Intelligence

Subject: Intelligence Thu Mar 29, 2012 5:49 pm

Ultra Destroyer sits backwards on a chair, in one of the box seats of the arena. He overlooks the fans, who are waiting patiently for the show to get going. His music plays to the audience, who wait for him to speak.

I'm not the smartest guy in the world. Never was, never will be. Grew up hard, never went to college. Barely got through high school, the usual sob story you hear. Got married, had a kid, got divorced. All I had, was my body. I wasn't particularly toned or physically fit, but I was strong as hell and willing to use that trait to my full advantage. I was a bouncer, a bodyguard, a knight in shining armor for the rich and drunk. I got punched, kicked, stabbed, you name it. I lived through blood and heat and hurt, and I became a man who wouldn't take any guff from ANYBODY. And Benjamin Paul, you are trying very hard to give me guff. Calling me stupid, saying you'll beat me, saying I'm no better than that Sanctus guy you love so much.

Well you know what Benjy? Maybe you're right. Maybe I am stupid. But you know what I'm not? Untrained. I learned from the best in the biz, they gave me every tip and taught me every hold. Sure not all of it stuck, and yeah I mostly just use my pure strength to win, but I'm still one of the best hold-users, best suplex-throwers, best lock-lockers in all of professional wrestling! Yeah, I'm older. Yeah, I'm slower. Yeah, I'm a little bit pudgy. But that just makes me wiser, makes me more patient, makes me even more invulnerable.

I get where you're coming from. I get that you think you're the be all end all of pro wrestling. You're another one of those guys, thinks their God's gift to wrestling. Well let me tell you something right now, you whiny little sack of awfulness, God has nothing to do with this. No loving creator would ever put me into the ring with anyone, not if He wanted them to stay whole. I've broken men, I've driven them out of this career path, I've shown them the error of their ways. And that's what's going to happen this Friday. Because I don't CARE about your little beef with Aidan Raider, I don't CARE if you beat the hell out of Phillip Phillips (especially when everyone else is doing it these days). All I care about is what you are: a roadblock. A roadblock on my path to a rematch with William Black for the extreme championship. I need to beat you, and that's why I will. I'll End the World for you, because I have to. It's that damn simple.

I have to win that title, I have to beat you and I have to beat William Black, because I'm out of time. I'm on the verge of losing EVERYTHING, and I can't have that happen. I'm so close to happiness, so close to finally holding a championship, so CLOSE to proving myself! I've spent years, decades in this business and I have nothing to show for it! I've won no gold, nothing! No tag team titles, no hardcore titles, no United States titles, nothing! The closest I ever came was a tournament win in 1999, and I ended up injured and released because of that very match. The next time I got close, the promotion went bankrupt the night before the match. That was in 2002. In 2008, I had the champion on the ropes, beating the hell out of him, when the damn arena caught fire! That was about 2 weeks before the hit and run, so I never got my rematch. I need to beat you Benjamin Paul, so all that hurt inside me goes away. I need to win this match because if I don't, I can't live with myself any more.

I'm going to win, because I have to. It's not because I'm better than you, it's not because I'm stronger than you, it won't be a mistake on your part, I'm going to come out there and be untouchable. It won't matter how hard you hit me, won't matter what kind of submission you lock on me, it won't matter how many times you hit whatever move you like to finish matches with, I will walk out of this match the winner! I will walk out the damn winner. And I'm sorry. I'm sorry that you have to be the guy I'm doing this to, I really am. I am going to break you in half, and I hope you know it doesn't mean anything. This isn’t personal. This is just me, doing what I HAVE to do.

I'm bringing apocalypse to you Benjamin Paul. I'll see you there.

Ultra stands and raises his fist, as the crowd roars with cheers. Chants of "APOCALYPSE!" reign over the arena, and as the soundwaves reach Benjamin Paul backstage, a single drop of sweat forms on his brow. Tonight is his reckoning, and he knows it now.