Youngbloodsseum Tentyris - The Ego God Complex

Honestly, Brandon, we stopped reading your ramble the moment you invoked Ozymandias' name.

Did we say “look upon our works, ye mighty, and despair”? Of course not. Even if you were despairing, you'd never admit it. You would put on that brave face and badass demeanor and bark your orders from on high and continue as you are now. Stark raving mad at the thought of this petulant person who just won't do as you wish, think as you wish, feel as you wish. More gaslighting, more bullshit being said through gritted teeth as the spittle dribbles down your face. Never fully understanding that at this stage of the game, you will not be able to convince us that the truth ain't the truth or that we are what we aren't. And what we aren't is lesser than you.

And unlike Ozymandias, there's proof of those works we mentioned caught in 4k. For all of our lows here in prime--fuck knows there's plenty--you cannot and will not take away that every single bit of that happened. There were no flukes. No twists of fate. Just facts. On your best day, you couldn't beat Anna Daniels.

We say “on your best day” because you haven't had any lately. Truth of the matter is we clipped you at a time when the facade of the Diamond was still in full force. But Brandy…you don’t get to play Billy Badass with us. You don't get to pretend you're flawless because you’ve been spiraling for months. All of that is also caught in 4k. You started cracking in public the millisecond Guns ‘n Roses played loud and clear on those speakers. Watching it back, one can pinpoint the exact moment your professional life took a hairpin turn. From that moment onward, you were not and are not the same person who said WELCOME TO THE NEW ERA. You

“GREW”

and

“CHANGED”.

But it wasn't for the better. You stampeded around yelling and screaming, accosting every person you came across, dealing violence to innocent people

(The very thing you confronted us with at the Grand.)

shouting WHO DID THAT?! You pinned it on Hayes, accused him of fucking with you. Which to be fair, he probably would've done that if he gave nearly as much of a damn about the ReVolution as you did. He doesn't. Why would he waste precious partying time to get the rights for that shitty song to make you angry? That's why he countered your foolishness with another song.

IN YOUR HEEEEEEAAAAD IN YOUR HEEEEEEAAAAAAD ZOMBIE ZOMBIE ZOMBIE-A-BIE-A-BIE-A

Call him Magic Mac, in two different ways. First, because you were painfully obsessed with him at the time. How dare he side with the Glue and challenge your proper place! And secondly, because Jason Snow rose from his tomb much like a zombie. It took a whole company many months to steal our swagger. It took one man a few weeks to unravel everything you knew about prime, about wrestling, and about your relationship with Lindsay Troy.

We've said this before but since some of you are slow to the draw, allow us to repeat it. We don't hate Lindsay Troy. As a person, she seems alright. As a wrestler, she's very good. As a boss, we find some of her decisions questionable and worthy of critique. And we critique them with all the grace of a sledgehammer wielded by stronk godson. But we're not close. At the end of the day, as long as the checks clear and she throws us some bodies…eh.

Who was close to LT? Brandon Youngblood.

You considered yourself a friend of hers. She's probably the only person you can ever open up to without pot. And yet, she withdrew critical information. She was watching you do all of this dumb shit trying to find the culprit, watched you as you made yourself look like an unhinged fool, and she said nothing. To this day, you still haven't gotten over that betrayal. You haven’t really confronted it. You swallowed your anger and kept trying to carry on, just like us. Just like us, it hasn’t worked. You're still an unhinged fool. Your actions ever since then tell that whole tale.

One thing we can say is that you tried to not be like this. You took time off to deal with the other cracks in your armor. We could get into your personal life. We could absolutely go balls deep into how fucked up you really are. Max says we need therapy, but if he really got a good look at you? He'd change that statement in record time.

We could do it. But we won't. Firstly, it's nobody's business and secondly, in spite of everybody hating the way we break walls? We don't abuse the powers we have nearly as much as they think. We could manipulate this whole thing to where we snap our fingers and conquer it all. But that's no fun, Brandon. Supreme power is cool for a second, but the thrill is fleeting for a warrior. Eventually, one gets bored and you go hunting for the next mountain peak. So we use our wall breaking skills on throwaway lines that people like to cry about because it makes us laugh. Just know that we see your ass.

You took a break and Lindsay Troy decided to book you and JC Hall for the Universal title on a random ReVival. You didn't earn the shot, didn't want the shot, and unlike Coral Avalon, nobody can twist a narrative or make an excuse as to why it happened. Was she chasing a rating? Was she poking the bear? You know that better than we do. Normally, we would be on your side on this. You're figuring out your shit and she springs that up on you? Disgusting. As wrestlers, we're taught to chase after shiny things. But as people, we know that there are things and elements that are ultimately more important.

But you had power, Youngblood. You had a lifetime contract. You were getting paid no matter what you did. You had the woman on speed dial. All you had to do was pick up the phone and say “Yo, Lindz? I can't do that shit right now.” The fans would be sadge, but they forget really quick as do most on the roster. Wouldn't have made a dent. Instead, you chose to put your boots on and go to work. You resent her for doing that. But you made the call.

You chose prime over everything else and it didn't get you anywhere. You didn't win the title and everything that happened after that–blowing up on a podcast nobody listens to, scrapping said contract, threatening to leave to the point where prime indulged in false advertising to make money--makes every single hair-brained idea we've had for trying to get out of our spiral look pretty fucking tame in comparison. At this point, the only thing you're better at than us is self-sabotage.

So here we are. And here it is.

We both sat here waiting to be booked into a proper match so we can get this bullshit over with. We've been chaffing each other's asses for a minute and there really is only one way to go with it. But with the way you've been needling for the past few days, it's apparent you're done with making things official.

We threw down the gauntlet. We gave time and place to something that needed a time and place. We will come into and out of this little war with a clear conscious and some fucking zen. Hell, we have it now. Win or lose, we've already won. You? You'll probably still be miserable. Your spiral just started. Not ready to see how life is.

Now if you excuse us, we're going to a spa. Deuces, dipshid. Enjoy the last word.