I knew a repair man he was damned good at what he did.
He had this tool belt with everything you could think of to fix any problem.
If he needed nails placed with perfect precision, he had his trusty nail gun attached to his hip.
Something needed recharging, he had a speed charger to electrify anything that needed a quick zap.
Something stuck in a hard-to-reach place, he had a grabber that he could use to reach anything out of arm’s reach.
With that belt there was no tool in his arsenal that he couldn’t use.
But then he met a problem he couldn’t solve.
A man with a pen.
A man who with just a few strokes on some paper, outlawed the belt.
He no longer had his tools at his beckon call.
His nail gun, charger, grabber, all gone, and he could only struggle, and ultimately… fail.
All because he ran into a problem that he could never hope to solve.
That problem was simply, a man with a pen.
And that’s the thing Mr. Mad Scientist, you have a Championship caliber tool belt chalk full of tools.
You have drones with guns that fire rockets with perfect pinpoint precision knocking your foes off balance.
Charged gloves that have on more than one occasion electrified an opponent at times nearly to a crisp.
Heck, even trying to keep you at a distance isn’t enough with that massive Rocket Powered Left you have.
You’ve such a deep arsenal of tools at your disposal it’s no wonder you’ve been able to solve every… “problem” put in your way.
That’s why you’re the OSW World Champion, you have all the tools on that Championship tool belt of yours.
Because of that Stubbins, you have all your problems solved before they even cross you.
Except for one, let me introduce myself.
I’m Damien Wolfe, the man with the pen.
See Mr. Scientist, I’m the one thing that no one realizes they never want to meet until they do.
A bureaucrat with a chip on his shoulder and absolutely zero shame.
With just a few strokes of the pen, I can make anyone’s life miserable, which everyone overlooks…
I am the motherfucker with the fucking stroke around here!
Don’t get it?
Well, let me fill you in so that we’re crystal fucking clear Mr. Doom.
With five minutes and a fountain pen I can make your Championship Tool Belt disappear, as if it was never there.
Then I can ban every single tool on it.
Give me one hour with six sheets of paper, and your precious factory will be filled with scavengers from the Bleaks tearing it to ground.
With the right “T”s crossed and “I”s dotted your whole life can be brought crashing down around your ears and there would not be one fucking tool on that belt of yours that… can… stop… me.
It’s by the grace of Zeus that you exist in my presence, because no matter what tool you have or weapon you use, the stroke I put behind my pen will always be mightier.