12/16/2011: So you want me to tell you the story of how it all began? 2010 was the year it happened. I was younger then, younger than I am now. Things were different then, I was a man at that age: the master of a dangerous trio in CHIKARA, former King of Trios, Campeon, and Cibernetico victor. But as time passed, fate took upon a different path for F.I.S.T. The latest King of Trios had come and gone, and F.I.S.T. were non-victorious in that tournament. The weeks and the months dragged on and it became clear a hard choice had to be made. So, in the summer month of July, at Chikarasaurus Rex I took out the weakest member of F.I.S.T. I made a clear and vivid statement that weakness, hesitation, and failure were not acceptable.
Afterwards I walked all night, I walked as I had walked years before when my mind swam with guilt. I had thought of all the things I had done, and couldn't undo. And I longed for a moment's peace. As time passed, however, I came to know peace. Peace in that horrible rhythm of 1-2-3. The sound of victory. The sound of accomplishment. F.I.S.T. were predators once again. Predators with all-seeing eyes, meant to give our opponents detachment from victories, titles and false bravado. And as it came to be, I myself, and the world it seemed, forgot about the almighty and powerful Gran Akuma.
That is until he seized an opportunity like no other. The night before CHIKARA went live before the world with "High Noon," he returned. The mythological warrior rose from the ashes seeking vengeance. Upon seeing him, being a genial, forgiving man, I tried to make peace with him - although he is the father of lies. I could only come to ask "have we forgiven each other then?"
Before I got his answer, I observed a miscreant leaning on my car, parked just outside the Palmer Center. I had to immediately depart to shoo him away from my vehicle. When next we saw each other, in Philadelphia, you had some personal frustration with Greg Iron to vent. I can respect that. He is an irritating character to us all. You were justified in punting his face.
My partners in F.I.S.T. have cautioned me that you might be seeking some kind of revenge. I guess those 16 months off didn't enlighten you as to why you were forced out of our tightly knit trio in the first place. Akuma, you are a loser. You lose matches. You choke. In a pinch, no one can count on you. What choice did I have? I had to put you down.
Now I'm going to give you the choice I never had. Call off your meaningless stalking. Stay down like the wretched, abused animal you are, and do not show your face in Easton on January 28th. For if you do I will be forced to teach the forgotten first lesson: that I am powerful, beautiful, and without regret. I will once again do unto you what I did before. Leave you in the middle of the ring a battered and broken vagrant.
Without sympathies,
ICARUS
