Abuse.

It’s a word I’ve known since I was a boy. Back then, it wasn’t in the ring, it wasn’t in Arcadia—it was in my own home. My father’s fists, my father’s belt, my father’s voice that broke me down every single day until I thought I’d never stand again. That was the first lesson I ever learned. Pain. Suffering. Abuse.

And now, years later, as I stand here, I realize I’m surrounded by it again. Different faces. Different methods. Same cycle.

Take you, Doom. You were my best friend. At least… that’s what I thought. You smiled with me, you fought with me, you laughed with me. You made me believe in something I’d never had before—a brotherhood. And then, when it mattered most, you shattered it. That’s abuse, Doom. Emotional abuse. You manipulated trust. You built me up just to knock me down. You made me think I was safe with you, and then you put the knife in my back. But that’s the same excuse every abuser gives. And I’ll tell you the same thing I told myself when I was a kid: excuses don’t make the bruises fade.

And then there’s you, Nox. You’re not subtle. You don’t pretend. You’re not hidden abuse—you’re open torment. You enjoy misery. You take pride in pain. You look at me and you don’t see a man, you see a toy. Something to poke, to prod, to poison, to watch squirm. You are sadism incarnate. You’re the tormentor who never lets go, the abuser who feeds on the sound of their victim screaming. I’ve faced you before, and every time, I’ve walked away scarred. But let me make something very clear—scars aren’t weakness. Scars are proof I survived you. That’s psychological abuse.

And Anton Savor… you’re abuse of a different kind. You don’t come at people with fists, you don’t come at them with poison words or sadistic grins. You come at them with lies. You pretend to be a chef, a world-class master of the kitchen, when in truth, you’re a monster who feasts on flesh. You manipulate, you deceive, you make people believe in one thing while feeding them another. That’s gaslighting, Anton. That’s manipulation. That’s abuse. 

You see, all three of you—Doom, Nox, Savor—you’re nothing new to me. You’re just three more versions of the same nightmare I’ve lived since I was a child. Physical abuse. Emotional abuse. Psychological abuse. I’ve suffered it all. I’ve endured it all. And yet—here I stand.

You see, abuse only wins when the victim stays down. When they believe the lies, when they surrender to the pain, when they stop fighting. I didn’t stop fighting when my father tried to beat the life out of me, and I won’t stop fighting now.

I’ve overcome it before. I’ll overcome it again. And when the bell rings, and the smoke clears, and the dust settles, I’ll still be standing.

Because I’m Felix Foley. And I’m nobody’s victim.