Haunted (CM Punk)

[Ashlee]

The camera cut to the backstage interview set, but there was no interviewer in sight. The screen flickered slightly, and then into frame walked CM Punk, wearing a black “KING ME” t-shirt, his wrists taped up. He stopped in front of the camera and stared down the lens with a cool, unwavering intensity. The Indianapolis crowd roared from the arena as Punk raised the microphone and began to speak.

CM Punk: Funny how this tournament brings out the ghosts, huh?

He tilted his head, smirking faintly.

CM Punk: King of the Ring. A proving ground. A battlefield. A crown for the man who survives three rounds of hell and still has enough left to throw a middle finger at fate and say, “Give me more.” And the final four are just four guys whose careers have been intertwined and intersected for over two decades. Funny how this tournament brings out the ghosts, huh?

Tonight, I face Adam Copeland. Edge. Now Edge and I… we go way back. I don’t need to stand here and rattle off history, because anybody who’s been watching EBWF longer than five minutes already knows. We’ve gone to war in this ring. We’ve taken pieces out of each other. And every time I think he’s done—every time I think he’s finally fading into the shadows—he comes crawling back with that smug grin and a chip on his shoulder the size of Toronto. Edge is a an icon. A walking highlight reel. But tonight? He’s in my way.

Punk pushed his right hand through his hair.

CM Punk: And I’m not here to play respect games. I’m not here to reminisce about the glory days or shake hands with legends. I’m here to win. Because King of the Ring isn’t just a tournament—it’s a throne. And I am determined to get back the EBWF Championship. I think I’d look pretty damn good with a crown on my head too.

He paused, letting that settle.

CM Punk:CM Punk: But let’s say I get through Edge—and I will—then I’ve got either Chris Jericho or Randy Orton waiting for me in the finals. Two more names I know all too well. Funny how this tournament brings out the ghosts, huh?

Chris Jericho. The most decorated World Champion in EBWF history. The rock star. The manipulator. The master of reinvention. You walk down that ramp and the entire building sings your song, like they forgot the snake wearing the scarf. I heard you’re thinking about calling yourself a wizard now? Cute. Sure beats when you were calling yourself the Best in the World. Because there’s only one of those, Chris, and you ain’t him. You may be a magician, Chris, but I don’t believe in magic. I believe in pain. And if we meet in the finals, I’m going to make sure that chorus of “Judas” ends in silence.

Punk shook his head in disbelief.

CM Punk: CM Punk: And then there’s Randy. Randy Orton. The Viper. The Apex Predator. The Silent Assassin. The one man who can kill a legacy with a single RKO and look bored doing it. Funny how this tournament brings out the ghosts, huh? We’ve danced before too, haven’t we, Randy? You’re methodical, dangerous, calculated. But you’re also complacent. You’re a killer that doesn’t hunt anymore unless something really pisses you off. So let me make it easy for you: I am that something. I’m the problem you can’t ignore. The thorn you can’t pull out. And if we meet in the finals, you’ll find out—again—that even the animal at the top of the food chain can bleed.

Punk leaned in closer, voice dropping to a cold rasp.

CM Punk: I’ve said it before, and it rings louder now than ever. I’m not just here to take part. I’m here to take over. You want your King of the Ring moment? You better pray I don’t make it to that final, because if I do… it’s game over. For Edge. For Jericho. For Orton. For anyone who thinks they’ve still got a grip on the throne. I’m walking in one of your ghosts, fellas. I’m walking out with the crown.

He dropped the mic and walked out of frame as the screen faded to black, leaving only the echo of the words and the roaring crowd beyond the curtain.