+ Best Regards [II]

[Archer]

++ "Best Regards" ++

Dear Jace O'Brien,

I realize you've gotten your 'knickers in a twist' because you didn't receive a letter like Ms. DeLise did. So I've taken it upon myself to send one your way, personally.

But let's get one thing straight, Ms. DeLise needed to know what she's gotten herself into. It's bad enough she's got to deal with the Mean Girl Mafia, and now her little puppy is going to be sidelined by me. Bad luck on her part, but she had no clue. Despite her ignorance, I still had a certain respect for her so I figured she deserved a heads up on finding a Plan B.

On the other hand there's you, who I have no respect for whatsoever. You're just another run of the mill hired gun who can't think for himself and needs hand outs to get ahead. I've been there, done that, then I grew a mind of my own. It baffles me how much you embrace Georgia giving you the Bay Area Championship, yet you still try to talk yourself up as if it means something. That belt is garbage, O'Brien, just like you. So I suppose it's fitting, after all.

I've got one question for you, O'Brien: why do you think you know me?

You keep repeating this Arthur Thomas story, as if I needed him to fall asleep, as if it was the only thing that got me the win.  I never needed Arthur to have narcolepsy, I don't need to rely on things like that. Besides, that was my first match in RSW and you're basing my level of talent off of that? Incredibly dumb and short-sided of you, I'm not surprised. I've explained this to Ms. DeLise and I know you read her letter. But by all means, continue telling everyone you can that I supposedly needed Arthur to fall asleep, but it won't save you from me, O'Brien.

I did notice you attempted to do some research on me. I suppose the key word would be, attempted. I believe you referred to me as the guy who got ran out of his last company because he talked a big game and couldn't back up it? Something like that. That's interesting, because I remember smashing light tubes over people's heads every damn show and winning the Commonwealth Championship. I don't remember you being there O'Brien, so you were either a nobody upon my boot who couldn't cut it, or you got your information from somebody whose brain I made mincemeat. I think the worst part of you trying to bring up convoluted history is that you originally came out here telling me my past accomplishments didn't matter, this is RSW. Yet, here you are doing it on your own. Of course, just another device to convince Ms. DeLise, and yourself, that you've still got a chance against me.

Your a man who forms his defense off of stats, so let's play. You previously said you were faster than me, look again, you're not. Not only that but your strike power is just barely over mine, nothing to write home about. Above all else, my endurance and my stamina are more than you can handle. That means I can take as much as you can give out, and I can give out more than you can. That's how this game is won, O'Brien. Enough of your smoke and mirrors.

You've been grasping at straws this week. Trying to say anything and everything you can to make yourself out to be someone your not, and make me out to be someone I'm not. That's fine with me Jace, everybody has their own ways of coping with fear. That's exactly what it is. From the very beginning it seeped into your skin, your blood. I see the way you look at me, hear the way you say my name. You're afraid. Even though you've pretended to know me this whole time, you don't know a thing about me. Your perception of me is far beyond the truth, but don't worry, I'll be happy to show you firsthand how I operate. It'll be my pleasure to peel back that layer of lies you've covered yourself in, to strip it away until there's only a sliver left...

...but just enough for the Mean Girl Mafia to fuck with before completely burying you.

Best Regards,
The Architect of Ultraviolence.