I believe it was Machiavelli who first spoke of ‘keeping one’s friends close, but one’s enemies closer.’

A phrase translated and miscredited across centuries, yet undoubtedly words that ring as true today as they ever have.

‘Keep friends close; enemies closer.’ Proximity reveals intention, and intention reveals weakness.

Amongst the pathetic delinquents of Old School Wrestling, I haven’t been in the business of making friends. In fact, just the mere thought makes me feel ill. They are not companions. They are liabilities waiting for opportunity.

But it would be remiss of me to ignore those that would sooner plant a dagger in my back, so here we are. Allies not out of affection, but necessity. I march toward battle with enemies at my side… and that’s exactly where I want them. 

Close enough to observe, to control, and close enough to strike if they forget their place.

I want their eyes trained on Mr. Grimm, not aiming anger in my direction. They must stick to their part of my plan, as limited as their narrow minds may be, in order for the Reaper to be slain. For the Pale Rider has been a consistent threat as long as those Temple doors have opened, and I will be happy when he rides no more. 

Fear not, for I have a plan.

On paper, the strategy is flawless. A plan combining wit with intelligence in a state of perfect equipoise. But therein lies my problem. Things existing in such fragile balance can be pushed past the tipping point. Execution exists on a knife edge when I rely on enemies that walk beside me.

My issue is a matter of a simple question. Can I trust those buffoons not to betray me?

Can I trust Darkwish? This all-too-fragile alliance with a man I cannot stand, ‘twas his suggestion, claiming cooperation was the only path to victory. Wisdom dictates a measured approach, and I approach this alliance with necessary caution. When the moment arises and he shows his true colours, I will not be surprised.

I will be prepared.

Then there is Propaganda, an ignoramus who has shown he’s so desperate to be heard that he’d trample anyone in his path merely to raise the volume of his own voice. He wants his message to echo beyond death itself, yet he says nothing worth listening to. 

So, is that blithering idiot desperate enough to ruin the best laid plans of mice and men?

I should think so.

Unfortunately, his participation is required. Cooperation, willing or otherwise, must be secured and I must be prepared to apply adequate… correction… where necessary.

So, at Turbo Violence, my design reaches its conclusion. They may attempt to thwart my plans, but I shall be ready. Grimm will fall. That outcome is not a hope; it is an inevitability.

Only then, will they will finally understand why I kept them close. 

Not as allies. Not as friends. 

Simply near enough to witness who their true enemy is, and who the rightful champion is destined to become.

I am that man. 

And I will be prepared.