Records, They Repeat and Break...
(Cue Up: "Whole" by Flaw. Fade into Golem, sitting in a wooden chair, his hand perched over his mouth. He mildly shakes his head and begins to chuckle. He slowly removes his clawed hand and turns to the camera.)
Golem: Bravo, old friend. BraVO. You accentuate your idiocies to create some sort of alternate reality where I am a nothing, a nobody. You can't feasibly believe the garbage you are spewing, can you? Would a worthless opponent have given someone such as yourself so much back then? No, I would hope not, lest you be falling at the hands of "The Lost Cause". You confuse my words, Jobber. I never spoke down of your wrestling abilities, you are truly a refined and capable opponent. It's your very existence that reviles Golem. You've played the part of the sister of Fate again and drawn yourself a mighty victory party before the lap of Golem. Well, old friend, time heals old wounds and I believe enough has passed that I can seal up a deep cutting wound from time gone by that still lingers fresh and wet with blood. You speak down on me for referencing Nevada or Maelstrom? You may have gripped yourself a pretty little victory over Nevada yourself, because, afterall stranger things have happened. Like you beating me, for instance. That was the sickening upsets to end all upsets. But, I was truly younger then and you get sick with age. As do the dogs of the hunt, Maelstrom and Unholy Alliance. Both shall see Golem soon enough, as he traverses your sorry existence. Indeed, battling you is a reminder of old failings and my step back in the opposite direction. All my recent woes, in fact, can be traced back to that fateful day. The way Golem sees it, if Jobber holds the tides of fate at the brink of tsunami, so too can Golem experience the thorough rush of fields of red herein after this encounter. You speak heresy, Mr. Jobber. You recoil and release your tongue in strikes that spell that I am not a big player? Why must everyone play this idiotic ruse on themselves? I am biggest player, the grandest player. I design the game and the rest of you vermin play at my toes. But you want to understand how I can lose if I make the game, no doubt. Well, you see, Fate is a game of highs and lows, depressions and grand impressions etched in stone. You say I am more obsessed with proving who I am than winning. That may in fact be so, but Golem believes that in proving myself to be the ender, the, as you so elequently put it, "last word in wrestling", he will also devour and destroy you. Victory is a hollow word in your dictionary, Jobber. You see victory as the one-two-three, whereas I see victory at the tip of my Claw, salvation of the sick and the wicked. Truest of true however is your definitions of my previous opponents. Troy Martinez, Chris McMillan, both substantially worthless. Mere dogs to be kicked aside as the stong strive to the top. But, despite as you try to intimidate me by making me think you don't care about this fight, we both know that is where the game gets interesting. It's the reason we put up with the speedbumps. You are the monument, birthed of blood, that Golem has come so far to see. You will see why I am not the runner-up. No, it is not because I am distant third or fourth. It is because, here and now, Golem shall take his seat that has been so deserved to him atop the throngs of peons. I do not look past you, Jobber, far from it. I realize that there may be no battle with anyone the like of Maelstrom or UA if I cannot hold my own versus you. You were the one who sent Golem to the ground and it is you who shall seal the wings of the eternal blessing once again on the one they call Golem. My past glories are exactly that, friend. The past, and nothing that I want to relive. For my future holds some things far more important and gorgeous. For Golem's ascension is at hand, Jobber, and your impunity steals nothing from it. I have not have obstacles in front of me. Last time Golem checked, his career did not start 2 matches ago. The Age of Golem has been birthed in eternal glory and bathed in the sunlight of time and reality. But soon, old friend, the rest of your morbid kinsfolk shall taste the tainted drink I furnish and enjoy true sanctity. I do not wish to have proven something. I wish to prove something, to open yours and everyone else's eyes to the true glory of Golem. You think that it can be avoided? Then, by all means, feel free to avidly resist. It makes the deliciously savage victory all the my sweet. Because you, Jobber, shall experience a cold day at the hands of the Clawed One. The Semi-finals is not the end of Golem. For the days end and the cold sets in, Jobber, and Golem shall be steadfast through to the end. 15th World Title...that's funny. Golem falling at the hands of your tiger driver? Ever so much funnier. Golem shall not fall to you again, Jobber. Past taints present but the future remains untouched, unspoiled by my previous shortcomings, ready and prepared to embrace the unseen Golem, the Golem who seemingly died so many years ago. Golem's life shall be baptized in your flesh and he shall awaken. And all the rest will just be frozen.
(Golem sets his back firm against the chair. He deeply exhales as the camera fades to the rush of darkness.)