The crowd roared as the challenger stepped into the ring, pointing a finger at Bret Hart.
“You’re not the best,” he sneered. “You’re the worst there is, the worst there was, and the worst there ever will be!”
Bret just smirked, adjusting his pink and black gloves. “Funny… that’s what I hear right before people regret it.”
The bell rang. One swift kick, a snap of the sharpshooter, and the hater was flat on the mat, staring at the ceiling.
The referee counted—one, two, three.
Bret stood tall, raising his arms. “Sometimes, the worst thing you can be… is underestimating me.”
