A butterfly flaps its wings in The Groves and the small breeze hits the back of the neck of a man on Deathrow. That breeze hits the man and enrages him causing him to start a riot in that prison. People die that day, as the guards open fire to bring order back to the chaos. Men who weren’t supposed to die that day do so. All because of one little Butterfly.
Let me paint you a new picture a man who’s done bad things in his life in order to survive, to thrive, and is put on Deathrow, and manages to get home. Only, he comes to find that little Butterfly has flapped its wings once more and his daughter is dead because of it.
This little Butterfly considers himself an Artist, working with death and destruction as if they were oils and pastels. Murder his canvas bathed in blood. A manipulative and uncaring soul.
Jasper, my butterfly, this dawned on me this past week with the words, “It wasn’t supposed to be you!?”
Who was it supposed to be, then? It was your little wings flapping that killed my daughter. It was finding out about what you did that caused me to start hunting you down.
It motivated me to win Invasion. Knowing you were next in line motivated me to cash in and pushed me through hell to the Championship. It will always be me, Jasper. I will always be there, a shadow you can’t shake, a ghost that will always haunt you.
This Championship is her memory made physical to me. It makes me the father she deserved, and it’s the closest thing I will ever get to seeing her again. Now, you come to take that feeling away again. The only difference is I’m here to defend her this time. I’m here to stop you.
It was your one action that brought us here, one thing, something you thought was so insignificant that you didn’t even bat an eyelash.
That’s the difference between you and me, Redgrave. Nothing is insignificant to me, especially taking a life, which is why I’m going to be there Jasper, keeping this Championship always a fingertip away just close enough so you can feel it, Mr. Artist. A heartbeat away, a flap of a wing away from being what could be the best you. I’m already a Deadman Walking, Redgrave and if it takes me my last breath, I’ll kill every chance you have until I ride into the night, until I die.
At Pandemonium there will be nowhere to run for you and you may think you can hide but when you’re alone and you think nobody can find you, Nobody will be right there. Ready and waiting to clip your wings and end this Butterfly’s effect on our world once and for all.