"But I tell you, in this you are not right, for God is greater than any mortal. Why do you complain to him that he responds to no one’s words? For God does speak now one way, now another though no one perceives it." (Job 33:12-33)
(Senester): Gentlemen, forgive my delayed response but there are far more pressing things in this world than you. In any event…I suppose social etiquette calls for congratulations for your Tag Team Championship win at Road to Ruin. Although, I must admit...I am hard pressed to identify anything of note to congratulate you on. You won the belts from two men brought together by Wild Card tag team rules. Stu-E Price who won the titles like a kid picking a prize out of a Cracker Jack box, and his partner, Freddie Styles that was forced to team with him by mere selection. Be it truth, or simply saving face… Mr. Price has attested to not even wanting the titles. I can imagine he wanted them just as much as Freddie Styles wished to be his partner.
He pauses…momentarily thinking of countless failed teams in the history of the tag team titles. Some in wrestling history never even to hold the belts.
(Senester): How hard do you really think Price and Styles fought at Road to Ruin? Why do you think Shevington scheduled it as the opening match? Even she knew they would just be going through the motions. They displayed a few signature moves to give the impression that they really gave a damn, but it’s obvious their performance was indicative of two men simply looking for the easiest way out. We are speaking of two capable men who simply chose to be otherwise on this occasion. Sadly, this scenario speaks volumes about your little duo. While Price and Styles gave so little of themselves in this match, you on the other hand were giving it your all. Your full throttle performance against their lackluster presentation simply means you’re barely average in the ring. Therefore I say again…there is nothing for me to congratulate you on. There will be even less to commiserate at Havoc where Mrs. Shevington in her infinite wisdom, has marked your deprived names next to mine in a handicap match.
Senester scoffs at the very idea of two commoners braving the squared circle against him.
(Senester): You claim to be prepared, but you are far from it. You two should understand what you are getting into, so you can have some realistic expectations of what is going to happen. After all, the last time you had a handicap match… Michael James sent the two of you packing where you’ve only just recently resurfaced. I am not Michael James, and while it may have been enough for him to simply out-wrestle you, and in defeat humiliate you to the point of retreat, I simply wish to bring you to your knees. At my feet you will know your place. I wish to lighten the burden of your illusions mankind has placed upon you through the way of pain. Suffering is a doorway to the soul gentlemen and the human body is superbly malleable. I can break every bone in your body without killing you. I can leave you a lump of immobile flesh in the center of the ring, beyond the point of regretting your blasphemy, beyond tears and pain, and beyond the point of wishing you were dead. I can leave you there as the world watches your lips move in prayer, begging me for salvation.
Don’t think you are stepping into the ring for a casual confrontation…to “walk” through me as you propose to do. You should season your words more carefully because I will make you eat them. I will choke you with them. I will tattoo them on your flesh with wounds of my wrath for you to reference in humility until the day you die. You are stepping into my world gentlemen, my arena, my ring. You can toy with the name of God in your back-woods farm fields all you wish but what you’ve marked in flame is your willing signature of surrender to the almighty. It is a signal to the heavens that your bodies are ready to endure this trial. How bravely you test yourselves, and how blindly.
Senester looks at Dark Horse satellite images of the farm field that Heckler and Kosh had burned.
(Senester): Then you have the impudence to look past me to Shakir. He who is the epitome of sacrifice, of selflessness and devotion. I have baptized him with holy waters that poured over him, and you two think you can claim his scalp in the barbaric ways of your wretched ancestors? It is not the will of God, therefore a fool’s errand you undertake, nonetheless I will give you what you seek. Shakir can pick apart what I leave of you in the ring after our match and do with you as he then pleases. At Havoc, your laughter will be replaced with expressions of agony, but I promise to leave your knees in tact…you will need them to bow to me.
End Transmission
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