“A former friend of mine possessed a family recipe passed down from several generations.”
“It was for a coconut cream pie, one that they claimed was perfected after centuries of tinkering with the formula. Everyone who tasted it claimed it was the most delicious thing they ever ate and would kill for another taste.”
“Naturally I got curious and wanted to try some of this pie. So they made some of it for me, following the instructions exactly and serving it to me on a silver platter.”
“You would think that I would feel the same way once I took my first bite. Something with that legacy and reputation has all the makings to rock my world.”
“In reality, it tasted like shit. I could only swallow one bite of that disgusting mess before I had to throw the rest of the dessert in the fucking trash.”
“We stopped being friends after that, but as long as I didn’t have to eat anymore of that disgrace of a pie, I didn’t care.”
“The Impaler’s mask reminds me quite a bit of that pie. Both of them have been passed down for generations like a family recipe and they both are immensely disappointing.”
“Dread Pirate Roberts over here thinks he can let the history of the mask speak for itself. He believes that what happened back then is enough to make people fear him now.”
“Gullible idiots might fear him, but I can see through all that legacy shit and realize that it’s all talk. There’s no bite behind those words to back them up.”
“I’ve been watching how you’ve been performing recently. You’ve followed the recipe the previous wearers of that mask left you to the letter and it resulted in shit.”
“Much like the pie I ate, people were talking up your attributes and claiming you were something to look out for. Yet you couldn’t deliver when it mattered the most.”
“Bad performance after bad performance, you’ve consistently let me down when I should be crapping my pants and pleading with Simon to get me out of this match. Really, you’ve done fuck all to convince me that you’re a threat.”
“You don’t scare me, Impaler. You might’ve convinced Chronoa that you’re a weapon of mass destruction, but I only see you as a musclebound flunky that has to convince everyone else you’re tough shit.”
“In actuality, you’re just shit.”
“You’re not the weapon that dumb bitch thinks you are.”
“You’re not someone that’s worthy enough to hold that belt you carry on your shoulder.”
“You’re just garbage that’s waiting to be thrown out like the rest of the roster.”
“When we meet in that ring, I plan to do exactly that.”
“I’m going to eat you in the middle of that ring, Impaler. When I do, you’ll go down easy, but oh God will you taste like shit.”
“I’m hungry for that title, Legion. And a hungry girl’s gotta eat, even if it means eating you too!”