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Okay...let's recap where Mr. Pallas left me off, m'kay? It seems he had a lot to say...I might as well issue a rebuttal before I get into my own words and thoughts. This is merely from the Storm Point of View. In other words, one that doesn't involve a head shoved up someone's ass. Now, I’m gonna address some of the things that have been said to and about me, and you people are going to show me the respect that I deserve. Exactly what now? Did you understand half the words I used? Like 'ubiquitous'? I'll say it even slower for you, just so you can pull out the old dictionary. UUUU....BIQ.....UQUIT....OUS. Now there, that wasn't hard, now was it? You’ve continued down the primrose path of yes-men and self-flagellation. Do you see any backup on my side? Hell, I can't help I convinced ole' Burke-O to start wrestling. He's a self-made man, and if I don't get that belt, he will...it's just that simple. You're the one who's got the blonde nodding and bobbing her head...no, wait...that's not to agree with you! When we started side by side in the MWA, we had no future. I knew it....I thought you were smart enough to know it too. I never said I was perfect, KP...but we've all got a future. Did I expect it to be parallel to yours? Hardly. I knew I'd get tired of carrying you. I didn’t have the desire to glad-hand and ass-kiss my way to success. All I had was superior wrestling skill. That's kind of ironic...since weren't we not only the top babyfaces at the time, but also the man taking care of the biggest villian in MWA history, Urban Q. Zombie? No, wait...we were only the guys with the hot girls, who played up to the crowd, and helped out President Fish when he needed it. We didn't kiss ass... You know what? Your anger is a gift to me. You make me stronger. I look out here and into that television camera, and I hope you feel your blood boil when you see me. I want to drive you to screams and when it’s over, I want you to realize why Nobody Does It Better. Nobody does it better because nobody can. Well, dagnabbit, take my anger, please! If you can find it. I'm a relatively easy going guy...you should know that. When I stare at my TV and see you, multiple things happen. I watch, I start to fall asleep, Ashlee wakes me up, and then I watch Sportscente, since nothing better is on. As far as "nobody" doing it better? We've been down this path before. If nobody does it better...I feel insulted, since I ain't a nobody. Let's recap this score, old pal. The Stormster: one victory. KP? Oh wait, that's a ZERO! You will try, you will bring everything you’ve learned and everything you’ve got inside that cannot be taught. What I have cannot be bottled and sold in stores...I'm just that good! Not to mention I've picked up a few new tricks even you haven't seen. You said I didn't grow? You'll just have to prove that as a fact, now won't you? You are a speed bump with complications, but a speed bump nonetheless. Wait...I thought I was Nobody? Now I'm a speedbump? This is the guy who wants to be champion? He can't even remember what he calls people! I’ll want you to answer these questions... But I'm out of school! I got my degree last summer! You want me to answer more questions? Well, okay... Can you handle knowing the truth? I know I can...can you? How does it feel to know once and for all that I, Kyle Pallas, took you past the point of no return? This sounds like a movie game! Here, let me answer with this...Go see Shrek! Dammit Kyle...won't you ask me something intellegent? And finally, I know you were looking for it.....but.....Did you even see it coming? I SAID SOMETHING INTELLEGENT! The answer to the question is yes. Why? Because you're so fuckin' predictable. It's the same old Kyle Pallas, ladies and gentlemen. Unaware, unevolved, and unable to carry a good match. To the fans out there, I apologize for that boring as hell interview...could I provide you with something else to watch and enjoy? *Fade into the scene. No lush setting, no fancy room. Not even a box. Just a set of ice blue eyes. Now zoom out...and spin. See the facial details, like the eyebrow piercing, and the new piercing under his lip. Zoom out some more...and see the long blond hair, with the brown streaks. Now spin around...and start with the same opening shot.* Jonathan "The Impact" Storm: Hello, Kyle. *Now we finally see the full picture. It's a church. An empty, gothic cathedral in an unknown town in this world. He sits in the pew, dressed in all black. Black turtleneck, and some baggy black cargos. In his hand, he holds a rosary, and he looks down. A solemn scene to begin this interview.* Storm: Y'know, Kyle...I've been thinking. There's something about the moments when the two of us are in the ring that makes people want to stay glued to their chairs. Then I realize, after looking around the arena during your matches, that it's because I'm in the ring. *Chuckles* I'm not going to sit here and badmouth you, nor will I preach to you like every other wrestler in the MWA. Besides, everyone else already does that. We could give the MWA a slogan of "All Your Evangelists Are Belong To Us". That's not the point I'm going to focus on, Kyle. I'm going to focus on miracles...or in your case, the lack therof. I want you to consider this. Since I've departed the company, I've won five World Titles, scored over 100 wins, and managed to become the best of the best in a tournament. That's called a Triple Crown, my friend. Wrestling me will be as close as you will ever get to one. In addition to that, I've gained a world of knowledge, another thing you lack. Kyle, I come to this church to show you that not even God himself can save you this time. Divine intervention just isn't in the cards...only one more victory for Jonathan Storm, and one more scar for you to bear. You see, whether you like to admit it or not, I'm always going to be a part of you. The man who made you. The man who pulled you out of that ridiculous guttertown you call Anchorage, Alaska, and turned you into the biggest superstar in the world. I mean, what were you doing before I found you? You were fighting the oh-so-threatening Johnny Suckerpunch. That's so damn marquee worthy, I might as well give up top billing to Scott Baio now! Kyle, you career is, was, and forever will be completely subpar compared to mine. Why? Look at it this way. Who held gold first? Me. Who's the man who not once, but twice, managed to beat multiple men in a match? Me. I've beaten ten men at once...and you couldn't even beat me. Kyle, tell me as many times as you want that I'm dwelling on the past...but my present and future are nearly identical...absolutely fucking successful. The minor details of your career? Inconsequential. You've done nothing of note to even mention. You couldn't survive without me, so you clung to anybody who would take you, finally settling on Angel. I've had the same person at my side the majority of my career. My wife, plain and simple. You'd like to believe the tale of the tape matches us up equally. That right to our very core you and I are evenly matched, or that you overmatch me. How very wrong you are...how very wrong you are. *Storm looks up, tilting his head to the side, looking to be in deep thought. He takes a deep breath and sighs, letting it all out. He speaks. Something about this next part makes everything sound more convincing. Like he has more conviction in him.* Storm: Kyle...all of the snide remarks, crude comments, and ridiculous insults will mean absolutely nothing when we step into the ring, because it's going to boil down to who has the better ring skill, not verbal, and that of course is me. You know...before I make you think that I'm completely heartless, I did get you a gift. It's the newest MWA t-shirt on the market, and it's one specifically designed for me. I think it's rather amusing don't you?*He takes off his black turtleneck to reveal another black shirt. The front is a picture of Storm himself. He turns to show the back of the shirt, and it reads "Nobody Does It Better...BUT ME. A smack in the face of his archrival, he turns back around and smirks. There isn't any compassion in his voice, nor any amusement.* Storm: Do you think I'm playing, Kyle? Do you think this is a joke? This, my friend, is hardly a joke. This is cold reality. It may be quite possible that everybody else in the MWA is superior to you, but simply put, I'm not. NOBODY is my better in this company, and I think you know that. I mean, you continue to make that bold claim knowing that I've defeated you...and you've never avenged that loss. I guess it's safe to say I own you, Kyle *smirks*. I guess it's safe to say this as well. Come our next encounter, you'll suffer a beating that's going to bruise your pride, your body, and your career.... NO GIMMICK NEEDED. Because you don't need a gimmick to beat somebody...and you certainly don't need any extra fringes to beat Kyle Pallas...it's just that easy. See you soon, Kyle. Say your prayers. *Storm stands up, and begins to walk off, dropping the rosary. As the scene comes to a close, we catch a close up, slow motion drop of the rosary falling. As the beads meet the floor, we watch it shatter...fade to gray.*
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