling away at the surface. Why would the rightful heir to the NLW World Championship hand his belt over to the undeserving, unworthy, uncomprehending whelp that is Nicholas Perry? There�s that naivety speaking again. Here�s where I differ from all of you bothersome voices. The Jackrabbit plays the long game! Poor little Nickyboy gave it his all at Stillbirth #2, he wanted a competition for the ages, a championship struggle to write home to Daddy Zack about. Instead he found himself staring into the gulf of my eyes with a rag of cloth in his windpipe and to the surprise of all but me- I� and I alone� got the Last Laugh. Hahahahahaahaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa. So why then would the Jackrabbit take the handy dandy mask off the boy and give him in exchange the NLW World Championship. The prize that I rightfully won when I pinned that bag-of-air Draco. Ladies and gentlemen, isn�t psychology a wonder? In Young Nicholas I saw something that looked familiar. A mind, open to any with a key, blank to any with the knife with which to carve on it. Just as Nick Perry loses control with each passing day, my stranglehold grows tighter. On Nick, on NLW, on Caelan�s throat! Hahahaaa! I recognize a vulnerability in Nick Perry that I have known. The clown of NLW, the whipping boy of OWF, do these things sound familiar Nicholas? And so in what would take Talon a four-hour speech to convey, in one single simple act I have bowed the Perry Boy below me by gifting him something that he can never win, and ensured he will forever be indebted to me. Because by defeating Nicholas Perry last week, I ensured he will never rightfully lay claim to an NLW World Championship. And so now he will spend this next ten days staring at the shiny gold that the Jackrabbit both took from him and gave to him, knowing both the gift and the curse. The title he holds is the title he will never hold. Enjoy, Nicholas! Aahhahahahahahahahahahahaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa! And with The Hellacious One and The Vacant One both beneath me, that leaves only one. Naturally, all paths lead to Talon. We are destined to do this forever, old friend. And it will be only too fitting that in the final match of Jack Sullivan�s inane Round Robin, you and I will meet one final time, and I will at long last lay you to rest, lay NLW to rest, and claim the vindication that is rightfully mine. A decade of humiliation, a decade without recognition, that redemption belongs to me and I will be damned before I let you take that from me again. DAMNED!! Hahahahahahahaahaaaaaa! Your fate is already decided, Enigma. Decided by me. I have slammed the brakes on ten years of running and with Mr. Haber at my side, we are closing the noose on you and your infernal brethren. Rest assured, old buddy old pal, we are watching. But before all the fun and games, the NLW brass have deemed it appropriate to throw me a bone. Dust off an old name to keep me nice and warm before my reckoning. Nikita Dolore. So you are to be my little gloves to keep my hands warm, my little pair of mittens. Well, my mittens, welcome to the funhouse. Whilst it sickens me that NLW would think to give me the scraps that Talon has already discarded, don�t think for one moment that I don�t appreciate what you are, Nikita. Or should I say, what you were? Hahahahahahaa. I imagine when you stare at me across that ring, you aren�t seeing the Jackrabbit, are you? You are seeing a litany of spousal problems and flawed relationships, broken homes and lost years. Lost to drink, lost to drugs, and lost to time behind metal bars. And you want to let your anger unload on them in the middle of the ring. That is your first mistake. Yes, Nikita, I have the resources of the Council of Knowledge behind me, so your dirty little secrets are a click of a button for me. Click click click. Tero knows much and is willing to share, at the price that only I can pay. So I know of your false convictions, I know of your failed affairs, and I know that when those NLW cameras stop rolling, you are a broken husk, sitting in your pajamas, lost in your escapist world of pixelated fantasy wars while the narcotics rot away the world that has soooo wronged you. When you look across that ring at me at Stillbirth 3, what Talon put you through at Stillbirth 2 will seem like a slow-dance. I will not just beat you, Nikita. I will strip you bare. I will strip away your false bravado, strip away your fighting fa�ade, and I will unravel your fate for you on the canvas. You will see your candle burnt away, the double-ended wick now ash in the puddle of wax that remains as your existence. Drip drop drip drop. You are done, Nikita Dolores, and it will take a moment passing to show you the finality that you seek. Don�t mistake my kindness for care, I do not. I will not. Unlike the images you flash upon your screen in your drug-hazed hysteria, my wars are real. And you are stood out in no man�s land, Nikita, and your only weapon is a shovel. Dig, Nikita, and keep digging until you hit six feet down. Ahahhahaahaaaa! Now lay down, dear, rest your head. Let me take away your suffering. Aaaahahahahahahahahahahahahahaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa! Oh Mr. Sullivan, I think there are some holes in my mittens�. Hahahahahaaaaaaaaaa!