Has he lost his mind? Can he see or is he blind? - Black Sabbath, Iron Man.
You son of a bitch.
I hate you. I damn you to the seventh layer of hell. I condemn your fucking soul. I don't want to see you in Heaven, I want to see you rot in Hell.
Die you motherfucking asshole! Die you bastard of a pig!
DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE!!!
... but you're already dead, aren't you?
Fulfilled my life's work, my greatest desire, the one thing I lived to see before I died -- to see you rotting, decaying, lifeless, morbid -- DEAD. To see YOU dead before ME.
Fucking idiot! I hate you! I've always hated you!
You died on purpose. I know it. My instincts don't lie to me. I'm the fucking Game. You can't get out of the Game unless I say so.
I... you... WE worked great together. We BLED together. We FOUGHT and KILLED and DESTROYED each other in feral delight, smirking devilishly as we went to the limits that our bodies and our realities could contain and just... went for the THROAT.
You cunt. You bitch. You WHORE. Bitch cunt pussy ass motherFUCKER.
Coped out. You fucking coped out of the Game, and you bent down and succumbed.
You succumbed to Death.
I. Hate. You.
I would have loved to see you die! I loved it when I made you cry and made you die internally when I fucked you over with my mind games. I could always win. ... and you could always win.
You were so devious, so diabolically devious. You knew me as well as I knew you. We could analyze each others thoughts, predict each other's moves, kill each other until we thought we would pass out from all the loss of blood.
I hate you, Austin. I've hated you since I first met you and now I hate you even more. You didn't have to die, you asshole. You could have beat death. Death couldn't hold you back. It wouldn't hold me back, dammit! So why did you succumb?
Why did YOU die?
Why YOU of all people?
... I hope I'm not feeling guilt.
The Game cannot feel guilt. I do not need a burden on my shoulders for the rest of my life, especially if it deals with you. You are nothing to me. You ARE nothing. You're just a dead man that will haunt the lives of everyone that you touched.
You won't haunt me. See, your death proved my superiority. I'm stronger than you. I'm more powerful than you. I am alive, and you are dead. You can't beat me! I won in the end, Austin! After all this time, you die, and I win. I won, Austin! I fucking won!!
See? You can't beat me. You could never ever beat me. Remember all those confrentations we had? I always won. You might have won at times, but I always won. I AM THE GAME. YOU COULD NEVER BEAT ME. And now? Now you're dead.
You're a loser, and I'm the winner.
But this feels odd, somehow.
This... this just doesn't feel right. I don't know why. I feel incomplete... and cheated. Oh so cheated.
I blame you, Austin. I blame YOU for taking away... whatever I had. This power, this control, this domination. I blame you.
Why did you go off and die? I don't even know how you died, and somehow I just know you could have prevented this. We went through so many matches, Austin. I just know you could have done something -- anything physically or humanly possible to prevent your death.
But you failed.
That... that should make me the victor, shouldn't it?
Shouldn't it?
But here I am, sitting on the couch of my locker room, surrounded by Randy, Ric, and Batista, and they're telling me to settle down and not to loose my sanity all because of you.
My sanity?
Heh.
I don't think I ever had a piece of sanity. You knew that too well, didn't you Austin? You knew me, understood me, able to comprehend how and why I act the way I do.
I am an assassin. You knew that. You were a bionic redneck. I knew that. That's why for that short time, when we worked together, we were unstoppable, invincible. We knew each other's moves, how we thoughts... we were in sync with one another.
I forget why we broke up, but during that one time we were together as a team... I guess I felt whole. I had someone to confine all my deepest, darkest ploys and ideas and... and just everything. Everything that any other comrade I had would have been disgusted to hear.
But you? You smiled at me understandingly, and you nodded your head approvingly, and gave me even worse ideas, ideas that I would have never thought up.
You were always able to shock me, I'll give you that.
I'm not a good person. You cited that out. Hell... when I found out you died, I lost it.
I really did.
I ran out of the room, into the arena, cursing and punching anything and everyone. Floors, chairs, tables, people -- a lot of people.
Their blood stains my hands right now, Austin.
That's all I'm hearing right now. Small cracks echoing through my mind, like the way a fixed shattered glass representing the hope and love of humanity begins to crumble down but there wasn't enough adhesive left to put it back together completely. It'll only be put together half-way or less.
It's almost like a sacrifice to the gods, asking them -- pleading for them to give you back, send me back your soul so I can save you. I owe you nothing, Austin. You owe me nothing. I wouldn't save you for a debt.
I'd save you for the Game.
How can the Game live when he doesn't have his prize player anymore?
I have no purpose, Steve. ... God, it's so hard using your first name and I don't know why. All of this is killing me. And... and it's... it's just killing me. Or I think it has, I really don't know. It's so confusing.
Even through our hatred and rivalry and seething animosity, we had a common bond. We knew each other... and we respected one another.
Maybe once in a while I looked up to you. You were more experienced, somehow. Always able to keep a watchful eye on me, even when we wanted to kill each other and damn one another to Hell and praise the day one of us died. You were just a good... honest person.
Honest.
I feel so cheated. I feel cheated that I didn't get to beat you truthfully, letting Death take the reigns for me and killing you.
God, that sounds so wrong, huh? All I wanted was to destroy you, watching you die beneath my arms and scream my name as I take away your life. That's what I wanted.
And I'm cheated out of it.
So I'm sitting here, and the guys are just looking at me. These people... remember De-Generation X, Steve? This group, Evolution, it's gonna fall too, huh? And I'm going to be standing alone again. I think. Hopefully.
But I'm experienced, thanks to you. I feel... wiser. Stronger. Able to make it, to persevere over all those odds like you did. Our rivalry made me stronger. Should I thank you for that? You knew me, and you know I won't thank you for anything.
I'll at least credit you, but not thank you. I'm not that kind of guy. But you knew that, didn't you Steve?
And Flair, Batista, Orton... they're asking me why I snapped like that, nearly punching out everyone in the back, nearly beating all of them into a bloody pulp, nearly destroying everyone in a feral outburst of rage, torture, and --
I cut them off with my smile.
And it's just a smile.
I'm staring at my hands, Steve, and I'm merely smiling. "I can't get his blood off of me."
They just stare at me, wondering what I meant by that cryptic message.
You're smart Steve. You were always smart. A cunning, shrewd bastard from hell, just like me. You get the picture, don't you? You understand it, huh? I won't ever get your blood off of me... ever. No matter what.
Other blood will stain my hands, but it won't ever cover me like your blood has. It courses through my veins, keeping me strong, wise... alive. Fucking alive, Steve.
Death didn't cheated me from killing you, Steve. I know who the real cheater is, because that bastard took you away from me. Took you out of the Game.
I won't ever forgive him, nor forget. You know me, Steve.
The hate between us is eternal, and our animosity, our game between us is something to look forward to when I get to Heaven or Hell. I'll meet you somewhere.
But now, I don't hate you Steve. For the rest of my life, I will never hate you again Steve. I don't have a reason to.
I now have a new target.
I'll hate you later, Steve.
But now...
I hate you, God.
... I FUCKING HATE YOU.