2014.06.18: PWN - LEGACY - Call FEMA

It's a simple question... What is it that you think that you're gonna do?

Since I signed a contract here in Legacy, after being both the most talked about and most sought-after free agent in all of pro-wrestling, I've been reasonably quiet aside from a few exchanges on Twitter. I've watched and I've listened. I've been patient. But now I've got something to say, specifically to Alex Andrews and Ryan Hawkins. And it comes back to that one, simple question: What do you think that you're gonna do?

See, a few days ago Andrews came out here and he talked. He talked a lot. And when he was done talking, he left us with one simple message: He is not a jobber. That's what he wants you, the Legacy faithful, to know. He pointed out, quite wisely, that there isn't a soul in this would... not the Legacy staff, not anyone in the locker room, not the fans... who believes for a second that he and Hawkins have a chance at winning this match, and they don't. Andrews knows it too, and it framed his entire narrative, which is simple that, no matter what happens on the 20th, that he is no jobber.

Pretty telling, huh?

Let me put your mind at ease, Alex. Once you and Hawkins lose on Friday, and you are going to lose, no one is going to call you jobber. When King Kong trashed New York, no one blamed the citizens of The Big Apple. When Godzilla levels Tokyo, no one places the fault on the people of that great city. When a hurricane flattens the cities of the southeast or tornadoes pummel the heartland, or the wildfires burn on the west coast, no one tosses names at the people who live there... except for one: Victim.

You're just going to be another victim, Andrews. You and Hawkins both.

Because the term jobber is reserved for wrestlers who lost to other wrestlers, Alex, and that's not what is going to happen to you two. No, your fate more closely resembles the fate of the examples I listed above, and that's not going to change regardless of how many nicknames you hang around your own neck, Double-A. But since you obviously like nicknames so goddamn much, here's a few for you. An Act Of God. A Force Of Nature. The One Man Faction. Because the truth is, boys, that wrestling has never seen anything like me before. A true giant. 6'10", 425 pounds. Sure, there have been other men to call themselves giant... big, bloated obese monsters or tall, nonathletic towers that could barely move. I am neither of those. I am arguably the strongest man on the planet, I am an athlete and I am a warrior. Not to mention, I'm trained by a bona fide legend in Chris Legion.

None of that is self-appointed hype, Alex. None of that is good PR. That's all solid fact, set in stone.

So you tell me, as a guy who's entire in-ring repertoire consists of picking up smaller men and throwing them around the squared-circle, what do you think you're going to do when you come face-to-face with me? I know, I know... you told everyone that you're going to beat my ass, defy expectations, and steal the show. You claimed all of that somewhere in-between telling us that you're not a jobber and giving yourself a dozen nicknames. But what you failed to say was HOW you figure you're going to to it. Bottom line? You don't know. You don't have a plan, don't have a fucking clue what to do when you're in that ring against someone like me. Don't feel bad though, because you're in good company. Hawkins hasn't got a clue either... and neither does anyone else in that locker room.

The truth is, boys, that if I was just my size, you wouldn't have a hope. I've I was just this genetic freak, this evolutionary monster, you wouldn't have a prayer... nothing you usually do against normal opponents is going to work for you against me, and that would be the case even if I wasn't everything else that I am... but I am. I'm a product of The Machine, trained for four years by Chris Legion. I have a mind for this sport that would make me a lethal competitor if I was half my size. I've been trained as if I wasn't what I am, trained as if I was average, trained not to rely on the most obvious weapon in my arsenal. So when you ad that superior training with the natural gifts that I have, the whole dynamic changes. And it all comes back to that one simple question...

What do you thing that you're going to do?

Is it becoming clear for you yet? I come to Legacy Wrestling to do exactly what I've trained to do. Everyone I face will have to adapt to me, change their game in reaction to me, compensate for me and what I bring to the table. Every single wrestler in that locker room has to be thinking about how to modify what they do when they have to face me. Me? I get to just do what I do, what I've always trained to do. I'm the new constant, I'm the measuring stick here in Legacy Wrestling.

Facts.

So there it is. There's two of you, one of me, and even given that, you both know that there is only one possible outcome to this match. It's the reason why Hawkins has decided not to say a goddamn thing, and it's the reason why Andrews wants everyone to know, above everything else, that when it's all said and done, he's not a jobber. Neither has offered up any explanation for how they're going to beat me, while for me, the mission is simple. Overpower and destroy. It's not your fault, boys. Some battles are unwinnable, some monsters are unstoppable.

I am Bulldozer Brixton, and what happens next is elementary. You might as well call FEMA boys, because you're not about to lose a fight, you're about to be victims of a natural disaster... and regardless of how many times I ask the question, the answer is the same:

There ain't a damn thing either of you can do about it.