Canis Canem Edit

NoxNox, Promo

Night after night, I heard the sirens of Deathrow going on lockdown.  All hell breaking loose while I sat back and contemplated the next big move.  The next meaningful step is what mattered to me while the dogs below fought over the scraps. 

Canis Canem Edit: dog eat dog.  Those dogs fought each other over scraps, wanting to consume each other.  While I was thinking about how to take the whole meal. 

It’s about time we talk about the dogs we see now in our view.  Doom, my colleague, if you could call him that.  He’s been focused on the scraps he’s been given since I was sent to Deathrow.  The Odyssey Pool, what you did to Maxwell, James, and Felix.  All you did was create data points.  You got zero actual results, no conclusions, just… scraps.  You accomplished nothing.  You befriended that grinning moron, Foley, and what did it get you?  Zip, zero, zilch.  You attempted to hold me back, and it landed us in front of Ares and Zeus’s bastard.  Because you were content with table scraps from the Pantheon when we could’ve been the entire Pantheon.  A hostile takeover of epic proportions, but no, you were complacent. 

But speaking of Foley, I call him a grinning idiot because that’s the real Foley.  He wants to play pretend like he has something deeper buried in himself, but we’ve seen Scissors.  He’s been demystified.  He’s nothing.  Even if you produced a variant of him from within you, it’d just be a cheap watered-down facsimile of the vicious and violent creature that once resided inside of you, and I was the man to bring that violence out of you.  I gave you your key to the big picture, to take the meal rather than continue to eat the scraps, and after you had it in your hands… You threw it away.  All of it cast away in the abyss, never to be seen again, while you nip at the heels of Anton Savor! 

And speaking of the Chef, he wants to play with Sunshine and his club.  Play his role in the saga of a fallen Kingdom.  You play with Felix, you taunt, you have him arrested, but the thing is, you don’t think you’re playing.  Like a puppy tugging at a rope, you think you’re doing something meaningful.  You may have cooked people and fed them to your allies and enemies, but all of that in its totality, while horrific from a moral standpoint, is nothing to a man like me.  My moral compass is broken, and your acts bear no sense of intimidation to me. 

So, at Ring King, that bell will be the siren sounding, and I will watch as the dogs fight over the scraps once more.  I will watch as they jockey and fight for position, and in that moment, they’ll all breathe it in, and in that moment, I’ll take the whole meal, the OSW World Championship, out from under their noses as dog eat dog, Canis Canem Edit.