A boy grew up admiring the bravery of his father.
A man whose military record was phenomenal, earning him acclaim and medals.
Greater than these was the father’s weapon of choice.
A vintage carbine rifle, top of the line for its time.
A weapon worthy of any true marksman.
Long after retiring from active duty, the father rested his rifle upon its mantle, where it laid dormant for decades.
Only touched by the father to be cleaned and maintained, as a sign of respect.
The son watches this pattern, studying it.
On his deathbed, the father bequeaths the rifle to his now-grown son.
So, like his father before him, the man takes great care of the rifle.
Cleaning it, polishing it from time to time.
Maintaining it as if the rifle could see action any day now.
And one day, it does.
The man is startled awake by a noise in the middle of the night.
Heading downstairs, he quickly assesses the situation.
A burglar has broken in, and he’s searching for loot in the other room.
The man rushes to the mantle, retrieving the rifle.
He grabs his ammo, realizing the time has come to add to the legacy of this weapon.
Raising the loaded rifle, he aims with precision at the doorway.
The burglar enters, immediately entering range.
And the man gives no warning.
He pulls the trigger.
But the rifle is stuck.
By the time he clears the malfunction, the man is met with a magnum to the face.
His father taught him a lot, but never quite prepared him for this.
The cost of a faulty heritage.
Such is the curse The Impaler has been given.
Everyone who has held that mantle before you learned something during their time.
That knowledge and wisdom was shared upon you.
But that wisdom comes at a cost.
Because no amount of knowledge can prepare you for a man who thinks two steps ahead, Legion.
No one in your lineage has faced the likes of ol’ Simon.
And like a son given a faulty rifle, that wisdom will only hinder you when the time comes.
Such knowledge is vintage, high in sentimental value.
But it is no match for timeless wit.
It cannot stand up against evergreen intellect.
This is the sort of wisdom that adapts to any situation.
Especially the Dread Pirate Roberts of Pro Wrestling.
So come, Impaler. Bring your heritage.
See how it stacks up against the Taskmaster’s brilliance.
And watch as the smartest man in the room is betrayed by his own overconfidence.
Forced to admit his defeat.
To declare to the world that he cannot continue the charade.
To acknowledge that his best weapon malfunctioned at the worst possible time.
When I’m done, you’ll have no choice but to confess your submission.
To accept your fate.
To lay down your weapon of wisdom.
The ultimate cost of your faulty heritage.
Go on then, say it.
Two little words to put an end to your misery.