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This is it for me. Every moment before now has been just that; a
moment leading up to now. Every time I have been overlooked, every time I have
been laughed at or abused or victimized, it was all for this Sunday. Quest For
The Best. Nobody in their right mind is expecting the
Jackrabbit to walk out of Quest For The Best with that trophy held over my
head. I am the pauper in the rags, hawking his boots for scraps. Nobody sees
that the pauper is a prince, nobody sees that the prince will be a king. Nobody
sees it until they are kissing those boots he once sold to them. Look into these wilds eyes, do you see the
difference between me and the seven other men vying for this prize? Do you see
the hunger? I need this, but I need it for reasons that are lost on the other
men. They fight for glory, they fight for recognition� they fight for a gold
trophy and the chance to book themselves a World Title. I fight for something greater. Something pure.
Something raw. I fight to destroy a plague. Not the Plague that I put down last week,
despite his very best efforts. I did not go to the absolute end of my tether to
beat Plague just because I want to call myself The Best. Plague and I tore each
other apart because we both know the same truth. The Movement must be stopped. Look at all the other men in this tournament,
shall we? Let's take a little peak at the smiling mugshots that the OWF is
pinning on badges right now. Vote for your man, they say. Choose your corner,
they say. Vote Holloway. Vote Perry. Vote Williams. The so-called heroes of the OWF have failed, but
it's not for the reasons that Kid Dynamo will have you believe, in his vain and
flawed effort to make the masses embrace him again. Kid Dynamo is a fading
memory and he hopes to borrow your white horse and your shining armor and ride
against the Big Bad on your behalf. What Dynamo has failed to realize is that the
OWF does not need noble steeds and polished shields. The heroes have failed
because the Movement do not play by the usual rules. They do not storm your
castle with hellspawn or kidnap your damsels and tie them over the volcano pit.
They are not evil. Because a virus knows no good nor evil. The heroes have failed because there are no
villains. The Movement have walked the trenches that Zack Perry dug before
them, and they have politicked themselves into a position of power. They have
painted their banners with righteous intent and they have subverted the
Outsider Wrestling Federation that we all knew. They have dubbed our company a
cancer and scratched away the things we love with a scalpel, calling it a cure.
And they did it so slyly that nobody even noticed. Nobody except me. From the very first day that EJ Slayer announced
the birth of a Movement, the Jackrabbit has stood against him. For long months
I was beaten and humiliated for my opposition, and you all laughed. You all
joked. Look at the circus freak tripping over his shoes. Look how EJ rubs mud
on his face. LOOK AT THE FOOL BLEED! But I bled for you, OWF. I bled for you, Nick
Perry, Jesse Williams, Doc Holloway. Each of you will reach for the finals of
this tournament because you feel it is your right. But the Quest for the Best
is not my right. I don't belong. And that's exactly why I'm going to
take it. Because you cannot be trusted. I told Plague last week that he could not be
relied on to beat Talon, that he could not be relied on to reach the finals to
beat Adam Wilson. That truth is not reserved for Plague. Jesse Williams. Nicholas Perry. El Tocino Azul.
The Freedom Kid. You all fight with honor and you fight with valor, and that is
precisely why you cannot be trusted. You have loving families and loyal
friends, and that is why you cannot be trusted. You all fight the so-called
good fight, and you fight it well. But this is no longer the good fight. This
fight is dirty, it is nasty. There are no winners, there are no losers. You
cannot be trusted to defeat the Movement, and you cannot be trusted with Power
Hour. You see, Talon and The Savior don't even have to
win this tournament to win. Their rotten tentacles are so deep inside all of
you that with just the meekest whisper, Talon will have you booking the Power
Hour to satisfy his goals. You will think it was your choice- The Enigma will
have you believe that you have booked the show to give the Movement the
punishment they deserve, to give the fans what they desire. And before you even
open your innocent blinking eyes, Talon will be holding the World Championship
over his head. And in that moment, Chase Johnson will belong to the Movement. You are each great competitors, you are the most
talented pro-wrestlers that the OWF has to offer. Jesse Williams fights for
family and legacy. Nicholas Perry fights for honor and glory. Doc Holloway
fights for righteous justice, El Tocino fights for his mentor. The Freedom Kid
fights for his country and� well, should I say for freedom? The OWF doesn't need pro-wrestlers. I fight to destroy Adam Wilson. I fight to
destroy Talon. I fight to save the OWF. But to have any hope of making Power Hour what
it needs to be, I must lock gauntlets with the only bane that my career� that
my life has ever truly known. The Enigma. The Hunted Turn Hunter. Talon. How fitting, old friend, that we should meet in
the quarter-finals. Too perfect an effigy it would have been for us to meet in
the finals. But imperfect is how we have always been. Whether they called us
Brethren, fighting beside an unlikely ODJ to maintain control of the ICWF, or
they called us Fusion, decimating opposition in the HSW and NLW to prove to the
world� no, to prove to ourselves, that our friendship was the greatest union in
the history of this sport. You now belittle what we achieved, my friend, but I
still taste the elation it brought to us both to end team after team, knowing
that nobody could touch us. We were dominate because we were friends, a union, because
we loved one another. Because I loved you, Saul. But for all that love, it was never perfect. We
had all the gold, but the Jackrabbit never had the friend that understood and
treated me like an equal. We had all the gold, but Talon never had the best
friend who could bring purpose and pleasure to a meandering life, who could
make even the most boring of your dusty tomes into a game. And now you are
alone again, and you return to your Stephen King tower with your carbon copy
students, each as bland as the next, watching the ink dry on your latest
endless compendium. Is that why you seek me now, Talon? I've felt
you hunting me, felt you smearing your stale odor across the rings that I have
long-since finished doing battle in. There is a reason you cannot find me, old
friend. Because you do not know me. You were so familiar with the Jackrabbit that
you destroyed at Brawltopia. It was like kicking an annoying habit. But I am
that man no longer, Talon. What you see before you at Quest For The Best is not
the laughing skipping circus fool. It is not the Unorthodox One, it is not the
Jackrabbit of old. It is the Lunacy Act, it is the Killjoy, it is the
Fatemaker; I am Unchained, and I have already patterned a future for you and
your Movement lackeys. No longer do I walk in your footsteps, no longer
do I ride your coattails. I am reborn, Talon, on a new path. A path to victory,
a path to success, but most importantly I am on a path that goes THROUGH YOU. I have spent six months living the re-runs of
Brawltopia, feeling Death From Above over and over AND OVER, hearing that three
count over and over AND OVER. Understand, Talon, that I will not relive this
moment again on Sunday. I am rewriting history at Quest For The Best, I am
evening the tally between you and I, and I am doing so to snatch my place in
the semi-finals. You have denied me before, old friend, but I am
denying you now. I am denying you because you have laid waste to my home,
stirred poison in my world, and I� I who know you the best� cannot stand idly
by and watch. I am ending the Movement at Quest For The Best, Talon, and I am
doing it to give me the power that I require to rid the OWF of your toxic. When
I gain the opportunity to book Power Hour, it won't be the event that everybody
wants to see. It won't be MoxieMania or Nickaplooza� it won't be Piter's PPV II
or Jesse Appreciation Night.. It will be the Power Hour that the OWF needs. It
will be the end of the Movement. I won't do this because the Jackrabbit hates
Talon. I will do this because the Jackrabbit loves the OWF.
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