I don't speak. I have no reason to. Even if there were someone else in the garage, they wouldn't be able to hear me. The sound of the power tools would completely drown them out, and while I am occasionally the type to talk to myself, the same problem would arise.

No. Instead, I focus on the task at hand, whatever that may be. Sometimes it's worthwhile just to come out here and start working even if you don't have a solid plan yet. Working with tools, whether it be on wood or metal, is something that just makes a man feel more like a man. I can't really explain it. Perhaps it's harnessing power over nature to a small degree, perhaps it's the smell of sawdust or the flying sparks, but it just is.

I turn off the bandsaw and push the goggles onto my forehead before taking a step back. I still have no idea what I'm attempting to make, if anything. It's currently formless. Whether or not it eventually takes a form is not up to me yet.

It doesn't matter anyway. Even if it turns out to be another piece for the fireplace or scrap heap, it's working with my hands that can put my mind at ease. So perhaps the power tools are a bit much, even.

I take the block of wood off the bandsaw table and get to work with a hammer and chisel, chipping off little pieces here and there. I even whistle a jaunty tune as I do so, being reminded of an old man whittling away on his front porch. But no, this still isn't enough. The hammer and chisel feel like extensions of my hands, but they're still not my hands.

I forego wood entirely and pick up a sheet of paper from a nearby shelf.

I begin folding.

This is it. This is it exactly. No tools. Nothing between my hands and my medium. Precisely what I've been looking for.

I've been an Extreme champion before. I know my way around tools... no jokes, please... but when I really think about it, I believe that I may get more satisfaction at Meltdown by not using them. When I say I want to get my hands on Copeland, I mean it. To be able to FEEL his energy, his stamina, his very essence drain out of his body will make the whole experience that much sweeter.

I've made a decision. Will I use the weapons available at ringside? Absolutely, but only as a last resort. What I will not do, however, is bring any of my own along with me. I want to rely entirely on my own ability this time, and I have no qualms about letting my opponent know that.

I take a look at the folded sheet of paper in my hands. It seems to have taken on the appearance of a chrysanthemum. If I remember Japanese symbolism from my stay over there, it can represent determination.

I smile weakly. Perhaps it's just a simple flower, not any specific genus. But even if I only want to see a symbol of determination, it speaks of my mindset.

I don't need that symbol.

My own hands and heart are all I need to prove how determined I am.