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Post by the Hive on Jan 1, 2021 17:53:54 GMT -5
Match Five: The Iconoclast versus Spooky Scary Skeletons Gabe Reno has a proven track record in Sanatorium. His new partner, not so much. The Skellies have proven to be some of the top wrestlers of the show, despite their comedic exteriors. We don't know how well either team witll do at Shogun yet, but they'll have another taste of each other at Sanatorium.
Roleplay Deadlines:
Friday, January 8th, 2021 at 9 PM PST, 12 AM EST, 11 PM CT(US)
Saturday, January 9th, 2021 at 5 AM(UK)
Roleplay Limit
2 RPs, up to 1000 words apiece
OR
A single RP, up to 2000 words
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Post by Deleted on Jan 5, 2021 22:15:32 GMT -5
ιƈσɳσƈʅαʂƚ
Presents
A Radical Production
ӄɨʟʟʝօʏ
A graveyard takes focus outside of a large manor somewhere in parts unknown. Two masked spook-sters are emptying the contents of a dugout hole below a tombstone late in the scary night. We zoom out from the shot as a pair of binoculars lower, and our Icons lay on a hill covered in camouflaged jumpsuits and face paint. Reno in black and brown. Chaos in bright green and blue. Reno sighs, looking back down at Chris' overly bright choice to go incognito.
"You know the idea is not to be seen, right?"
CC rolls his eyes at Gabe.
"Yeah..."
Bashfully, Chaos turns away.
"Okay then why the fu-"
He turns back semi-confrontational.
"It was on sale, and the chick reminded me of Jenny! Okay!?"
Gabe's eyes widen, he drops it.
"Oh for fuck sake..."
"So- what do you think they are taking?"
Reno shakes his head.
"Bodies, it's a grave."
Chaos glares.
"Right, I mean, why?"
Gabe points at their flower van in the cemetery parking lot.
"See that pink van? With the Killjoy sticker?"
Chaos catches on.
"Yeah, total cover... so what?"
A tear streams down Reno's cheek.
"Gabe? What's wrong? Gas?"
Rubbing his tummy, then shaking his head.
"No. I mean yes- but, no."
Deep memories flood back- radically.
"It was July, a warm day in Spain the first time I saw it. I was scoping out an opponent in XWF... one named... Chaos. Anyway, that van with that Killjoy sticker was sitting outside a salon I'd followed you to. I found out later that they had been hired to kidnap you. To put you out of commission before the cruise ship title match..."
Chris loses his shit.
"WHAT, THEY WERE GONNA TAKE ME FROM ALBERTO OLMEDO'S BEFORE MY PRIMPING!?"
Reno comfortingly grabs his forearm.
"This is why I didn't wanna tell you, I know how much you love the samurai sword cutting shit."
Chris insists.
"He's a modern day Picasso, Gabe!"
Face palm.
"OKAY, I GET IT."
He scowls at Chaos, then gets back to the point.
"Anyway, at the time I imagined that they were lizard goons sent by Nixon. So I just played it fast and loose. I cut them off because no one was taking that title opportunity from me, not even reptilians..."
Puzzled look from CC.
"Is that even a type of..."
Reno's hand covers his mouth.
"Not now, I'm almost done. So I cut them off, and they gave me that cold slimy alligator glare."
Staring off into their eyes, still in the present.
"Okay and then what happened? Gabe?? GABE?"
Snapping back to reality.
"Oh- uh, nothing, they sped off, and you came back out later, I followed you home and put notes in my game plan for our match."
Chaos grabs him by the shoulder.
"So let me get this straight! You took notes! After saving my OLMEDO APPOINTMENT!? YOU DO CARE! THANK YOUUUUU!
Awkward hug. The spook-sters start the flower van as the Icons look at each other full of intention.
SO you like getting spooky? Scary? What about Radical? A little sprinkle of Chaos? Not humorous enough for you Hugh Merus? What if we break your clavicle Mike Lavicle? Shogun wasn't enough for you two goons? You really want to see the icons again so soon?
Suit yourself.
Hey, it's your funeral. Well, ya know, again.
Sanatorium is a different environment than Japan.
You don't have cells, two rings, or other teams to use as canon fodder to protect you two spook-sters. That van did look awfully familiar, and the sticker on the back did too. I couldn't place it until I remembered my first WWH press event when that grotesque looking leader of yours showed up driving it. I was getting my gear out of my trunk when I saw a grim looking flower delivery guy enter the lot. When he got out he wasn't carrying flowers, he was carrying a duffle reading "skellies" on the side. I didn't know who the fuck you were then. But I do now. You're the sad scary fucks we have to bash in the face with a tire iron if we have to in order to walk out of Sanatorium with this W. We didn't reunite the Iconoclast to let two low grade pieces of skeletal remains take us to task. I hope neither of you are low on bone marrow, because we have plenty of spook-laced calcium in our iconic diets...
Your appetites look a little... scarce. Your craniums seem concaved in places we haven't even made imprints yet. Your asses are boney. Your elbows gangly. Your wrists super pebbly. Gross. I can't speak to what you two are eating, but whatever it is appears to be a product of skeleton inbreeding. Try some calories. Try some go-gurt. A fast taco? Some magic beans? That would give you a better shot in this match. Spooky magic. Maybe a little grave robbing to find the right rotting Witch Doctor corpse? Am I getting warmer? Can your bodies get warm at all?
I bet even your wardrobe guys starved out.
Well, no matter what scary swerve you're planning with your tactics, we will see through it. We didn't become World Champions by letting some fragile remnants of wrestlers strike fear into our hearts. We also have hearts, which appears to be a plus. That's what separates you from us. Passion, feeling, and the ability to buy jump suits too bright for our stated purpose. To some it may seem ridiculous like a lost cause. But to me, it's just simply Chaos. You'll see what I mean. You may get distracted by what he does, but he also delivers in the fucking clutch. That's what this heart loves. Maybe when we're done disassembling your parts we can teach you about brotherly love. If you both submit early we can even piss on your graves from beside you instead of from above.
From Gabe, with love.
(WC#999)
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Post by skullandbones on Jan 7, 2021 19:20:30 GMT -5
Co-Written by Mike Lavicle & Hugh Merus
Sitting in their cells, we greet Mike Lavicle and Hugh Merus. The Spooky Scary Skeletons in that classic Sanatorium aesthetic. The stench of days old beef stroganoff wafting through the ventilation, giving Merus sweet sweet clues as to what they can expect for dinner tonight. It’s not even quality stroganoff either. It’s the kind of noticeably bad quality beef that was probably expired already before a local Sam’s Club sticked a “Discounted for quick sale” sticker on it. But of course, ever the resourceful Warden Eden would spare no expense for bad beef for her inmates. Probably why WWH has invested so much hype and resources towards playing up The Iconoclast pairing of Gabe Reno and Chris Chaos. And feeding the Spooky Scary Skeleton’s to them in a move that’s sure to make the new guys look like a million bucks.
But they couldn’t concern themselves with that at this moment. No, for the bone brothers were locked in a deadly match of skill and tactical savvy. Playing on the concrete with unsleeved Magic: The Gathering cards. This isn’t an iPhone 12 camera resolution. We can’t quite see the actual cards being slammed down and skiffed of their quality with no concern for their value at a later time. But from the looks of things Mike Lavicle is playing some variation of a deck that uses White magic cards and colorless “Artifact” cards. While Hugh Merus has the resources of Black and Red mana, in an archetype traditionally played as “Aggro”. Hugh is just finishing his turn. Hugh Merus: I play Daretti, Ingenious Iconoclast. I give him a loyalty counter and create a one-one construct with defender. Your move, Kaiba. Lavicle sighs as he draws his card for the turn. He shrugs his shoulders non-chalant while proceeding with his turn. Mike Lavicle: I really wish you’d stop calling me Kaiba, Hugh. We’re not playing Yugioh. Anyways. I play Ornithopter. Drop a Glint Hawk. Bounce Ornithopter back to my hand. Play Ornithopter again. I have 5 counters on Quest for the Holy Relic. I sac it, fish for an equipment card and put it directly into play attached to a creature I control. Hugh’s eyes light up from behind his clothed skeletal mask, as he leans in to see what’s going to happen. Hugh Merus: Ooohhh! What are you looking for there, Kaiba? Argentum Armor? Sword of Sinew and Steel? Oh oh oh! Is it- The lankier skeleton smoothly slips the card out of the deck and skims it across the concrete flooring, utter disregard for the cardboards conditioning. Mike Lavicle: ...Batterskull. Hugh squeals in delight they both turn and stare at the direction of the camera filming them with an awkward pause as if waiting for the applause to the low hanging fruit of a reference to be piped in any moment. Mike turns back to the play area, resuming his action. Mike Lavicle: I attach the Batterskull to my Ornithopter and attack your Iconoclast, destroying him. Hugh chuckles at the inexperience of his older brother. Hugh Merus: Not so fast there, Mikey! Your Ornithopter doesn’t have haste. So he can’t attack this turn! Now watch as I use the Heart of the Cards to achieve ultimate victory! Merus then encircles his thumb, index and middle fingers across the top of his “library”. He hums ancient magic granted to him by the Cats of Uthar to overcome any challenge. Hugh Merus: Meka Leka Hi Meka Hiney Ho! He then draws his card and if you could see a smile there behind his mask, it would be a mile wide. Hugh Merus: Haha! Prepare to meet your maker, Mike. For I summon, the Chaos Orb! I flip this card from at least one foot in the air. And if it turns at least once, it shall destroy every card it touches upon landing! Merus was a little TOO excited on the execution of this move however. Lunging himself forward as he flipped the Chaos Orb, the stouter skeleton brother barreled into his partner and caused both decks to become scattered all over the cell floor. Lavicle rolls over and lays on the uncomfortable stone cold ground. He could feel the aches in his lower back and shoulders as he knew getting up from this position would be difficult. Alas, old bones. Mike Lavicle: See what you did Hugh? Jeez man. What are we supposed to do now? Hugh scooped up the remnants of the cards and put them in a not-so-neat pile in the corner of the cell. Patting down his lap and arms, Merus sat cross legged next to Mike and put his fist under his chin deep in thought. Hugh Merus: Well, we could always talk about our upcoming match against The Iconoclasts. “Radical” Gabe Reno and “The Chaotic One” Chris Chaos, this sunday on Sanatorium, live from Serenity, California and streaming on-demand on FXX and Netflix from the comfort of your own homes?
Hugh gleams expectantly at the camera, to which a voice comes over the intercom encouraging the blatant shilling of the larger skellie boi. Nurse Rawson: That’s very nice dearie. The Warden will be most pleased. An oatmeal raisin cookie dispenses from the ventilation shaft. Which Hugh excitedly smashes into his mask and attempts to chew through the fabric with hungry smacking noises. Hugh Merus: Jackpot! Mike Lavicle looks completely dumbfounded at this display. He points towards the ventilation system and shakily turns towards his brother. Mike Lavicle: Y-You get cookies for sucking up to the Sanatorium brass? Hugh nods his head vigorously as he continues to not-chew his freshly baked confection. Lavicle forces himself up to his feet and dips under the shaft, curiously trying to find out how the mechanism even works for bakery dispensary. Mike Lavicle: Uhh...I look forward to facing The Iconoclast in what is sure to be a confrontation of epic proportions. No response. Lavicle turns towards Hugh, still happily munching away like a toddler during tea time. Mike turns back towards the ventilation shaft and tries to think of something else he can say to get a mutual reward. Mike Lavicle: And uhh...I love watching popular Netflix shows like Cobra Kai and the Queen’s Gambit. They are as fun as they are informative and my life is richer...for it? Another oatmeal raisin cookie is slowly dispensed into the waiting palms of Mike Lavicle. He jumps up in excitement. Mike Lavicle: Score! The brothers both happily not-munch on their cookies. Having to uphold kayfabe at all times, they simply pretend to eat through their masks and make a horrible, crumby mess. All semblance of thought regarding cutting a promo on their opponents has been lost to the innocence and simplicity of this tender moment. So of course, in comes The Necrosis to interject. The Necrosis: YOU LIE. NO PANDA’S AT ZOO. The Necrosis has a big frowny face on her person as she overlooks the snacking skellie bois. Instinctually, she knows exactly what she has to do. Under the ventilation shaft she goes. The Necrosis: EDEN IS SEXY BITCH. A third oatmeal raisin cookie is dispensed. The Necrosis happily eats her prize, but still maintains a scowl in the direction of those spooky scary skeletons. Hugh Merus: It’s OK Necrosis, we didn’t want you to find just ANY Panda. There’s a dude dressed like a Panda named Pedro. He follows around Reno and Chaos. We were just hoping you’d seduce him and gain some valuable intel for our match! The Necrosis seems confused. The Necrosis: PEDRO PANDA...NOT PANDA? GUY IN SUIT...LIKE YOU? Mike Lavicle drops what’s left of his cookie in shock. Hugh Merus wipes the crumbs from his mask, albeit unsuccessfully, and angrily stands up to face his sister. Hugh Merus: What are you saying, Necrosis? Are you implying that Mike and I...aren’t...real...skeletons? The Necrosis slowly nods her head with a stupefied grin on her face. The Necrosis: UHH..YEAH. Mike Lavicle raises from his own seated position. He gets in between the Necrosis and Hugh Merus to prevent them from getting into a scuffle. Mike Lavicle: Now now, Hugh. Our dear Necrosis would never infer anything such as that! After all, to admit that we are not skeletons would mean she would have to admit she’s not an actual zomb-AH! AH! AH! SHE’S BITING ME! SHE’S BITING ME! HUGH! HELP ME! Indeed, The Necrosis went into attack mode on her unrequited lover. It takes Merus some effort to get her separated from Lavicle. Some orderlies are shown in the doorway responding to the screams, but seeing as it’s just the usual hijinx between the Spooky Scary Skeletons, they merely rolls their eyes and make their way to more pressing matters around the Sanatorium. Mike Lavicle: Jesus Christ, sis. I mean...that was kinda hot. But fuck it hurts! Things calm down a bit with each of the three persons taking to their own corner to reflect on what exactly they can even say that would put a dent in the ironclad psyches of Gabe Reno and Chris Chaos. After all, these are two world champion calibur fighters. They’ve done it all. Seen it all. Well, except for perhaps wrestling against two psychopaths who believe they are real life skeletons. There’s not a whole lot one can say that The Iconoclasts hadn’t already heard a million times over. But Hugh was gonna try. Hugh Merus: So yeah...Iconoclasts. Gabe Reno. Chris Chaos. The Fish Monger and the Meat Gentlemen. What’s Reno’s connection to meat? I don’t know man. I heard those nicknames somewhere and just thought it sounded cool. Reno’s a strange dude. I kinda like him. He reminds me of what you’d get if you took Robert Pattison and bludgeoned him with a scottish caber until he was forced to rhyme like Lil Wayne all the time. That’s entertaining! But just as Gabe’s in the “twilight” of his career, I’m gonna “drop the world” on his fucking head and finish the job V started! Did I do good, broseph? Lavicle shook his head in bemusement. Watching as Hugh emphasized the terms “Twilight” and “Drop The World” with exaggerated quotation mark hand gestures. He looked like a skeleton costumed Dr. Evil lamenting about how Reno was the snake to their mongoose. Or the mongoose to their snake. Either way it’s...bad. But as far as wrestle-riffic promos go. That wasn’t terrible. Mike approaches his brother and pats him on the shoulder; signaling it’s his time to takeover. Mike Lavicle: Not bad, Hughie not bad. But you left out one crucial piece to the puzzle. See, we’re also dealing with “The Chaotic One” Chris Chaos. As much as he’s a known commodity the world over...In the world of WWH and especially the Sanatorium, he’s an unknown quantity. Unpredictable. Entropic. Chaotic. Just the way he likes it, I’m sure. I gotta admit. We’re a little out of our element here. Our best success has always been in crazy off the wall stipulation matches. In a straight contest, we’re about as out of our element as you can get. But there’s one trump card we’ve got that you guys don’t. For all your unpredictable nature and innate advantages over us in experience, mean streaks, intensity and physical ability....there is one predictable element we can use. See, we’re Skeletons. We have no anatomy to exploit. While you two, are traditional sacks of meat with one predictable element among you. That I fully plan to take advantage of. The Necrosis catches on to the drift of Lavicle, as she excitedly perks up and replies. The Necrosis: YOU DON’T MEAN?- Mike Lavicle: Yes, that’s right. I’m going to kick each member of the Iconoclasts, straight in the balls. Will that truly be enough to attain victory? Guess you’ll have to tune into the Sanatorium to find out!
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Post by Deleted on Jan 8, 2021 17:05:25 GMT -5
Friday January 8th, 2021.
The sun was beating down on the strip, but that is nothing new in Clearwater, a place that set the Guinness Book of World Records for the most consecutive days of sunshine at 331. It was always bright as hell outside--you could see everything. Everyone. People's features, good and bad, were on full display. It was spring break, so there were mostly college kids out and about. Ever since Clearwater was ranked the #3 beach nationally and #1 in the state, it has been a tourist haven. He hated it, but what was he going to do?
His white mesh Nike's pressed down on the concrete sidewalk as he walked out of out his gated condo community and into the sea of people that were currently inhabiting his space. People of all walks, none of them as good looking, as in shape, or as athletically gifted as he was, but there they were sharing the same space. They reminded him of V, the Aslyum Champion.....in his space, where he didn't belong. He paid them no mind, as his polarized Oakley sunglasses hid his eyes and bounced the suns rays off into various directions. He wanted to take a walk today, to think, to reflect. This was a walk he had done thousands of times before, but today felt different.
Today he felt loose, calm, confident. He felt like he has been reborn. This was his strip and there wasn't a single person that could take it from him. The college kids could swarm all they wanted, but he would bat them off like gnats on a warm summer night. He would swat Damien down like the pest he was....because that is what pests do.....they pester. These "spooky" Skeletons, and literally everyone on this dripping puss ball of a Santorium roster, is a thorn in the side right now, but they would be exterminated. Chris could have very well walked down the main drag and soaked in all of the envy from people who want to be him and can never be. Not today, today he would walk down the side streets, the part of the strip that people didn't see as much. The side that people don't want to.
The buildings on this side are older, not the multi-million dollar condo's and 5 star hotels. This side of the strip has the paint chipped porches and dive bars where scruffy looking people sat drinking their sorrows away in the day time. This side of the strip that had overgrown weeds and chain link fences with flags that were faded from being out in the sun.
There were two sides to every strip, and two sides to every person.
But on this side, most of all, there were pests. Rats, bigger bugs than you've ever seen, the occasional snake, and seagulls picking from the trash. This was the side of the strip that Chris loved, because it was so real. Those people out there, they reminded him of his past, but this side of the strip.....reminded him of himself. There was a beauty to it that people didn't understand. There was a beauty to Chaos that people didn't understand. He was the trashy side that people wanted to overlook for the glamour and glitz, the convenience, of the other side. He has been overlooked....but he was once looked up to. This side of the strip was all people saw when they chose Clearwater to be the new Florida hot spot. Now, they forget it exists. As he walked further down the strip, he steps on a cockroach that wandered out into the street. The crunch, the splatter, the death of another pest. Just like on Saturday when he would kill another pest on his way to see beauty.
As he got to the end of the "darkside" he came out at a traffic circle that led cars into the fancier part of town. He had gone this far, he might as well turn around. Back to the trash, back to the downside, back to being overlooked.
It is where he felt most comfortable.
It was his home.
Another night.....another big fight looming. Oh how he missed these days. He looked down at his drink, and the rapidly melting ice that sat within it. He had sent this college chick he met at the club up the room to "get ready", and he knew he was going to have a good night. That wasn't his main concern, he could have that whenever he wanted. His phone buzzed on the table. Reno. "Gabe.....I appreciate the call, but you know where I live. You could have just come over."Gabe always had a way of doing things."Remember our old phone calls....the pep talks? You used to get butterflies in that stomach of yours, for no reason. In your own head. Girl shit man, I'd expect it from someone like Legion but she....you know....has a vagina."Gabe always had a way of putting things. "I never once doubted myself.""But you told me you did. You were getting in your own head, pumping yourself up because you have A-L-W-A-Y-S been the underdog. But you have always risen to the occasion. Remember before that last match you had before I left?""Yes....Gabe, I remember it like it was yesterday." Gabe's voice sounded raspier than usual, and it unnerved Chris. "You remember what you asked me?"Chris sat there for a second, then said in a quieter tone..... "I asked you, 'what if I lose?"His old partner and rival, and, well, new partner and friend, didn't miss a beat. "And what did I tell you?""You told me losing isn't an option.""What was the outcome of that fight?"Chris sat there again, bringing back memories of days long since past as they ran through his head like a freight train. "I........I won."There was some cracking in Chris's voice this time. "And we will win Saturday......"Chris thanked Gabe and set his phone down. He couldn't talk about this right now. His phone buzzed again. College girl. Naked pic. "I'm ready" was all it read. He left a wad of cash in a pile and pushed away from the table.
"Do you want to know why those ocean videographers and shark cage divers have such a hard job? Do you know why they are looked at as brave? Because you never know what lies beneath. As soon as you set one foot in that water you run the risk of running into something hungry, with big teeth, that has the capability of killing you without expending much effort, if any. I am that shark. I am hungry, and it has been oh so long since I have eaten anything worth while. When you step into that ring, you are in MY ocean, and you just never know what a hungry shark will do when he hasn't eaten in a while. I am the ruler of my ocean, and I decide what lives and what dies.
Poor Skellies. When are you going to realize exactly who it is you are up against? They say sticks and stone's break bones? Well, I break bones too. I crush them to dust. I enjoy it. I enjoy hurting people. A worldwide commodity? I have been uprooting companies since you've been eating crayons and shitting in your pants. I have been disrupting the natural order of operations everywhere I have gone, why stop now? Such strong word, commodity. I prefer LEGEND. ICON. GOD. Such conviction in your voice, when you know so little. So little about me, so little about what I am capable of....
I don't demand title shots, I demand respect. I've earned that, and unlike you two I am not content to sit amongst these bench-players and hope one day the coach calls my name and lets me pitch the big game.
Hope is a fallacy in this business.
I take what I want. For someone who has been here as long as you, seen as much as you, you'd think you know how the game works. Don't try to suck my ass and give the whole "we're a little out of our element" spiel. Adapt, and survive. Name of the game. Some may call you guys humble, I call you both a pussy, or pussies, collectively. I call you scared. I call you delusional. You two come in here with a resume as long as the SAT test and nothing to show for it other than hearsay. You may have been great before (though, somehow I doubt it), but the past only matters if you care enough to indulge in it. Why do you think teams win Super Bowl's then finish last the next season? Things change, nothing is constant, and THAT'S chaos. The only ONE true constant in this twisted, shitty mess is me. The best in the world at what I do.
On this roster you don't have to be great, you barely have to be good. I am here to change that. I am here to be the bar that is set. I am here to be the absolute motherload of "you're fucked."
I came for a reason. I came here to build it up, I came to take it over. XWF is loaded with political nonsense, back office politics and a Universal Champion that is more guarded and protected by said front office than the gold supply at Fort Knox. I came here to take over, to make this company MINE, to be the ruling champion I deserve to be. I didn't come here to be just another roster member, I came here to be the face on the billboards, the marquees, the WWHQ promotional cups and ice cream bars. I came here to FORM this company.....I came here to be the longest reigning Asylum Champion in company history. Team me with Gabe, and the Tag Team Division may as well disband.
Yes I am arrogant, what true competitor isn't? I am surprised you aren't. You don't have a winners mentality, you are too quick to settle. You fail to make an impact, you fail to impress, you fail to garner more than a Dixie Cup full of fox piss worth of interest from another outside of the Nightmare Before Christmas Cosplay Community.
I have been in two companies my entire career before this one. Phoenix Wrestling known as PWR and then PW before they shut their doors, and the XWF. TWO companies that I have held EVERY SINGLE TITLE THEY HAD.......on numerous occasions.....but oh, hey gee how cold I forget the kicker...........they are the BEST WRESTLING FEDERATIONS ON THE PLANET. XWF is a well known juggernaut and I was a figurehead for the better part of four years. PW for four before that. Everything you thought you knew about this business, everything you thought you knew about yourselves....the reality, the cold, hard, unforgiving truth is that you know N-O-T-H-I-N-G because when you step into the ring tomorrow night in California, you're stepping into the ring with the best in the world. I'm gonna beat you, I'm gonna break you, and I am going to Equalize you. Add Gabe Reno to the Mix........ICONOCLAST.You ask me if I have a God Complex?
Let me tell you something
I am GodFollow Me and achieve salvation.
Oppose me, and end up just like all the rest.
I'm going to win tomorrow night.
We are going to win tomorrow night.
Because I always do.
Because that's what we do.
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