“Does this guy ever make any f*ckin’ sense? Give me strength!”
He sets his laptop up again to record a response.
“Honestly, lad, ya need to clean out your ears next time. The only games I mentioned was in response to what you said about “if it weren’t for people like us”. And then you just decided to focus on one little word and went on this mental tirade that, in all honesty, fella, makes absolutely no sense. Especially that part about ye beatin’ Punisher because I scoured the HWA archives so I did and couldn’t find one match between the two of ya. So out of that extensive list of names ya gave us, you only actually beat two of ‘em and you can’t really include, Deas, can ya fella? After all, back then, every man and their dog had beaten Deas, he was the laughin’ stock of the roster, all bark and no bite! So really, the only one that list that you beat was Reaper. Now I won’t take that from ya, lad. Reaper was one tough customer. But then you start to actually gloat about beating up a woman!
Matt scoffs in an incredulous manner, mopping his face with his hand.
“I can’t honestly…this guy…ugh….mate, I’ll give you your props, you’re somethin’ else I’ll give ya that. Not many fully-grown men would waltz around boasting about their physical superiority after they manhandled a woman. But fair play to ya, fella, you do you!
He shakes his disparagingly.
“It’s like you live in your own little Maniac-Verse, fella, where everything on the outside doesn’t compute for you. You only hear what you wanna hear, lad. If you actually think I don’t take what’s goin’ on between the two of us seriously, did my elbow into yer face back in Chicago not smash into your temple hard enough? When I knocked you unconscious and dipped yer head in that toilet bowl, was that not serious enough for ya, lad? I know how serious this, ya f*ckin’ muppet! When you tried to run me over and kill me with that f*ckin rent-a-bus, the message was pretty f*ckin’ clear, lad, so it was! No, Maniac, I’m a serious as goddamn heart attack, so I am. See the Irish have this reputation of being dim-witted, slow on the uptake, all that cultural-appropriation malarkey. But you know what? The Irish never forget! We’ve suffered a lot in our history and it taught us a lot of important lessons and we’ve always vowed never to forget when someone tries to make an example out of us.”
Matt feels his heart racing as he talks, his voice growing louder with more conviction with each statement.
“So, you wanna come to Havoc and try to end my career? End Jeremy’s? Go ahead, that’s fine, fella. But I know you won’t do it. You’ve lobbied far too long to want to humiliate me in that precious Asylum of yours. No, at Havoc, we’re gonna beat the shite out of each other in a traditional wrestling match because you know, if I go into that match at Art of War in anything less than the best physical condition I can, any scenario that plays out with you as the victor won’t mean shite if you weren’t able to beat me in your signature match with me at one hundred percent. I imagine that would be pretty embarrassing wouldn’t it, lad? Hmm? Having to go into a match you’ve made famous and deliberately wanting me in at less than my best so you can have an easier time of it. That’s not the Maniac old school HWA fans remember is it? No, that’s the 2023 Maniac, too much of a f*ckin’ shitebag to fight a man face-to-face, always looking for an easy way out.”
Matt utters a snort of derision from his nose.
“Oh by the way, enjoy Dublin, lad, it’s crackin’ this time of year. If you’re really insistent on meetin’ my family, I highly recommend Glasnevin Cemetery, that’s where me ma and dad are buried….ya f*ckin’ idiot.”
Matt shakes his head again.
“Do your f*ckin’ research next time you try to pull a fast one like that, fella, maybe save yerself a couple of hundred bucks. You coulda used the time you’re own the flight to be prepping for our match or helping your new protégé. But nah, let’s just decide on a whim to travel halfway round the f*ckin’ world to try and intimidate your opponent by threatening their family who’ve been six-foot under for the past five years. You’ll probably only be about two hours into your 10-hour flight so when you land in Dublin, think about things before you open yer mouth again, fella, because, with the greatest of respect, if I really wanted to hear an arsehole, I could just fart!”
Matt smirks before closing his laptop and the scene fades to black.
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