OWA Promos

Before you get started here are the rules of the page!

-There is a TWO promo/2000 word limit for our regular bi-weekly shows and THREE promo/3000 word limit for our major events! For our side show Atlantis it is only ONE 2000 word promo.

- Promo deadlines are two days before the show (So, a Saturday show has a Thursday deadline for example.) The only exception is Atlantis which allows for a day before.

-If everyone involved in a match would like to extend or shorten the promo limit due to personal circumstances or preference, you have two days at the start of the new promo week to confirm with a member of the writing team the agreed upon limit for your match, if not it will remain the standard limit set for bi-weeklies and major shows.

-You must wait 48 HOURS before double posting. If your opponent has not responded to your first promo within a 48 hour period and you'd like to release another, you may do so. However keep in mind that with the promo limit, if you expend both promos, your opponent has the right to do their two (or three on a PPV week) uninterrupted.

-The page is not a place to make challenges or try to book matches!

-Do not break kayfabe! Remember that everything is entirely storyline based and there is no reason to either take things personally, or make it personal for someone else.

-Have fun! Enjoy writing your work and feel free to hit up the chat for feedback!

Re: OWA Promos August 23rd 2022, 1:08 am by **Stark**

You already know my story Rin, yet something tells me that you will still try to attack me for my past anyways. That'll be a level of irony that I'm surprised could be lost on anyone, even you, considering your future just got destroyed, right? You will live with that failure for the rest of your life, Rin, and you will never be able to salvage what your family has lost. Asakura, 朝倉, that means dynasty, empire, regime, epoch. Dynasties are meant to fall, Rin, and the Asakura's has fallen to the lowest possible depths. The almighty Asakura Empire, how many decades, over a century in fact, that your father put into building his kingdom. How many of his allies he threw aside in the conquest of power, how many sacrifices he made - his reputation, his friends, his sanity, his humanity... even your mother was nothing more than a tool he used and then disposed of after she gave him a child. All of that, just for the hollow feeling of domination that came from pressing his foot down on the necks of millions of innocent people - one of the most shallow victories a person can achieve, but in the end he couldn't hold onto it. A rag-tag group of 'gaijin' from over a hundred years in the past put an end to his reign, and not even the power of Izanagi was enough for your father to hold onto his crown. Now you get to live with his failure in the present, knowing that your future holds nothing but emptiness. Your mission was a waste of your life, ultimately. Because what else is your purpose in this world, Rin? You are nothing but a puppet. You have no identity of your own. A worthless slut - trust me Rin, as someone who has had to once live homeless and hungry, desperate to survive, I know an oiran when I see one. You have offered everything for your father. Body, soul, and dignity - and even then, it wasn't enough. Not only has your mission failed, so has your existence. You are worth NOTHING, and you never will be. Before I go any further, I want these words to be branded on the inside of your brain. You must never forget this fact.

You. Are. Worthless.

Now on the other hand, Final Destination 4 was a night of triumph. Not for you, of course, you had failed to capture the Ascension of the Heaven's Briefcase. Just think about how much of a difference you could have made if you had won that match, Rin. You could have rescued your father's OWA World Championship for him. Michael Bishop would have never walked out of Final Destination 4 with the OWC. Instead, he did, and then your father had to waste his one wish with the Grand Elder to kill him, instead of using it for something that could have preserved his reign at the top. Where were you in all that time? Sitting in the back, looking pretty? Of course. Unfortunately, that wasn't enough for your father. YOU failed him. Well, he failed himself of course, but you did nothing to help. So then what is your purpose, Rin? Why did you come back from the future? Just to let your daddy down one more time?

Back to me now. Final Destination 4 was indeed the greatest night of my career, at least up to now. I know that Game Over will surpass that day, multiple times over, but that day is yet to come. Final Destination was the night that I proved that this fairy-tale run was so much more than just that. This is not just a story, this is the reality I created for myself. Perseverance, confidence, and humility. Three words you'll never understand the meaning of, no matter how far in the future we go, Rin.

Unlike your father, I walked into Final Destination 4 with my championship.

Unlike your father, I walked into Tokyo to the love and adoration of the Japanese fans.

Unlike your father, I stood face to face with the homicidal maniac who wanted my head, proud and confident, ready to defend my title with my life.

And most importantly, unlike your father... I walked out of Final Destination 4 with my title.

But this isn't about your father, right? That's what you'll tell me. I know that better than you do, Rin. This is simply about you and I.

Not that it should've been from the start, of course. Because another person who came out of Final Destination a winner, that is the person who I should be focused on. Not you. You just weaseled your way into this spot by sweet talking Llorona. I wanted that match with Dulce Torress, believe me. She is the undisputed poster child of the Goddesses Championship, the woman who made this belt what it is. While it is Alyssa's record that I seek to break, the real measure of success to become the greatest Goddesses Champion of all time is to leave an even greater legacy with this title than Dulce had. Myself, the prodigal Goddesses Champion, and Dulce Torress, the golden standard herself... What a match that could have been. I was looking forward to it so much. The biggest opportunity I could have had to cement myself as THE Goddesses Champion without any doubts -

You took it from me. You and Llorona, of course, what else could I have expected from you two? The two worst women on this brand putting their brains together to bring pain and misery to everyone they possibly can. I should've known from that first day, Rin, the first time you walked into my locker room with your wretched face to challenge me at Llorona's behest. Fine, I can give you the benefit of the doubt even though I know you're a lying piece of trash. Maybe the feather Dulce gave me and the animal carcasses I've been finding have nothing to do with you. Anyways, it looks like whoever is behind that is too calculated in their work for it to be you. Gwen Harper maybe? That's the natural assumption with the hunted animals right? No, I don't think so. She wouldn't have to hide behind cryptic messages, that sort of stalking from the shadows is more up your alley Rin. I don't know who else is after me but whoever you are, do you think I'm scared at this point? After every enemy I've had, after all the battles I've fought, each and every challenge I've had to overcome - I don't care who you are. Come at me, I'll be waiting with the Goddesses Championship.

So what will you say next Rin? That I'm not a legitimate champion? That I'm a fluke? That I should have never beat Skylar or Gwen, or anyone else? Trust me, that's ALL I've ever heard from ANYONE who has challenged me since I've won this belt. And you know what the common denominator is, Rin? They've all LOST. Bring up my losing streak from last year, please, I am begging you to. I am hoping that you'll be just as foolish as all of my other challengers. To think that you can hold my past against me. You should know as precedent, as my history has shown, that my resolve is too strong for women like you to break. Strength and pride, that is what drives me and hard work is what I build my own empire with. Unlike your family, who has burned everything in their path, razed cities on the ground to build your straw castles upon. Yet at the slightest gust of wind, those castles have fallen. Tell me who you have been able to beat, Rin. What have you done in your time here on Odyssey that has held ANY measure of significance? Because that is the same question I ask every other fool that steps in my way thinking they can take me down.

I'm waiting....

Nothing?

Exactly.

Rin, it's about time you accept your place in front of me. It's taken me a long time to get to this point - a year ago today, nobody could have even begun to think that I'd be capable of standing like this with my head held so high and such a prestigious championship over my shoulder. Whereas you've been an abject disappointment to your father, to your family name, I have been creating a name of my own. Carving out a legacy that no one could have ever expected from the coke-head failed idol turned wrestler, a bum on an eight match losing streak who would have been better off lacing up boots than putting on her own. Isn't that right? That's what Skylar Arcenaux told me. That's what Gwen Harper told me. That's what Daisy Thrash and Remi Skyfire tried to tell me. That's what Rebecca Brookes and BIANCA tried to tell me too, right? Or are you going to say that my wins over them are not legitimate because every other worthless woman on this brand wants to get in my business in the hopes of catching even a single spark of the fire that is burning at my heels. At the end of the day, I am still here, still the Goddesses Champion, and I will turn you into the same exact thing, Rin... A statistic in my legendary title reign.

That's what Revy tried to tell me, and that wasn't just her words, that was her putting a rock to my god damn head, trying to damn near KILL ME because she was jealous of my success, jealous of how far ahead of her I had come. Do you think she felt good coming out in front of a Japanese crowd after the decade she had invested into this industry, just to realize that she had been completely outclassed by someone who had barely been doing this for two years? Yet there I was in front of her, the Goddesses Champion in our home town, and she had to watch as I crushed all her dreams, and made my own reality that night. That was the night I became a legend, Rin, and that was the night that your Asakura empire was destined to fail.

What do you want from me, Rin? Are you jealous too, like Revy was? Or do you have some greater plan here? I mean, there's no point of me hiding it anymore. I don't fear you people anymore. It's about time the world learns, isn't it? Over a year ago now, back in Tokyo itself in 2020, in Strong Style Wrestling, when I was nothing more than Bad Boy Know's boot-lacer and bag-girl, lucky to even have a chance to compete in such a prestigious ring... That was the first night I met your father. I thought I was in the presence of wrestling royalty, perhaps the biggest Japanese wrestler in the world at that time, and I was hoping that maybe he'd give me some knowledge or advice that I'd be able to use to improve my career... So imagine my surprise when the first question he asked me, the very first thing he said to me altogether was this:

"Are you happy?"

I didn't know how to answer at first. I thought he was joking, but I thought deeper about it and I realized the answer to that question for me was... No. I was not happy. Why would I have been at that time? I was struggling with a cocaine addiction. I was being told by everyone around me that I would never amount to anything as a wrestler. I thought I was a failure and everything I did, no matter how hard I tried it seemed like I'd never be anything more than a ringside showgirl at best.

And when I said no to his question, that's when he revealed his plan to me, Rin. That's the first day I heard of "The Black Sun". Little did I know what it would end up becoming. The way he spoke, I must admit he was charismatic. He had a message he strong believed in and he had a way with words that started to make me believe. However, when he revealed his true intentions, his true desire with the Black Sun, to destroy the world and rebuild it in his image... No. I couldn't resign myself to that. I had to say no. I told him I couldn't. That I never would stoop to that level. I knew I had problems. I knew that I was suffering, that I truly was not happy, that I had to change something about myself to make my life one worth living... But his way was not the answer. My issues were my own to fix. My demons were my own to fight. When I said no, he threatened me. He told me that if I ever told anyone about his offer, he would hurt me. I took him seriously, and I believe that for a time, I was right to listen to him.

Because in the near two years since he had first given me that offer, look at how the tables have turned. Yes, of course, Arata had succeeded at first. After throwing everything in his life away he was able to take over SSW for a minute. He was able to destabilize Kingdom, become OWC, and reign for a good few months, and then his own hubris became his downfall. His unfounded arrogance that came from power that did not belong to him. The favor of the Gods were only his for so long. And the favor of Arata Asakura has not benefited for you long either, has it Rin? Two years out, the Asakuras have fallen, and NAMI has risen. Soon to be the longest reigning Goddesses Champion, the greatest of all time, a Clash of the Titans final four wrestler, undefeated in the year 2022... What more can I say? Where you have failed again and again, I have done nothing but SUCCEED. And I will continue to do so, at Game Over, and every week afterward. I didn't need the power of Raijin or Izanagi, I didn't need to come back in time in a futile attempt to save my failing empire, all I've had, all I've EVER had were my two hands and a dream... And the only power I've ever needed was the power to FIGHT. To make everything that I've never had mine.

It's not just about the title, Rin, you'd never understand that. This championship is EVERYTHING to me. It is my validation as a wrestler, as a person. I've spent the last two years of my life working for this. No short-cuts, no bullshit. I've worked as hard as I could. I've fought through adversary that no other woman could handle. Skylar Arcenaux couldn't, that's for sure. Two losses and that bitch took her ball and went home. Where is Nakita DuBov these days? Where is the last Goddesses Champion, Gwen Harper? Where is Revy? Tell me! The answer is, it doesn't matter where they are. What matters is that I AM HERE. Still the champion, still the standard bearer, and still the Golden Goddess.

You think you can change that, Rin? Tell me why you're still so deluded. Tell me how you think you can do what no other woman has been able to do in the past eight months. What proof do you have to show for it? Because Rin, you can sit there for as long as you want talking your head off about how I don't deserve to be where I am, how it should've been you or how it should've been your father, how it could've been any other swine from your wretched, worthless family - but the fact is, I don't care. Unlike you people, my confidence doesn't come from my father's status. My confidence doesn't come from the Gods I have sold my soul to. My confidence comes from the work I've put in and the things I've achieved. My confidence doesn't just come from this belt that I am so proud to hold to this day, my confidence comes from what I've done as champion. Even if you and Llorona pull out all the stops possible to take this title away from me, it won't change anything.

You understand now right, Rin? You might be able to win that match with your dirty tactics, but you will never defeat me. You can't. It's just not possible.

As for you?

You've already lost.

You think we're stupid? You think there was ever any question about it Rin? If your future was one worth living in, you wouldn't have come back to this time. I don't know what your future was like where you originally came from Rin, but it couldn't have been good. You would have stayed in your daddy's empire and reign as the worthless princess you were always meant to be. You made a mistake ever thinking you could get in the ring with me. You think that Llorona's backing is enough to take me down? It isn't. Not to mention, you guys have Josie Grey to worry about now, don't you?

You have watched as your one purpose in life was taken away from you. You couldn't preserve the Asakura Empire. You will now wander aimlessly into a future without your father's kingdom. You will have to face him after Game Over, without anything to your name to show him. Not the Goddesses Championship, not your dignity... You wouldn't even be worth your name anymore, Asakura.

Every ounce of worth that could have gone to your brain has gone to your chest instead. You were cursed to be born an Asakura. I pity you, Rin. I really do. But you've made yourself my enemy. And now just like your father, you will learn the taste of complete and utter defeat, and while I rise to take the throne of MY empire, you will watch as yours is reduced to ash. The only name you will recognize as worthy of holding the throne in this timeline - in any timeline - is MINE.

-------

https://owaonline.forumotion.com/viewtopic.php?t=1538

Jeff X, Alyssa Grace, Rebecca Filth, 'Don' Hendrix, DT The Ruler, Lazarus Arjen and Chad Ecclestone have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos August 23rd 2022, 12:38 am by **Daisy Thrash**

The red numbers of the large digital clock on the wall read the current time: 6:00 AM. There was still about ten minutes until sunrise in Seattle, the light barely peeking over the horizon. Roxy Sykes is kneeling in the middle of the training ring, tightening her boot laces. The door from the locker room swings open, the hinges squeaking just a bit. Daisy Thrash strides out dressed in all her training gear, her hair barely tamed by an elastic. She makes a beeline for the ring. Roxy makes her last adjustments and stands up and addresses her former student with a smirk.

“Morning, sunshine.”

“Yeah, yeah. My mind was ready to get to work at o-dark-thirty, but I guess my hair wasn’t.”

“Well, even the best hair in the world won’t win you a match. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”

“Of course. I’m sure you knew before you even answered the phone.”

“Oh, I know you too well, hun. Let me guess, it’s about that Openweight title again?”

“Yes and no. There was a title in LAW that was made in tribute to Brody Sparks. Devi kept the title after LAW went under. With her in the match, that title is up for grabs too.”

“That does make things more interesting. But don’t stress yourself over it too much. You’ll give yourself an aneurysm.”

“C’mon, I’m not freaking out over here.”

Roxy shoots her a knowing glance.

“Ok, maybe a little bit. But that’s all the more reason to get this session started, right? Let’s do this!”

“We’re actually waiting on one more person. Your match is a triple threat, after all.”

“Um, ok. Who is it?”

As if on cue, a blonde woman in her mid-forties walks in with a gym bag over her shoulder.

“Hey, Roxy! Sorry I’m late. One of the kiddos had a bad dream. A mom’s job never stops, am I right?”

Daisy jaw drops.

“Holy shit, you’re Dawn Diamond!”

“And you are Daisy Thrash. I’ve seen and heard a lot about you, girlfriend.”

“Only good things, I hope. It’s so cool to finally meet you.”

Daisy puts her hand out. Dawn shakes her hand with a laugh.

“Yes, yes, nothing to worry about. I can understand what you’re about and I respect it. But I’m not letting my kids watch you until they’re a little older.”

“I totally understand. And thank you, really. Means a lot coming from someone like you.”

“You’re welcome, darling. You know, a little birdy told me you’re not afraid of hard work. Think you can handle both of us?”

“I’m ready to give it everything I’ve got! Bring it on!”

“Alright, that’s the spirit! Just give me a moment to get ready and then we can start.”

After Dawn completes her preparations, the three women make their way into the ring. They stare each other down, waiting to see who will make the first move. Roxy and Dawn make brief eye contact with each other before they rush Daisy at the same time. Daisy absorbs strikes from the two women until eventually she is able to shove Dawn away. She elbows Roxy in the face and runs at Dawn with a high knee. Roxy grabs her from behind, putting her into a full nelson. Dawn is able to recover and runs at the vulnerable Daisy, but Daisy counters with a kick to her face. Daisy backs Roxy hard into a turnbuckle, releasing the hold. Dawn comes at Daisy again for a punch, but Daisy grabs her arm and performs a short-arm clothesline. Roxy manages to sneak up from behind and rolls Daisy into a crucifix pin, but Daisy kicks out. Roxy pulls Daisy to her feet and goes to give her a forearm smash, but Daisy shoves her arm away and answers with a forearm of her own. She rears back and nails Roxy with a Got Your Nose! She goes for the pin but Dawn breaks it up. The women continue to deliver shots and counters to one another for a while. Eventually, Daisy is able to hit Dawn with This Boot Kills Fascists and goes for a final pin. However, Roxy pulls her off. Daisy fights back as hard as she can but Roxy nails her in the forehead, busting her open. Daisy wipes the blood off of her eye, but she is not able to get back in time to break up the pin.

“Goddamnit! For real?”

Roxy goes and grabs a towel from her bag, comes over and hands it to Daisy.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to pop you there. You ok?”

“Oh, the bleeding? Yeah, I’ll get over it. Let me wipe up and we can go again.”

Dawn comes over holding her water bottle.

“You sure you don’t want to take a quick break? We still have plenty of time.”

“Felix won’t give me a break! I have to keep going until I win!”

Roxy puts a hand on Daisy’s shoulder.

“What is this really about?”

“I just want to win. More than anything.”

“I get it, everybody wants to win.”

“I have to win this! Otherwise…”

“Otherwise what?”

“Maybe they were right the whole time.”

“Right about what?”

“That I’m yesterday’s news. That my career is basically over. That I won’t ever have any significant victories to my name. That I’m destined to fade into obscurity.”

“Who said that? Was it that Felix girl you mentioned?”

Daisy sits in sullen silence. Dawn leans over.

“Can I tell you something? It sounds like this girl found your soft spots and poked at them. That can’t feel good. But it’s all just headgames. She’s only messing with you because she knows you’re a threat. Otherwise, why would she bother?”

“Dawn’s right. So stop letting her affect you. Stop pulling your punches and sabotaging yourself.”

Dawn stares incredulously at Roxy.

“What? It’s true. I know Daisy appreciates honesty and I know she wasn’t hitting as hard as she could. Look at me. Because I’m gonna tell you the truth right now.”

Daisy makes eye contact with her former teacher.

“You can win this. The only reason I won our match was by luck. If you weren’t bleeding, you would’ve easily gotten to me. You’re still that little speed demon I remember from years ago. You have a wealth of experience you can pull from. Even with your neck injury, you have all the physical capability to win. It’s all mental at this point. Get your head in the game, watch your six, and bring out that vicious side I know you have. Most importantly, you have to believe that you can win. Don’t listen to your enemies, your friends, your bosses, nobody. Listen to that voice I heard in my office so long ago. The one that wouldn’t take no for an answer. You got it?”

Daisy nods sharply.

“Hell yeah.”

“Excellent. Everybody grab some water then it’s time for round 2.”

Daisy sips her water then rolls back into the ring, a fiery look of determination in her eyes.

*******

Am I supposed to be scared? Is all the horror movie bullshit supposed to make me run under the covers crying? Well, you’ve failed on both counts. Come to think of it, you actually failed at something else as well. I recall you saying something about you had a knack for beating people twice. Yet, you couldn’t beat me when you had the chance, well, laid out for you on a silver platter. If you’re really so dominant, how come you couldn’t seal the deal? How come you couldn’t recover fast enough to get to me first? I guess blaming Devi is easy enough. Seems to be a theme for you; everything is just so easy. Devi was the easy way out of accepting a loss. Did you put in the hard work to become Openweight Champion at Final Destination? Nope, you did it the easy way and capitalized on my hard work instead. Do you show how hungry you are by seizing the first opportunity to speak for yourself? Of course not! It’s so much easier to kick back, relax, and get comfy. How well did that work out for you with that tag match again? Oh that’s right, that loss supposedly doesn’t count. Because you didn’t eat the pin, right? Going by that logic, I guess my Final Destination loss can be barely considered an actual loss too. After all, I wasn’t the one pinned. But I guess that’s only an excuse if I say it. Weird. Wait, there’s even more moon logic! It’s perfectly fine for you to attack your future opponents for no reason besides some bullshit “strategic advantage.” Let’s be honest here, you just wanted to take the easy way out once again and not face people when they’re 100%. But when I come after you to tip the scales back to even, all of a sudden it’s “You’re so horrible!” “So much for the intolerant left!” You’re damn right I’m intolerant of you! Not because you’re sexual or whatever. Your victim complex isn’t my problem. It’s because you have no respect. No respect for that championship. No respect for innocent people just doing their job. No respect for this whole profession, and that makes me sick. You being Openweight Champion is an injustice. One I intend to correct as soon as possible. You think I’m a gnat? Nah, I’m so much worse than that. I’m far more annoying and much harder to kill. It doesn’t matter how bloody you leave me, I clean myself up and remain as determined as ever. I’m here, and I’m not going away any time soon. I belong here just as much as anybody else! The game is certainly over.

Your game, that is.

You shouldn’t have given it away so easily. Your “strategy” with the others was to go after them physically. Even someone like you has figured out by now that that tactic doesn’t work on me. So you go after me mentally and emotionally. Thing is, that’s not gonna work out for you either. Sure, I’ve had my self-doubts. I’m only human. But just like physical wounds, they hurt for a while and then I overcome them. My neck injury was the worst physical setback I’ve ever had. But I fought and rehabbed and got myself medically cleared. I’ve been through plenty of emotional setbacks, some even coming from my own head. I made it to the other side and I remain as unshakeable as ever. I know what I am. I know I’m not Marie Bouchard. I don’t need any bell, book, or candle to whoop anyone’s ass. Especially yours. You want me to show you something? You want me to up the ante? How about this? We haul Devi the fuck out and duke this out amongst ourselves. Go ahead and try and pin me instead. I dare you. No matter how many times you kick out, I’ll have one more in me. The truth is I don’t need Devi, you do. You certainly needed her last time. You want to prove me wrong? Here’s your chance. Here’s the stage. Just don’t fall short.

Yes Devi, you did hear me correctly. I intend to make you persona non grata in this match. You probably don’t know what that means, so I’ll be nice and clue you in. It means you won’t be welcome, not involved. Thanks for the title, now scram. Probably the only thing I’ll ever thank Felix for is making me not waste my time pointing out the obvious. You were pinned again, to the surprise of…well, probably just you. Wake up and face reality. You were off your game? Like, when have you ever been on it? Yeah, yeah, you beat Azurine Vebbins. So what? I did that easily and can do it again in my sleep. Oh, but you defended your title against the Ripoffs of Wrestling. Where exactly are they now? Who knows and who cares? This is your first meaningful match for that title and you know it. How do you prepare? By…working out. What literally everybody else does. You could do more. You could go the distance, you just don’t know how or can’t be bothered to. That’s why you can’t hold up Brody’s legacy. You know why I don’t do her moves? Just look at what happens when you do them. They mark out for her, not you. You could be anyone else in the world and they’d do the same thing. When I do my thing, they cheer for me. They chant my name. The one thing I know about Brody for certain was that she never wanted to be anyone else but herself. That’s why I don’t use anyone else’s moves. I have confidence in who I am and what I can do. I don’t go seeking out validation from the popular kids like you do. You still can’t find yourself and that’s why you’ll lose at Game Over. Not to worry, that title won’t be “sullied” by Felix. Not that she was even in the zombie orgy anyway. No, I will be the one that sets the Lethal Sparks Championship on the right path. It’s true that the Thotyssey era will one day be over. These things never last. But you won’t be the one who ends it.

I know I have plenty of doubters out there. People who think I have a snowball’s chance in hell of winning this. I can’t help but wonder why I should even listen to them. They don’t know me. They can’t do what I do. So to hell with them! I know I’m more than capable of becoming Unified Openweight Champion. And I’m doing it for all the right reasons. I’m gonna do it for Brody. I’m gonna do it for Ashley. And above all…

I’m gonna do it for me.

Jeff X, Alyssa Grace, The Banshee, 'Don' Hendrix, DT The Ruler, Lazarus Arjen, Felix Hartley and Chad Ecclestone have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos August 23rd 2022, 12:31 am by **Elijah Hampton**

“While many used to cast me as Charmin soft pretty boy wrestler #350, to them, they saw more. Much, much more. They peeled back the layers and dug beneath surface to find the unrivaled talent that I possess, staring right back at them. Talent that was yet tapped into. Talent that I would, later on, squeeze every last drop of to solidify myself as a main eventer and soon to be, world champion. That and they also saw the mean streak that goes along with it. It’s kind of a package deal. But characteristics such as those make me dangerous. —It’s why I was labeled as a ‘hired gun’ when I accepted their offer to join what we all know to be, The Dynasty. And at the time, there wasn’t much to mull over. Aligning myself with the likes of you Jacob, as well as Darkane and Matt, when I was still a relatively unknown prospect just trying to find his way — I couldn’t sign my name on the dotted line fast enough. Because it would not only help further my career with a rocket strapped to my back, but it would also help me grow from a mental standpoint, as I would sit criss-cross applesauce under the Dynasty learning tree and listen closely with a number 2 pencil and a pad of paper as I jotted away. And before I continue, I know — I know you could spin this and make the argument that I used them for my selfish gain. Making me no better than the man I face this week. That’s a rather extreme comparison, but I suppose in a way, you would be correct. But before you start patting yourself on the back with your gotcha journalism, remember what I was to them early on when they were still feeling me out — seeing if I had any staying power whatsoever. Remember what my role was. A hired gun. I was a weapon of sorts to help keep their enemies at bay. That’s it. I wasn’t brought in to be all buddy-buddy with the other members. I was contracted to do a job. With my special set of skillzzzzz. And I did. But why me, hmm? I arrived to the Olympus brand with heavy baggage — with disloyal stamped on my forehead as I was cast away — but even then, the reward was far too much to ignore as it dangled in front of their faces.

They snatched me up like the prized catch that I was before anyone else could. All because there was a stable war going on. They knew if I wasn’t wowed by their pitch, I could have been standing shoulder-to-shoulder with the likes of The Big Oasis Brand, Maggall, Nobi, Bad Boy Know, Titan, and of course, Alex Carter. Bolstering and shoring up their already quite random collective unit of misfits. Sharing their vision, joining their cause as we would fight tooth and nail to erase you from the OWA record books instead of singing Kumbaya off-pitch around the Dynasty campfire. Except me. I have the voice of an angel, while the handsomeness of a devil. But let’s be honest, I would have been the final nail in your coffin seeing as how I was still standing and the one that gifted Matt the honor of getting the official win in that war zone of a triple cage match, but I digress. The point I’m trying to make is, you brought me in for a reason. Like, I get every group needs that token young guy as they talk them up as the future of this business. But there were many you could have chosen from. A litter full of runts. While the best-in-show pup Elijah Hampton, was sitting in the corner. Foaming at the mouth. Champing at the bit to break loose from his chain and truly run shit. I’m head, shoulders, knees, and toes better than the rest. Havoc saw it. Nas saw it. Jacob, you saw it. And you won’t be the last. They will continue to flock and line up around the block to just get a quick word in with me because of what I bring. And the differences that I make. I’m not just some equalizer. But the game-ender with the winning formula. And here I am today, looking to make yet another difference. By unseating you from your throne, Jacob. Taking your crown and beating you senseless with it. Until I see bone, until I see brain. Or I guess in your case, just bone. That right there would be doing the world a lot of good. Because while you plug your ears and bury your head in the sand, I listen. And they’ve made it quite clear that they don’t want to see your reign get extended for even one more second. And before you begin your rebuttal, I get you don’t care what they want. It’s at the very bottom of your list of priorities. But I, on the other hand, do. I want them to enjoy the product they watch. Every second of it. I want Olympus to be the highlight of their week. To be their escape and get their minds off their troubles, even if it’s just for a few hours. That’s a win in and of itself. But with you being the face of this brand currently, it puts a damper on all of that. The dark cloud, hovering above the rest of us. Leaving them to hope for better and sunnier days. Hoping for someone to come along and put an end to you. And I believe I represent just that — hope. Perhaps even their last hope.

I’m biased, I know. My words may paint you in a bad light. But then again, you do a pretty good job of that on your own. Your shtick, Senn? It has a quick shelf life. Stale, you have become. You’re a god. Or so you think. And you abuse your power, with us firmly under your thumb. Again, or so you think. It’s been done before. It’s been done dozens, if not hundreds of times. Nas did this shit. Eon too. Havoc somewhat. And then something happens. That something being they lose their power, their mystique, and their aura. They become something they always were — human. And then, they either disappear off the face of the earth or they go back to being all lovey-dovey. Like Chris wiping off his face paint, saying he’s a changed man and that the destruction he caused, he has zero recollection of it because he wasn’t in control, so no harm, no foul. The same act you’ll try to pull after you wipe away the crimson mask that I leave you with. You’ll give this half-assed apology and talk about how you don’t know what came over you and moving forward, you want a clean slate. Nah. It’s not about what you want. Eat shit. Because while I have the heart of a lion, I also have the memory of an elephant. I don’t forget. And I certainly don’t forgive. And what you’ve done, is unforgivable. Look, I’m by no means some Boy Scout myself, but at least when it comes to my mistakes, I own up to them. I don’t play hot potato with the blame game. I don’t blame it on the ‘voices’ I hear in my head. It’s a cop-out. The easy way out, which is something you’ve become accustomed to. Jacob, I hold grudges. I know it’s not good for my health. I need to let gooooo!! But when you do me dirty, I don’t let that shit slide. I take it personally. And when you hurt the people I care about, I won’t rest until I hurt you far worse. And I take everything you hold near and dear to your heart as revenge.

I can’t help but notice that your resources will be spread mighty thin come Game Over. Your pit bull — I believe his name reads Laz on his cute little spiked collar — he will have his hands full with his owner and his creator, Darkane. Putting him on a leash and dragging him all around the streets like the gutter trash that he is. Not stopping until he gets the hint and tucks his tail between his legs and goes back to whatever hole in the wall fed he came from. And while I’m on the topic — their history, I don’t know the whole story, but what I do know, is it’s a long and painful one. With no love lost. I would say their match doesn’t concern me, not even in the slightest — that was until Laz repeatedly swung a lead pipe into my leg, leaving it mangled. Right there and then, it became my business. He’s a nuisance. A nuisance with a Napoleon complex. He’s over there throwing a fit because of the hand he’s been dealt. With shit genetics to boot. He’s upset with Darkane because he left him for greener pastures. And that’s where the jealously stems from. I guess Darkane was supposed to pack him in his luggage and take him everywhere he goes. And receive handouts. Have a career built on nepotism. Instead of making it to the big leagues on his own merit. He wasn’t good enough. He still isn’t. And that much will be clear when Darkane rocks his shit — and I’ll leave it at that. And then there’s Alex Carter. I know that just mentioning his name, my blood should be boiling. He’s your partner in crime. And it’s been a collaborative effort to turn my life upside down. And yet, it’s just — I don’t know. Maybe it’s because every time I’ve stepped inside the ring with him, it’s never ended well for him. Maybe if he held a win over my head, then it would be a little more personal. But he doesn’t. And he never will. This isn’t a rivalry by any means. For it to be considered as one, there would have to be intense back and forths. Victories would have to be split and exchanged. I think what it boils down to is — Alex Carter is just Alex Carter. A random OWT graduate. A guy that did nothing worthwhile with his career on the main roster besides trying to steal clout from me. So when he was revealed as the next authority figure of Olympus, it was just soooooo — underwhelming. Which we are used to by now when it comes to him. All in all, this little crew that you assembled, Jacob, it’s not a very good one. Just spare parts held together by bubblegum and scotch tape. And I can’t wait for the ‘Him’ to be revealed as someone like Shea or Kyle Boe or Maggall. Would be the cherry on top of this shit sundae. I mean, this is Washington Generals' levels of bad — you see that, right? But I suppose you have to take what you can get. Since you’ve revealed your true colors, nobody fucks with you anymore. Going from The Phantom Troupe to The Dynasty to this? Talk about a downgrade. But Alex and Laz? Those two have served their purpose. They’ve done everything they possibly could to help you buy time. But no matter how hard they push, the walls are still caving in. With no hidden escape door for you to make a swift and safe exit. The inevitable can no longer be delayed. And you must face the music. The swan song of your reign. As I dance over your lifeless body at Game Over, while those in attendance and those watching at home, rejoice. For The Punisher has been punished. And ‘The Fallen Conqueror’ has indeed — well, fallen.

Jacob, there’s a question I’ve been meaning to ask you, but for one reason or another, it keeps escaping me. But I’ve got it now, firmly in my mind and it’s that Jacob, what the hell are you on about? A very valid question and I’ll even answer it for you! Tripping, Jacob, that’s what. You’re tripping. Over your words, over your feet. It’s a sight to behold. But why Jacob, why is it that you have this need to constantly babble about things that don’t even matter when it comes to the grand scheme of things? No matter the reason, no one does it better. Nobody can touch you. Perhaps this is me paying the price for your future broken down body come Game Over, that I must sit and listen to your broken record rhetorics. How many times must you mention prestige, as if I’m a stranger to the term when I created a title over it? How many times must you mention that it will take a miracle for me to dethrone you when all it’s going to take is a casual Elijah Hampton effort to do so? All while you do this, you go into great detail about the origin of my name. Hey, look at me — literally, nobody asked, you melon. My parents gave me the name Elijah ‘cause they thought it was dope. Which is fitting because my life is dope and I do dope shit. Not everything has some deeper meaning you edgy community college philosophy professor, you. But even so, I respect the effort. To try to tie everything together. The googling you had to do. Must have taken a minute or two. You went through all this trouble to gather this information so it could fit this theme and this precious narrative of yours. But let’s dive deeper when it comes to your approach. The bare bones of your argument is that you’re in the right. That you’ve done nothing wrong. That in actuality you are the victim in all of this. As you try to turn the tables and make it seem as though we are the ones that abandoned you. Even though before you made your costly decision to make an enemy out of me, we would constantly give you a pep talk. We would constantly give you a shoulder to cry on as you were met with this crossroads that came to your career. As you struggled to come to grips that you aren’t at the level you once were. And ultimately, even though many viewed you as the leader, as the face of the operation — you became the chink in our armor. The charity case that we had to push passed the finish line on our backs. You knew it. We all knew it.

And you had enough. You no longer wanted to be vulnerable or weak. So what did you do? You went on to pull perhaps the weakest and the whackest move in professional wrestling history when you — well, we all know the story by now, don’t we? The lengths you are willing to go to justify your actions is rather comical. Let’s just tell it like it is. You wanted a world title. You knew on your own, you weren’t good enough to obtain one. Just like you knew that The Dynasty wouldn’t hand you one on a silver platter because that’s not how we operate. Shit, you even had Darkane as the ref and he wouldn’t throw you a bone. So you did what you had to do. Just like at Game Over, I’ll do what I have to do. But my decision in cutting your head clean off of your shoulders and later putting it on a pike for all to see is quite an easy one. There will be no second guessing. Zero hesitation. And it’ll happen in one fluid motion. Your decision on the other hand, to leave your brothers high and dry — I get it, it took time. You had to weigh the pros and cons. And if you did decide to give in to your dark passenger, then you would have to live with yourself. Something I don’t envy. But I never said or acted as if this decision came in the spur of the moment. Yet, even long before you won that title the way you did — was it all that surprising? I kinda saw it coming, I think we all did — but I just didn’t want to believe you would actually stoop so low. Being the experienced vet that you are, I thought you would have the strength to stop yourself from giving into the temptation. But you went ahead and did it anyway. As I said, the signs were always there. Your frustration wasn’t exactly kept under wraps. It only continued to build. Slowly but surely, you were losing who you are — or perhaps, it revealed the real ugly you. It’s why I mentioned that I never really viewed you as my true mentor. It’s why I said you never made yourself accessible to me. Because your mind was too occupied with thinking about your next move. Putting yourself over The Dynasty. And yet, you have the audacity to state otherwise. That we individually ventured off to do what’s best for our own careers. You said I chose myself over The Dynasty. But you never really elaborated as to how. It’s almost like you say shit just to say it. Pulling baseless claims out of your ass. Hoping something will stick when it is you that will be stuck in the ring with me. Paying for your sins as I right the wrong that is your reign. Count on it. And while you’re busy over there writing your passive-aggressive thank you notes to the likes of me and the rest of The Dynasty for creating The Goetial King, in response, I say to those of you watching this, for what I will do to one Jacob Senn at Game Over — You’re most welcome.”

VaeVictisBD, Michael Bishop, Alyssa Grace, The Banshee, Darkane, Mark Michaels, DT The Ruler and have spoken. It’s such good shit!

"Family.

It’s a weird concept, isn’t it? The earliest days of our lives are made or broken by the people who produce us, if they decide to keep us around. The earliest chances we have to become something are defined by others, a process that seems standard, seems fair, but it’s fucking far from it. I came out of my mother, and she opted out, decided that she didn’t want me, left me in the fucking system to get plucked up by the most milquetoast people who could’ve come across a girl like me. I don’t really hold it against her-maybe it was something about my eyes, maybe she saw that I’d be sick one day like I am now, that my brain wouldn’t operate like other kids. Maybe she saw that I’d be a Power for Incredible Violence, a tool for myself and others to use to rip out the listless and degenerate of this world, something with a gnashing tongue and teeth seeking to peel away the flesh of the old world for the express purpose of bringing in the new.

For any reason of the above, she absolved me of that connection, that family, emancipating me from some of my first breaths to find my own path in life.

Liz Karlson, a fighter from day one, an opportunity seeker like no fucking other.

The family who took me in was nice enough, but they didn’t see my vision as I got older. They wanted me to have an average life, wanted me to stick to my guns and push through my admittedly limited intellect to greater things. They figured I’d make a solid school teacher, or an office manager, but I always wanted more. I always saw myself as being something greater, I’d come out of the womb fighting and I damn near intended to keep it going. I remember one of the last conversations I had with my adopted father-telling him I’d met a guy named Graham Baker who thought he could carve me into a perfect wrestler, that I was going to pack my bags and try to make something of myself-and I remember his reaction, that he balked and called me foolish for being willing to throw my life into the arms of a stranger, called me an idiot for making this agreement without consulting with he or my adoptive mother, called me selfish for leaving them after all they’d given to me, the sacrifices they made for me.

Of course, I couldn’t give less of a fuck. I didn’t ask to be taken in by them, I didn’t ask to be clothed and fed, I could’ve stayed in a state home and, destiny willing, been carried onto this same path when I was out on the fucking street and met Geeb all the same way. A lack of family has meant that I’ve always owed no one anything, that I’ve never had a strong connection to another person, that I may have damn near struggled with most of these social concepts because the only father figure I ever had was a deranged deathmatch wrestler with a brain full of buckshot holes and a strange way of making friends, but I have done it on my own. I have made it this fucking far, and I damn well intended to do the rest of it alone.

That was, of course, until I met Alyssa Grace.

The two of us bonded in our first contest, a match that saw Alyssa put me in the fucking dirt, lay me down to sleep with minimal outside interference, but I felt the strength and ferocity there. I wanted to give that back, wanted that bitch to fight me again and again. It was one thing to face someone who outpaced you or who you outpaced, but someone who matched you? It was rare-like sliding a key into a lock and getting it on the first try, like winning a bigger-than-average scratch off prize, like finding out which mixer perfectly compliments the dogwater cheap liquor you found at the bargain store on the corner. Grace was my soulmate, even if neither of us were aware of it at the time. Our bonding would continue in APEX Wrestling, in a violent and brutal contest that saw me come out on top, repaying her for the gift she’d given me in OWA.

We’d finally show our respects, until we both went silent, pursued other tasks…and lost our ways. Respectively, Alyssa lost her Omega Heavyweight Championship around the same night I dropped the APEX World Heavyweight championship. We sauntered out into the city for a night on the town, and mixed amongst the cheap drinks and atmosphere, we made an agreement-this shit, all of this, the pro wrestling landscape, it was ours for the fucking taking. Alyssa and I had something that very few others ever find-we know exactly how good we are, and exactly how good the other of us is. We know our weaknesses, our strengths, we know EVERYTHING and we weaponize it to the best of our ability. Our methodology is sound-let one take the abuse until they can take no more, and then exchange. Over, and, over, and over. Take bullets and blades for your partner, they’d do the same for you, and above all else, keep the mantra. Keep the thoughts in your skull focused, honed, dead ahead. When we formed this team, we kept one ideal in mind, the driving force that keeps our hearts beating in line.

What if love was not enough?

What if, in order to vanquish the great evils of this world, we cannot simply love thy neighbor enough to cut them away? What if, in order to achieve the peak of human condition, we must be willing to get our hands dirty. In a world that’s embittered in the wilderness of division, we must be stronger, we must be crusaders, we must bring the Power of Incredible Violence to head against all those who wish to destroy what we are. Alyssa and I are willing to do what others are not, we are willing to be the tip of the spear, the fucking shield, that which brings the end for forces that are above our comprehension, that are unwilling to bend the knee. We do what we do not just because we want to, but because we are willing to, because we are driven to, because we must fucking keep the peace no matter the personal cost.

We aim to keep that peace against Bad Meets Evil.

Violet, you’ve planned out quite the rousing finale for myself and Alyssa, eh? You’ve been meeting with your councils, trying to cross your T’s and dot your I’s before you send us packing down the river. I can’t fault you for being careful-so few are when they come up against people like us. Diantha and Havoc were spooky just like you and your partner, and they ended up floating down the river just as Reigner and Ruri did. You think that our destinies are intertwined, and in a way, they are-but not in the way you’d think, or hope. Your destiny is to exist below the soil that we stand atop, the apex that Alyssa and I find at the top of Odyssey, with these tag team championships up for grabs being just the first step in a master plan to become Gods. You’ve got leverage against us in that way, of course-if you don’t win now, you can come after us again and again. Living forever tends to give you that frame of longevity, that chance to try again and again, knowing if you fail that eventually the opponents who’ve kept you from the treasure you seek will be too far gone to fight back, too frail to raise a fist against you.

I can respect the strategy, but Alyssa and I don’t plan on going anywhere, don’t have a thought about putting ourselves to rest before these championships rest either ’round our waists or over our shoulders, out of your grasp for the meantime. This execution you’ve been planning, the thought to rid us from the world for good by compromising us to a permanent end-I’m unsure if it’ll play out the way you quite think it will. I’ll speak on your partner’s propensity for fortune telling and tarot when I cross the line down to that side of the tracks, but I want to assure you of one thing-there is not a goddamn thing you can do to put the two of us down.

Do you hear me? Do you understand?

I have no fear in my heart, even if you’ve managed to make it this far, even if you have the whole of your fucking family, that which binds you, to back you up for emotional support. I’m used to working alone, and it doesn’t scare me when, vision or not, you’ve got all the fucking friends in the world to buff you up. It doesn’t worry me that I don’t understand you or how you operate, because I know exactly how I fucking do things, how Alyssa fucking does things, and I know the two of us together can beat all the black polish and eyeshadow out of you like a goddamned gothic pinata. It doesn’t bother me that you’ve planned to take me out of this world, girl, because I’ve planned to end it all myself a fair few fucking times, and I came close to the edge of the reaper’s scythe more than I’d like to count, so you, Violet, and your fear don’t mean SHIT to me. Your threats don’t perturb me, because actions will always speak louder than fucking words, and you haven’t shown me that you can raise a fist worth a FUCK so far, nor do I expect you to start NOW.

You hide behind your smoke and mirrors well, but I’d advise you to stop hiding and get ready for fighting. It’s all you’re gonna find against us-no threat can keep me from the ring against you, not promise of violence can ward myself or Alyssa off. We are here to wage war, to fuck around so that you and your partner can find out, and no matter the fortunes that Marie’s seen, there is only one way this fucking ends-with the two of you empty-skulled and prone on the canvas, pinned, packed, and sent the fuck away.

And Marie-I don’t care what your cards, or your crystal ball, or your fucking visions tell you, you didn’t get a damn slight CLOSE to beating the two of us. You jumped us-jackbooted fucking CUNTS you are-and you made your presence known. Sure, you got a few lucky shots in, and I respect that. I respect that you took opportunity when it was presented and tried to make a name for yourselves. I respect that you came to the heads of the table and made your intentions-to embarrass us-known, but don’t count this as a fucking victory, it’s not even CLOSE. Getting leverage is one thing, but getting a win? Putting us in the dirt? Putting a gun to the brain of TPOIV and killing us dead?

It won’t happen. Can’t happen, really. You want to know why?

Because you’re not strong enough, Marie. You put so much fucking faith in those tarot card readings of yours, those fortunes, just like Violet. You’ve got your backing, you’ve got your family, you’ve got your surrounding support systems. You’ve got everything you need to succeed, all wrapped up on a platter to be fed to you with a SILVER FUCKING SPOON. I can’t fault you for having what I NEVER did, but I can tell you it won’t help you worth a fuck HERE. I can tell you it won’t save you NOW. You can do all you fucking want behind the scenes, but once we get in the ring? Once Game Over starts, it’s just you and Violet out there, alone. No matter the council you got, no matter the fortunes you saw, there is no promise for success but what you bring to that fucking ring.

For me, though? All I have, my family and my blood, that’s right in the ring with me. I told Alyssa that I’d die for her, take a bullet for her, because she’s all I fucking have left. I packed up my life and moved across the goddamn country for her, I’ve burnt myself down to absolutely nothing preparing for matches with her, I love her in a way that I can’t even express because I’ve never felt a burning like this before, and if you want to put her in the dirt, you’re gonna have to go through me. I promise you, it won’t be easy, because you’ll have to excise every beat of my heart, every breath in my lungs, every fucking singular atom of what I AM from me in order to STALL ME OUT for long enough to beat her down. Frankly, I don’t think you-or Violet-have the guts. I don’t believe Yuna or Izumi do, either, but the two of those fucking clowns are too busy doing fuckall else to come correct, so I focus back on the two of you.

You cannot match what we bring. You cannot break what we are.

You cannot win.

To win this match would be to remove us from one another, to end us within this bout, and that won’t happen. I’ve put all that I fucking am into TPOIV, and I won’t let two teams of rounded-up scoundrels who were collected on the prospect of joint victories and stupid fucking visions take that from us. There’s a lot more on the line here than just gold, and Odyssey needs some true fucking competitors to hold this standard high, to find themselves at the mountaintop. The four that we face in this bout are good, of course, but they’re not up to snuff. No matter what they say, they haven’t sacrificed like we have to get here. They haven’t struggled like we have to find ourselves here. Hell, they don’t even have the team success, the mantra, the balls to do what we had to do to get here.

We did.

And here we stand, on the precipice of the next great moment in what we are. Alyssa and I are coming correct, and we’re coming to fucking collect. We’re loaded for bear, locked up and ready to rip and tear, until it is done. We’re well aware of the horde of malevolent creatures and violent femmes standing between us and the mountaintop, but I mean this honestly and truthfully when I say that there is only one fucking person on this planet that can stop me when I’m motivated, and they’re right next to me, following me into this momentary Valhalla, this place where we find godhood and ascend to the fucking heavens. If you wanted to stop us, you should’ve interfered earlier, you should’ve kept us out of this fucking match, you should have killed us when you had the chance.

Now, that time has passed. Now, that chance is over.

The time for glory is coming, there’s just one bloody fucking war ahead of us. In Seoul, we’re gonna find out if dhampir and witches can bleed. In Seoul, we’re gonna see if that Joshi training can save you from The Power of Incredible Violence when it drops you on your fucking neck. In Seoul, we’re going to give all of Odyssey something to aspire to, one more fucking time. We’re gonna willingly paint the targets on our back, and uphold the reputation of this roster for all it is, all it fucking can be.

And we’re gonna do it together.

I’ve traveled this world alone for so long, fought as a solo warrior, nearly gotten myself killed time and time again, but now?

Now i’ve got family.

Now i’ll never fucking die."

VaeVictisBD, Michael Bishop, Jeff X, Alyssa Grace, DT The Ruler and Lazarus Arjen have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos August 22nd 2022, 9:11 pm by **Alyssa Grace**

LAUGHING IN THE FACE OF FEAR.
GAME OVER.

Kohtalotoveri - companion/comrade in fate.
A person who shares the same fate as you, or someone whose fate is similar enough to yours to be comparable. No need for familiarity or emotional connection of any kind - it can be a perfect stranger. Someone who got the same shitty fortune as you did is your comrade in fate regardless of who they are to you personally, just the same as anyone with the same name as you is your namesake.

Alyssa is unable to recall when she began feeling affection for Elizabeth Karlson. Well, Alyssa is unable to recall a time where she didn’t feel protective of, in awe of and bewitched by the talent messily contained in Karlson’s vessel. Although the two forces have only been united for approximately two months, for Alyssa, it feels like a lifetime ago that they shook bloodsoaked hands and declared war against the world. On paper, it isn’t absurd to presume that Grace’s sudden desire for the tag team championships is merely a means to an end, something she believes she can easily acquire to soften the blow of losing back to back marquee matches at two of the biggest events OWA has to offer.

That, however, couldn’t be further from the truth.

Of course, Alyssa believes that she can acquire the tag team championships, after all her partner is one of the most ferocious beings moulded by one of the sickest individuals to ever plague the world of professional wrestling in the form of Graham Baker and she.. well she’s Alyssa Grace. But, she knows that the challenge ahead of her and Elizabeth is exactly that - a challenge. Although she can’t say she has been impressed by what the team of Yuna Kurosawa and Izumi Takeda have contributed to the situation she finds herself in, she is aware that the possibility of them pulling off what she would deem the ultimate upset exists. The chances may be slim but they exist nonetheless. As for Bad Meets Evil? Alyssa is apprehensive that they shall live up to their name and she isn’t sure if she can say that they are above using their supernatural traits to their advantage. Despite the experience and previous accomplishments factor being firmly in the court of The Power Of Incredible Violence, Bad Meets Evil have proven that they at least plan to be a legitimate team which shall certainly benefit Odyssey whilst simultaneously being a giant pain in the ass of everyone’s favourite tumultuous duo-

“You’re doing it again.”

“Hm?”

Alyssa hadn’t realised that she’s visibility drifted off into space, to apologise for doing such, she shoots her partner a sheepish smile. Liz merely chuckles and snaps her fingers before Alyssa’s face, ensuring she is able to keep the attention of Grace.

“What’s on your mind? Apart from the obvious of course.”

“That’s it. It’s just the obvious which is on my mind. It’s peculiar, not being underestimated.”

“How so?”

“I feel like it’s almost instinct for people to underestimate others, no matter the circumstance. Most of the time, we don’t even realise we’re doing it. For many, myself included, accepting that someone has your number is a hard pill to swallow. This is a competitive world after all..”

“You shouldn’t expect human behaviour from a vampire.”

“That’s true. I think I’m still struggling to wrap my head around the fact we’re going to be fighting a literal vampire and witch. I feel like I’ve walked into one of the fanfictions I would read as a kid.”

“It’s crazy but far stranger things have happened here. For Violet this appears to be simple, a kill or be killed situation. You and I are certainly no strangers to that. Mortality might be a weakness to most but that doesn’t stop us from turning it into an advantage. The only thing that separates them from the rest of the people who boldly proclaimed they’re capable of killing us is spooky shit.”

“Right.. kill or be killed. We might have to retort to using unconventional methods and I surely wasn’t picturing myself embarking on a witchire hunt but it’s like what we’ve always said, whatever it takes.”

“Whatever it takes. Sure, not being in a position where we’ve got people to prove wrong is a little strange but proving people right doesn’t feel so bad, you’ll see.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, you’re right. It might be different but it's nothing we can’t handle. But.. I’ll bring my flamethrower just in case.”

“Cool. I’ll bring marshmallows, for when everything goes down in flames.”

- - -

Whilst I don’t believe your threats are idle, Violet, I must say that I don’t take them as seriously as you may expect me to. Perhaps I’m crazy for that, I mean, shouldn’t any and every word that leaves the lips of a vampire install fear into even the most stable of minds and strongest of hearts? The aura that yourself and Marie radiate is slightly off-putting but not powerful enough to make me doubt Liz and I’s chances of capturing the tag team championships, let alone our chances of survival. Your actions that I’ve witnessed and experienced so far do lean slightly more to the intimidating category than the off putting category so I shall give you props for that, but even then, any type of fear I feel heading into this match was not caused by you or your tag partner. Although certain points you have made to justify your planned execution of Liz and I are unique, for the most part, everything you have said, we have heard before. It feels.. almost pleasant to know that you understand the threat Liz and I are in this bout, I don’t have to waste my time doing my best to convince you that you should be worried about, instead I can focus on explaining that whatever plan you and Marie conjure up – whether it involves relying on your supernatural abilities or not - shall not affect the conclusion of this battle.

I’m sure many would agree that the world of professional wrestling would be better off without Liz and I - it certainly would be easier for people to become something - history has proven that we’re very difficult to get rid of. We are that kind of vermin that will just keep coming back, partially out of spite. Now, of course, there is the argument that you and Marie are different from those before you who have tried to toss us to the curb simply because of who the both of you are and I can’t dispute that. But that doesn’t guarantee victory for you. Lady Luck herself can be on your side but even she shan’t be powerful enough to prevent what is meant to be. In my time here, I’ve seen more beings, deities and creatures that hail from places beyond human comprehension and the ending is always the same - the bad guys never win. It’s a cliche I’m sure some are tired of but it rings true time and time again. Evil can be defeated. Mere mortals can overcome those from otherworldly realms. It has happened before and it will happen again at Game Over. The opportunity for you and Marie to use your gifts for what you will believe to be good to put an end to Liz and I’s hopes of holding those championships isn’t even going to present itself to you as we won’t let it. If we want to walk out of this alive, we can’t allow that to happen, the window of opportunity for the two of you is barricaded and mark my words, it shall remain that way.

I’m glad I won't live forever, for a multitude of reasons. For Liz and I, time is limited and when you take into consideration the torment we willingly subject ourselves to on a regular basis, it’s running out pretty fucking quickly. I’ve made peace with the fact that chances are, my cause of death will be related to this business, I can’t name a better or more fitting way for me to depart. I feel like I’ve lived a hundred lives and not all of them have been lived in the way I want them to. This year, so much time has been wasted developing a contradictory love/hate relationship with myself, everytime I have looked in the mirror, I have been unable to understand what I am meant to become. I thought I understood who I was, I thought I knew myself but then Liz came along and proved me wrong, she reintroduced me to myself and gave me a better understanding of what I will become when all is said done. I fear losing that. That knowledge is beyond priceless and precious to me, it is vital for me to keep and the desperation I have to keep a firm grip on it is what pushes me to be better, to hit harder. I haven’t shied away from admitting that there are things I fear, fearlessness is a facade for the most part but the longer I keep pretending, the easier it becomes for me to actually overcome these fears. These fears aren’t as simple as being afraid of spiders, heights, vampires or witches, no, the main fear threatening to eat my bones in this moment of time is the fear of letting Liz down.

We haven’t come this far, we haven’t done this much just to come this far and do this much.

I want the world, I want to take and take and take but I want to do it by her side. I want her to get as much as I do. I want the world to belong to us. Liz isn’t just my tag team partner. She’s my greatest friend. She’s my kohtalotoveri. Professionally and personally, I care for her more than I do anyone who isn’t named Finnegan Wakefield and whilst expressing this can certainly come back to bite me in the behind, I want the world to know that it is my greatest weapon. The necessity of caring for human life outside of a select few these days doesn’t present itself to me and that isn’t a bad thing at all, for if you look in my eyes, they are not empty, but full of rage and animosity. I am not the patron saint of good that some perceive me to be, I am simply a woman trying to navigate her way through the storm. Maybe I have been in the wrong, maybe I have done things that many deem unforgivable, fuck it wasn’t too long ago that my recklessness put me in jail. One day Hell will catch up with me and keep me wide awake in the fiery pits until I reach a state where I find my flesh burning to be comfortable, one day I will pay the price for the things I have done and the things I am yet to do but that day isn’t today, or tomorrow, or the day after that. Time is running out, which makes every single thing I do, big or small, vital. I'm at a point in my career where I can no longer afford to sit and wait for the moments to count. I must seize the moment and make it count. 2022 has proven that doing so alone is far easier said than done on my own and if I was fighting alone, truthfully, I’m not sure where I’d currently be. It’s a good thing that I won’t find myself alone again, isn’t it?

Violet, Marie, I quite like the two of you, in a very amusing and entertaining way, I see two young women that want to make it in this cruel and unforgiving business, but never really stopping to assess the whole landscape. The world outside of your axis does exist and it is extremely dangerous, yet you seem to always ignore the warning signs. I don’t think anyone other than Liz really understands what I am going through right now, fear plays on loop in my head over and over, never stopping or relenting, it continues on like bad comedy until everything goes dark. The darkness though is rather soothing, staring at the abyss long enough, it becomes a part of you, but how it is embraced is what sets me apart from everyone else. I am no hero. Liz is no hero. There are no more heroes. This is all fallen on interpretation, those that truly are heroes are ridiculed or ignored, taken for granted, from teachers to police officers and nurses, they have been used and abused, but in the realm of wrestling, there are those who label themselves this title and pretend in some far fetched acted out Shakespearean performance they are doing it for the good of others when this has always been about themselves. The Power of Incredible Violence have been given the opportunity not to make things right, but to rid the wrongs that have plagued our careers and personal lives. We exist in a world created out of illusions and I was living in one for so long, giving up everything that I am until now. No one in this company has any idea about the lengths I will go to to ensure that Liz and I win this war. You will learn though. Soon. Before you stands two women who gaze at nothing but red, the two of you are the deer in the headlights and I don’t give a flying fuck if on paper you’re superior to Liz and I in every way, I’ll spit on and crumple up that paper and toss it in the trash. I want to say that this will be the beginning and the end for Bad Meets Evil and The Power of Incredible Violence but I’m not sure I believe that to be true, a part of me believes that this is only just the beginning, which is fine. I know what I’m fighting for, I know who I’m fighting for and if I have to get my hands bloody on several occasions to emerge victorious time and time and time again? So be it. I wonder if witches and vampires bleed the same way humans do..

I promise, that if this is only just the beginning for the four of us, that Liz and I will forever haunt your thoughts and every time you turn a corner, looking to make sure that we are not there over your shoulder or in the shadows, we will be in your head, we will be the one true memory that will never escape you as we stand atop of this division as the ones you could never kill.

OWA Promos IKx6aAMIYjfsRXGM_I7OU_HF1UOVFKGGXZwFQgggtkdGvXtjku0tbJxyC20VNOC5TMzMphC4oqg3_su7zqX120RiQTGm42JsqFR7zGXiEETonIGCwgYu0boae5rqkot5J6iCWYRtCPk4-lRa0JMgUQ

VaeVictisBD, Michael Bishop, Jeff X, The Banshee, Elijah Hampton, DT The Ruler and Chad Ecclestone have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos August 22nd 2022, 3:23 pm by **Darkane**

The midnight hour was in full fledge and New Orleans was a hotbed for the activity. The party never seemed to stop and the city goers were constantly on the go. The inner city was lit up by a wide array of neon colors from various sources yet it still had that old soul feel. If there wasn’t room in the streets people would squish themselves together on the second story balconies usually with a drink in hand. One shirtless man played his guitar artfully on the street corner, while another group played their trumpets as abrasively as they could. Bourbon Street was a zoo, it looked like Woodstock amplified tenfold. Everyone was on top of each other taking selfies, some donning who dat nation in New Orleans Saints jerseys scattered about. The decibel level was noticeably loud. It felt like there was no end in sight and for all intents and purposes, there wasn’t. Even on the rooftops, people would gather in packs, surveying the aura of the New Orleans nightlife.

And what an aura it had.

But not everything was enchanting as it seemed. A young woman marched violently in her stilettos away from the ruckus on Bourbon Street, she seemed to be incensed about something. A man in a blue tropical shirt was in hot pursuit.

“Mandy, Mandy! Don’t be like this!” He urged, holding his palms up. She stopped on a dime and turned around.

“Be like this?! YOU CHEATING SCUMBAG! I BET YOU GOT IT UP FOR HER! WHAT DOES SHE GOT, THAT I DON’T GOT?! HM?!” Her eyebrows slanted down like one end of a seesaw.

He looked around nervously before responding.

“A better gag reflex?” He ducked down as she threw her golden wedding ring over his head.

“WWWWWWWWOOOOOOOWW. THIS MARRIAGE IS THROUGH! AND I’M TAKING THE KIDS!”

The argument continued but slowly faded away into a murmur.

The golden ring rolled for a while, along the length of the street, past some debris, and finally dropped into a nearby sewer grate.

It was only then a pair of eyes gazed up from below.

+++++

The nauseating stench tainted the old underground sewer system. The tunnels stretched for miles underneath the city’s bowels. It was no place for anyone or anything to be roaming in the midst of the night. The long river of sewage had a disgusting greenish and brownish tint mixed with the trash that people threw through the grates out of inconvenience. Sewer lights occasionally popped up ever so often, illuminating such and highlighting the surroundings to reveal a raccoon skull picked away at over time by who knows what. In the distance rats would squeak from time to time and voices could be heard echoing throughout the tunnels. Other than that it was deathly silent as one could imagine and any noise that did occur was a surprise. Staring down the length of the tunnel created a portal like effect. Rings of erosion hovered and stretched over like an arch right back into the sewage itself. The tunnels eventually met at a central hub each entrance leading to a different part of the city. The whole entire system was a complex maze made up of intricacies that were way ahead of their time.

Suddenly an orange dot glowed from within the corner of the hub which was covered by the darkness. The sounds of heavy footsteps in the water crept closer. Smoke danced its way out of the shadows and there stood a silhouette in black, just barely illuminated by his cigarette. He trapped it in between two of his fingers and emerged from the black. Darkane stood menacingly like some sort of swampy sludgy sewer monster that rose up from the murky depths. His hair dripped over his leather jacket. He looked straight ahead without a care in the world even though there had to be a lot on his mind.

Darkane eventually knelt down beside the sewer wall. He eyed a small carving that reads “BEUC”. Darkane shook his head, before putting his cigarette out on the initials.

“I left you.” He uttered in an icy tone.

Darkane clicks his tongue.

“And I’d do it over and over and over again.”

“Living in regret is an avenue that I avoid. The past is the past, there’s nothing I could or would do to change anything about it. I live to learn and progress, I don’t live to wallow in remorse. Everything that has happened to me has put me on a trajectory of many peaks and valleys over the years. It all boils down to how you handle adverse situations. I am molded by my past to an extent but I’m not going to let it completely define me inside and out. Pukes like Laz can’t seem to grasp that concept very well. He goes on high alert and the alarm sounds whenever you get him right in the feels. It’s the oldest trick in the Arjen book but it works every fucking time. I deserted The Big Easy Undercity and I’m made to look like a treacherous turncoat, but none of you, especially the ones who are pulling for Laz could ever understand how much continuous bullshit I had to put up with on a daily basis. I carried his deadweight around like a deer carcass, I got him out of trouble with the pigs, and with bloodthirsty rival gangs on multiple occasions. I can think of many instances where he was flirting with death’s door and I bailed his fucking ass out time after time, but what’s the point of mentioning it when getting through Laz is like beating your head against a cement wall? It’s fruitless. I left you Laz, so maybe you could somehow someway grow a set and handle things on your fucking own. I left you because you were my achilles heel, you were the one dragging me down, you were the one that was gonna get US BOTH killed. I can still see it now, the same downcast dreg who wears his emotions like a fucking prom dress for the masses to see. The same whiny petulant pissant kid in a man’s body crying foul over trivial ass shit when I was doing you a favor. BUT DARKANE, I COULDN’T FEND FOR MYSELF AND YOUR BETRAYAL WAS SO HEART WRENCHING I LASSOED MY TONGUE AROUND SENN’S FUCKING BALLS AND RODE THAT SON OF A BITCH LIKE A MECHANICAL BULL, JUST SO I COULD GET BACK AT YOU! What kind of twisted fucking logic is that huh? I’d understand if it was just you coming to me as a man, but for Senn to cast a spell on you? That’s just weak. What happened to the Laz I used to know, way before you started acting so defiant? The Laz that wouldn’t hesitate to bash somebody’s skull in with a baseball bat just for giving his fellow brothers the side eye. What happened to the Laz that would try his ass off even if it was against all odds? What happened to the Laz that earned respect through his toughness and his willingness to throw caution to the wind if it meant showing up and showing out? What happened to the Laz I pegged as a future cornerstone of The Big Easy Undercity and whatever he decided to do with his life? He went out a neutered himself, that’s what. Whatever fortitude he had, was swept away and into the drain. Once you hit fifteen the jury was out, there was no coming back. Call it growing pains, call it feeling unfulfilled, call it whatever the fuck you want but to scrutinize me and make me out to be the only guilty party is the stuff of a straight up pansy, but I’m the coward?

Try again dipshit.

I feel like a parent that did everything in their power to make sure you were in the best position to succeed only for you to royally fuck it up and screw the pooch. The Big Easy Undercity had a shelf life, I think our entire crew knew that from its inception but Laz, you wanted to stretch it out, you wanted to beat a dead horse and you still haven’t realized that people grow the fuck up and go on their separate ways. It’s a part of life and I shouldn’t have to lecture you about it. I shouldn’t have to spit some ugly truths your way but evidently, you haven’t learned anything. That’s why at Game Over I’m not going to just teach you a lesson in respect and brutality. I’m going to humble the fuck out of you if it’s the last thing I do. I know what you’re capable of, I can’t ignore that, but you’re going to see a version of me that isn’t for the weak at heart.

And that’s exactly what you are.

Weak at heart.

You can boast about whatever wicked intentions you have in store, but the fact of the matter is you’re not going against any old street thug with baggy shorts and a short fuse. You’re going against The Death Reaper, The GraveWorm, your ruler, your master, your hero, your villain, and everything in between. I know your nuances. I know your flaws like I know the back of my hand. I know where to hit you where it hurts the most and I know that if I’m to get my sister back if for some reason she can’t hold her own? It ain't just Game Over, your fucking whole world will go into full on tilt mode. I’m going to peel back the layers of Laz that the world doesn’t know about yet. I’m going to embarrass you on a national stage, far beyond the steaming shit pile I left you in once I moved on to greener pastures. They’re not gonna recognize you Laz, they’ll have to find Alex Carter a body because this goes beyond the realm of business, you’re right, this is personal. As much as I don’t want it to be, as much as I’ve tried to play it down I realize that I can’t. You’re beyond rehabilitation, you’re beyond even worth vesting actual time and effort into in hopes of regaining the repute you once had. You’re a broken project that has bit off more than he can chew, not by only fucking with me, but with my sister. The games are gonna end and no amount of reinforcements will stop me from ripping off your head and shitting down your neck not unlike these fucking sewers. You want me in the grave but you don’t realize you’re already dead inside. There is nothing in your hollow fleshly vessel, only woeful memories and psychological scars that replay over and over like a tape recorder. That’s why you’re trying to bring what’s left of my family down into the gutters. Once you look inward and see what I see, when you bear witness to the devastating trainwreck long derailed and forsaken, you will crumble faster than the speed of light. It’s not enough to just beat you senseless, I have to show you your own fucking innards that are deteriorating right before your eyes. And believe me, I know you’ve been avoiding that long search within yourself for answers and you’re not very confident with your inner resolve, but I simply don’t give a shit anymore. I don’t believe OWA is strong enough to house the two of us and you never should have given me a second chance, to begin with. As you had me dead to rites. I was a bludgeoned mess when I faced Hampton, you had me ripe for the pickings, but your self-serving gluttony reared its ugly head yet again. You couldn’t help yourself. Another one of your glorious traits for all the world to see. You wanted me one on one so you could make this as agonizing as possible but you should never raise the dead. I’m more than just a zombie, I’ll eat your flesh and come for your fucking soul in one fellow swoop.”

Darkane stood up, reaching into his leather pocket and pulling out a grime-riddled wedding ring he picked up before. He twirled it between his fingertips before catching it in his palm.

“It’s amazing what you’ll find down here. Don’t you remember this place Laz? Our old stomping grounds, we would traverse these tunnels for what seemed like days, and whatever plans we had, were made down here. But now it feels like it was all for not, it feels like it was a figment of my imagination. I can reminisce as much as I’d like, but I know every story has a beginning a middle, and an end. Our story is getting to the meaty part and when we clash at Game Over just remember the good times if you can, you know, past the melancholic recollections, before I take my shovel and skull fuck you with it until you gurgle blood chunks and fucking metal like its mouth wash. I need to remind you and everybody else that matter of who the fuck I am and that the reputation that has preceded me is not a bunch of hokey bullshit. I’m real Laz and you know it, you’ve seen the demons that have laughed in my eyes and the power that I harness when things get personal. I change the mood, I change the goddamn atmosphere. And this goes past the confines of OWA. You won’t have to worry about rolling out the red carpet for me at Game Over. I’ll be there, but I must warn you there are bigger things at stake than you realize.”

Darkane guides his hand behind him, unveiling a duct taped picture on the wall.

“Look at her, sweet sweet, [REDACTED]. Your daughter has grown up so fast! I remember when she was but an infant in your arms. This has to be her picture day school photo right? She looks just like you. A spitting image if I do say so myself. I hope she’ll be watching Laz, but for your sake, maybe it’s best to put her to bed for the night. You must make a choice. Leave my sister be or your daughter will end up a slave to the foster system. She will be an illegitimate fucking orphan girl when I take your cadaver and wave “hi” for the cameras at Game Over. Such a traumatizing experience for a little innocent girl to see an actual corpse but I figure it’s a fair trade. That is the fate that threatens her emotional stability. I always believed in an eye for an eye Laz and she will see the true ambitions of her asshole father come to fruition at Game Over. She’ll see a side of you that she didn’t know you had. Daddy! Daddy! She’ll scream against the TV! As I’m pulling your god damn eyes out of their sockets, as I’m kneecapping you worse than I did Micheal Bishop, as I’m turning the depraved into what he truly is. A fucking mockery and just another street statistic. If you wanna go low, we’ll go as low as we can fucking take it. Because if you’re not dead by the end of the night, I know exactly where you live bitch boy. I will drag you to what was it? That same beaten down shithole on the corner of [REDACTED]. I’ll kick down your god damn door and let her say goodbyes and make her wish she’d never been born. Because in the end we’re all born between shit and piss.”

Darkane takes his trusty shovel and starts digging into the raw sewage.

“Between shit and piss we are born.” He nods his head and smiles sadistically.

He repeats himself again making a chant out of it.

“Between shit and piss we are born.”

He heaves the fecal matter onto her picture as it droops down the wall.

“BETWEEN SHIT AND PISS WE ARE BORN.
BETWEEN SHIT AND PISS WE ARE BORN.
BETWEEN SHIT AND PISS WE ARE BORN.
BETWEEN SHIT AND PISS WE ARE BORN.
BETWEEN SHIT AND PISS WE ARE BORNNNNNN!”

He then charges at the camera, letting out a bestial scream.

[Static.]

VaeVictisBD, Alyssa Grace, Elijah Hampton, 'Don' Hendrix, DT The Ruler and Lazarus Arjen have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos August 22nd 2022, 9:58 am by **'Don' Hendrix**

[size=61]To God Here I Lay, Broken, Flawed, And Damned To Hell[/size]

[size=50]"In the belly of the beast, I've waited for one opportunity to seize everything I have dreamed of for the better part of a decade to have: Success, Fame, Money, and Respect. But with the gain of fame and money, I hold accountability on myself for the lack of respect and success. And it isn't the lack of respect that drives me: I'm a big boy, I can handle being called names and told hypocritical and bigotry comments I've encountered because of where I came from, who I placed myself with. I'm not a OWA original and I damn sure barely got treated like people thought I was going to make it better the second go around because people think I'm just a man who needs off the camera bullshit to define myself, but people don't realize when I want, I can spit the nastiest of venom that will melt your skull, decay your brain, and fest into your soul till that blows away like a dust cloud from the snap of my fingers. Months back, I wouldn't have even thought I would be anywhere near a championship, that me spewing venom would just lead me to curtain jerkering, despite me believing that I could most definitely be a champion. This wouldn't be the first time I've been told by the powers that be that I'm good, but not good enough to be considered for a title opportunity. That I was always missing one thing that would separate me from the people that are handed shot after shot. It almost sends me to a chuckle fest on the daily at the thought, but maybe there has been a God listening, taking pity on me as he threw me a bone and boom, I got a fucking title match coming up! Now, I stand here today with five caskets with five cunts who are going to be victimized and sent packing to Savannah's side bitch house.

Bob Osterland. Aww. Trying to be your son's hero? All honestly, I can respect that because I'm trying to be the hero for my daughter, so I can appreciate a man trying to be a hero in their child's life. Unfortunately you're going to become the biggest embarrassment to your son's life."

Brandon chuckles a tiny bit as he lets out a short sigh.

"Oh come on daddy-o, you think I'm going to allow you to bring home the championship belt, look down at your son and let you say "Now listen here buckaroo, your big papa bear did it". You aren't getting that. You're getting the look of a kid who hates you. Who despises you. Your son will be ashamed that his father is some overweight, Jabba The Hunt looking, fragile ass bitch that when he comes home, empty handed, and sees the look of shame written in the eyes of his boy, well, it wouldn't be the first and isn't gonna be the last we seen a depressed wrestler kill himself.

De'Marion what exactly are you trendsetting? Poor match quality? Poor mic skills? If that's what makes you a trendsetter, Lil Petey did it first! If it's your clothes, your Target attire is about as expensive as the bullshit makeup you are wearing. The disrespect is real, and motherfucker I heard your motivation for in this ring is to see "big opponents" to satisfy your appetite". Go wrestle for Revolution1 then, they got enough big opponents for you to dig your teeth into, but here, the only thing that's going to happen is your teeth getting knocked down your throat that you'll shit them out. When I kick you in your face, no makeup is the world will be able to fix the dent in your face.

I've been going on and on about why two of my five opponents shouldn't win, I almost forgot to say why I should win. Silly me, allow me to explain. You see, I'm simply just better than the rest. The chip on my shoulder, the weight of the world on my back, but the power of the sun… in the palm of my hand. The fate of all of your realities, rest on my finger tips. Not a single one of you gets to be in control of your destiny at Game Over, I control those.

I'm tired… I am tired of fighting every single day. I fight to wake up, I fight to breathe every single breath I take, I fight to go to sleep…… all I've done is fight for things to go right…

WHEN WILL SOMETHING HAPPEN THAT GOD FEELS LIKE I'M GOD ENOUGH TO GO FOR?!?

I'm tired of "just" surviving. I want to live in a time when I walk into a locker and feel respected. Feel the admiration of my peers. I just want to live. You guys think it's going to be so over to get over me in this match… to beat me like nothing… YOU THINK I'VE GOTTEN FAR IN LIFE LAYING DOWN FOR PUNK ASS BITCHES LIKE YOU?! No, but one day I want to be good enough for someone to say my name in the least sarcastic and disrespectful way possible.

El Landerson. Hehe… I need to relax before I relapse, oh oh shit Landerson is swinging his fists around, quick defend your kneecaps! Man you couldn't cut it in the little leagues, so he came to OWA! Well listen up Baby Yoda, ugly fuck let me grab the baby stroller. And after the match people won't remember your arrival on the scene when the only thing that will be remaining is you putting yourself out as a meme, sheesh. Heyo, imagine being such a mark for yourself that you name your entire list of finishing moves after your last name. Also what's the difference between your frog splashes? You call one "Landerson Frog Splash" and the other "Landerson Five Star Frog Splash". Like what? Same move but adding "five star" makes it better? The only thing five star about you or your moves is the effort, but the results are going to get a Denzel Porter rating of negative seven stars my G. You're a boy sticking his nose in adults business and that means I'm going to be the one to ground your midget ass and send you to your room ashamed and embarrassed that you tried to be become a man when all you be is the masked luchador that needs his diaper changed every time you lose.

Now onto one of the two supposed challengers I will have in this match. Hello Rich Gatsby. I've seen a lot about you. My God this is an ALPHA superstar isn't he?!?! Nah dog I'm tired of you ALPHAs. How about this: why don't you go to VICTORY Pro, I'm sure they'll be more than happy to make you one of their top guys in your first fucking match. Unfortunately, this isn't there, so your accomplishments anywhere else don't mean SHIT! When your entrance played… "Ready Or Not Here I Come, You Can Hide.." I had no fucking clue who you were. The only reason I even made an effort to look up who you were was because the crowd treated you like you're a big deal. And I can confidently stand here, look this camera dead on, and say I don't see the hype. "Big Gat" when the only thing this gat is shooting is blanks. He would miss his target even if they're standing a foot close because he ain't about it. He's not a killer like he wants to be. "The Juggernaut" when he doesn't even have a leg, make it two, to stand on that claim. You can be built like a tank, but when that take runs out of gas, the tires are destroyed, and the tank gets overturned, who's the most destructive motherfucker then? Who's a juggernaut then? "THAT MAN" when you were the only man in ALPHA one time? Bro if you were THAT GUY like you say, you would have been THEE GUY many times over! No, you aren't that guy. You're just a guy that got lucky one time and used that one time to build a thick wall around you so you can scream into the fragile foundation that you're THAT DAMN GOOD when you AIN'T BEEN THAT DAMN GOOD and watch it CRUMBLE around you as I bust down your walls onto you and prove you lied when you took claim to "That Man" when your new Nickname is going to be "Brandon’s Bitch." You and me? We aren't alike at all.

When the bell rings, go somewhere else and use that slogan, and tell them who sent you, because when they find out that you lose to me, you're going to be laughed at and sent to show openers for the rest of your career. Oh, and didn't you lose in the GOW finals? Hahaha go fuck yourself.

Silver Kazmea. Silver…… Kazmea. I heard that you're some big time free agent that finally decided to make OWA his new resting ground, and I tried to show some respect, but you don't fucking deserve it. You don't. Just like with the ALPHA cunt, nothing you've done matters here. Here? You're the Rookie cuh. And in all honesty, you should be happy that Mr. Smiley Face or whatever this punk *censored* name is of a GM allowing you into the match. This is BBW, the XFC, NEWera Wrestling, EHWF, Lord of Pain Wrestling……… who names this shit? Anyway, two things have come to my attention. One is how I've tried to look up any recent clips of you and I couldn't find a thing. You haven't wrestled in almost three years. And you come here to make a grand return to wrestling, but let me ask you. Are you nervous? Is there a doubt that you can go in an actual match? Training is nothing compared to stepping into this ring and fighting non stop. All I can do is sit here and laugh, watching you embarrass yourself on the biggest stage of your career. Yes, the biggest stage of your career because all those piss ant companies you worked for bare in comparison to what Omega Alliance Wrestling brings. This isn't the little leagues no more old man. This is the end all be all in professional wrestling. And you're stepping into the war zone that you will not survive. You want to step into that ring and make us remember you. Oh, by the end of the night, we will remember you, as the man that Brandon Fucking Hendrix defeated to stand tall as the new Icarus Champion!

You see, I looked up the definition of Icarus, and goes: "Icarus is one of the most famous tragic figures in Greek mythology, as his story highlights the dangers of hubris, or excessive pride. Although he was warned by his father not to fly too high, Icarus became overexcited and flew too close to the sun, causing his wings to melt and leading to his untimely death". Icarus was a minor character in Greek Mythology, famous for not surviving the transition from boyhood to manhood. That fits what people see my career as. "Brandon was a minor character in professional wrestling, famous for not surviving the transformation from mid card to main event". Oh yeah, I've heard it all. Only one guy here reached the main event scene of a Nickelodeon wrestling company that even took him almost ten years of his career to do, but the rest, you and I are in the same boat, and it pisses me off.

At Game Over, main show, pre-show, it does not matter to me in the slightest. You're going to die a thousand deaths to the man who will etch his name into history. When the smoke settles, the camera pans up in the ring of destruction, you're going to see the bodies of El Landerson, Bob Osterland, Rich Gatsby, DEMARION, and Silver Kazmea, and standing on the pile of rubble above them will be Brandon. Fucking. Hendrix holding up the Icarus Championship. And this doesn't stop here until I get the shot at the Immortal Heavyweight Championship.

I am the Sun. I am the Darkness. I am The God Of War. I am.

BRANDON
FUCKING
HENDRIX!

And I shall have my revenge."[/size]

Michael Bishop, Alyssa Grace and DT The Ruler have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos August 22nd 2022, 7:58 am by **Nobi**

To be honest, I didn’t expect to be in this match. To be in a number one contender match for the OWA Immortal Heavyweight Championship all of sudden? I have to give my thanks and gratitude to Alex Carter because I honestly didn’t see it coming. From failing to be a number one contender for the OWA Tag Team Championships to being potentially THE number one contender OWA Immortal Heavyweight Championship, that is really something. So thank you Alex Carter.

I’m going to say there would be a critique, especially from Corey Mathis, Drago Santiago, and Mark Michaels but that is going to happen right? In this business we’re always going to critique someone or maybe give them some praises and credits and hence why I’m speaking right now.

Let me start with myself first.

I’m going to ask myself, what have I done to earn this opportunity? Well, obviously because Alex Carter thought I deserve to be a potential number one contender for the Immortal Heavyweight Championship but other than that, what has Nobi done lately?

To brag about myself and to show off, what have I done, I’m 3-0 at Final Destination. I’m undefeated at the biggest show of them all and Final Destination 4 is still very fresh in my memory. Maybe if I was at the very first Final Destination, I would have been able to say that I’m 4-0 at Final Destination. But it is what it is and the point is, I’m undefeated at Final Destination.

So what does it have to do with me being in this match? Well, just for Final Destination 4 to be specific, you know how much of a chaos for the match that I was in. Not going into the details but I survived and I don’t want to discredit my friend, Nate Cage, but not only did I survive, I thrived as I was the one that brought the victory for myself and Nate Cage. That is with team work of course to give Cage his deserving credit.

And prior to that…that was a long time ago since I got pinned or submitted. Can anyone tell me when was the last time I lost when I wasn’t able to kick out from a pin or decided to surrender myself? Does Corey Mathis know? What about Drago Santiago? Would Mark Michaels be able to tell this?

Well, I’m giving the three of you a chance for an argument. If the three of you are interested to find out when was the last time I got pinned or submitted, let’s see if any of you can find an answer.

Either way, it’s been a long time.

Hey, this is not exclusive to OWA. I’m also working for both Wrestleworld and SSW where I’m the current Wrestleworld European Champion and SSW Heritage Champion. Who knows if there is a chance you can see Nobi three belts sooner or later.

But that is not my focus right now. My focus right now is to not have a game over for myself at GameOver. I want to win this match first. No, I need to win this match. I have to win this match.

You know why…

The answer is Burning Sky 2018.

That’s right, the night I made my OWA in-ring debut by challenging for the Omega Heavyweight Championship…and I lost.

I could have won an OWA World Championship in my OWA debut but the fact is I didn’t. I didn’t regret it. So what do I regret?

I’m regretting the fact that I haven’t been able to say that I was and am an OWA World Champion. Sure, in general, I’m a former SSW World Champion, but not a former OWA World Champion.

I want to change it right now. I want to change it at GameOver. That’s why I’m saying I’m doing everything I can that this isn’t going to be a Game Over for myself at GameOver. I want to say GameOver is going to be starting myself over to work, climb, and claw to be able to beat Corey Mathis, Drago Santiago, and Mark Michaels at the same ring and at the same time before I face off against either Jacob Senn or Elijah Hampton. That’s what I’m working for and that’s what I’m aiming to achieve right now. I’m working very hard to be the number contender for the OWA Immortal Heavyweight Championship and eventually winning the belt and being able to say that I’m an OWA World Champion and in general to be able to say that I’m a 2 times World Champion. That’s right. And what I have to do right now is either pinning or submitting someone. That someone is between Corey Mathis, Drago Santiago, and Mark Michaels. Which one of them would surrender to me as they’re going to be the first step for myself to achieve more greatness for myself? We’re going to find out soon.

To be clear, I don’t want to underestimate any of them because Corey Matthis, Drago Santiago, and Mark Michaels all are great in-ring performers. Hell, both Drago Santiago and Mark Michaels have beaten me one on one. Corey Matthis himself has made an impact by winning the Icarus Championship himself and held the belt for 120 days. Very impressive.

So Corey, not only are you a former Icarus Champion, you’re a former OWT Championship as well. You’re just like me. You’re also a former World Champion. Actually no, you’re beyond me. OWT was part of OWA so you’re able to say that you’re a former OWA World Champion. That is something that I can’t say for myself. You should be proud of that. You’re still young, you’re athletic, and you’re having an opportunity to win an OWA World Championship once again. And maybe more. When I see you, I see a future to be honest and are you ready to be the future right now? You have every tool to be the OWA Immortal Heavyweight Champion because the Icarus Championship is just your start or maybe even just a warm-up. You’re ready to win but are you also ready to lose? Truth to be told, I was ready to beat CM Nas at Burning Sky 2018 too but you know what happened as I also mentioned this earlier. I was so confident and it ended up in a blunder for me. Actually, scratch that, you’re not Nobi. You’re Corey Matthis and you’re much more talented than me when I was around your age. Still has more talents than I am right now. All I have is just my Million Dollars of a body. I don’t have much of a technical or submission move, let alone a high-flying one. All I’m relying on are my fists and my powers. That makes me predictable. But the thing is, is your will greater than I am? Maybe…maybe not, I would love to hear your response but let me make it clear that I’m intending to win this match just like I’m sure you are. Just like Drago Santiago and Mark Michaels too.

Now let me talk to one of them. I’m going to talk to Drago Santiago now. Remember Wrestleworld? Of course you do. That’s where you made me tapped-out. But why aren’t you there? You could have been a Wrestleworld Champion by now. You even won your last match there…but you didn’t accomplish anything there. Ok, let’s focus on OWA, I’m sure you want to win this match and eventually become the OWA Immortal Heavyweight Champion. I know you can do that but first, why didn’t you win the Icarus Championship? You had and still have an issue with Corey Matthis who was the Icarus Champion back then. Why didn’t you beat him? You could have done it at Final Destination 4 but you didn’t as Ryo Sakazaki won that match. And just a reminder, this match is involving 4 competitors just like when you failed to win the Icarus Championship. Sure, it was an Ultimate X match but this match is still involving 4 competitors. Are you ready to erase the doubts? You’re the only one that can answer this. If you don’t like what I’m saying then do something about it. Try to submit me once again but I dare you, Drago, this time is not going to be enough. This time, you need something more to beat me because this match is too good to tap-out to me. No, I’m going to win this match and if I have a chance to make you tap-out or even just pin you 1-2-3 in the middle of the ring, I will.

This just leaves Mark Michaels. I’m sure everyone is going to say that you deserve this match the most. I’m even going to say that you actually deserve another chance to challenge Jacob Senn at GameOver instead of being named as a potential number one contender. You did great against Jacob Senn and you can certainly do it again. You have a good chance to win this match and challenge Senn again or Elijah Hampton in future. You’re hungry more than ever and you have to win this match. That is what you have in mind isn’t it? Well then, you have to make it happen just like what I’m planning to do. Now it’s all talks not just for you and for me, but also for both Corey and Drago as well. You’ve been working hard to win your first World Championship and sadly that day hasn’t come yet and now you’re planning to win this match. I have no doubt but this is a good chance and opportunity for myself too. Just like a good opportunity for both Corey and Drago. You failed to beat Jacob Senn and while you more than deserve to challenge him again, I want to be the one that challenges for the OWA Immortal Heavyweight Championship for the first time. Yes, I failed to win the OWA Answers World Championship a few times in the past just like you did but now I have the chance to win the OWA Immortal Heavyweight Championship on my first try by beating you, Corey, and Drago at once. I’m not going to say you have to get back in the line but I’m going to say that I’m running, climbing, and crawling faster than you are to be the OWA Immortal Heavyweight Champion and I’m going to do it by winning this match.

Corey and Drago. You both have a personal beef that is not over yet and that is going to be my chance to sneak in an opportunity. And as strong as Mark Michaels is, I’m sure his mentality is a bit distracted by failing to beat Jacob Senn.

I don’t have any of those right now. Getting distracted? No. I don’t have a beef against anyone right now.

My hands are clean, my vision is clean, and my brain is focused to win this match to be the number one contender for the OWA Immortal Heavyweight Championship and beat either Jacob Senn or Elijah Hampton.

And this is going to be game over for the three of you.

Alyssa Grace, Elijah Hampton, 'Don' Hendrix and DT The Ruler have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos August 22nd 2022, 3:42 am by **Raivo**

(Raivo is seen sitting on the on-site medics table in the arena. The doctor had wrapped up his associate DT after Bishop’s attack and is now looking at the extent of the damage of the burns that Raivo had received from the coffee. The medic dabs a bit of alcohol from a cotton ball onto the area just to clean it before looking at it further.)

Doctor: You’re lucky that the coffee wasn’t up to the temperature we usually have; maintenance said that the jug it came from has been faulty and has been letting the heat out a bit quicker than the others. Cause if it didn’t, we’d be looking at third-degree burns instead of just some small blisters here and there on your body, which should heal up by the Game Over if taken care of.

Raivo: You’re telling me I got lucky on some fucking game of chance with this shit. Nah, OWA better be lucky that Bishop didn’t maim this money maker any further than he did. He thinks he’s going to get away with giving me these looks. Nah, look, doc, I’ll take it easy to get this shit to heal, but I’m telling you right to get more of these supplies by the time of Game Over because I’m making sure Bishop is going to leave on a stretcher.

(Raivo gets off the medic table and wincing as the air blows on his face, and leaves the room)

(Fade to now)

(Raivo is busy scrolling through social media and all he can see are Bishop’s face. Videos of him ransacking the Arena, snippets of him going through Golden Dawn’s minions and of him in the ring with Daito and Arata. But one that keeps popping up is the video of Bishop ambushing both him and DT backstage. Bishop tackling and beating DT and then him grabbing Raivo and throwing him into catering where the coffee spills on him. He sees the likes, the retweets, and the comments all talking of Bishop's impact and how he made DT and himself look like fools. He gets angry and throws his phone away.)

Bishop gets his rocks off after being stiffer than a board for the past month, and he thinks he can come back and use his new renewal as what a warning shot? Nah that’s not how we’re going to play in this fucking scene, that’s not how we are going to go around and making our mark. Because let me tell you something Bishop, when you step into Raivo’s Kingdom, you have to abide by Raivo’s rules. None of that cracker shit where you and the frontline honkies thought you could just rail Scott Oasis every Sunday and tell him what is happening. Because that is tiring, that is fucking insulting to all those who try their damndest to get to the top in this business. People think me aligning with Golden Dawn was me selling out, you being one of the most vocal of those people Bishop, but those who knew I did what I did because it would get me what I needed knew that it was just a con. Get in the good graces and when I arrived at the point that Raivo needed to arrive at, it was just a simple turn of the fucking knife in their back. And look it’s come to fruition. I have a title match at Game Over, a once-in-a-lifetime chance to kill a man twice over.

It’s funny though. People always came to me and asked “Raivo why??? Why get into bed with a group that wouldn’t care if you were in their good graces?” And the answer was always in front of them. Because look at it from this angle. Bishop vs MYOJIN. A Cracker vs the Oppressed Becoming the Oppressor. Bring the lens back again and you get Frontline vs Golden Dawn once more. Bring the lens back further and you get a man who has been waiting for this opportunity for the longest time, and another who has been the ball-less lackey for an organization that didn’t see him as shit. This little fucking narrative was what got people all going for the newest piece of shit and it’s going to keep giving to them until they find something new and shiny to play with. I know this all too well!

(Raivo’s mannerisms give an air of agitation. If he were an animal, you could see his hairs all stand on end due to the state he’s in. After a beat of a few seconds, the air around him gets calmer and he begins to settle down to his usual demeanor. A look in his eyes still shows that agitation but other than that you wouldn’t believe that he’d lost his cool. A transition and Raivo is a pitch black room with a single light shining on himself.)

Let me tell you a story, one that many people don’t know and only a few people have heard me tell mostly because it was something I didn’t need to tell. Vincent always told me to stay cool and not let the past define me. DT always has been the cooler head of the both of us. My father has always had his passion but he hid it well you wouldn’t believe that he could get hot-headed. But me that’s never been a thing for me. It’s always “show up and show out”, and I like that. I like that feeling so much because it just means more to me to have my identity out there. A man of great talent, with the gift to talk my way out of situations or into it with the precision of a scalpel. That’s who Raivo is, that’s who Raivo always has been. Pops and Vincent knew this but they always wanted me to be this sort of silent man who struck when he could and left afterward.

(As Raivo talks the room starts showing pictures fading into one another. A picture of his father during his prime and Vincent by his side. And then fading to training Raivo did at a young age with his father overseeing him and Vincent being the compass in which Raivo was told to follow)

But that’s just not me. I want grandeur, I want to get under the skin of people. When people look at me, they see a “small man” someone that is just there to be a nuisance and to be the talk of whatever the fuck has happened. So these situations, as fucked as they are, well they get you talking don’t they? It’s nothing more than just to get you to talk and so worked up you can’t think straight. And hell, it’s always worked, and it continues to work. People discount it because when you talk big and you lose it like you’ve be punched in the face as you deserve but no that’s not what it means. Because look at it this way. When someone calls you out, tells you that what you’ve done has been a detriment to what you both do, and they continue to do so week in and week out, and then that gets you angry to slug them in the face, it can be seen in two different ways. One is that they were completely right and you hit them, retaliating against the narrative they decided to set against you, only to justify it as soon as you do it. Or it could just be seen as you finally hitting a loud person who has no right to talk about what your goals and how you got to them are. These two choices are seen as black and white, and they are the only bits of information that people try to put all categories in justly. But they don’t see like I do. They do not have the bit of experience that I have, that DT has, that many other minority groups have. And that's the fucking discrimination and the climb that we all have to endure just to get recognized. Pops had to continue putting people in their place to become a fighting legend, and yet he tried to pass knowledge of keep your head down and keep it down so you don’t cause a fuss to make people start painting you into a corner you can never get out of. Vincent knew that well and decided to help him and tried to do the same to me. They both meant well but what they tried to do was not how I could continue to get into my limelight that I fucking deserved. Bareknuckle brawling before I came into was a league ran by the whitest of men and only saw the whitest of men make it into the big leagues. My rise wasn’t to prove myself, my rise wasn’t to show the prowess of what individuals like myself could do, but was the prove a point that I am not going to be held down.

(Photos of Raivo in the Bareknuckle Fighting League show him winning numerous fights and titles. Fading into OWA, with Raivo holding a OWA Microphone, scalding his opponents in weekly promos.)

On my rise I was always put into a corner by people who wanted their chance to beat me down as a way to “put me in my place,” but I told them no and put them in that corner and told them that they are not and will not be better than me. When I had my time in the sun in that scene I chose to come to OWA to broaden my horizons. And wouldn’t you know it a war was being wrought in the same way. But in the way people felt dignified to say they were proud to be putting the minority down, and that they were proud to do so in the name of the “Frontline”. They wanted to continue the norm of putting down Minorities and they felt that just. Yet I am the bad guy, I am the person people boo when I come into that ring. I am the person look at and they point at him and they say he’s the enemy, he’s the villain. Discouraging people could see, but then I saw why they thought that. Because on the other end of this war were the people who has a supremacist mindset, a mindset that saw them better than others, regardless of if they were facing the status quo. They wanted a new world, a new status in which they would become the new majority, and the new oppressor. The Golden Dawn became what they were fighting against for the longest time. They wanted to fight the western notion and wanted to prove the west was the better of the two.

(Photos and videos of the Frontlines war between Golden Dawn fade into view around Raivo. Pictures of these past events with Raivo inserting himself into the fold soon come into view).

But in doing so they didn’t care about those who had to struggle and saw everyone as an enemy and soon sewed dissent into the crowd, into the public on those who are trying to claw out of the shadow of the oppression that they were another agent of Golden Dawn and were to be boo’d. They saw me as an agent, they continue to see me as an agent when in reality all I wanted was to show you one thing and that I was better than all those old white heads who try so god damn hard to keep up this fucking norm in this god damn company. So when I got the Spartans Title I held that shit like it was the only thing that mattered. That’s where I slipped up because I started to regard a piece of shit title as the end all be all. Like I had finally made it. So when I finally got beat by a man who’s only goal and ambition is to stay in the midcard where he for some reason thinks he’s King, I finally saw the light. And boy was that light bright and calling to me. Called to Raivo as if it were an angel waiting to shepherd the new chosen to where they could finally take the mantel. Yes I saw that title that you hold dearly Bishop, that title that championship that is going to show everyone what I am able to do and how I can do it. No one understands that I must have this other than DT. Bishop thinks that his pride is on the line but this was never about something as trivial as a white man’s pride. MYOJIN thinks this is something that can finally get him out of that identity crisis, but only therapy and a fucking perfect therapist can get you out of that funk MYOJIN. No this title is for ME. It’s to finally show people that when it comes to being an absolute machine of a man that there is nothing that can get in the way of me. And due to this revolving door of making sure people keep to the Norm, Management decided to do the one thing I knew they’d do but I didn’t think they’d do this quick. They decided to put me in the match, not just with Bishop and MYOJIN which I rightfully fucking deserved, but they decided to insert DT into it as well.

DT THE RULER

(As Raivo speaks of DT, photos of DT’s Career start to come into view with the prominent one being him holding the Outlaw title over a beaten MYOJIN)

DT is my guy. He’s been with me since I became Spartan Champion, and I’ve been there with him on his journey to usurp the title from that identity-starved MYOJIN. We came together because we knew what it was like to keep being in the background due to circumstances so many people wanted to keep you in. We know what that’s like for people to keep you under the boot heel because they think they’re superior to you. And we bonded in that way. This is why I am not shocked that management decided to have him in this match. They want that bond shattered. They can’t have others coming in and seeing what the team of two minorities who know their worth can do. Or soon, they might have another Golden Dawn on their hand, but a Golden Dawn that is doing this not just for their skin color but For The Minorities in general. They don’t want another group facing their precious Frontline because they know if it were to happen then people will realize how fucked up their organization is. So they want to break me and DT and see if something like this will get in our way. And I’m not going to lie, DT, you’re a hell of a competitor, and I see no ill will before us. But you and I both know we want that title and that we’re going to do what we have to do. But I’m not going to let that get in between each of each other's goals. If you win then that’s a fucking congratulations you’ll receive from me. And if I were to win I know you’d do that same. Because me and you DT, we know one thing and that’s management thinks we’re fucking fools and will drop alliances at the drop of a hat. They think that an alliance between two minorities is something that was brought up out of necessity like all these other teams. People who only team to see their team success as a method to make their individual goals and once that’s accounted for they cut the other person like a lesion, but me and DT, we didn’t form this alliance to become tag champions, we didn’t form this to become a new vanguard to take on alliance after alliance, nah we formed this team because we knew that united we can take down the norm that’s been set before us and we can take it down in our own individual ways. We celebrate when the other wins, we celebrate when we continue to break the barrier one after the other, and we know what it’s going to take for barriers to finally be broken once and for all and that to have a minority as a champion that is for those who have been held back for so long. Arata has been a champion representing Golden Dawn, but his fetishization for his own race has made him a liability to the reconstruction of OWA norms and has instead made it about him. Women have held the title, but that’s to fuel their own revolution that doesn’t concern the overarching need for a minority champion. Me and DT know this and work to make sure that the main title is held so that people can know that the reconstruction of the identity of OWA is underway and that backroom deals, under-the-table jobs, and the ever-growing presence of favoritism will be brought to light. And whether me or DT win we know is going to signal that our work is starting to take hold.

MYOJIN

(Raivo gives a second pause and soon MYOJIN’s picture fades in with the picture being that of him being blasted by Bishop.)

I don’t respect you MYOJIN. Growing a conscious after having a liability like Daito, and an Ego maniac like Arata as friends after all this time doesn’t constitute you as a person who has finally grown a spine. You know who grew a spine? Emmanuelle, when she took the wish to bring Frontline and all the enemies of Golden Dawn back to life. You know who grew a spine? Frontline and everyone who fought against you and your buddies because they knew what it was, genocide with extra steps. You know who grew a spine? Every other fucking “gaijin” that you and the others labeled because they didn’t want to join you and your psychopathic morons. These people knew what was happening while you and Daito let Arata play with you like fucking toys. It wasn’t until you finally got this opportunity that you finally decided to say enough was enough and do something about it. Hell even when you tried to make it right what happened? Bishop and everyone in that ring knew not to fucking trust you because you are fucking parasite and you have every fucking grievance and ounce of revenge that is coming to you. I always had a problem with Golden Dawn but using you and every there to insert myself in this title match was my own fucking revenge, but I’ve always had a hatred for spineless jokes like you so I can’t wait to put you on an injury reserve list after this. Because if anything I’ll be doing you a favor. Cause after all this is said and done, and the smoke clears you aren’t going to want to be here. Because Golden Dawn is done MYOJIN, and you haven’t been forgiven by anyone nor is anyone going to forget about your spineless acts of being the Golden Dawn’s whipping boy. MYOJIN I could have respected you if you weren’t so torn down by Savannah Sunshine of all people and used your crushed pride to join a group that was only servicing one person. But no you didn’t and the fact your in this fucking title match is a testament to how far this fucking war has made people believe that Bishop vs MYOJIN was a good idea, when there is no substance. You bring nothing to this match, and I’m going to show you that truth so that you can maybe grow from this experience.

BISHOP

(Raivo composes himself once more and waits for the Bishop’s photo to pop up, but it’s not just any photo. No this is just a repeating video of Raivo spitting in Bishop’s face at his viewing.)

And we get to the man of the hour, this man who thinks that he’s fighting for the good side when in fact he’s just perpetuating the very fucking system that keeps everyone down. I won’t knock that your story is beautiful. An ever-present underdog. People were cheering for you in the back when you won Clash of the Titans. People were singing your name when you won at Final Destination. And it was all cause of the narrative that you finally got what you’ve been working for this whole fucking time. And while I won’t discount that as fact, I will say this. If it wasn’t for this whole team warfare that’s been happening for the longest fucking time, you wouldn’t be here. No because that set the Frontline as these heroes for the people, heroes you could get behind and could always know that they were going to be people championing for your needs. And well while management was trying to play favorites with other people they somehow still always had you around in their back pocket. I want to know why, I want to know why a group of crusty-ass whites were the favorite of management. Was it because people saw you as money? Was it because ratings were going up whenever you all were on tv? Or was it because they had a group of marketable white guys that could bump the demographic up. You get where I am going with this don’t you Bishop. YOU AND THE FRONTLINE ARE WHO I AM TALKING ABOUT WHEN I SAY THIS SYSTEM IS FUCKED. Golden Dawn as fucked as their mindset was, knew the real enemy, they knew who to face to show and bring about change. And for a month they did. Until the mediocrity of white men decided enough was enough. Until the whites finally thought it was their time to shine once more. Until the whites finally said we want our spotlight back as if they haven’t been in the light since the dawn of fucking time. I have a fucking problem with you Bishop and this narrative because I know it’s bullshit. That’s why I did so much to get myself in this match because I want this narrative to fucking end and I’m going to end it as soon as fucking possible. Siding with Golden Dawn or “Selling my soul” as you put has always been a ruse but your fucking self-entitled bullshit has lead you to believe that any minority trying to fucking make it in this company is working for Golden Dawn. I mean I can’t blame you because Golden Dawn has been thorn in your side for the longest time. But to think and to believe that I didn’t have the sensibilities enough to know Golden Dawn’s schtick is incredibly damning for you because it just goes to show you that you believe anyone is against you. I’m not for you, I’m not against you, I just want you to realize this bullshit that your fighting for, this fucking narrative and this systematic bullshit that you continue to champion keeps people like me in the dark because they don’t see our value. And I’m tired. DT is tired of it. Other minorities are tired of it and want to fucking do something about and I am going to do something about it, no matter the actions I have to do bring about change.

(The pictures that have started popping up all come back into focus as Raivo finishes.)

And so there you have it my manifesto of sorts. I’m walking out as champion, I’m taking your heroes out, I’m taking the spineless out, I’m starting this revolution that’s been brewing. I am not going to be stopped and I am going to make OWA something it really should have been long ago and that’s For The Minorities

Alyssa Grace, 'Don' Hendrix, DT The Ruler and Chad Ecclestone have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos August 21st 2022, 8:53 pm by **The Banshee**

GAME OVER PROMO TWO

Me Champion Long Time

The camera opens up inside the Nexon Arena in Seoul, an e-sports stadium dedicated to professional gaming. The stadium itself is empty of people, but the arena looks like it just recently held a competition. Posters advertising games like StarCraft, League of Legends, and Hearthstone are hanging up all over the stadium, while the camera itself focuses on the LED-lit staircase leading up the main stage. A large QLED Samsung screen shows the official Game Over graphic for the OWA Undisputed Women’s Championship match between The Banshee and Rebecca Filth. The Banshee then walks out onto the stage, a look of amusement splashed across her face.

“If there’s one thing I can say about a bloody cheek like you, Filth… it’s that you’re never shy about saying the most humorous and outlandish things, which always brings a smile to my face… just like the thought of hoisting the OWA Undisputed Women’s Championship belt over your corpse… your mangled, bloody, and crippled body lying broken at my feet, while my fingers… still freshly-coated with your blood… stroke my well-earned golden prize… Now you know the kind of “thoughts” that turn me on…

You don’t think thoughts like that don’t get me wetter than an umbrella under a waterfall?

I was going to showcase the competitive e-sports culture that exists in this city, as evidenced by this larger-than-life gaming stadium that I’m currently standing in… but I’m not so sure that someone with your… interests… could even understand or appreciate any video game metaphors or references that I make… Hell, I’m guessing you’ve never played video games in your lifetime, since you usually had your hands… and holes… occupied…

Should I use settings more akin to your “language?” What if I dressed up for our match as a pizza-delivery girl? Or the new pool cleaner? Or hey, it’s 1991, and I’m here to install your cable-box… If I became a whore like you, will you finally understand me? Should I communicate with you while grabbing a stripper pole?

According to you, it should be easy for me to transition into these roles, because you still think of me as some “cookie cutter bitch” that just “smeared some face paint on” because I felt it was the only way to “set myself apart” from the Odyssey roster… You think The Banshee being an unstoppable monster is nothing more than a cheap illusion? Ok Penn and Teller, let’s see who gets fooled at Game Over, because if you’re still insisting that you’re just going to easily breeze on by The Banshee with your title reign intact…

Then you’ve fooled yourself already…

And while I don’t have to justify why I deserve this title shot to you… or anyone else for that matter… I can easily tell you WHY I want it… why I “desire” it…

I want to see the look of disappointment in your eyes when I end your fucking reign AND “undefeated” streak in one fell swoop… then I want to see the life fade from your fucking eyes as I choke away your final breaths…

By the way, you’re not “undefeated” by the literal definition of the word, but it’s obvious that your success has ballooned up your ego so much that you could float to the fucking moon on it… so why bother wasting time pointing out facts? It’s comical that you dare accuse me of the same thing…

It’s hypocritical how you claim that I’m just riding high on my FDIV match, especially when 80% of everything you have to say is just you bragging about your same damn accomplishments over and over… At least I can admit that those accomplishments WERE impressive at the time… And remember, you’re only “dominating” right now because you haven’t faced me… yet… but that changes at Game Over, doesn’t it?

I’m going to dominate you like a submissive twink in a BDSM dungeon…

It’s no secret that a nasty floozy like you is a big fan of watersports and scat, but I don’t quite see you as the same human toilet that your battalion of lovers do… I actually see you as an effective laxative, because of the ungodly amount of bullshit that spews out from your mouth!

You can’t tell me that you believe even half the shit you say, because… like I mentioned earlier this week… you’re STILL not even paying attention to what’s on the surface, let alone the chaos occurring beneath… For example, I can’t recall whenever anyone’s referred to me as a “chicken-shit little girl” before tonight… but you really don’t believe that, do you? Be careful that your arrogance isn’t morphing into ignorance, because there is a clear difference between the two…

Then again, you became overly arrogant the second you started running your mouth towards the Queen of the Monsters…

The Amateur Porno Princess now thinks she’s Xena: Warrior Princess… how delightful…

You want to know what I fucking desire… besides chaos and bloodshed? Then go back and watch my older promos… You’ll notice that I’ve never been shy about my desires and ambitions, and whenever I’ve set my mind to a purpose… I’ve fucking achieved it…

That’s why it’s so fucking funny to see you cry about me being so undeserving to compete for the title… you like to jump up and down and scream about how I’ve lost title matches in the past, not taking into account “context” and “goals.” And keep in mind that you’ve ONLY JUST been introduced into the main event a few fucking months ago… so stop buying into your own hype, because you haven’t even faced the same consistent level of competition that I’ve been facing for YEARS! Take away the Clash and FDIV… now tell me, what are your signature wins? Some lousy Openweight Title defenses and an Ultimate X match where you practically did nothing? Your Openweight reign wasn’t quite as epic as you claimed…

Do you think that Morrighan’s dream of climbing the Odyssey ladder is what motivates The Banshee to pursue the belt currently strapped over your shoulder? Morrighan McDonnell does NOT exist within, but it’s cute to see you continue to try to play mind games with the fucking master…

No Rebecca, Morrighan will not be “bubbling to the surface.” Morrighan hasn’t been in control since I gave MYSELF a lobotomy to literally “erase” her from my mind… And sorry to disappoint you, but Morrighan cannot hear you, and will never be in control again, but please continue to speak to her as one speaks to an imaginary friend…

Hell, you have quite the imagination if you think you’re leaving Game Over with my belt…

You cited the time The Banshee overcame Diantha Rosso, one of the most celebrated women in pro-wrestling’s history… Did you watch the gruesome highlights… now what makes you think that I’m no longer the same monster?

Is it because I now draw strength from The Banshee’s Horde, feeding on their energy whenever they chant my name loud enough to shake the rafters?

It just makes you sick with jealousy, doesn’t it? That the Undisputed Whore doesn’t get any respect from the fans?

That’s where a lot of this animosity towards me comes from: plain and simple jealousy. It obviously rattles you with rage, knowing that, while you’re currently the top woman on the brand… yet you’re not even top ten in terms of popularity. You got one single cheerleader in that slutty Treasure Troll Felix Hartley, but The Banshee… The Banshee has MILLIONS UPON MILLIONS of fans that all make up The Horde…

As mentioned before, I’ve fucking built up a main event career... despite having very little accolades in terms of tournament or title victories…

So yes, you’re correct… I’ve failed to win championship gold on several occasions, but I’ve never once shied away from my failures… but as I said earlier, things always look black-and-white out-of-context… For starters, I’ve only had ONE other singles championship opportunity, and there was a period of time that winning gold and glory didn’t matter at all to The Banshee… but now, things have certainly changed…

There’s a reason that so many people equate “bravery” with “stupidity,” but kudos to you, Filth, for providing an obvious example by claiming that you don’t “fear” me, or that “no one on this brand fears [me] anymore.” You see, everyone fucking says that now, but whenever they stand across from me... I can already see the puddle of piss forming at your feet when you finally realize that you're facing the fucking Queen of the Monsters, with only STI-Barbie to support you in your corner!

You see right through me? I highly doubt that. You think that your history makes you an expert on “real torment?” Bitch, you have no fucking idea the layers of Hell that I’ve been forced to endure since I was old enough to walk!

What, did you think that I just binged a bunch of 80s horror films one night, deciding that “cosplaying” as a demon would be the answer to getting over my “mediocrity?” I’ve experienced real horrors that you’ve only heard about in hushed whispers and Netflix documentaries…

There won’t be any demons, zombies, or ghosts when we meet at Game Over…

Instead, you’ll be facing a monster… and not just any monster, but… THE QUEEN OF THE MONSTERS!

You wanna be real with me, Rebecca? Fine, let’s get fucking real then… I DO WANT to end your whoredome, and I will do it very violently… However, it’s not for the reasons you think, because you’re right... I really don’t care about your slutty self or what you do on your webcam… Shove whatever you want inside you… Have one, two, or ten partners join you for one fuck session… Be the biggest tramp you can be, and kudos to you for it…

No Rebecca, I want to end your whoredome because seeing the pain in your eyes will make me cum harder than a quarterback on prom night…

With the reign of the “Undisputed Whore” coming to a brutal and savage end, I’m sure you’ll be clucking as loud as you can at how amazing your first year was on Odyssey… just like I’m sure you’ll be crying at how fast I send you toppling from the mountaintop to the pits of Hell after Game Over… But what’s this nonsense about me having “opportunity after opportunity to finally ascend to the top” of the Odyssey roster?

I escalated to the top long BEFORE you even made your in-ring debut… I’ve never left the main event picture once I entered it… and contrary to your beliefs, this company has cockblocked my championship opportunities for years! I’ve not been given the title opportunities that you and others certainly have, which is why I focused on improving myself over chasing titles…

By becoming a marquee name, I forced the front office to finally view me as the top fucking talent I am…

Yes, I’ve tasted the bitterness of failure more than you have… It’s not a taste I’ll ever grow accustomed to… Now victory, on the other hand… that’s “sweeter than honey,” but to speak your language… it’s better than several orgasms in a row!

Since you seem so keen to revisit my past failures… something I did myself at the Clash months ago, so “points” to you for originality… let’s examine the times you accused The Banshee of “choking” during a golden opportunity…

You brought up my loss against Hana Nakajima in the Athena’s Cup finals… Unlike myself, I didn’t need to bring in assistance… furthermore, it wasn’t Hana alone that defeated me that night… credit a major assist to Havoc…and yeah, go ahead and call him the “better demon,” because I’ve already said it before….

The Banshee isn’t a fucking demon… The Banshee is a fucking MONSTER!

By the way, that same Hana is also a former champion in her own right, but the only way a weak and pathetic jezebel like you can feel any positive self-esteem is by running down anyone you jealously view as a threat… because you know, despite your achievements, that you largely been lucky and very fortunate during your matches…

Alyssa Grace is still one of the top names in pro-wrestling today, yet you gloss over the fact that I conquered her in a brutal contest after falling short several times prior… While Alyssa and I have a lot of history together, I’ve grown to respect the hell out of her, and consider her one of the gold fucking standards on the roster…

You then brought up the Promethean Chamber, a match where I was ELIMINATED by the EVENTUAL WINNER, Odyssey Hall of Famer Stephanie Matsuda… Someone that I held a 2-1 win-loss record against… But this should be “embarrassing” by your crooked logic, right?

Anyone can get lucky one night, which is exactly what happened at the Promethean Chamber… besides, my goal wasn’t the title then… it was revenge, something that drives me just as fiercely as the gold does currently…So no, I’m not even slightly embarrassed or ashamed…

Will you feel embarrassment when you drop the belt to me?

Look bitch, you may like the word “choking” because it sexually excites you… or because your experiences with “choking” includes taking several dicks in your mouth at once… but come Game Over, your night will end with you “choking” on your own blood…

And I’m so overjoyed you keep bringing up the 2022 Clash… keep it up, because it really was a memorable event… in fact, I want you to vividly remember it… Not the moment where you won it all… I’m sure that travesty is on repeat in your head already…

No, I’m talking about the moment where you eliminated me… You think that you took me out before my time or something? Although I didn’t last as long as intended (thanks to Jonetta Stone’s efforts, not yours)… I still managed to destroy nearly 1/3^rd of the Clash participants in that same “short time span” that you alluded to… yet you treat the 2022 Clash like it’s my greatest shame or something…

Now losing to you at Game Over… that would be my greatest shame, because we both know the truth:

A delusional stuck-up whore, no matter how cunning of a cunt she is, or how much of a mean streak she artificially produces… has no chance in hell of defeating a pissed-off monster with an axe to grind!

By illuminating my historical shortcomings… You just fueled up more motivation to succeed… not a wise move…

You seem to believe that you need a championship to make history…Well, I’ve made plenty of fucking history, and not once have I ever needed gold to do so… I let my actions speak for themselves…

Rebecca, I’m curious about your continued fixation with Morrighan… For someone that wasn’t even here when I abolished her for good, you certainly seem obsessed with figuring out Morrighan’s mindset… How will this give you an advantage?

You mistakenly believe that The Banshee and Morrighan McDonnell are the same person… You’re not the first idiot to do so, but make no mistake: The Banshee is a fucking monster… not a person… I may be on the same side as the angels… but that doesn’t make me one… not by any fucking stretch…

But back to the Clash yet again… I suppose we better get used to your desires to live in the past, because after I end your little reign… your record-breaking feats… your championship run… It’s all you’ll have left to cling to… just like my hand will be clinging to your throat, while I slowly squeeze the air from your fucking lungs…

You say that you don’t claim to be “the fucking best in this sport,” but you constantly contradict this because ALL YOU DO is talk about how dominant your reign has been, being “undefeated” (which we both know isn’t FACTUALLY true), blah blah blah… Jesus, you can’t even humblebrag without munching on your own clit… You’re probably a selfish lover in bed, too…

You think you’re the only one that can win matches by “any means necessary?” I don’t need to outsmart you to beat you… Even the smartest minds break down after excessive damage and blood loss to the body occur…

Challenging you the biggest mistake of my career? Did you really fucking say that? That remains to be seen, because I can admit I’ve made many mistakes in the past…

Stepping to you, though? That’s not one of them… not even close, though it’s ironic that you accused me of having an “inflated ego” and a “false sense of superiority,” because it’s obvious that you are blinded by your success… and it’s going to lead to your failure…

So go ahead… keep building yourself up… celebrate every little accomplishment, every single fucking win, no matter how insignificant each one may seem… It’s going to make your degradation all the more enjoyable…

I don’t just want to take the Undisputed Women’s Championship away from you… That alone wouldn’t be appetizing enough… No, I want to utterly humiliate you on a grand stage, to the point that you’ll need surgery to remove your foot from your mouth…

You say that the Gutter Whore will “expose the Queen of the Monsters” as “nothing more than a mere mortal,” but I have a better idea, Boogie Nights: I’m going to expose what’s hidden inside the whore… by flaying off your skin with a cat’o nine tails while you orally navigate the bloodied ball-gag I shove in your mouth…

Winning the Undisputed Women’s Title isn’t a lofty goal…it belongs to me… I have a right to that belt, just like Rebecca Filth has the right to bleed out… and at Game Over, I’m going to help you attain that right…

You don't need to believe in me... the locker room doesn't need to believe in me... because The Horde already believes in me... At Game Over, Rebecca... get ready to believe...

Michael Bishop, Alyssa Grace, Elijah Hampton, 'Don' Hendrix, DT The Ruler and Chad Ecclestone have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos August 21st 2022, 8:35 pm by **DampshawIIIఒ**

Game Over: Promo #1

Napo Forest

Tena, Ecuador

3:34 A.M.

The young man came down from the forested mountain top. He was exhausted by the trek. It had been days since he'd left his home to make his way into the forest. But now he was close. He could see the lights of the town through the trees as he made his way along the dirt path.

He walked for another few minutes until he saw a small house off the side of the road. The house was dark and appeared abandoned. There was no electricity in the area so he couldn't have hoped for better shelter for the night. He walked up to the door and knocked softly. All of a sudden, the door swings open and the angry visage of Reginald Dampshaw III faces him from behind the door.

"Where the hell have you been?" Reginald snaps at the young man. "We've been waiting here all goddamn night."

"I'm sorry sir," The young man says in broken English, his head down in embarrassment. "The jungles are thick and hard to navigate...It took me all day to get back here."

"Well no matter." Reginald sniffs. "You're here now. Let's go to the heart of the jungle."

The young man is shocked. He just spent almost 10 hours trekking through the jungle and now Reginald wants to go back.

"But sir..." He says. "I was hoping to rest. Plus, the jungle is muy dangerous at night. We can go in the morning, si?"

Reginald thinks for a second before...

"No." He says bluntly.

The young man and the other three Native men that followed Reginald on his journey begin angrily speaking to each other in Spanish. Reginald slams his fist down on the table in front of him.

"Do you think I’m stupid?" Reginald shouts at the men. "Do you think I can't speak Spanish? You call me a dickhead or a piece of shit all you want. I'm paying for your services and you're going to provide those services how I want and when I want, comprender? You don't want to go into the jungle? Too bad. Either you come into the jungle with me willingly, or I throw you into the jungle alone with no amenities. Now...does anyone have any problems with that?"

The three men quickly shake their heads no and the angry exchange ceases.

Reginald then turns back to the young man who has been standing there silently, watching the interaction between Reginald and the others.

"And as for you." He says in a condescending tone, "You will be my guide in the jungle. I want you to show me everything about this place you call home. I want you to tell me how it works...how you survive...what your life is like here...and I want you to do that right now."

"Si, si," The young man replies nervously. "Anything sir. Just tell me what you wish to know."

"Well start with where we're going." Reginald points his thumb over his shoulder. "That way."

Reginald then stands up from behind the table and walks towards the door that leads out of the house and into the jungle. The young man quickly follows after him, stopping briefly at the front door before walking out and following Reginald into the night.

2 Hours Later

The three Native men walk down a narrow dirt path through the dense forested mountainside, followed closely by Reginald. They've been hiking for two hours now as they make their way further into Napo Forest, getting farther and farther away to any villages or towns. As far as these guys can tell, it appears that there aren't any other humans for miles around them.

The first man, whose name is Pedro, is the man who Reginald delegated as the guide. He looks over his shoulder at his companions, who look like they could be related. All three natives appear to have the same dark brown skin and black hair with sharp cheekbones. Pedro and another young man, called Rene, are about 20 years old while the third, whose name is Leonardo, seems to be in his late teens.

"Hey, sir." Pedro begins talking to Reginald. "You seem to know what you're doing."

"Don't speak to me." Reginald replies curtly as he continues to trudge down the narrow trail.

The group then stops and looks around, trying to figure out exactly where they are in relation to their destination. It appears like they're about an hour away from reaching it, but there are no landmarks nearby to indicate how far away they are. There is nothing around except dense trees, vines and thick bushes. The trail that they've been walking along seems to be completely different now than it did when they started this journey. They have come through several tunnels, each with their own unique characteristics and smells, which seem to lead deeper into Napo Forest.

Pedro is the first to speak again as the four men begin walking down the new path that has opened up before them. "So what do you know about all of this?" He asks Reginald.

"You'll see." Reginald answers curtly.

The small group of natives walk into a clearing within the forest and stop dead in their tracks. Pedro's jaw drops open in shock as he stares at the scene before him. In the middle of the clearing there is an old, crumbling building that looks like it may have been once used by missionaries or some sort of missionary school. But as far as Pedro can tell from here, all of the windows and doors have long since rotted away leaving only jagged edges and holes where the walls meet the ground. There is a large stone archway that leads into the structure with stairs leading up to the doorways above them. It seems to be the only way inside but for some reason, the steps have fallen down completely on one side, making the doorway impossible to enter. The jungle has slowly grown over the rest of the building and taken over any other entry points, except through the broken staircase.

Reginald smiles a giant smile as he looks at the structure in front of them.

"We're here." He grins. "This is unbelievable. This place is just crawling with magic! It's like this entire jungle here is some sort of...junkyard for the supernatural!"

The three Native men look at each other worried at Reginald's words. They finally realize that Reginald isn't here simply to learn about the culture and history of their land. There's something more sinister going on and it's making them uncomfortable. Pedro steps forward as Reginald continues walking into the structure, leaving his two companions behind him.

"Sir," He calls out to Reginald's back but gets no response. "I don't think we should go inside there, sir."

"Oh we're going inside." Reginald says bluntly, not taking his eyes off the broken down floor.

"But-" Pedro goes to say before Reginald cuts him off.

"But but but but..." Reginald spins around, speaking in an almost mocking tone, as if he's talking down to children. "All I've heard from all of you this entire night are excuses. How many times do I have to tell you that you are hired by me to do what I want? So if I want to go inside, we are going inside!"

The three men look at each other worriedly as they wait for their boss's next command.

"Well?" Reginald snaps impatiently. "What's it going to be? Will you go willingly, or do I have to throw the three of you down there?" He gestures towards the doorway with his thumb over his shoulder.

"Si," Pedro says quickly before looking back at the others who nod their heads yes as well.

"Very good." Reginald says while clapping his hands together once in a celebratory manner. "Now get out of my way so I can enter this building!"

The three men stand aside from the entranceway as Reginald continues walking into the building without another word. They reluctantly follow him down the broken staircase to the pit below. The four men step off of the last remaining stair onto a floor made entirely of mushrooms. The three natives stare wide-eyed at the sight of the strange crop growing around them but Reginald doesn't seem bothered by it.

"O.K." Reginald says with his hands on his hips. "Start picking the mushrooms. Put as many as you can in your rucksacks and when you have them filled, we're heading back to base."

The three Native men begin looking through the sea of mushrooms surrounding them for any that appear edible. Pedro is the first one to find a mushroom that he believes is edible. He picks it up carefully and shows it to Reginald who takes it from Pedro's hand and inspects it closely.

"Good." Reginald tells him. "Keep going."

After an hour of foraging for mushrooms, they've found enough for only half of their rucksacks so far. It's obvious that none of them will be able to carry the rest of what they need with the amount of weight already on their backs. Reginald suddenly stops and turns towards Pedro who is holding a large basket filled with mushrooms.

"How many do you think you can carry?" He asks Pedro.

Pedro looks at his friends and then at Reginald, unsure how to answer the question.

"I mean...how much do we have to take with us? Do you think it will be enough or should we find more while we're here?" Pedro replies after some time.

"How much is 'enough'?" Reginald asks back, acting as though he didn't understand what Pedro just said.

"You know," Pedro begins slowly. "How much do you want us to bring with us so that we don't die?"

Reginald doesn't reply right away but looks at Pedro like he's been insulted by the simple question. The three men watch Reginald closely from the corners of their eyes, unsure if their boss is going to explode again. But before anything bad happens, Pedro speaks up quickly to stop any possible violence.

"I'm sorry sir." He says in an apologetic tone. "I was only asking how many mushrooms we could carry with us now since we have no idea when we'll be able to come back for more once it's dark out."

Pedro can tell that Reginald has calmed down and is listening carefully to his words, probably waiting for a response to what he just said. After a few moments pass, Reginald nods his head in agreement and smiles at Pedro as if he completely understood what was being asked.

"Good." Reginald replies. "Now let's go back."

The four men begin their trek back and halfway there, Reginald stops in the middle of a large clearing and looks around.

"We'll stop here." Reginald says. "Build a fire."

"But sir-" Pedro goes to say.

"Shut your mouth and build a fire!!!" Reginald screams at Pedro who quickly closes his mouth and takes a deep breath before looking away from his boss while he tries to calm his breathing down.

Reginald looks around at Rene and Leonardo who seem to be completely confused by what just happened. He then walks over to Pedro and gets directly in his face.

"Build a fire now." Reginald slowly but demandingly says. "Do it or you're dead."

Pedro can tell that Reginald isn't joking around so he picks up two sticks and rubs them together until they ignite into flames. Once Pedro has lit the fire, he sets his rucksack down on the ground next to it and begins gathering more firewood with the other three men. The fire starts quickly as Pedro goes about collecting kindling and twigs from the forest floor. Within minutes, the small fire burns brightly enough for the four men to see each other clearly inside of the circle of light. Pedro continues picking up pieces of wood while the others sit back against fallen trees surrounding the clearing.

"O.K." Reginald says, sitting down on the ground. "I am going to eat some of these mushrooms. I’m going to really go inside the depths of my mind."

"But sir-" Pedro tries to say before Reginald interrupts him once again.

"I don't want any excuses from you! You’re going to make sure I’m OK,” Reginald says while looking at each man in front of him. He continues glaring at them for a few moments longer before finally dropping his gaze back towards the fire.

Reginald turns around and looks into the flames as he begins speaking in a soft voice that sounds like he's talking to himself, almost whispering.

"This is where I’m headed...the unknown." He whispers softly to himself. "The mysterious depths within my mind and body that have been hidden away for so long by the rest of the world. I am entering the forbidden jungle of the mind..."

Reginald sits staring intently into the flame with an expression on his face that shows complete focus and dedication to whatever thought is running through his head. He then takes a few mushrooms and pops them into his mouth. As he's chewing, he stares at the other three men. The four men don't speak to one another, they stay in silence. It's only about 15-20 minutes before Reginald begins feeling the effects of the mushrooms. The air becomes thick and dense and the green of the trees starts almost vibrating as the psychedelic components of the mushrooms kick in. The sky suddenly seems to go out of focus and the rising sun appears to be flickering on and off like an old television screen. The effect is very surreal and it causes Reginald to stare deeply into the fire until he notices the way the shadows on the ground look like animals running around wildly within the light of the flames. Reginald looks at Rene and Leonardo as they begin shifting their forms. Soon, they no longer resemble themselves, but Reginald's opponents at Game Over, Stark and Kyle. Reginald quickly jumps up from the ground and begins screaming,

"What the hell are you two doing here?!?" Reginald shouts, his voice shaking as he's startled by their sudden appearance. "This is a hallucination! This isn't real!"

Pedro can tell that Reginald is now having a hard time controlling his thoughts and actions so he stands up and tries to calm the man down. He tries to touch Reginald to tell him everything is ok, but Reginald shoves him back onto the ground.

"No, it isn't a hallucination, is it?" Reginald shouts, his eyes bulging and dilating as he begins to laugh. "You're here to test me, aren't you. This whole thing was set up by you two idiots! You knew this was going to happen! But I'm not afraid of any of you!!!"

Reginald begins laughing harder, pointing at Rene and Leonardo as he continues to believe they are Stark and Kyle.

"You want to stick your nose in commentary during my and JD's match on Kingdom? How did that work out for you? I won. I WON! AND JD AND I ARE GOING TO WIN AT GAME OVER! You understand?!? We’re going to end you at the PPV, and there’s nothing you can do about it!!!" Reginald yells with laughter now spilling from his mouth like water gushing out of a broken hydrant. “You thought I’d go insane from eating these mushrooms? I’ve been experimenting longer than you were both alive! The Mushroom Mayhem match will be nothing!”

"Sir, please calm down." Pedro says calmly, trying to reason with Reginald before things get out of hand. Reginald looks at Pedro, but Pedro looks like J.D. Damon, his partner at Game Over in his hallucination. Reginald scrunches his face in confusion.

"J.D.?" Reginald says as his head begins shaking. "Why? Why aren't you attacking them? They bamboozled us! They tricked us! They brought us out into this disgusting jungle, fed us these drugs and they're planning on killing us! I know it! Do something, goddamn it!"

Pedro stands up again and tries to touch Reginald's shoulder in an attempt to soothe him. But Reginald pushes him away and continues yelling and pointing at Rene and Leonardo who are still transformed into Stark and Kyle.

"You two are going to die here tonight because of your trickery!!!" Reginald shouts. “You’re not making it to Game Over!”

Reginald runs towards Rene and Leonardo, almost running right through the fire to get to them. Pedro jumps up and grabs hold of Reginald's shoulders, forcing him down onto his knees.

"Stop it!" Pedro yells. "We have to get back to camp! This is too much! We have to find our way back somehow!"

Reginald is suddenly very calm after hearing Pedro's words. He looks up at Pedro and realizes they're not really there. He slowly rises from the ground and takes a deep breath. The hallucinations disappear as if someone flipped a switch and the forest returns to its normal state once more. After a few minutes, Reginald calms himself down enough to speak again.

"Goddamn it..." Reginald says calmly. "I lost control of myself out there for a minute but I promise you guys we will come back here tomorrow morning and take another trip into the mind. But until then, everyone should get some rest. Let's sleep here in front of the fire and go back to camp later."

"Yes sir," Pedro replies.

The four men lay down on the ground in front of the fire and try to rest. They're all exhausted from the psychedelic trip, with Pedro, Rene and Leonardo all falling asleep within a few minutes of laying on the ground. But Reginald...Reginald lays on the ground with his eyes wide open, staring deeply into the fire...

Michael Bishop, Alyssa Grace, 'Don' Hendrix and Chad Ecclestone have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos August 21st 2022, 6:23 pm by **Jacob Senn**

The prophesized battle that was foretold by Him has arrived. The great Hero predicted to slay the mighty beast of darkness which rose from the ashes of a Dynasty meets the battle at the peak of Mt. Olympus he was fated to reach. However, I will do what I have done to many predictions that have been manufactured by people about me.

I will shatter their Hero before a worldwide audience and retain my crown of the Immortal Heavyweight Championship with my foot pressed against the back of their head as they are shown to be yet another conquest of mine.

You may speak about how this match will be justice for the betrayal I brought upon The Dynasty by my hand, retribution for the suffering afflicted upon you for seeing you and the desire you have to be the Hero to bring an end to my ascension as The Goetial King, but woe is the only future you have when this match has been decided and I stand as its victor. The throne of prestige will be claimed through the final conquering moment of reducing a hero’s pride to ash. The promise of a voice lingering in the darkness will be fulfilled, the greatest power known to a mortal will be realized by me, and there will be no man on Earth able to put an end to my reign when this match has been put to an end. Why should there be a wish for an end to this anyway? These sheep have decided to pay the good money they toil in figurative workshops to witness the prestige of my Immortal Heavyweight Championship reign, pay tribute to the man who rules as The Goetial King, and witness the glory I have been able to create through the destruction of the pretenders who dare to snatch the crown from my brow. Do you believe they do this without the knowledge of the tactics I will resort to in order to protect it from knaves and thieves such as you, Elijah? Foolish as they may be, they are not blind to the acts that are committed. They are not left in the darkness of what I have done to be able to hold this championship upon my shoulder. They know what I do and they recognize a man who is willing to sacrifice. They recognize a man willing to destroy the limbs of another, and willing to use evil acts to get what he desires is a man who will do whatever it takes to build the prestige and legacy of this championship to heights it will never have been able to reach in the hands of someone like you. There is no need to put a stake through my heart and end this championship reign that has been created through the sacrifices I have made to see it realized. I know there will be no convincing you of this because through what I have done to you and your destined role as the Hero to do whatever it takes to stop this, your mind has already been determined to do just that. Elijah, you have always been a man of stubbornness to put his mind to something and do whatever it takes to see that act through. Whether it was being the greatest Prestige Champion to ever hold that championship title, whether it was to represent The Dynasty with every ounce of honor and integrity that you could muster, and whether it was to represent those that had been betrayed by seeking retribution for the wrongs committed to you and becoming Immortal Heavyweight Champion, you have always been a man set to the goals he has created and desires to achieve.

However, Game Over will be the night where you are met with failure and are forced to recognize what many others have already come to terms with. I am The Goetial King and Olympus is my kingdom to rule over with an iron boot.

Do you know the origins of your name, Elijah? Elijah was the name of a biblical prophet of the Christian god and the name literally meant in Hebrew, “My God is Yahweh”. The belief Elijah held onto through his god gave him the power to perform miracles and defend his faith against the power of demonic influence seeking to rid the world of his worship. Elijah became a Hero to the Christian faith, to the point where he would become a prophet saint, praised and revered by those who accepted his god. They stated he was able to perform miracles such as part the Jordan river, call the fires of heaven down upon his enemies, enter the gates of heaven while alive, and even resurrect the dead itself. The blessings and miracles he was able to perform to the world were so grand that to this day, they say that Elijah’s return to the world would be a miracle to show him as a harbinger for the return of The Messiah. For you to be able to walk into Game Over and unseat me as The Immortal Heavyweight Champion, you will have to be the second coming of the prophet Elijah himself and perform such a miracle to achieve this feat. As much as you would like to lean on and believe yourself to be the underdog who will overcome the insurmountable odds you have placed before you, a miracle will be the only way to be able to achieve such a feat. Experience that has not yielded the years or results I have been able to achieve in my storied career. The power of darkness gifted by Him to restore me to the greatest form of destructive brutality in His name to make me the best wrestler and fighter this world has ever laid their eyes upon once again. The weakness of your leg that has been brutalized and decimated to the point you have been reduced to less than perfection on your end while I remain as healthy as ever. All this and more has created a situation and battlefield where success in this match and standing tall with my championship in your possession? Only a miracle would be able to achieve that. Men who have had more advantages than you, men who have been able to call themselves champion previously, men that you know to be worthy of this championship to claim as their own, not even they have been able to muster the miracle you hope to achieve in the match we are set to have at Game Over. However, you could be the second coming of this prophet saint I mentioned. You could be the harbinger of The Messiah and the Hero that has been prophesied by Him to have the ability to take this crown away from me. It could be you and you could have the power of miracles at your side to call upon to make sure you have this moment to yourself and what could I do at that point? Do what I always do to people who have dreams, to the challengers who possess hope, and what I must do to a Hero who aspires to bring miracles to life.

I inflict ruin upon that miracle you attempt to muster and watch it decay to the point where despair is the only thing left within you as you stare at your calamity within my eyes.

Cold-blooded. Ice within my veins. These were things that I took to heart when they were spoken towards me because it led the world to believe that I made this decision easily when I provided tribute for this dark gift in The Dynasty. Everyone wants to believe that I chose on a whim to bring an end to this brotherhood I had created with my own vision of the future, but do you honestly believe that this was all made at a whim? That I did not debate with myself and fight with my mind on the idea of doing such a thing? I wanted to be able to stand beside my brothers within The Dynasty and reach the pinnacle of this industry together. I wanted each and every single one of us to have our own throne to sit upon at the peak of Mt. Olympus, bask in the glory of the prestige we created with our greatness and talent to be able to create a foundation and legacy to outlive us all, but The Dynasty had chosen their selfish desires instead of the grand destiny I had planned for us. Darkane had chosen himself, Matt Miles had chosen himself, and even you had chosen yourself, Elijah, over the destiny of The Dynasty. Vanity and greed had corrupted the very foundation of the brotherhood I had established to resist those temptations to create something greater than ourselves, but the wills of my supposed brothers were weak and I had a destiny that needed to be achieved. A destiny of being immortalized with a legacy of prestige to outlive me and I would not allow The Dynasty to allow me to stand in the shadows any longer while they basked in the glory of my labor for them. Regretfully at the time, I provided the tribute necessary to provide me with the gift of immortality. The championship. The prestige. The restoration of my youth. Everything returned in an instance when I accepted the power of darkness within my very soul and unleashed the entity trapped within me, caged for the adulation of these sheep and my brothers, and now I hold no regrets towards that decision. I am the man with ice in his veins when presented with men he once called brothers. I am a cold-blooded monster who will do what is necessary to keep his crown. Even if it means breaking those false brothers into husks of their former selves and watching the crimson rivers of blood drench the canvas, I will hold no remorse in what must be done. Calamity is the only future for those who oppose my will for the future of this industry.

A future born out of the ruin of the past.

I promise a future of prestige for this industry that has been vacant for many years and yet, there are those who believe that I need salvation for what I have done in this business. Those who believe that atonement is necessary for me to be the man they want me to be. I have nothing to atone for in this industry because I have done nothing wrong. Any other man who had been presented with the offer I have presented with would have accepted without a single ounce of hesitation. The gift to be able to claim a rich prize in this industry, a trophy to immortalize their legacy as one of the greatest wrestlers to ever set foot into the wrestling ring, a man would be an imbecile to deny such a treasure to be presented before them. However, everyone wants to stand on the moral high ground from beneath my throne. Everyone wants to speak about how they would have never allowed themselves to reach these lows, how they would have never been so despicable to commit such acts, but they have not been in this industry for nearly as long as I have. They have not watched the many faces come and go when they reach failure or reach their prime. They have not seen those they once considered rivals and adversaries vanish from the face of this business because their time had come and they had been passed by. They were not forced to sit within the shadows and watch the sands of the hourglass descend down to the bottom in front of you for your time in this business while the rest of the world leaves you behind to rot. If someone from the heights of heaven decides to extend their hand down to lift you up from perdition into the throne of prestige, you do whatever it takes to make sure you reach those heights. You can clutch on your pearls all you want, vilify me for the way that I have become what I am today, but I know that you all simply covet this trophy resting upon my shoulder and would not hesitate if the opportunity arose for you. Vanity and greed has denied you the perspective to see this from my point of view and the only thing you care about is becoming the one to dethrone me from my seat at the top of Mt. Olympus. For this, I have done nothing wrong in making sure you have met the harsh reality in the most brutal fashion that you are not worthy to take my throne. Even you, Elijah.

For you may have once been a brother to me in The Dynasty, but now? You are only a bad seed from my memory that needs to be removed from my sight.

You honestly believe that you will be The Hero in this match and vanquish me, Elijah? You find yourself to be able to conjure the miracle that I spoke of earlier against me? I find it amusing that you will be able to limp your way towards the ring and end up in front of a worldwide audience because your pride will not allow you to face defeat. Like Icarus soaring through the skies to reach the Sun, your feathers are dripping from your body and you are about to descend to the abyss of obscurity where you will find no solace or salvation. Just your hollow soul. For you to be able to talk to me about the pride that I possess, but when actually take a look, who is the most proud man here? Is it the man who believed himself to be able to be known as the Immortal Heavyweight Champion once he shed what was left of his humanity? No, it’s the man who believes himself to be the one who can muster up miracles at a whim and humble the one who captured the throne of prestige to teach him a lesson. Vanity and greed ooze from your pores, the stench having reached to the heights of my throne to the point where your insolence can be tolerated no more, and why you shall be forced to be met with the fate you had hoped to inflict upon me, Elijah. I spit on your desire to capture to prize that has eluded you in world championship glory, I loathe your hope of a heroic miracle to descend upon you to achieve an underdog story, and I despise your desire for retribution at my expense with every cell in my body screaming to make you suffer in the worst ways possible. Do you want to know why this is? While there may be the obvious thing of you stealing what belongs to me and having no desire in forcing down the bitter pill of defeat, there is another reason.

For you to believe that you will achieve this miracle of retribution against me by being crowned the new Immortal Heavyweight Champion, your miracle must be viewed as above my desire to ascend to the heights I was destined to reach. You must truly believe that and I am beneath NO ONE in this industry.

I am The Goetial King of this industry and stand at the heights of immortality on the peak of Mt. Olympus, but I must do one thing in thanking you and the brothers I once had in The Dynasty. I don’t think I had thanked them in the past, but I do thank you. Elijah, if it wasn’t for you and The Dynasty pushing me aside to chase after your own vainglorious ambitions, I would have never accepted the offer presented to me by Him. I would have never accepted the cold clasping hand of darkness to pull out of the cage locked within my soul. I would have never been able to accept the dark gift of my body returning to its former glory in pursuit of world championship prestige. I would have never been able to capture my crown of the Immortal Heavyweight Championship to be able to take my seat upon the throne of prestige. I would have never become this cold-blood monster whose icy veins show no remorse to the corpses left behind in the ring of my former kin to secure my immortal legacy as champion. I would have never been able to bring birth to the rise of Alex Carter, the arrival of Lazarus Arjen, and the complete control of Olympus I have been able to acquire. Without The Dynasty’s neglect for months on end, this path would have never been opened to me and who knows? Maybe your dream of being a world champion in this industry would have been able to come true under my tutelage. With that said, thank you for the door you allowed to be opened. Thank you for allowing the calamity of this era built upon vanity and greed to finally be brought to ruin with one final destroyed soul at Game Over. Thank you for serving as the martyr for the future to be born from your demise. What comes from Game Over will be nothing more than a war, I assure you. I don’t expect that even with your limp leg from the injury I inflicted upon it, you will simply lie down and keel over at the first wave of destruction I present to you. I know you, Elijah. I’ve watched you through our time in The Dynasty, whether you want to admit it or not. You have a heroic spirit within you that will not die until you are knocked out cold.

Mark my words, I will make you a corpse lying in a pool of your own blood to secure my immortal legacy.

VaeVictisBD, Michael Bishop, Alyssa Grace, Elijah Hampton, 'Don' Hendrix and DT The Ruler have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos August 21st 2022, 12:52 pm by **Noah Krieger**

GAME OVER — PROMO #1 | PEELING AWAY THE WRONGS.

I took a long-awaited journey into the depths of hell — and I survived.

For as long as I can remember, I was under the belief that predicting my future was a choice, that a routine could be established — as long as I stuck to it without a single inkling of hesitation shown — but I couldn’t have been more incorrect. As I continue to cultivate within this industry, and the challenges that surround this great sport only continue to increase in difficulty level, it’s become apparent to me that my path can’t be chosen, it can’t be decided, but upon looking at my career since entering OWA’s atmosphere, I can’t I would want it any other way — and after all, I’ve never considered myself to be described as a liar. If we’re being frank for a moment, being forced to step into a jungle of mystery at Final Destination IV wasn’t a choice of mine. Nonetheless, while I may be unable to control the route my career decides to take, I can influence my body to adapt to my current environment — and with that, control my ability to persevere, no matter the hurdle that stands in front of me, or the difficulties that inevitably await for me — but guess what? I invite it.

I’ve never been one to trail away from the truth, but if I’m still looking at one to elaborate a classic story, allow me to be the first to give a refresher — it’s been one hell of a week. In all honesty, it hasn’t been a singular week, as I’ve not only willingly put my body on the line for over a month in an attempt to be crowned as the victor of this year’s Dark Kingdom Tournament, but my sacrifices weren’t forgotten in the slightest. Throughout the course of this tournament, it was bound to feel similar to an endless pit of suffering, one filled with an abundance of anguish and regret, and while the physical discomfort I’d gone through — I never once felt a sense of regret. Nonetheless, how could one logically feel this way? For the past month, I was given an experience not many have had the luxury of experiencing, as whether it came without suffering or not, I was allowed the opportunity to step toe-to-toe with those who’ve been described as some of OWA’s finest talent, and I didn’t prosper, I didn’t let up — it was now or never. Whether it was Chad Ecclestone, Tanguichi Sena, or TITAN, I exhausted absolutelyeverything I had within me to earn one of the richest prizes within this given promotion — and I refused to look back. I don’t believe it can be denied that I was dragged into the deepest depths of hell, but the fact of the matter is, seven other competitors were unable to claw their way back up to the surface — while I was able to not only survive, but I’m standing on my own accord.

Last weekend, the Conqueror Of Gods attempted to conclude my half a decade journey in the blink of an eye, but I was able to dig myself out of the rubble, and in a matter of seconds, was able to prove once again that I’m Chicago’s finest. There’s always been a purpose to my agenda — so why don’t it properly this time around? In a little less than three months, I’ve successfully solidified my promise on being able to not only survive in a Land Of Kings, but to become mainstay within the monarchy aswell — I’m no longer a singular individual upon the given roster, but instead I’m admittedly part of a more significant area of the roster — and more specifically, where a colossal target has been placed upon my back, but I’m not the only individual who’s felt like this in the past. Since the initial start of the Dark Kingdom Tournament, I’ve repeatedly raised the stakes of what an impending victory could truly mean, but time-and-time again, one singular point seemingly remained the same — walking out with the exact same trophy that Jason Long held only a year ago — it would continue to not only give me a natural preparation ahead of the Game Over PPV, but to put us on a similar level, aswell.

Last week, I stood inches away from you, where you promised me I’d fail.
Personally, I’d beg to differ…

If I can be honest for a moment, it’s quite telling that the very moment I finally accomplish my dream of becoming a grander version of myself, or at least currently on the path to accomplishing this specific ambition — that you’d attempt to crumble it into a pile of ash in mere minutes. Since arriving on the scene, I’ve ensured to continuously study the work ethic you possess, especially upon capturing the Spartan’s Championship at Final Destination IV — and if I’m truly being honest with myself, that evening means much to me than I’ve admittedly let on. On the same night you were successfully able to obtain the Spartan’s Championship for the second time, I found myself in the brunt of countless humiliating obstacles — that eventually led me to the one thing I dreaded the most — failure. Nonetheless, I’ll be the first to admit that it should be perceived as a learning experience, and it was in a way, but it still made me crave for more. So witnessing you achieve what most sometimes can only dream of, not once, but TWICE — it only made me want to be the one to dethrone you, all that much more.

While I’ve attempted to stay humble for the most part, I do find it quite ironic that your confidence continues to grow heading into the pay-per-view — but the last time this seemed to be the case — you weren’t the one to prove me wrong, and instead you chose to simply watch as I ridded Golden Dawn from their unnecessary wrath within the promotion for the time being — but if you believe that our one-night alliance was anything other than a simple way to aid Bishop’s legacy — than to be frank with you, even with the natural talent you clearly possess, ignorance still resides within your mind, unfortunately. While we might’ve found a sense of victory as a unit, I still don’t see you as an individual I can see eye-to-eye with — not as long as you proudly wear the prize I’ve desired to obtain since arriving on the scene — and I can’t properly rest until the success you’ve managed to achieve blows up into smoke. I’ve grown tired of watching the success you’ve aspired to achieve continuously head up an upwards trajectory, and remain confident enough to not take me seriously in any regard — I’m absolutely sick of it.

As I mentioned earlier, you stood mere inches away from me last week, to a point where I felt as if I had to take a step back — and you proceeded to tell me without an inkling of hesitation shown, that I didn’t stand a chance, and come the pay-per-view — I’d feel significantly worse than I had on that given evening, but in all honesty, I find this quite hard to believe. Y’see, over a month ago, I was repeatedly told that accomplishing a similar feat as to what you achieved the year prior wasn’t possible, mostly due to what can only be perceived as a short tenure within OWA — but in that time, I proved that the impossible is… possible! While it’s well-documented that Jason Long spent well over a calendar year in this given promotion before obtaining the Dark Kingdom Tournament trophy — that’s simply why lifting it up above his head, and showing it off to the entirety of the globe meant so much, because after sacrificing his own well-being for the opportunity to reach this very moment, you reached the mountaintop on your own accord.

And while I can admit that’s inspirational, I proved opportunity isn’t lost on my mind, either.

I’m no stranger to the common combination of blood and sacrifice being showcased for a particular dream — and that’s to finally make it within this industry. For the past five or so years, I’ve shed blood, sweat, and tears all to someday make it here, and a little less than three months ago, I was finally given the opportunity I’ve longed for — and never once looked back. While my tenure might be short-lived thus far, I’ve never allowed an opportunity to be taken for granted, but personally I don’t feel as if the same can be said for you in this given scenario — while it took you well over a year to fully comprehend that a golden opportunity doesn’t come by at a constant rate, and in all honesty, it’s rather the opposite. On the other hand, it only took me a matter of months to realize that as long as there’s breath in my lungs, and there’s even a fraction of belief within my mind — all that someone may need is a chance. After being given one, I realized that if I could achieve exactly what you did in a significantly shorter time frame, I could potentially sneak into your mind — which could correlate to self-doubt beginning to creep in where it’s unwanted, and I’d like to say my strategy has been highly effective.

I once felt as if sharing the squared circle with you could be classified as a dream of mine, but as I’ve been there first-hand for your actions taken in the past month or so — respect is not an emotion I feel for you any longer, and I can promise you this to be completely factual. No matter the path I’ve chosen to take, or the direction I choose to take along the way, you’ve made it your mission to tear apart any hope or dream I’ve had, whether that was in the past, the present, or the future — and you’ve made it abundantly clear that you don’t believe I belong in the same airspace as you, but I can assure you I’m not like anyone else — I’m not complacent in remaining in the same position within this promotion for longer than I must, and that’s exactly what separates me from any other individual you’ve had to deal with in the past calendar year.

While you were able to overcome the likes of Jack Raivo and Stark at Final Destination IV, I’m going to forewarn you not to decide to put me in the same light as them — nor to compare me with them, especially considering the circumstances. Walking out of Japan, I’m sure you felt like there was a light at the end of the tunnel, that after returning to the mountaintop for the first time in a little while, you felt as if this makes you somewhat superior over a majority of the current roster, but this couldn’t be further from the truth — as you’ve grown content with the position you’ve found yourself in. Thus is the peril of this entire situation, it’s a well-known fact that the entire world is well aware of not only the individual you’ve become, but as well as what you represent, but for me? I haven’t been given the luxury of having the time needed for the OWA faithful unravel all of the missing pieces that must come with me — so it’s been a primary venture of mine to not only figure it out on my own, but to give them something worth believing in, because if we’re being honest with one another — you haven’t been able to do so in quite a long time. I’m well aware that you hold little-to-no respect for me, and admittedly that’s fine, but after next weekend, I can promise you one thing — no matter how this bout concludes, and whether we find ourselves in a state of purgatory by self-inclition or not, I can promise you that you’ll have no other choice but to respect me, I won’t give you an option.

Did I ever anticipate myself standing in this position — or this quickly? If I were to say I absolutely did, I’d be clearly lying, but I truly believe as if I truly deserve it. I may have a wounded leg, and my entire body might be in a constant state of agony for the past week — but it’s all been worth it, and it’s all led me to testing myself against one of the best this promotion has to offer, and I truly wouldn’t want it any other way. I can’t lie and say that you haven’t earned the right to stand across from me as the titleholder — but if I were to look at the future in such a minimal point of view, I seemingly wouldn’t be able to make it as far as I’ve come in these short few months, and that’s why I’ll be walking into Seoul with a certain perspective — which is to forget where I’ve come from, and why the roads I’ve decided to take along the way has all been for a specific purpose, and that’s to eventually be treated as someone bigger than I once was perceived as. With that being said, without the countless days of finding myself on the rotten pavement, and without anyone to guide me in the correct direction, it was all upon me to find the ability to steer towards the accurate route, while ensuring I didn’t fall directly upon my face and steer myself in the an unfortunate direction, that a majority of individuals back home raced towards — but I’ve spent so long attempting to stray away from this specific nightmare, and if I can be frank, while you may not realize it, you’ve kept me away from it aswell, Long.

I’ve been shivering for a long time, and there’s this moment in any individual’s existence, where they will either have to decide between fight or flight — and no matter the situation, I’ll always choose the former…always. I chose to enter Guerilla Warfare with two warriors that I had no personal attachment with, if you haven’t realized by now, I didn’t attain anything from this specific encounter, but I raced towards a violent endeavor for a singular reason — I felt as if my beliefs were strong enough to where a true purpose could be found, and on that particular night, I found it, and was personally responsible for carrying on Micheal Bishop’s legacy, while he was physically unable to do so himself, but for you? I simply witnessed a lack of drive and passion, a clear willingness to leave a purpose unwritten, and a solution to be unresolved — which is why we aren’t the same — we may have similar achievements in the area of tournaments, but that doesn’t change anything, not in the least. When you had the opportunity to overcome Raivo for a second time, you decided to hesitate when it was quite important to achieve the opposite. On the other hand, while we overcame Golden Dawn in this particular conclusion, you must realize that if a singular piece of the puzzle somehow didn’t fit perfectly — we could’ve fallen at the hands of your inability to care for something that had greater importance than yourself, which is why allowing you to carry on forward as a form of representation for this company isn’t an intelligent idea — you’re selfish, Long. No matter what you’re put through in the future, or the perspective that you pretend to follow, the fact of the matter still seems to remain the same, as long as it fits your narrative, you’ll do whatever is needed to remain on top.

I can fully understand craving to remain on the top of the mountain, but I don’t want to live in a world where your selfishness costs an individual like me an opportunity to prosper.
Whether people approve it or not, I’ll make it my mission to ensure you this promotion is safe from — YOU!

I fully expect you to go the extra mile in order to keep me deprived of exposing what I learnt a long time ago, and with that, keeping me away from ultimately sharing yet another accomplishment — but if it was possible to keep me away from securing my destiny — I wouldn’t be standing here with a trophy by my side, and a title opportunity in-sight — and that seems to be a common occurrence in recent times, doesn’t it? For months I’ve been pushed to a neverending limit, and while many may see that as an uncomfortable situation, I only see it as an opportunity to continue proving my worth within this promotion, and finding comfort in knowing that coming out of this battle —I’ll undeniably prove once more that I belong in a world filled with legends, in an environment where if you don’t give it your absolute all — you’ll most likely be left behind to fend for yourself. But damnit, Long, I seriously can’t help myself, I have this unnatural desire to lead a division by example, and more specifically — to prove to myself that all of this, the roads I’ve paved to even make next weekend a possibility, it wasn’t in vain. I didn’t make it to the promised land to simply come up short like all the others — I’m the exception, Jason. I’ll be the individual who refuses to fall behind, and no matter the depths of hell I must fall to — trust me, I’ve witnessed it before, and I’ll find it again.

You may be a self-proclaimed king — but I’m a fuckin’ survivor. It’s only the beginning.

Michael Bishop, Alyssa Grace, 'Don' Hendrix, DT The Ruler, Chad Ecclestone and DGS have spoken. It’s such good shit!

❝ DARK SIDE OF THE MOON. ❞
vs Noah Krieger (OWA Spartan Championship Match)⠀//⠀GAME OVER V.⠀//⠀#001

—

In the darkness, nothing is ever seen– anything is predictable, anything goes.

This is how he felt as he headed into this match at Game Over, the first defence of his championship and a toughened challenger awaiting the chance to prove himself once more after the hellscape that was the Dark Kingdom Tournament– this wasn’t a walk in the park that Jason would’ve wished for this to have been, this was going to be a harder challenge than he’s ever had for the championship, and he’s faced almost everyone for this same belt.

Krieger was becoming someone that was well-loved, well-respected, and well-liked. There was a crowd of fans behind his back heading into this battle, there was a whole world resting on his shoulders as he looked to become Spartan Champion and dethone the man that rebuilt this division – not once, but twice – and the man that’s become one of the most popular stars of the brand. Jason had to walk into this battle alone, he had to walk into this battle with nobody to stand behind him and support him, even those that he thought to have been close friends seemed to have been supportive of Krieger more than himself.

Jason, himself, was shrouded in darkness—succumbed to the darkness, blinded, awaiting the shot that’ll take him down—and all he could do was just sit there, in silence, alone in his own home, and drown himself in the disrespect he’s slowly beginning to feel. The championship draped over his lap, one hand placed down onto the front plate, and his other hand just massaging his temple area– his two main fingers just dug deep into his head.

A sigh came over him, shaking his head from side to side, before he began to speak.

“There’s so much that I’ve promised for this championship, you know?

From the very moment that I won this championship, all that I continued to promise was to elevate it to another level for those to push themselves into being– and I did exactly that, I pushed everyone to their limits and in the end, I defeated everyone. However, I was only stopped because I was outnumbered by The Awakening, and it put me at a full stop– at a halt that I couldn’t continue on from afterward, and it made me think to myself if that was all that I could’ve contributed to the championship. As you can clearly see right now, I hold this championship once again—the first man to ever achieve becoming a two-time champion of this very belt—and it feels like we’re back at square one, back to where we belong, back to just how things were beforehand because what awaits me heading into the first pay-per-view of this season is a man who thinks that they can be on the same level as me to claim this championship but all I see from them is a newcomer looking to prove themselves, looking to outshine, and looking to create a same legacy as what I had done.

Truth be told, I can’t help but put some respect on the name of Noah Krieger– the lad’s done a whole lot since arriving here at Final Destination weekend. Noah’s been a part of the infamous BOB Games and was rewarded with a chance to face me for this championship, then he moved onto the Dark Kingdom Tournament and went through insane stipulations to make it to the very end and almost kill another man to become the second-ever winner of that tournament. You’d think I’d make some joke but I cannot– I have to give due where due is given, Noah Krieger is a tough son of a bitch in his own way, he’s done a lot and he’s never backed down from just about anything. If you’re willing to believe anyone else but me, you’re absolutely wrong– I know a challenger, a tough one at that, when I see one and this man is no different.

That’s why I feel backed into a corner this time around, Noah. I came back all of a sudden and became Spartan Champion just like that– but for the past couple of months you’ve been able to prove yourself time and time again in each match and you’ve shown out all of those times, it’s very easy to see that you are the clear favourite to win this whole thing and that’s nothing to take lightly. As for me, I’ve got the whole world against me and you’ve got the weight of the whole world on your shoulders, Noah–”

There’s a pause, that moment of silence that began to sink in, it was almost deafening– the ringing in the ears of those that were watching, it began to plague the minds but for him? For Jason? He couldn’t help but to smile, finally gaining focus once again, a slight smirk growing along his lips.

“–but you shouldn’t be willing to carry so much weight on your shoulders when you have zero clue on how to control that weight, Noah, and what’s what becomes of your sudden downfall. You see, everyone expects the very best of you right now as you’ve walked out of the tournament with the cup in your hand and victory within your body, that feeling rushing through your veins as you head into the next challenge that awaits you, but what you’re not aware is that you’ve got everyone on your back and that pressure is slowly beginning to make you crack. I’ve come across many upon many in my time that have carried weight on their backs and they have cracked under the pressure because of two things, Noah. They couldn’t control that weight. They couldn’t keep their balance intact when I chopped them down and put them on the flat of their backs. That is nothing to be laughed at, in the slightest, and that’s something that you have to prepare for heading into this match. If you’ve done your research heading into this match, you’d know that.

The talent that you ooze from your body onto the ring, it’s something that’s been unseen for quite some time– and that’s what makes you special, Noah, but for someone like you? I know that, deep within your heart, you are afraid of becoming a failure. It’s because of your past, it’s because of who you were back then, it’s made you into this man that cannot accept failure at any cost– it’s maybe why you never truly did feel that fear sinking it’s teeth into you at BOB Games because you never failed, you won this shot at me in those games—that’s not failure, but what is failure is that zero will to show that you’re just so different amongst everyone else, aren’t you, Noah? Imagine, there’s many that have come and gone from this company over the past couple of years that OWA’s been around– you want to know just how many have all said that they never want to lose, they hate to lose, and losing is not acceptable at all? Too fuckin’ many if you asked me– shit, even co-chairmans have come and gone, never really wanted to accept losses and shit like that, but you? Oh, you’re Noah Krieger and you’re different from the rest because you’ve got the backstory, the saddened tales of what makes you a failure of your own past that even the thought of failing could click into some PTSD episode of yours.

Maybe the thought of you being something special is an overstatement, clearly you are just acting like everyone else that has come and gone– and what does that prove for you? What does it have to show for you being something different other than you being who you are and just words that come out of your mouth saying you’re nothing like those that have come and gone? Poor you, all you wanted to do was to become something more than how so many back at home saw you as– but all you truly are, Noah, is that same kid that they purposely beat up time and time again because he continued to stand right back up off of the ground. The same kid that they always saw as someone weak. The same kid that they always thought was never going to make it out of the streets of Chicago. You, Noah, remain to be that same kid they saw all of those years ago and they could’ve only wished that they finished the job when they had their hands on you. Weak, unable to move on from your past trauma, always letting that constant reminder of when you were at your lowest play through your head over and over again– you let that be your motivation but you don’t seem to realise that it’s your greatest weakness.

That’s the Noah Krieger that you want to be remembered by?”

Of course, there was nothing else for him to do after those comments but to chuckle to himself– damage was done, as it should’ve been, but he knew himself that he was only beginning to pick up the momentum and he wasn’t anywhere near done. His neck rolled around as the sound of the crack was heard breaking the silence, a loud pop echoed through the room, before his attention was brought back onto the camera.

Although, he doesn’t truly speak for a moment– he just stares ahead of him, hand clutching at the championship in his lap as his thoughts begin to play a vision within his mind– that deafening silence took over once again and those sickening visions played out within his head, they just made him freeze for a moment, wondering if it was all real or not.

Sadly, they were.

A scoff was heard, his attention soon bringing itself right back to where it belonged– eyes directed towards the camera recording him, his voice – only being a soft-spoken whispered tone – finally breaking the silence for only a moment.

“This is what you want to be remembered by– being a supposed rags to riches story.”

And he was right back into the silence again, back into ‘the dark side of the moon’ as he calls it, but he immediately stood up from where he was seated and grabbed onto the championship from his lap– draping it over his right shoulder as he seemingly stepped a little bit closer towards the camera recording him.

“You act as if I – or anyone else – have not been a part of some rags to riches story ourselves.

All because of who you are– it’s because you are Noah Krieger and nobody’s been put through the same amount of hell as what you went through, right? Nobody’s been put through the same shit as what you’ve gone through. Because of you being you, being who you are, being what you were and what you are now. You’re the telling story that is supposed to move so many hearts– but do people forget that everyone else has a story of a rough past turning into a successful future? Take a look at me, Noah. You have a look at me right now but you’d never ever fail to think that this man you see before you was one a drug-abusing bastard who wished nothing more than his own death so he could finally feel something– so he could finally feel loved by everyone that was supposed to be around him– and never thought that the multiple emergency trips to a medical facility would keep him alive to this day and make him become one of the very best that the world of this sport has ever seen.

That kid, in that rural town of Wexford, was bullied– he was beaten the fuck up by all the kids that hung around the town—even those that he thought were his friends—and then, when he went home, he took the fuckin’ beating that his step-father gave him so nobody else had to. He went on any kind of drug that was around, any kind of drug that he could’ve gotten his hands on, and there was no fear of what might’ve awaited him. Shit, he drank those pills down with alcohol that he robbed from the liquor store. His whole childhood was filled with anxiety and depression and he did nothing to help himself but to make sure that he was more destroyed than ever before– and all he expected, all he waited a long time for, was his own funeral to come. He waited to see all those fake tears that ran down people’s faces, all the fake emotions that came with death, all the fake shit that he’s seen with his own eyes over the years of his childhood. And because of the fearless feeling he had about his own death, he never cared about his own safety and well-being– neither did he care for anyone else’s.

For years, Noah, I have lived with that feeling of not fearing what failure can do to me. I have lived with failure for all of my life, Noah. I’ve failed to be the best wrestler in the world, I have failed to be a good friend, I have failed to be a great boyfriend for many, I have failed to be the loving fiance to some, I’m sure I am failing to be the wonderful husband I’m supposed to be right now, and shit, I failed to even be a father to a child that I have not seen ever since his birth and he’s about six or seven years old by now for all that I know or even care– I am failure, I have lived that failed life, and it makes me fuckin’ sick when I see grown men still not able to get over failure as a whole. And it makes me so sick when I see you, Noah, growing a fear over failure that it hurts you to even think about the feeling.

You need to be willing to accept the failure that comes within this sport, Noah. No matter how much you might continue to fear that said failure, not everyone is perfect inside of this ring and failure always comes at the end of the day. How could it be if you were to hold this championship and fail to defend it– because it always comes, no matter how much you fight to make sure it doesn’t– will you drown in your own sorrowful trauma and wallow in the pain and misery that comes with it? If you cannot hold yourself up after a loss, letting that fear take control of you, and using it as your own motivation to continue– then why in god’s name are you here? If you’re so afraid of something you fear, why do you surround yourself in an environment where your fear is just three seconds away from attaching itself onto you and making you suffer for an inexplicable amount of time?”

He let that question hang in the air as he adjusted the championship resting on his shoulder– but he never noticed the tears that were slowly coming down along his face that whole point in time where he spoke about his own failures, those tears were clear to see upon the camera but he simply wiped them away as if they were nothing.

“If it makes you any better about this match, Noah– I am expecting my own failures to strike me down once again, I am expecting myself to be conquered by the young up and coming talent that you are because still… I have nothing but respect for you. However, just beating me isn’t going to be enough for this championship because my main goal is to find someone that’s going to put on the best performance of their lives and drive themselves to keep going until they win. I have not seen that from anyone so far, Noah, and I can assure that I will not be seeing it from you. I am going to make sure that you are pushed to a neverending limit and I am going to make sure that you fight to the very end– because if you get weaker, if you grow more tired as time goes on, and if you feel emptiness soon taking over as you fail to take me down and make me breathe my final breath in order to win this championship?

I shall have no choice but to put you down, much like I have done to the many that have tried and failed. Do not disappoint me, Noah, and do not become the failure that you’re supposed to become. It would be a shame to see you come far– and in the end, without anyone there to help you, you become the thing that you are so scared of becoming again.”

There was a stern look inside of his eyes as he glared right into the lens of the camera, the intensity was strong but he knew himself that he was stronger than anything that could be created– Those words that he spoke are now soaked in as the silence once again took over, the darkness now bringing itself in as the feed slowly faded to black.

Michael Bishop, Christopher Sabertooth, DE'MARION., Alyssa Grace, Elijah Hampton, 'Don' Hendrix, DT The Ruler and have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos August 21st 2022, 3:17 am by **PAZ**

For many in OWA, August 20th and 21st is a big night. Feuds will be settled. Championships will be defended. Dominance will be established. For two nights in Yoon Suk-yeol’s Korea, a war will take place, but not with the people up north. No, for two nights in August, the Omega Wrestling Alliance will present their latest pay-per-view offering, GAME OVER.

For many.

But not all.

Rich Gatsby sits in a random airport bar area as he drinks away his three-hour layover. He fiddles with his phone, waiting for text messages that never come.

Despite his popularity, the number of people in his circle is small. He understood the situation. Trust is hard to come by, especially in the business he’s made his money in. Those who want your trust, only want it to twist a knife in your back. Then there are those who turned their back on Gatsby for shinier, greener pastures.

Professional wrestling is a hell of a business.

He picks up his glass and takes the last sip of Johnnie Walker before lifting a finger for one more. He had a buzz going and felt good, getting ready for the 12 hour flight from wherever he was to South Korea. Didn’t matter where he was, as long as he was asleep by the time his flight took off.

He remembered the training sessions that turned into therapy sessions with Raf. He smiled at the thought of getting wild to DMX with Alix and Hayley. He reminisced about the meetings with Shane and their meaningful conversations about the business.

None of them are around now.

Rich swirls the drink around in his cup. He chuckles to himself, remembering how crowded the VIP room was that one night in the club in Miami. Surrounded by strangers because Ike thought it was a good idea to just ball the fuck out.

He remembers hearing the roar of the fans after winning the Tag Team Championship a few weeks back. He remembers the ovation he got for defending the Warlord Championship a few months back. He thinks back to all of his accomplishments and the support he had from the fans - all the handshakes he got when he went through the curtain.

But behind the flashing lights and the loud reactions, stripped down and exposed… was a lonely man.

He notices the glances. The stares from those surrounding him. Big motherfucker like Gatsby, it’s kind of hard to not stare. At six-foot, five inches, and two-hundred seventy-eight pounds, he was built like a brick shit house. On top of that, he dressed the part of a man of money. Money he earned by bringing the fucking ruckus each time he put his boots on. Despite the stares, no one approached him. No one wanted to talk to him.

As he waited to board a plane for a company that booked him on a pre-show match, he couldn’t help but laugh.

The same people who cheered and congratulated him when he was champion are the same people who ignored and disregarded him when he was at his lowest.

It was just as lonely at the top as it was at the bottom.

He expected his OWA run to go better than it has. He came in with much fanfare, but ultimately had nothing to show for it. Despite incredible matches against Hampton, Baker, and Reigner, Rich Gatsby is still in the same spot he was since his debut in January of this year.

All fucking hype and not a god damn thing to show for it.

So will this be it?

Will this match at the “kickoff” show be the straw that breaks the camel’s back?

Or will Rich Gatsby actually live up to his Juggernaut moniker and finally break through that glass ceiling.

Will they care?

Will Gat?

---------

“So ya boy fightin’ for scraps now?”

“Came in hot like a muh’fucka. Fightin’ fools like Baker ‘n’ Reigner ‘n’ shit. Big fuckin’ GAT in the Omega Wrestling Alliance ‘n’ shit. Like, bruh, muh’fuckas was hyped about cha’ boy. Y’all had every fuckin’ right to be. The Juggernaut was s’posed to be the biggest fuckin’ deal jumpin’ into OWA, but just like that… poof… Rich-who? Rich-who now in a six-man match on the fuckin’ kickoff show. Rich-who fightin’ for a title that homie who held it last didn’t even want!”

“Yeah, this ain’t fuckin’ it, homie.”

“I promised myself that everywhere I went, I was finna try ‘n’ make a splash. I saw ALPHA as the litmus test. I make it big there, hell I could make it anywhere, right? I head over to Strong Style Wrestling ‘n’ I fuck around and got my reign as the Warlord Champion still goin’. Shit I head over to other places ‘n’ they still got some gat-damn respect on my name. But here in the OWA? Y’all ain’t givin’ Gat a second glance. Saw what y’all wanted to see ‘n’ now y’all on to the next one.”

“Who the next big fuckin’ thing? Cuz y’all already moved on, right? Y’all think I ain’t worth a fuckin’ spot on the main show no more, fam! I wreck my side of the bracket and I lose to Elijah Hampton and after that shit, y’all turned y’all back on me, is that right?”

“Is that right!?”

“Y’all must’ve forgotten just who the fuck Rich Gatsby is.”

“Let me refresh y’all memories.”

“I’m the man who came to Omega Wrestling Alliance and demanded Graham Baker to bring the fight I knew he could bring to me so I could show y’all how I fuck wit’ it against someone of his caliber. I’m the man who took Noah Reigner’s big title reign and almost ended it before it even started. I’m the man who took the man who was three seconds away from facing Jacob Senn for the OWA Immortal Heavyweight Championship. I’m the man who is constantly gettin’ shot after shot after shot because they fuckin’ know that when I hit? I fuckin’ hit… and I… don’t…. MISS.”

“To be loud and clear. I AM THAT MAN.”

“The Gambino of the Gatsplex. Inglewood’s hard-hittin’ hero. The man who is goin’ to TAKE that Icarus Championship to heights way beyond what it’s previous owner could even fathom takin’ it to. Because quite frankly, no matter how hard he could ever try James Diamond can’t hold a fuckin’ CANDLE to my career. And this ain’t a dig on you, homie. Please believe that. I actually fuck wit’ chu ‘n’ what you’ve been able to do yo' short time here. But I know what I’m capable of. I know exactly what I bring to the fuckin’ table and I’ll be damned if I’ma let some fuckin’ six-man match on the ‘kickoff show’ determine my fuckin’ worth. Nah, this shit’s only finna make me wanna drop muh’fuckas on they heads even more.”

“I feel bad for the five homies that gotta face an angry Rich Gatsby. What these five men don’t know is ya boy is hungry and at Game Over? Ya boy is about to feast on a five-course meal. Shit, I’m done watchin’ another muh’fucka eat. It’s time to get mine!”

“Five others are at this table. They think they hungry. They think they ‘boutta feast, too. Nah, homie. They sittin’ at my fuckin’ table ‘n’ what they really is is thirsty. They see that Icarus Championship ‘n’ act like they done shit to even get a taste.”

“Y’all ain’t done shit.”

“Kazama, my guy, you ain’t even been here a minute ‘n’ they booked you against The fuckin’ Juggernaut. Mad respect, vet, but damn you gotta debut against me?! And I know how you feel, bruh. I know the butterflies in the stomach, the itch to just get into that ring and have that bell ring, but I’m tellin’ you right now. I’m tellin’ you right now that once that bell rings, it ain’t twenty-fourteen, no more, my guy. This ain’t the shit you’re used to. This ain’t finna be Disney-endin’ y’all think it’s finna be because the reality is this: While you may have been top shit back in the day this is a new era, Kazama. This is a new style of professional wrestling and I hope you understand that. I can’t wait to get into that ring and mix it up wit’chu, homie, but at the end of the day you just finna be the man who got in The Juggernaut’s way.”

“And Jessie B who the fuck are you to be blowin’ up my spot? You think you can come ‘n’ hijack my shit? Nah, cuh, this ain’t no pimp shit over here. You think you can come out ‘n’ introduce who… De’Marion? Like he s’posed to mean shit to me, B?! Nah, don’t come out there wit’ that weak shit ‘n’ expect me to just let you get the last word, homie. You wanna make a fuckin’ mockery outta this shit, fine. But when you fuckin’ wit’ my money, B? Then we got problems. Then we gotta talk, Jessie. Ain’t nothin’ about this De’Marion that I can respect. I don’t give a fuck about no Bahama bullshit, either. Shit, the fuck is goin’ on here anyways? We just tossin’ out title shots like it ain’t nobody’s business! First Kazama, then De’Marion. Shit, is Carter finna sign a guy tomorrow ‘n’ he’ll be added to this Icarus Championship!”

“I don’t know what you’re expectin’, bruh. Maybe it’s just the fact that these lames are beginnin’ to think I’m at they level. Maybe it’s the way I’ve been portrayin’ myself over here. Please… please don’t mistake me for one of dem fools that you tryna trick into thinkin’ they need someone like you. You’re a fuckin’ leech, my guy. You suck the blood out of these bitches who think they need someone like Jessie B to feel important. You got yo' boy De’Marion feelin’ some type of way, like that big muh’fucka needs you ‘n’ shit. But whatever, man, if that’s what he needs to feel validated I ain’t finna knock him. Y’all wanna play games but I ain’t about it, homie. Nah, fuck that. I ain’t comin’ to Game Over to put smiles on faces ‘n’ let people know “I’m just happy to be here.” Nah, I’m comin’ to Game Over to make a muh’fuckin’ statement. I’m showin’ guys like Kazama ‘n’ De’Marion that they ain’t at my level and that they for damn sure ain’t finna come up to OWA ‘n’ take from Big GAT.”

“We got all kinds of muh’fuckas up in this match. Got big Bob Osterlund and El Landerson. Polar opposites of the fuckin’ wrestling spectrum. Got another muh’fucka, Brandon Hendrix aka RICHER GATSBY. Big ass muh’fucka. Strong ‘n’ privileged ‘n’ shit. I fuck wit’chu, big homie. Y’all know we finna drop some ‘bows when you ‘n’ I face off at Game Over… my bad pre-Game Over… cuz that’s what y’all think of Big GAT, right? Pre-show talent?”

“You damn right I’m fuckin’ bitter, I got every fuckin’ right to be! Do you know who I am!? I’m the Juggernaut, bitch! Rich Gatsby ain’t the fuckin’ pre-show! I’m the WHOLE FUCKIN’ SHOW! Yet y’all got me booked against some lames like this is my spot on the card. Like this is what I deserve. Fuck that. FUCK. THAT!”

“...Listen to me, man.”

“Y’all got me buggin’...”

“If y’all been fuckin’ wit’ GAT for a while, y’all know this shit ain’t me. Y’all know I’m the type of dude who keeps my shit humble. I keep my chin down ‘n’ roll wit' the punches. I take what I get ‘n’ I make it work. That’s been the M.O. That’s been my creed. I’ve been THAT MAN since Day One ‘n’ this shit just has me testin’ my patience. But ya boy finna be alright, y’all. Because what I get to do is prove every single one of them non-believers wrong. I didn’t come to OWA to be on the pre-show. I also didn’t come here just to be another spot on the roster. I need that gold or else the fuck am I doin’, y’all? The goal is always finna be that OWA Immortal Championship. I am the top dog in this business ‘n’ I’ma prove it everywhere I fuckin’ go. But shit gets real. I got my shot against Reigner and missed. I failed to beat Hampton but I still got an opportunity. Right now that gold is that Icarus Championship.”

“James Diamond and Ryo Sakazaki went to war over that title. I saw these two have that Strap Match at War and Thunder ‘n’ thought these muh’fuckas were doing everything they could to lay claim to that title, or at least I thought they did. Cuz after that knockdown dragout brawl, James, you just… dropped the title. As if you didn’t give a fuck. Shit, I know you didn’t give a fuck about it. Yet you made me an offer, Diamond. Not like Jessie’s but something similar. You want me to join you. You win a title an’ you think that that makes you mean somethin’. But tell me somethin’, homie. You actin’ like a big fuckin’ deal, yet you want nothin’ to do with the title that made you a fuckin’ deal. The fuck is up wit’chu, partnah? You want me to link up wit’ Drago Santiago? That shit don’t work like that, homie. I see whatchu doin’, I’ve seen you beat Noah Reigner and basically go on a fuckin’ tear since you’ve gotten here. You’ve basically been doin’ what I should’ve been doin’. Somethin’ I’ve learned a long ass time ago is you ain’t trustin’ nobody… NO… BODY! When it comes to professional wrestling. I made that mistake many times before ‘n’ I for damn sure ain’t finna be tricked again. We ain’t the same, homie.

“You give me that Icarus Championship, I defend that shit wit’ pride. I defend that shit against any ‘n’ every competition I can get. You? Like you don’t give a shit about this business we in. Don’t get me wrong, I respect you, James. You did somethin’ I ain’t been able to do when you beat Reigner a couple months back. You were able to win the Icarus Championship in yo’ first match here. You got a world of knowledge ‘n’ you got the experience to back it up. But I dunno, man, maybe you got bored or somethin’ with the title, but we professionals, my guy. We s’posed to carry that title with pride and honor, yet you throw it off to Ryo like it’s just another fuckin’ belt. Like you don’t care about that shit. That rubs me wrong, man.”

“So I’ma do the opposite. You wanna link up? Come to South Korea, old man. Come get a front row seat ‘n’ watch me win the title you so desperately didn’t want a part of. Come watch what I do to these five muh’fuckas just to get to that championship, Diamond. Because I’m real fuckin’ sick ‘n’ tired of muh’fuckas who claim to be champs ‘n’ don’t meet their end of the bargain. I’m real sick of so-called champions who are afraid to fight. And on August 20th and 21st, Rich Gatsby ain’t finna play no games. Big GAT is gonna get his ass all the way to South Korea ‘n’ prove once again that I am THAT MAN. I am The Juggernaut. I will fight five other men and knock each one of them down, just to be called Champion in the Omega Wrestling Alliance.”

“You say I ain’t got the focus for this shit, but I’ma prove you wrong.”

“All y’all.”

“This ain’t Game Over…”

“After the pay per view? The game will have just begun….”

Alyssa Grace, Elijah Hampton, Remington Ivory Prescott, DT The Ruler, Lazarus Arjen and Felix Hartley have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos August 21st 2022, 12:34 am by **DE'MARION.**

Our scene begins in Atlanta, Georgia on a lively Friday night. The celebrated Black Mecca is in full swing with its nightlife as many of its citizens are walking the streets in their finest attires, the lights are shining bright, and alcohol is flowing with nearly the whole city drunkenly trying to get into something after a hard work week. In the midst of bar hopping and club searching, where the heart of the party truly resides for the evening is at the Pink Rose strip club in downtown ATL, currently handling a line that wraps around the block. A bouncer man’s the front door with a clipboard in hand and a selective eye, picking and choosing who can qualify to enter the establishment based on look and status. OWA Promos 1f498

BODYGUARD
Ya'll gotta go. You two can come in.

OWA Promos 1f498

The lucky few to trickle into the business are greeted with a once in a lifetime experience with purple rain-esque lighting shining down upon them, Future blasting through the speakers, and the most sexual and exclusive dancers in the state gracefully gliding down the pole into a pile of ones. In the midst of this array of pageantry and debauchery, owner DE'MARION sits on the satin couch of the VIP section in his finest white paints and a pink v-neck to put focus on all of his jewelry. Two fine ladies are on each side, a bottle is in one hand and his phone is in the other as he finishes a call. OWA Promos 1f498

DE'MARION
Come on Jessie Baby, I’m at work. I would love to sit down with you and talk about our plans together for Olympus, but this money doesn’t slow down for anything. Besides, what is there to be stressed about? That gauntlet’s got a few bad boys in the lineup but I'm not scared of getting a little roughed up. You know where I’m from and you know how I handle myself. I’m going to eat those five up and leave not a crumb, all without breaking a nail on my fingers. Promise you Jay.

OWA Promos 1f498

A lady reaches for DEMARION’s lap, going between his legs and working the shaft of his beer bottle, teasing him to get off the phone. OWA Promos 1f498

DE'MARION
Seoul is going to be a grand old time, think about our relationship and tell me when have I ever allowed myself to disappoint you. There you go, you can’t think of it. Now why don’t you go check on your Bahama Mamas, I’m sure they’re missing you. I have some business of my own to attend to. Alrighty. Toodles.

OWA Promos 1f498

DEMARION ends the call and sets his phone down. OWA Promos 1f498

DE'MARION
Girls, my man Jessie just loves to worrryyyy. I don’t even know why. He’s always been needy when it comes to our business together and he’s been riding me extra hard since I’ve decided to join him wrestling. It can be a real pain and the worst part is I don’t even get it. I have a title match in my debut and that’s a big deal yes, but honey, DE'MARION has always been the type to perform under those lights! This is second nature to me. Making my way to the stage, walking with purpose, owning it, showing my skills in front of a crowd of adoring people, that’s how I’ve lived my life since I was striking poses for the fam when I was six. Pro wrestling is the cookout. It’s the hood rec center. It’s the ballroom. It’s the night club. It’s DE-MAR-ION! When I sign up for an endeavor I don’t just participate in the function, I become the function, and the moment I was added to that GameOver card, it went from being an Icarus Championship match to an Icarus Championship award ceremony with some bum asses sitting behind me at the podium.

Thot #1:
Periodt, pooh.

DE'MARION
Yanno it. Seriously, Jessie’s been blowing up my phone like a boy in love and for what? Who am I facing to be shook about upstaging me. El Landerson? I’m not worried. In fact I’m grateful he’s in the lineup because it reminds me that it’s been a long while since I’ve tried some Mexican. And babes, if that isn’t enough we got somebody’s daddy in this match! Bob Osterlund is the name and he’s got some extra meat on him compared to everyone else in this match. A real double wide surprise, if you will. And I guess the fact he’s a bit girthier than the rest is supposed to intimidate me. Please. Some see a threat when they notice a weight advantage, but I’m of the school of thought that size doesn’t matter. I’ve locked up with men twice his size and trust me, I was never the one who ended up ravaged. From my viewpoint, I just see a big squishy teddy bear that I’m about to put to sleep. He ain’t got no killer in him. He got plenty of sugar in his tank though. He’s a sweetie, that’s why babyface Remi knocked him off quicker than Humpty Dumpty. That boy is three hundred pounds of soft loving with kool aid in his veins and fried chicken on the brains. A whole new meaning to the phrase “McDonald’s All American” on the scouting report. It’s honestly cute seeing him talk in his promos because there’s not a bit of fight in ol tubby over there. But if he wants to keep flapping those jowls of his with this match maybe it’s a sign he’s grumpy and looking for a treat. The poor thing has a hunger for attention. No worries Bobby, if you’re gonna keep that mouth of yours open Mother D has got something hefty to fill it up so you’ll shut up….

OWA Promos 1f498

DE'MARION digs through his pocket, pulling out his good friend Marsha, the Diamond encrusted brass knuckles with pink stamp attached. OWA Promos 1f498

DE'MARION:
And my golden girl here is body inclusive, my piece will bust open men of any and all sizes. Whether you’re oatmeal thick or tight and toned, I’ll bring it to you just the same. That’s why I’m excited for the rest of the boys on the field like Silver Kazama. When it comes to getting down and dirty I love rolling around with the fit ones, they excite me the most. He’s got that youthful energy. That spark. He really wants to show the world what he’s all about, and I’m more than willing to take what he’s got. Let’s dance, Kazzy, but we’ll see if you’re still ready for action once you feel my strong hands around your neck. I always worry about doing too much with the twig boys, they seem to snap too fast before I’m done playing with them.

OWA Promos 1f498

DE'MARION closes his fist, getting a feel for his own strength as he says that. OWA Promos 1f498

DE'MARION
That’s why the muscle bound ones are just my type, and why I haven’t flinched in regards to the two men who are seen as the leading men in the betting odds. When I got signed to OWA and informed of this match all I ever heard people talking about were Brandon Hendrix and Rich Gatsby. And I can see why because they’ve got all the tools to succeed. I mean with both of them you’ve got that rugged beard, those chiseled abs, that hairy chest….just oozing machismo, they are. Those are some men right there. Some men’s men. But let me tell you, where I come from I have a reputation for breaking men down. The most masculine of men get turned into the daintiest of punks when I’m done with them. I know Brandon especially likes to huff and puff and act like the big man in the locker room, but give me five minutes to acquaint myself with him and we’ll have that long hair past his behind and he’ll be smiling to the camera with cherry balm on his lips. To put it shortly, I’ll be doing Mr. “Let’s Go Brandon” like he’s a prison bitch. I’ll try to be nice to Mr. Rich Gatsby though. Something about him sticks out to me the most. I think that when it comes to opponents he’s just my type. We’re the same in many ways. Tall, strong, broad shouldered, peanut butter complexion. Got all the attributes that….mmph…..are championship winning in my eyes. Pure black excellence. When I look at who we’re sharing the ring with and I hear their backgrounds, see them talk, and watch them in the ring there’s something missing. There’s a certain type of copy and pasting, a type of blandness that could use some more flavor in the pot. It’s very much giving….one dimensional. Gatsby though, there’s a mystique there. We’ve both come from struggle. We both know how to scratch, and claw…and grind. He’s not just a one trick pony with muscles, I can sense through his aura that he’s a hardened man. And I would like to crack open his psyche and see what’s inside. There’s a lot to chew on with the Rich Gatsby persona, and I’d love to be the first to really take a bite into it. Maybe he’ll come to me for comfort after the adversity of losing the Icarus title to me. The result is academic really. Six guys enter the ring, one will come out on top, the other five are below them. I don’t do the bottom. That’s not for me. And it never will be. Simple.

OWA Promos 1f498

DE'MARION chuckles to himself as he sits back on the couch, getting massaged by one of the girls as “Xanax Damage” drones on in the background, a mindless tune which fits DE'MARION’s careless demeanor as we fade to black. OWA Promos 1f498

Alyssa Grace, Remington Ivory Prescott, DT The Ruler, Lazarus Arjen, Felix Hartley and Chad Ecclestone have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos August 20th 2022, 10:40 pm by **Felix Hartley**

“Hello Zepp” by Charlie Clouser begins to play over a black screen. As the overture kicks in, the screen flashes different moments of the last few months leading up to Game Over, the audio of the moments extracted to fit perfectly over the clips.

Daisy Thrash getting put through a table by Devi Krysis on Odyssey 80 - her screams echoing in the video.

Flash

Daisy Thrash getting continuously pie-faced by Felix as the audio of Felix screaming “COME ON DAISY! SHOW ME SOMETHING!” echoes in the video.

Flash

Daisy Thrash going for the pin on Devi Krysis but being hauled over the top rope by Angelina Magnum.

Flash

Daisy Thrash getting stomped on by Felix Hartley and Rebecca Filth after the bell rang, Daisy’s yelps of pain echoing over the music.

Flash

Devi Krysis getting pinned by Angelina Magnum, Angelina’s sinister laugh echoing in the video.

Flash

Footage from Final Destination IV of Devi Krysis and Daisy Thrash laid out in the middle of the ring after losing the fatal fourway match for the Openweight Championship flashes with audio from Devi’s promotional video echoing… “This isn’t the same Devi Krysis that you’re used to.”

Flash

Then…footage of Felix Hartley raising the Openweight Championship in the air at Final Destination IV while confetti falls from the roof of the stadium.

Flash

Footage of Felix Hartley attacking each one of her Final Destination opponents on consecutive episodes of Odyssey.

Flash

Felix Hartley retaining her Openweight Championship against Marie Bouchard, hitting Marie with her finisher Death Play with the audio of the fans chanting “ODYSSEY! ODYSSEY! ODYSSEY!” enhanced in the background.

Flash

Felix Hartley blasting Angelina Magnum in the back with a steel chair, securing a win for her fellow Thotyssey member Rebecca Filth. The audio of the chair shot - THWACK - enhanced over the video.

Flash

The Banshee, covered in blood and beaten mercilessly by Filth’s signature wrench as Felix Hartley and Rebecca Filth stand over her, suffering their first loss on Odyssey.

Flash

Filth and Felix seductively raising their respective Championships in the air.

The video zooms in on Felix Hartley. Hello Zepp fades out as audio from Daisy Thrash’s promotional video echoes over the slow zoom into Felix’s eyes…

“So what will you do? Pout? Cry that it wasn’t fair? Demand a rematch because it’s absolutely impossible that you lost?”

Black.

____________________________

“And here we are. Days away from the Unified Openweight Championship match at Game Over. Because you pouted. Cried that it wasn’t fair. And demanded a rematch because it was impossible that you lost.

You’ve said it yourself, Daisy. Multiple times, actually. You’re starting to sound more like a broken record than Devi is. For MONTHS all you’ve been whining about is how I stole the win from under your nose at Final Destination. Ever since you knew you were facing me back then you’ve had this vendetta for no fucking reason. You’re like a little social justice gnat that can’t make a difference in society OR in the ring. You watched as I picked Devi and Violet apart week after week, strategically breaking them down before our fatal fourway match, and you couldn’t wait to do the same to me. You sat on your high horse talking about holding your head up high and taking a loss on the chin, yet, you attacked me before Final Destination. Something you would’ve looked down on in any other circumstance. But what is it that you said to me last week? LoVe Me SoMe HyPoCriSy. And it just seemed like every fucking time I was in that ring, I couldn’t do one thing without hearing your nails-on-a-chalkboard in lieu of a theme song. Suddenly, big girl with a microphone took a break from her woke Tumblr posts and what? Cries. Pouts. And demands a rematch.

So, because the only thing you seem to be good at is getting pity opportunities, you were HANDED a rematch on a silver platter. Well, that and I’m also positive that Llorona thought if she had to hear you whine in one more promo she would’ve offed you faster than that dumb twat Ashley Walker. Never liked her. Glad she’s gone.

But you weren’t happy then either, were you? Because as I graciously sat there and took time out of my night to sign that contract while you ran your mouth, you threw a whole ass temper tantrum after Devi decided she wanted in. She at least offered something to up the ante, all you did was cry that you thought you deserved something that was never “stolen” from you and wasn’t ever yours to begin with.

Let me tell you a secret. Advice from a Champion, if you will. See, instead of throwing a fit because now I have to defend MY Openweight belt against two opponents instead of one, I was just happy to have the opportunity in front of me to shut the mouths of everyone who thought I couldn’t win on my own merit. Everyone who thought my first win against Marie Bouchard was a fluke? Faced her again, and won. That woman went through her whole fucking finishing move arsenal like a Rolodex to try to put me away and it didn’t. Fucking. Work. Either I kicked out, or I countered it. It’s not about pride or proving anything to anyone, it’s just fun to watch my opponents scramble for anything negative to say about me other than the fact that I took my clothes off for money once and I like sex. That’s all y’all ever have. And the more I win, and the longer I retain, the more irrelevant it gets.

You know what I hate, though? Something that gets under my flawless skin? The fact that you can’t see the hilarious irony at play. You, bragging about a team win, one that you didn’t even secure the pin for. Kind of makes it easy for me to say that you shouldn’t even celebrate it. I mean, Angelina stole that pin from you, right? Because there’s no way you could’ve possibly fought off a Hollywood actress or whatever, right? You, the tough Daisy Thrash, all about bootin’ fascists or whatever, and you’re telling me you couldn’t defend yourself against Angelina and get that pin yourself? Surprised you’re not whining about that, either. There are fucking countless instances since I’ve been in OWA where you’ve genuinely convinced yourself that someone wouldn’t be where they are without YOU. Angelina wouldn’t have gotten the pin if it wasn’t for you. I wouldn’t have become Openweight Champion if it wasn’t for you. Come on, Daisy, be real - if you were that fucking good you’d have a belt! But you don’t! Because the only real victory you could claim ownership over is a team victory that you simply got a participation medal for. You couldn’t possibly think this is the same as being in the ring with me alone, could you? You couldn’t possibly think that Devi being added to this match at the last minute HINDERS you instead of helps you, could you? Because if she wasn’t in it, what would you have cried then? What would you have done after the bell rang and my theme music was playing in the arena and you’re counting the steel beams on the ceiling?

You’d have no one to blame but yourself. And from what I’ve seen so far, you have trouble taking accountability for just about anything.

You can’t just admit to yourself that your best years are behind you because that would mean that you didn’t accomplish anything special in your OWA career.

You NEED Devi. Just like Filth and I needed her on Odyssey. You didn’t think we’d take the pin ourselves, right? She’s an easy out. She was exposed last week as being the exact same Devi she said she wasn’t. Hell, she was about as useless as the referee. You’re here bragging about the finishing blow but it’s not impressive. You didn’t pin anybody. You, once again, didn’t prove a goddamned thing despite being given a stage and a silver platter to do it on. You fell short.

You can anticipate an excuse all you want, but I don’t need to make one. The fact that you’re so hypervigilant about me making an excuse proves that you’re just trying to play checkers while I’m sitting pretty on the chess board. I knew you’d boast having this win over me and I could sit here discussing the technicalities with you but deep down, you know them. Deep down, you know that people like Filth and I barely consider this as a “loss” - did you see the way Odyssey ended? How could you possibly think you have the advantage over me going into Game Over when we “lost” but still closed out the show standing over Banshee’s bloodied body? Or were you still collecting your remaining brain cells from being hauled over the top rope by your own team mate? Devi ate that pin just like we would have expected of her. And just like we would have expected of any of you three. We knew that if your team actually wanted to win, obviously none of y’all would even dare to TRY pinning me or Filth. Both teams had a weak link; Angelina just got to Devi first before any of us could get to you.

Now what I want to know for real, is why we always see Devi in a training center but we never see the training. Devi lives to show us that she’s training; she did it before Final Destination and she’s doing it now, but we never see her improve and it’s confusing to me. But what did I genuinely expect when she failed to prove that there’s a ‘new’ Devi Krysis. Devi, I gave you the benefit of the doubt and I RARELY make fucking mistakes but boy, were you ever right when you told me you’d embarrass me in the ring. I guess I just thought you meant while facing me and not teaming with me.

Devi… Angelina Magnum DID pin you. You DID team up with two champions. Devi, turn your monitor on.

You were placed on a team last week that was entirely above your pay grade. You were never expected to perform to our level, but you were expected to at least fucking perform at all. Get it out of your head that Daisy has any “momentum” going into this match - y’all were BOTH on the floor when the match ended. At least one of you was in the fucking ring.

You know what this means, don’t you? Who am I kidding, you don’t know anything. You straight up cost our team a victory. You let Daisy’s team walk out of Odyssey thinking they could actually out-wrestle Filth and I. I ain’t going to let that shit slide. You’re going to pay tenfold once that bell rings. You couldn’t possibly do enough push-ups or hit enough punching bags to prepare yourself for what I’ve been thinking of doing to you ever since that match ended.

One thing Daisy and I can confidently agree on is that you don’t deserve that Lethal Sparks Championship. The reason isn’t that deep, though. I couldn’t give two fucks about carrying on a legacy. I remember Daisy said the only reason I care about that Championship is because there’s a possibility that I could win it.

She’s wrong.

The only reason I care about that Championship is because there’s an absolute certainty that I’ll win it.

I mean, history repeats itself right? Rebecca held the Openweight title before - essentially - handing it off to me, only to go on to unify the Undisputed Women’s World Championship. The thots unify the titles. That’s just the way it goes on Odyssey right now and I’m not about to sacrifice that for some “legacy”.

Fuck her legacy. What about MY legacy?

Devi thinks she has some special connection to Brody Sparks because she, what, used her moves and had the crowd chanting for her mid-match? Devi, the point is to make the crowd chant for YOU. Brody made her own career, time for you to focus on yours. Now Daisy thinks she has some sort of special connection with Sparks just because y’all got changed in front of each other once in EAW. If we’re getting into that kind of pissing contest, I guess I’d win that too since out of the three of us, I’m the only one who also held a title in EAW. That’s right. They used to call me the New Breed Stallion. God, they loved me. If you ever heard them say they never played favorites, they lied. As a matter of fact, Empire was changed forever after I got there. I won the New Breed Championship from Serena Bennett’s boyfriend - remember her? Cause she disappeared pretty fast after I signed with OWA too. Cause she knew I ran Empire into the ground until it wasn’t even a brand anymore. Then we took the name to Kingdom Pro where me, Remi Skyfire and Tyler Wolfe made the ultimate team. We had each other’s backs. We destroyed.

But I guess you didn’t think my history as a professional wrestler went that deep, right? Because all I care about is my looks. My flawless body. My Louboutins. Stripping. Getting a “train” run on me by the OWT recruits. That’s just a typical Saturday. Some people hit punching bags, some people fuck the Wolf twins in the locker room shower. Obviously you can tell which one has been more effective since Devi’s gone off into one of her spirals again talking about impressing Jeff X and Alyssa Grace as if they have anything to do with this match. Why do you want to impress the people who either want to fuck us or want to be us?

So if we’re going to talk about who “deserves” to win at Game Over, it’s me. Everywhere I fucking go I make waves. EAW, Kingdom Pro, and now OWA. I win titles fast. I reign powerfully. I defend ruthlessly. And if there’s a legacy to continue, it’s mine, and it’s Lexi’s. If there’s a loss to avenge, it’s mine too. Professionally, and personally. If there’s a reputation to uphold, well, y’all never had one in the first place.

So once this is over, it’s over for real. No third, fourth or fifth chances. It’s Game Over. For both of you."

Michael Bishop, Jeff X, Alyssa Grace, The Banshee, Rebecca Filth, Remington Ivory Prescott, DT The Ruler and Lazarus Arjen have spoken. It’s such good shit!

exposed // game over oo1 August 20th 2022, 9:46 pm by **Rebecca Filth**

“Game Over. You know, it has a special place in my cold, black heart. Last year, Game Over was my first ever PPV match in OWA. And what I consider to be the beginning of my career on Odyssey and the beginning of shutting down the naysayers and the underestimators.

I was shoved into a battle royale I had no business of winning. All eyes were on Skylar Arceneaux and Emanuelle. I was expected to put up a fight. But never to walk out with the win. Never to become the number one contender for the Openweight Championship. That moment was my catalyst. That small sliver of opportunity was a cracked door and I kicked it the fuck down and made everything of it.

It was the first opportunity placed before me and I ripped it from the hands of women who wanted it more. And I built my entire career off of that win. That win allowed me to go on and take that title from Liz Karlson’s hands and make the Openweight Championship something that people fawned over. That win went on to give me the most dominant Openweight reign in OWA history. It forced people to look at me. And by the time I got to the Clash, I was undeniable.

That match one year ago, is exactly why I am standing where I am today. I rode that shit till the wheels fell off. That match was my beginning. And look how far I’ve come just a year later. Truly, I don’t think we all appreciate how much shit I have done in SUCH a short period of time.

Contenderships. Record breaking reigns. A Clash win. Final Destination main events. Legends destroyed. Unifying two World titles. My singular year in this company reads like many legends' entire careers. It reads like the career of a veteran and I’ve just got my fucking feet wet. So you’ll have to excuse my arrogance and my bravado. Because, bitch I’ve fucking earned it. If you wonder why I think I’m hot shit, it’s because I proved it time and time again. In any and every scenario. Battle royales, multi-man fuckery, singles matches. It didn’t matter. You put a match in front of Rebecca Filth and she does the only thing she knows how to - dominates. You can’t possibly look at my career and question why I’m standing at the fucking top.

And since winning the title? I haven’t let up for a fucking second. I know I have a target on my back. I can feel you all breathing down my neck. But it hasn’t made me stumble or fall. It honestly hasn’t registered on my radar. I am finally where I have told you all I belong. I carved my path to the top and I knew exactly what it meant. I knew it meant evil glares and snide comments. I knew it meant that I would be able to FEEL the jealousy seeping out of the pores of every slut in the back. It’s exactly what I wanted. And honestly girls, your stolen glances and scowls get me wet. I love knowing that I’m on all of your fucking minds. I love knowing that my name is on all of your sultry little lips.

Including yours, Banshee. I know you think you did something by attacking me week in and week out. I know what you were trying to do. You wanted to get inside my head. You wanted to scare me. Make me look weak and show the world that you could stand across from me in that ring. You think if the world saw you standing over me enough times they might begin to question my reign. You declared yourself a contender and wanted to prove that you belong.

But the problem is, you didn’t prove shit. You didn’t get inside my mind. You didn’t throw me off my game. You simply showed your cards. You threw a fit like a petulant child because you DECIDED that you deserved to be next in line. But why, Banshee?

Why do you think you deserve this shot? And why do you want it?

To think I clawed and scratched my way up this entire fucking roster, grasping at every opportunity I could find. And you get to blindside me over and over again and you get handed a championship opportunity. And I’m the bad guy?! The one who worked for it. The one who upended the entire fucking hierarchy of this brand and rewrote it in my image. Please explain how I’m supposed to be the one that people are booing out there. That I’m supposed to be the one who did something wrong. Because from where I’m standing, you’re the one who’s nothing more than a chickenshit little girl whining and crying for her moment in the sun. Someone who has failed over and over again demanding a shot? The fact that you think you earned this is fucking HYSTERICAL. In what way did you earn a championship opportunity? In what way did you earn the chance to fight for the most prestigious championship on this brand? Enlighten me! Hell, at least Angelina had to win a fucking gameshow. You look down on her, but she worked twice as hard as you did for this shot.

You didn’t get in my head. Instead you exposed yourself like an OnlyFans star. You told us all that you desire something. Has the Banshee ever desired something other than chaos and blood? Maybe revenge? But this belt on my shoulder, it means something to you. It haunts your dreams. You can’t fucking stand that I’m holding it. And I hate to break it to you, but that means I’m the one in your head Morrighan. And you put it all out there.

I thought you were a changed woman. I used to admire the animalistic nature of you Banshee. From afar, I saw what the rest of the world sees. An enigma. An aura of chaos and rage. But when I got up close? I was disappointed. When I first faced you at the Clash, I was expecting to be obsessed with you. I was expecting to admire your viciousness. But you don’t want chaos or rage. You don’t want blood and destruction. You want the same fucking thing as everyone else on this brand. You want gold. You want glory. You want to stand at the top of the mountain and fulfill that dream Morrighan has always had. Because you’re still in there, aren’t you Morrighan? We can all see you bubbling to the surface.

Banshee took over to rid you of pathetic aspirations like gold and glory. You literally drove yourself over the edge trying to capture them and failing. And here you are again. Trying to achieve your dreams and prove that you’re the best. Honestly, you’re fucking pathetic. You’ve got your head so far up your own ass that you can’t see that you’re a walking hypocrite. That you are no changed woman. Or a changed beast. You are still the same as you always were. You are a carbon copy like the rest of this roster. Fighting to be on top. Vying for attention and adoration.

Morrighan is still inside there, pulling the strings. And with thousands of people chanting your name, you’ve gone soft. Weak. You are not the killer you used to be. You’re not the woman who tried to kill Diantha inside a steel cell. No. You are just another cookie cutter bitch. But you smeared some face paint on to try and set yourself apart. To give the illusion that you’re some different, unbeatable monster. You’re supposed to be above these pathetic human desires. But you’re not.

And that's why I don’t fear you. That’s why no one on this brand fears you anymore. We see right through you. You are not a monster. You are not a beast. You are simply human. You are simply a little girl playing dress up so that the rest of the kids will stop bullying her. You think if you scare us and act unhinged, we’ll cower. But I’m not like these other bitches. I’m not the kind of person that fears demons. Or zombies. Or whatever else you have up your sleeve, Banshee. I have my own demons. I have been through real torment. Not driven crazy by the lustful gaze of success. So whatever you have? I’ve faced worse.

Let’s be real here, Banshee. You don’t want to end my whoredome. You don’t actually give a fuck that I’m a slutty little whore who is lubing up the title on a daily basis. I truly can’t believe that you’re THAT square. Nah. This isn’t about ending me. Or being disgusted by my very existence. This isn’t about me at all. It’s about your little ego. It’s about the fact that you’ve been in OWA for years and you have NOTHING to show for it. No titles. No accolades. Your trophy case is empty in Hell. And it eats at you every day. It hurts you to see what I have accomplished in such a short amount of time. Why me? Why couldn’t it have been Morrighan that finally captured the gold and proved to herself and the world that she finally belonged.

Here’s a hint. It’s because you don’t.

You think that you have created this legacy of being a bad, unstoppable bitch. But when I look at you, you know what I see? Always the bridesmaid, never the bride. You have had opportunity after opportunity to finally ascend to the top of this roster. And every fucking time you have choked. It’s so funny that you talk about this belt like it’s something that has been held away from you when nothing could be further from the truth. This company has tried to put this belt in your hands more times than I can fucking count. You certainly got more opportunities than I ever did.

Yet, here you stand. Empty handed. You made it to the finals of the Athena’s Cup. You fought tooth and nail because you wanted that cup so bad. But you lost to the better demon. Hana. A woman who sucked so fucking hard she had to succumb to Havoc because she couldn’t win a match without him. Then you beat the everloving shit out of Alyssa Grace at Civil War only for no one to remember you even existed when she cashed in her briefcase and brought the Omega Heavyweight Championship to Odyssey. But then you got gifted an entry into the Promethean Chamber. A match most women would kill for. And the big, bad Banshee was eliminated by Cloud. All it took was a superkick and a Blasian suplex to put you away. Another title opportunity dashed. A real unstoppable force you are.

You then went on to get HANDED a number one contendership match against Diantha and Jonetta for no fucking reason. And you lost that too. And finally, you were placed into the Clash where you were a favourite to win. People were afraid of what you would do in that ring. No one thought you would be eliminated so early on.

But you were. Thanks to me.

You’ve continued to be so fucking close to gold. Yet every time you walk to the back with your head hung low, wondering how yet another opportunity escaped you. Wondering if you will ever be enough.

If you had beaten Hana, or Cloud, or me in the Clash, you could have been one of the five women that stood at the top of this brand at Final Destination. You were right there. Within inches of making history. Yet never close enough.

Someone better was always there to shove you to the side and take what they wanted. And it kills you. You look at my short lived but awe-inspiring career and jealousy gnaws at you. I see through your bullshit to that little girl with hopes and aspirations. Morrighan wonders why she lost her mind while I reached the heights she couldn’t.

But we are not the same. And I relish in the knowledge that I was the one to eliminate you from the Clash. And the way you’ve rationalized it? It’s proof you have no fucking clue who you’re stepping in the ring with. You think I was scared of you? It’s called having intelligence. Why would I stop you from eliminating my competitors?? I know you’re supposed to be some unhinged freak who bites first and thinks later. But I have consistently outsmarted my opponents to win matches. And I make no fucking excuses for how I walk out with my wins. You wanna cry about it? I don’t give a fuck. At the end of the day, I’m the one that eliminated you from the Clash. I’m the one that eliminated ALL of the favourites. You, Liz and Jonetta. You don’t like how I did it? It doesn’t take away from the fact that I will FOREVER be the bitch that made history and won TWO world titles at Final Destination because of it.

You don’t like how I won the bra and panties match? Suck my strap-on, bitch. What I do works. What I do has built my fucking legacy. It has kept me draped in gold through most of my time on Odyssey. And speaking as the ONLY one of us who has EVER held gold in this company, maybe instead of questioning me you should be ADMIRING what I have done. Take notes. What I do has kept me fucking undefeated for over a year. Yeah, last week doesn’t count. No one gives a fuck about a tag match where I was forced to tag with the black hole of talent Devi Krysis and she took the pin like we all knew she would.

I mean, I don’t think you wanna bring up a match where Angelina Magnum outperformed you and got the pin when you’re claiming to be our future Undisputed Champion. The night where I finally got my fucking revenge. And unlike you, I didn’t have to sneak up behind you like a pussy. I blasted you directly in the face with my trusty wrench. How’s the head?

Regardless, I don’t claim to be the fucking best in this sport. I don’t claim to have morals. Have you seen what I do on my OnlyFans? Morals are long gone darling. I will win matches by ANY means necessary. Complain about it. Cry about it. But it won’t stop it from happening. So if I was you I’d accept it and figure out how you’re gonna use a mentally unstable brain to outsmart me inside that ring. Because we both know getting inside that fragile mind and sending you spiralling will be a fucking cake walk for me.

Maybe instead of questioning what I’ve done, you should be looking at yourself. Because in the last year ALONE, you have had four chances either at the Women’s Championship or at a contendership and you failed. Every. Single. Time. And that’s the difference between you and I Banshee. You can look down on me and spit on my accomplishments. You can be fucking MAD that I’m the Undisputed Whore of this fucking brand. But I’ve done what you could never. Unlike you, I don’t squander opportunities. I don’t let them slip through my fingers. I grab them and run with them.

You don’t realize it, but by stepping to me you‘ve mad the biggest mistake of your fucking career. You think that burying Jonetta Stone at Final Destination somehow raised you up to the top of this brand. It inflated your ego and gave you this false sense of superiority. And instead of taking a step back and remembering what a fucking loser you actually are, you decided that the World Championship was your future. And you decided to challenge the most dominant woman that this roster has ever seen.

And now I will have no choice but to expose you for the world to see. By the time I’m done with you, you won’t be able to show your fucking face on this roster. You have built yourself up as this fear-inducing enigma that no one mortal could possibly touch. You have gassed yourself up and you have the fans eating out of your fucking palm. The whole world has bought into the lie that is the Banshee. But the jig is up and when you step into that ring with me, you’ll do what you always do. You’ll fucking choke.

I will beat the ever living shit out of you like I did on Odyssey and I will win YET AGAIN. Banshee, I am fucking untouchable. If you look at your history and mine over the last year, I’m not sure what the fuck you were expecting other than complete and utter humiliation. I am undefeated. I have never lost a championship match. I have won THREE championships in the last year alone. And you have done nothing more than bury an ex-champion whose career had jumped the shark.

You are riding high off that win. But what happens when the whore you have called a joke for weeks gets the better of you? What happens to the Banshee when the whore stands tall over a bloodied demon for the second time? When your dreams crumble before you? When Morrighan has to come to terms with the same things that drove her over the edge? How will your fragile mind cope with me having success at a level you never will?

You may think this opportunity is your cracked door. But you won’t be seeing the other side. Because I’m going to slam it in your fucking face at Game Over.

The whore will expose the queen of monsters as nothing more than a mere mortal.”

Michael Bishop, Jeff X, Alyssa Grace, The Banshee, Remington Ivory Prescott, DT The Ruler, Lazarus Arjen and Felix Hartley have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos August 20th 2022, 8:53 pm by **Lazarus Arjen**

NEW ORLEANS, LOUISIANA

[Date Unknown]

Drip.

Steady drops of water from an old, rusted water pipe that ran the length of the ceiling of this dilapidated school dropped to the floor. Nestled within the Lower Ninth Ward of New Orleans, the former Holy Cross School stood abandoned. A small pool of water was formed, standing stagnant - a foul odor emanating from it.

The sound of footsteps - heavy stomps with heavy soles and treds - filled the hallways, but not as they once did. Instead of hundreds of footsteps masked by sounds of chatter and laughter from the long-gone children that filled the hallways, the current echoing footsteps were that of just a handful of people. All of whom collected in one of the large former ‘classrooms’.

Desks were overturned. Windows were shattered. Papers were faded, tattered, torn and thrown about the floor. The chalkboard at the head of the room had vulgarities written and food, drinks (or other fluid and matter) stained onto the slate material. The large desk that would normally be considered the ‘teachers desk’ still remained, the wood though was rotted and no longer had the natural grain finish.

The aforementioned footsteps ended in this room. This room - full of deviants. This room - full of outcasts, misfits ranging from young teens, to twenty-somethings. Men, women, boys, girls - gender was not a matter. If he chose you, if he accepted you - no matter what walk of life you were from - you were welcome.

And he stood behind the desk at the head of the room. Curly, unwashed and matted hair. A single eyebrow piercing. His face, unkempt and scruffy. His clothes were tattered, hanging on by threads just as everyone else here, but He was the one in control. He was their savior, if you would.

And at his side sat his protege, his number one. A young Lazarus Arjen. A man filled to the brim with so much hate and anger. He wore jeans full of holes. Military combat boots. An old black and white checkered flannel shirt with one sleeve torn off and the other rolled up. A silver septum piercing and a black beanie. He sat on the floor in front of the previously mentioned desk, his eyes focused on the room.

In the back, She sat. Young Cassie, not the youngest in attendance - but younger than most, and more violent as well. She was someone so disconnected with what was surrounding her, but there for the simple reason - she had nowhere to belong. She had nowhere else to go.

“This is family.” He - known to the world today as ‘Darkane’, but in this time and age was known by other names, would say to them as he spoke, lecturing them as if this were his class and he was the teacher. Telling his pupils about the horrors they would face not only here in the Lower Ninth Ward, but everywhere that they were sent. They were told of the tasks needed to be accomplished; the theft of goods, robbery, or worse. They were told of the men and women who would be after them …

Cassie rolled her eyes. She couldn’t stand her brother or his preaching. He had a way with words, with making everyone follow and believe what he said.

Lazarus kept his eyes on Cassie - knowing that she was a combustible element that could explode at any time, but all the while listened to him. There was a bond between Him and Lazarus, something that the rest of the ‘family’ didn’t share. Something that not even his own blood shared. He saw himself in Lazarus, and that probably scared the shit out of him even though he never would admit it.

“We are all we have, and together - we’ll never be alone or without again. I will help each and everyone of you.” He preached.

——-

“You left me.”

Lazarus’ cold, stoic voice was heard. The background was black, just a simple - singular light shone in front of him, only showcasing him and nothing more - other than an amber circle on the wall behind him, accompanied by the black shadow of his body.

His eyes were just as cold as his voice. Laser focused on the camera, speaking directly to Darkane.

“Left me in the streets, in the sewer with the filth, with the garbage, with the rats. You left me, not because you were looking out for me or my safety. Not for the safety of the underbelly of the big easy. You left because you’re a coward. You tucked tail and ran away; leaving me, leaving everyone you swore to protect - swore to help - swore to drag out of the gutters all because you couldn’t face what was coming for you. That’s the difference between you and me. You left; I didn’t. All of those demons came down on me after you vanished, but I didn’t leave. I stayed. I fought, I scratched, I clawed, I did what I had to do in order to survive. And it was your actions that birthed something that can not be killed; my bloodlust.” He said, flashing a sinister grin.

“Let’s make one thing clear. I didn’t come to the OWA for tag team titles, believe it or not. That opportunity fell into my lap, alongside Alex Carter - and since it was there, since the opportunity to assault and maim two of OWA’s pillars was there; I was happy to accept. I didn’t come to the OWA to be a ‘Superstar’ or whatever the fuck they call themselves here. I came here for one reason and one reason only; you. I came to the OWA because after years of scratching and clawing my way through the sewers and filth of New Orleans, through the shit that you left behind when you ran away like a fucking coward; I wanted to get my hands on you. I came to the OWA with one goal, one purpose; not to leave you for dead like you left me and the rest of our brothers in the Big Easy; I came here to make fucking SURE you found your way to the grave.”

His voice spiked, echoing in the unknown, desolate backdrop of this video.

“I recall a time when Darkane didn’t give a fuck about professional wrestling, belts, fans, gods or anything. The only thing Darkane cared about was the people he surrounded himself with - his chosen family.”

“Do you even care about the others? No. You don’t. You never truly cared, you only needed us as human shields. Find the dregs of society, the kids on the street with nothing - no one in their lives - and use them to throw infront of the many enemies you made before you tucked tail, assumed a stupid ass name, and became a professional wrestling mega-star. The so-called ‘family’ you built to protect yourself, I’m the last one remaining. The others have found their way to prisons, or to one of the corners of Bourbon Street with a needle hanging out of their arm and junk in their veins, or they found themselves in the fucking ground. And it’s all because of you, [REDACTED]. You turned your back on us when those men came to collect your head. You knew what was happening, so you decided to cut bait and leave. You didn’t expect your past to come back and catch up with you, and the look in your eyes when I arrived proved that.”

“I’m the ghost of your past, [REDACTED].”

The name he spoke was bleeped from the final audio cut before the video was uploaded. The name he spoke belonged to Darkane. The name was a symbalence of life before professional wrestling; a name that no one knows, or if they did, didn’t have the balls to say out loud. Except for Lazarus.

“The past always catches up to you, sooner or later. You can never erase what you put together, you can never erase the lives you’ve damaged after promising help, and you can never erase what you did and why you left. But instead of sharks and dealers coming for your neck, you have me and my blades. You have the man YOU created coming for your fucking throat with every intention of cutting, slicing it wide open - as wide as that fucking cunt of your sisters.”

“I know you know of the horror stories I’ve penned in Europe, so when I say things like that or how I’m going to fucking butcher sweet Cassie if you fail to show - I know, that you know, I’m not fucking around. I know that you’re familiar with everything I’ve done in this “industry” because I know you, Darkane. I know you still have a vested interest in your “pupils” even if you did leave them to die. And I know the reason why you drown yourself in cheap whiskey every night, because you can’t stand the thought of living with yourself because you’re a failure. I don’t mean as a professional wrestler; in fact - I could give a fuck less about that. I don’t care what titles you’ve held, how long you’ve held them or who you’ve beaten - that’s not what this is about. You may have not failed in this “profession”, but I know that every night you check yourself into a cheap, seedy hotel and drown yourself in alcohol because you can’t face the fact that you failed as a man.”

His words there packed a punch, and the look in his eyes never changed. Always cold. Always stoic. His voice didn’t change, his tone remained flat. He let a moment of silence fill the air, letting those words sink into the brain of his former mentor.

“You failed to maintain control of the seedy New Orleans streets, control that myself and the rest of the Undercity helped you establish. You failed to fulfill your promise to me and our band of brothers that you would be there, that you would help us. You failed to repay your debt and you failed to protect your own bloodline. You can spin whatever you want to say about me, and I know you well enough to know that you’re going to try to verbally cut me deep; but the reality of the situation is - Darkane - is that you were always a fucking coward. You were then, that’s why you surrounded yourselves with the throwaways of New Orleans. You were a coward when you tucked your tail between your fucking legs and ran for the hills. And you were when I stood in the ring with you and looked you dead in the fucking eye - and you didn’t so much as lift a fucking finger. Even when you watched the screen, even when you saw Cassie in the hands of Jacob and Alex - you just fucking stood there. Chalk it up to shock, say you were frozen, but we all know that you were just too much of a fucking pussy to do anything about it.”

“I don’t care that you’ve established yourself as some icon, some legend in the ‘deathmatch’ aspect of this industry; I truly fucking don’t - because everything that you are, everything that you’ve become - I’m on that same platform. The difference between you and I - [REDACTED] - is that I don’t run the fuck away. I have never turned my back on the family that I started. You can say my Killjoys, my Death Blooms, were just a group of outcasts and misfits that I brought together, just as you did with us in New Orleans. Maybe I did replicate that whole family aspect; but what I didn’t do - was abandon them. What I didn’t do was leave them to fight for, to bleed for, to fucking die for my battles - while I took on a persona, traveled across the country and began a fucking shitty career. I’m a fucking man, and I make my enemies bleed for their transgressions. I’ve went to war with people on the streets and people in this profession, never turning my back on my family or my battles - and that’s more than you can say you’ve done.”

Now; his voice had a hint of disgust laced through it. He softly shook his head from side to side for a brief moment during this silence.

“You’ve waged war with - went to hell and back with Reigner, Baker and who the fuck ever else - but the only time the war really mattered in your pathetic life, you left your family. You ran like a fucking pussy - like a coward. Yet have the gall to show up in this industry - in these promotions - and call yourself the Reaper?! I know the REAL you, the one that you don’t show to these fucking people. I know what lies behind the charade that is ‘Darkane’.”

His tone remained the same, that hint of disgust still as evident as ever. He would take another momentary pause, shrugging his shoulders as he shuffled his body - squaring up to the camera. His head lowered just enough for strands of hair to loosely hang.

“Whether or not you show up to Seoul makes no difference to me. Either way, one of you dies. You or your sister. Personally; I would love nothing more than to watch you drop to your fucking knees and grovel; beg for me to stop as I penetrate your sister’s throat with my blade. I would love nothing more than to turn to you, listening to hear choke on her own blood, and then plunge my blade into your fucking heart. Whether or not you want it, either way this thing goes - I’ve brought forth war, Darkane. Real, unadulterated hate and war. You can forget all about your hatred with, and wars you’ve had with Senn or whoever else in this fucking industry; this is real.”

“This goes far beyond just a little beef or squabble in this industry.”

He said all of that while looking at the ground. His [s]threats[/s] promises of death coming for Darkane or Cassie were real. The talk of war was as real as you could ever get. But now, his eyes would find the camera again. No longer cold, they now showcased a fire. A deep level of hate and anger was seen behind the blue of his eyes.

“This is personal.”

“And I will not be held accountable for what I do to you …”

And that was all too real. Darkane was technically not a member of the roster; this match was unsanctioned. If Lazarus wanted to cut Darkane’s veins and let him bleed out in the streets of Seoul, he nor the OWA would be held accountable. The decision to take this fight solely belonged to Darkane…

Even though Lazarus forced his hand.

“So what do you do? Do you show up to Seoul and come face to face with your past, or do you sit on your ass in some cheap hotel room, drinking yourself to death with cheap whiskey? Do you fight to save sweet, innocent Cassie, or do you sit by and let me cut her to fucking pieces? I hope for the former, but I expect the latter.”

“I will tell you, though - the things I will do to your sister will make Jack the Ripper’s crimes look like a pleasant dream.”

“And if you want to save her pathetic life, all you have to do is come and find me.”

And that was when Lazarus gave the camera - gave Darkane - one last sinister grin.

Alyssa Grace, Darkane, Elijah Hampton, Rebecca Filth, Remington Ivory Prescott, Felix Hartley, Chad Ecclestone and DGS have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos August 20th 2022, 8:45 pm by **Christopher Sabertooth**

“Hello. Yeah. What happened? Hana-- Relax. Tell me what’s going on? What do you mean? Arata? He wouldn’t dare hurt you. They’re after me? I am on the way home.”

The scene begins with Christopher Sabertooth talking on the phone to his wife as he zooms down the highway. While Hana’s voice wasn’t audible, you could sense the fear for her husband’s safety. While Arata did care about Hana, he had no qualms about taking Sabertooth’s life. Game Over was right around the corner and Arata had the tag team championships in his sight.

“Hana… Listen. HANA! Listen to me! Do not worry! I am almost home. Nothing is going on--”

Right on queue, we see a Jeep trailing behind Sabertooth filled to the brim with Golden Dawn followers. They are all equipped with weapons as they begin open-firing in Chris’s direction. The rear window shatters immediately as Chris hits the peddle trying to maneuver around the highway traffic.

“Uhh, change of situation. I might have to call you back. Don’t worry… And I love you.”

Chris hangs up his phone, concentrating on the road as he goes over 100 miles per hour. But the Jeep is somehow closing in despite all that. Chris swerves into the wrong side of the highway, now facing the oncoming traffic head-on.

“God damn! I thought Asians couldn’t drive!”

Chris is barely managing to swerve past the traffic while keeping his head down. The Jeep is not far behind.

“I am glad they’re not as smart-- I would have shot the tires.”

A large truck comes into the vision as Chris realizes there are not a lot of places to go.

“OH SHIT!”

Chris realizes that the jeep is closely trailing behind and uses this opportunity to swerve at the last instant sending the Golden Dawn goons crashing head-on with the truck. Chris had lost all control of the car trying to save himself from the situation as the car violently spins around on the road before hitting the road barrier causing his car to topple upside down before coming to a halt. The car is badly damaged and the traffic has come to a halt.

As the camera pans at the wreckage, a foot smashes through the cracked windshield. A heavily bruised Chris crawls his way out of the wreckage. There’s blood trickling down his face and he looks out of the loop as he watches an explosion go off in the distance. The Golden Dawn goons didn’t fare well from the accident. Other drivers rush by to check on Chris, he gives them a thumbs up before trying to get back up on his feet. But he immediately collapses down, seeing his bone sticking out of his foot. He was badly injured and in dire need to be rushed to the hospital. Chaos had ensued on the highway as sirens blasted in the distance.

We see it from the perspective of Chris, whose eyes are starting to get blurry. Right as he’s about to fade away, he hears a familiar voice.

“Don’t close your eyes, Chris. Run.”

…

“I--I can’t”

“I wouldn’t be so sure…”

Suddenly, Chris springs back up to his feet. The blood on his face formed a crimson mask. His leg had magically healed and his wounds were slowly fading away as a devious smile appears on his face.

“Oh, Arata. Is this how you want to play?”

There was nothing human about Chris’s eyes as he looked at the wreckage.

“WHAT THE--”

The people were stunned into silence after seeing a man who appeared to be heavily injured stand on his own feet.

“Fine… We can play.”

-x-x-

Later That Day
Sabertooth Residence

“I TOLD YOU! Why don’t you listen to me? Arata had been sending me ominous messages throughout the day. I was worried sick!”

Hana declared as she helped Chris to a chair. While the wounds had healed, Chris still felt the accident's effects.

“I am tired, Hana…”

“No! You don’t get to be tired. What would I do if something were to happen to you?!”

“You’re a good-looking woman, I am sure there’ll be plenty of suitors.”

Chris joked around only for Hana to punch him in the shoulder.

"OUCH!"

“Not funny! This-- This needs to end, Chris. It has gone on for far too long.”

Chris nods in agreement.

“I couldn’t agree more. It seems like this has been going on for YEARS! Heck, I ended up 128 years in the future just so I could help get a friend back to life. If it wasn’t for Havoc today, I probably wouldn’t have made it to Game Over and God only knows what would happen to Jeff in that situation. It’s easy to tell people to move on-- But Arata DID kill one of my closest friends. Heck, both Jeff and I ended up in hell for a minute. Every second of the day, I have to keep watching my back not knowing what could happen. I have become so damn paranoid, Hana. It’s hard not to go crazy dealing with this shit on a daily basis. It’s not just my life, the whole world could go to shit if Arata were to succeed in his plans. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. Even if we were successful getting out of there, I don’t want my descendants or anyone for that matter to go through what we have gone through.”

Hana embraces her husband, finally calming down after a scary situation.

“Today, they took it a step too far. This is all I needed to know heading into Game Over. I expected the worst out of Arata but I know he can stoop down to any limits to walk out as champion. A consolation prize perhaps because he seemingly couldn’t keep the world championship for long. Isn’t it funny? Havoc ran rampant on Kingdom and finally got his comeuppance at Final Destination whereas Arata dropped the ball the moment his powers were taken away as a deciding factor against Azumi. And then he lost again! And again! For a terrorist supposed to take over the world, he’s not that good, is he? The only way he could stop Bishop was to wish him dead and even that didn’t stick.”

“I am sure Arata would love to be a Triple Crown champion. He’d love to join the list of OWA’s greatest but he’s got history standing in his way. If it wasn’t for Havoc, Golden Dawn wouldn’t be a thing. Havoc walked so that Arata could run. History because Jeff and I are the longest-reigning tag champions in OWA. History because we are mere weeks from being the longest-reigning champion period. That’s the kind of history that we’ve got behind us whereas we have Arata and Daito standing in front of us with only the future as a point of reference for their greatest accomplishments. In a dystopian future, yes-- Arata won. He ruled over the world and passed it down from generation to generation. But that’s a future where Michael stayed dead. That’s a future where all of us fell victim to the might of Izanagi. Not Arata! Izanagi brings danger whereas Arata brings inexperience. He chokes at every big opportunity and he will find a way to choke again. But this time, he’s got Daito to take the fall. To take the brunt of the punishment. He’s going to blame Daito for his losses and go back running to Oasis, begging for another title shot. For somebody who hates the white oppressors, he certainly relies heavily on one to do his bidding.”

“Why is Oasis even working with the Golden Dawn? Why is he REWARDING Arata for killing his friend and champion!? I don’t feel comfortable working for a man who would side with someone threatening the world that we live in. Oasis probably thinks Arata would spare him if he played into his hand. That’s just not true! Arata will throw him to the wayside just like he did with Chelsea. If Rin looked more like her mother, she’d be in a foster home. There’s no place for compassion with Arata. For the longest time, I hoped that Izanagi was the driving force behind all of this, and Arata was simply tricked-- I, above anybody else, know what a second chance can bring for your life. But it’s proven beyond doubt that Arata is one despicable human being. He’s irredeemable. If anything, Izanagi simply empowered an already crazed man. The old Arata was simply a facade. He went overboard with taking Mike’s life. I would never forgive him for that. If Mike didn’t come back, Lita would have lost her father before she could even form a memory. But Arata didn’t care. In fact, he went further beyond and influenced the future of Mike’s family to join his side. He made them into his pawn. A simple piece of his grand scheme. How cruel could he be, Hana? I know that he’s your mentor but at this point, how can you even face that man? You could have lost your husband today because of that man!”

“I--I know. I was simply hanging on to the Arata that I remembered. The Arata who made me into the wrestler I am today. I owe him a lot but there comes a point in life where you can’t ignore things anymore. I hit that threshold long ago. He went TOO FAR with this. Power has destroyed his mind. I have come to terms with the fact that old Arata is long gone. All that stands is a monster. A man parading to be a God when he’s no better than the devil himself. I can’t forgive him for what he’s done. But he took it too far once again. He tried to take away my husband from me. He tried to destroy the family that I always wished to have… Chris. I say this as his student. The man I cared for is already dead. There’s no point having his lifeless carcass parade around as God any longer. You and Jeff-- It HAD to be you two. Nobody else could or should do it. But the two of you NEED to end it now. For all of us. For the sake of this world. END HIM!”

Hana passionately declared as she looked into her husband’s eyes. There were tears rolling down her face as she came to terms with Arata.

“You are right. If the Golden Dawn has to come to an end, there’s nobody better for the job. Bishop is a family man and a proud champion at that. He has waited A LONG TIME for this moment and I don’t want him to get distracted. He deserves every moment of this. He deserves to spend time with Lita. Hana, I promise you. Not only will we come back alive after Game Over, but we will FINALLY put an end to Arata Asakura. What I can’t promise you-- Is if it’ll be *me* who walks through those doors after the war is over. I love you more than anything in this world, Hana. You’ve made me the happiest I have ever been. And if that means, I have to go to the deepest, darkest, most fucked up part of my mind to be the monster that I once was, then so be it. I will fight for us, Hana. Even if that demon takes full control of my body, I will fight till the day I die to see you again. To be with you. But right now, I have seen the WORST possible future. I have seen what Izanagi is capable of. I have seen what this world becomes! I would rather die protecting this world and our love than being forced to live in a world where Arata is its ruler. And I really DON’T want to die. Not again. So the demon can have what he wants. He can have my body. But he BETTER fucking finish the job.”

“No-- Chris. I-- I have been struggling to k-keep my own sanity ever since Havoc took control over me. You know what he did to you in the past. You can’t let him have your body. You can’t let him get full control. He will never let you go… I don’t want to lose you.”

A faint smile appears on Chris’s face as he runs his fingers through Hana’s hair.

“If that does end up happening and there is no sign of Chris inside of me anymore… You know what to do. I have tried beating Arata with the little control I had over Havoc’s power before. It didn’t work, Hana. He threw lightning strikes at me till I was burnt toast. I can’t let him have this win. I can’t! And as a mortal human, I can’t do much from the side. I don’t have an Iron Man suit like Jeff!”

Chris joked before getting serious once again.

“If Havoc tries doing what he did before, put a knife through my heart. I am telling you because even in his insanity, my love for you stops him from taking your life. If anyone could do it, it’s you. I trust you, Hana. But right now, my only hope is to fight the demon when the war is over. His full power is capable of putting an end to Arata Asakura. And we need everything we can get to kill him.”

“He’s not alone in this fight, Chris.”

“I know-- While Daito might not be as big of a threat as Arata, he’s just as heartless as him. That man didn’t think a second before wishing our souls to be dragged to hell. But I gotta pay him back for that. If that means, I have to personally become the devil himself to put his mangled corpse into the deepest depths of hell, then so be it. I talked to Jeff and he’s ready to die all over again if that means Arata comes with us. To the rest of the world, it would seem like this is about the tag team championships. Why in the world are we getting so serious about a piece of gold!? But no. It’s not about that. It never was. Arata made me realize that all God’s ain’t shit. If this is who Izanagi is, then fuck him! He can rot in hell too. And I will take Raijin along with him just for the shit he had done as well. This is BEYOND personal. This fight-- means EVERYTHING to me. I put my fucking heart and soul on the line at Clash because I wanted a shot at Arata. His bitch ass wasn’t even champion and somehow managed to swindle his way into another title shot. And when all seemed good, Arata found a way to make it worse once again. I am glad Bishop is alive but I will never fucking forget seeing Lita’s scared face not knowing why her father wasn’t around anymore! I couldn’t fucking look Rebecca in her eyes and tell her why we let it happen! Why we couldn’t save her husband??! I COULDN’T EVEN BE AT HIS FUNERAL NOT KNOWING IF WE WILL EVER BE COMING BACK FROM THE FUTURE! I NEVER EVER want to feel that again!”

Chris holds back his emotions thinking about the painful times.

“I--I am so sorry Hana. If Game Over is the end of the road for Christopher Sabertooth, just know that I love you. And I can’t thank you enough for what you have done for me. You made me feel human again. You made me feel accepted again. I thank you for everything. If fate would have it, I would see you again. We will be one happy family. But for now-- I have to do this. I have to kill him. I have to… I am sorry I couldn’t be the husband that you wanted. I am sorry that I was away for so long being stuck in the future. I want to spend every last second until Game Over with you. I want to cherish every moment. And those memories will help me fight the demon when the time comes. But I promise you, Arata will die. We will end what we started. Jeff and I will close the book on the Golden Dawn. Jeff is doing this for vengeance. He’s doing it as retaliation. He’s fueled by it. For me? While Arata has given me plenty to be angry about-- And don’t get me wrong, I hate his fucking guts… But I am doing this for love. I am doing this for our future. The future of this world. I am doing this for Theo. For Mike. For Kenny. For everybody who has ever stepped up to defend this planet from the tyranny of a false God…”

He pauses.

“What happened?”

“Promise me you’ll take care of Izaya, and Rin. Not the big titty hoe from the future-- The kid. At least they’ll have you and Chelsea to look after them. While taking their father away isn’t something I would have wanted to do, we’re left with no choice. And that man could do no good for them anyway. Just look at how Rin turns out. Arata is the absolute worst. He’s pure evil. There’s nothing good left in him. There’s nothing worth saving. I am glad he doesn’t consider himself a human because he lacks every bit of humanity. He’s a murderer. He’s a monster. And the worst of it all, he’s aware of every single action that he has undertaken. There’s nothing redeeming about him. And I will take his ass to hell with me.”

“Can you please stop talking to me like you’re already dead!”

“Hey! I am sorry! I am just letting you know of the worst possible scenario. That doesn’t mean it will happen! Either way, in every fucking scenario, Arata is a dead man.”

Jeff X, Alyssa Grace, Hana Nakajima, Elijah Hampton, Rebecca Filth, 'Don' Hendrix, Remington Ivory Prescott and have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos August 20th 2022, 3:10 pm by **Michael Bishop**

The mind is one of the most useful tools, it is your foundation, and the mortar between the bricks of any good fighter. The ability to stay calm under fire, patient in the ending stretch, wise when you’re so frustrated that calm becomes a rare currency. But most of all… confidence. Too many people mistake it for their own arrogance, their ignorance in writing off everyone else. I’ve done this for long enough and I’ve learned that lying to yourself about the odds gets you nowhere, nothing, and only serves to have you lose everything. No, my self belief is strengthened by decades of battlefield-proven resolve and ability that has made me the most complete motherfucker on this earth, flaws or not, setbacks or not. Too many people let the odds overcome them, scare them and they lose the fight before it even begins… Too many champions let themselves become prey, because they become complacent on the top of the mountain. I don’t, I won’t, and when Kenny Drake announced the biggest main event match of the summer there was glee, greed, but no fear, at least not from me.

No, I’m a betting man and while I might have historically been given a shit hand, the ace up my sleeve has always been the most dominant man on this brand, and the continuous lethal constant in this company for over four years: Myself. The same reason I stayed calm under pressure, is the same reason I walked into that Triple Threat in Tokyo with no fear. You motherfuckers don’t get it. Since that first bell rang, on the first episode of this canvas, I was going to run this place and even if it involved outstriking and outliving every motherfucker that stood across from me, I would, I have, and I will. You’re stuck in here with me.

No one can match me when I’m firing on all cylinders!! There is no one like me!! A focused Michael Bishop beats out any grand slam, triple crown, because I am absolutely undisputed. And promotions love me because every second there is a title on my waist, and my name is on a headliner, their stock goes up. Millions tune in every sunday, and 80,000 pack will pack arena to see what I do next. The most winningest man in Mixed Martial Arts, the man to successfully bridge the gap between the Octagon and the Squared Circle, and the holder of the most Cold KOs in history- Those states are my reality, manifested through every bout, between every bell.

So come one and come all; I’m a fighting champion and when I laid my belt in that ring, ready to take on any man who stepped up then and there I meant it. Look me in the eyes, soldier. This is war and I’m the same mothafucker through and through. The same Octagon Warfighter; reduxed, rearmed, and ready to stare down the anyman because I am the greatest, breathing or not because even when I was still and cold I still had this championship on my shoulder, and now it’s time to show you why. 2 opponents, 3 opponents- 39. It never mattered because at the end of the day, the result remained the same, I measure my odds carefully and I underestimated nothing.

“The Finer points”, right Donovan? We wanna talk about Finer points? How about the fact that one of the men that I eliminated from the clash, was the man with the most eliminations, the man who dumped out you, he did it without any trouble, and I made it look easy. The fact that you took a long hiatus after places like AWL, CWF, ran you out after you were nothing but a mediocre challenger, a momentary world champion, and that you’re masquerading this as some black American injustice path when really you’re trying to redux the reign you never had. When it comes to the nitty gritty I blow you out of the fucking water every single second and you think you’re the one to dethrone me?! In ten years they will remember this run for a lifetime, after Game Over, they still won’t know who the fuck you are. So what will it be next, Mr Opinion, Mr big business?

I have a hellish level of commitment to this sport, when everyone thought my body was ground to dust, I never gave up, I never gave in. That isn’t some sob story for a crowd, that’s the real deal hellish level of commitment I have for this sport, this division, this championship that I have claimed through years of blood sport. Even when I was damn near 6ft under I never gave up, and here I stand. You? You quit, you went home, and you did it on your own two feet and you only got dragged back when they offered you a juicy contract, and the means to buy you a new suit after you roided out of your old one. And you want to call me juicing? I’ve seen what makes you quit: 2 jabs and a trickle of blood and you cover up, what the fuck are you gonna do when I spike you on your head, telescope your spine, and send you back to my midcard.

The gold you wear on your shoulder was mine, the road to get here was my infrastructure I refurbished, remodeled, and rebuild from the ground up after fighting in trenches week in and week out while you were laid off. So really I think you should thank me, you will thank me… After I bury your ass below the canvas and you shake my hand and acknowledge me as the better man

At the clash when I speared the fuck out of you, I saw the mountain of a man, that 280lbs of steel turn into a crumbled, begging, miserable pile of wheezing vulnerability. That’s the finer points I remember, Donovan. I’m an apex predator, I’m Hunter and I never stopped and all the title did was give me the prestige to draw all sorts of new men to their death on my shores. I see one crack. one weakness, and I put a fucking warhammer through it. Your mind is a businessman, a prize fighter always waiting for the next big score, I’m a calculated surgeon and the art of breaking a man down is my craft. Did you know there are 206 bones on the human body, you can break 143 of them before the person goes into shock, 7 of those include the vertebrae, 1 of those is the skull. We are not the same Donovan, you want this for money, status, and gain.

I wear the title out of my shoulder as the man who has decisively taken the combat sports mountain by force for 2 decades, and I fully fucking intend on doing it for a third. I am battle tested in 3 arenas, held gold in every company I have been in, and my hands are bloodied with everyone bold, brave, or stupid enough to stand against me and as it turns out…. Bravadp and Words and a cheap suit cannot stop the PSI of the right hand of the fighting world, the fighting arm of the hurt business' sole dictator. It takes a village to raise a man, it takes an invading army to make a king… now here we sit in scorched, salted earth, I stand tall over what remained of the factions that tried to bury me.

I walked out of Dimensional Warfare, battle tested, I walked out of the clash proven, I walked out of Tokyo with silent respect and this championship on my shoulder. My name invokes terror, the very idea of standing across from me let alone stepping up is nerve-wracking because of its consequences. Ever since you came back, you’ve come off as a motherfucker who doesn’t know who he is. Domination one moment, then nearly losing to Sena of all people 5 minutes later. You claim to look at the details and pick out small pieces, then you gloss over the fact that 5 minutes of my time as Outlaw Champion has been better than 5 weeks in your run, because all you come across as is a transitional nostalgia act who really should have turned down the contract for your own health and self respect. You’re seeking validation you stopped deserving 10 years ago when you left and fell out of love and relevancy and now you think you're gonna take my title? This might be your first world title shot in years but it will be your last, because I’m gonna give you a crash course on how we do things here in Kingdom 2022 and it ends with your money coated bald head on a pike, in front of my iron throne.

I fear not the margin of error because that is how it is at the top, welcome to the big leagues boys- blink and you’ll miss it because while there might be three of you, all it takes is one, all I’ve ever needed is one and if you are so unlucky I’ll play back Tokyo and stack all three of you motherfuckers on top of each other to secure my decisive Seoul victory. When it’s down on the line, razor thin, I’ve always won out because I dominate in detail and I am absolute. If you should be so inclined to underestimate me, then gaze back at history and see every person who has stood across from me came out the otherside looking like they got hit by a train, because they did. My output is nonstop, my justice is indiscriminate.

Go back and watch my history, 20 years of High Octane Full Metal Fuck at your fingertips. What happened to the queens, Raivo? The duo then trio that tried to keep me from my world title, my manifested destiny by stabbing me to death and leaving me to bleed out in front of my wife? Two are fuckin’ retired, and one of them ran off to be a part timing CEO after they all faced exact and violent retribution; Me Hellbowing their fucking skull into the earth!! And you know the fucked part?! I actually like them!! Jeff X, my brother, tried to keep me from the Steel Asylum and promised to retire me in front of my prized student, he gave me a fight, he really did- but all It did was delay the inevitable when I shattered his nose and kicked his fuckin’ head off!! Students have come back for retribution, vultures have tried to bite me and all it has gotten them is a slow, drawn out, agonizing death.

You spit on my corpse, you harassed my wife, my family, and then? When it came time to nut up or shut up in China? You ran. You know the Mafia is a brotherhood but if any of them talked a big game then ran while we were at war- I would have shot them myself. All of that big dick energy died when I grabbed you by your scalp and I fuckin’ smashed your head into granite. But now you have nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, and it’s time to answer for your fuckin’ sins. You shock the world with antics, I silence the world with results. Cause and effect, Raivo- Fuck Around and Find Out.

Where was this fire when we met, Raivo?! All the talk of body bags and murder, you ain’t shit!! You saw me coming from a mile away, cutting through grown men, true believers, and loyal soldiers like a hot knife through butter and you still didn’t do a goddamn thing, you couldn’t!! I beat you like a dog, and the third degree burns on your skin, pale in comparison to the hole I drilled into your skull, your soul.

Do you remember it? Because I do: “Please Mike! I’m sorry! Please don’t kill me! Please, please!!”. You begged for your life!! I’m a fucking gangster, you’re a rat leech, and I’ll do the world the solid by sending you to where I send every challenger, every hero, every almost world title man to die on my sword- TO THE FUCKING MORGUE!!

My wife is fine, Raivo. But tell me: How’s your father?

Don’t fly too close to the sun, Icarus. You already got burned and you got no wax and wings to melt, but I will take your hands and break every bone in your arms for daring to lay your hands on my daughter. You’re pathetic, Raivo, but it’s okay, because after South Korea you’re gonna finally have one authentic thing permanently engrained in your memory on infinite repeat, of what I did to you, and why you will never dare to touch this title ever again. Both you and I are hungry, Raivo, we both want to be ontop and somewhere deep inside that sad little husk of a man, I recognize you want to be a World Champion. The difference between you and me is you want to be world champion for the same reason DT wants to be: To fill the hole of self validation you never got because you never could accept it was your fault you were stuck in the mud, mediocre.

It wasn't society’s fault, America's fault, my fault. Here’s the facts Raivo, race didn’t lose you the Spartan’s title, Jason Long’s boot in your skull did and you can cry and deny it, but the replays of it forever playing on this show’s intro are permanent. You beat a washed man, you won the title, you even talked some shit during the clash: But when it was time to back it up? To do champ shit? You lost. Clean. You want to take the elevator to the top and have that gold strap around your waist, #AndNew graphic all over the news, fun fact: so did Azumi Goto, and when it came time to prove she was worthy of that title I pinned her shoulders to the mat after putting on a clinic, because I’m a one-man death squad in any ring, any cage, any warzone.

You could have been a good soldier, ready to fight for your claim and die for my reign, but instead, you involved my family, my wife, my child, and for that? I'm going to make you scream. But don’t worry, Raivo. When they bury you, I’ll let them carve the OWAC into your gravestone, because the closest you’re gonna ever come to having this title and you will still be 6ft away from it.

Don’t worry lads, I ain’t putting you on a T-Shirt- whatever’s left after this fatal four way is gonna be sent back to your homes in a fucking bag, like a cartel lord just diced you up and sent you back to your loved ones to send a message. The message is: Michael Bishop runs Kingdom, as it’s OWAC, it’s undisputed Heavyweight King, and any motherfucker who steps up to the plate is going to be made an example of and the sight of them being demolished at the highest level will forever live in the hearts, minds, and nightmares of anyone and everyone who watches.

And I live your nightmares, don’t I Myojin? The most Technical Wrestler in the world; biggest critic, turned opponent, turned corpse, turned unlikely title contender. Technicality is but one single part of it. Everything I learned, the hard way, by investing years of my life and the standard I set for myself is above every single has-been you criticize. I like to dig into my person, analyze them. See what makes them tick, what they use as armor, and where their cracks are. I’ve done this for a long time, and now I’m able to think on a more complex scale. A person's mindset directly correlates with their maneuvers. Cautious, self preserving, or aggressive, brash. Do they go low, or stand and fight. Where is their choice of ground… and where do they not want me to drag them. Breaking a human, beating a fighter, and killing a champion is a chess game with everything at stake. You have kings, queens, knights, but everyone forgets about Bishop. The most overlooked piece, and yet, the most deadly, you learned that first hand and I swear by whatever god tried to take me and fail over those 2 long months, you will again.

You’ve had an interesting few months, but now is where the real challenge is: The hell march I walk is far worse than any King’s Road, and the title on my shoulder is more prestigious than any pseudo-heavyweight strap you picked up in a place like Infinite. This is the OWA World Championship Fatal Four Way in Seoul, South Korea- this is when shit gets real, Myojin. You break under pressure, and win off of mistakes. I’ve welded down and ironed out my flaws the hard way, learned the price for slip ups, grandeur, and arrogance by going back to that locker room empty handed, and I swore at the beginning of this year I would never be making that walk again. I promised Rebecca I would never be making that walk again, and when I looked into Lita’s eyes I promised her, the man she would grow up knowing me only as the most dangerous man on earth, and the singular person she could look up to, as I had to trust in myself when shit got real, shit got tough, and shit got bleak. I am nonstop pressure, I am aggression personified, I am your antithesis and I proved inside of the blood sports ring when brought everything you had, laid all your cards on the table, and lost.

They said signing on that dotted line was a gamble I was set to lose, and yet, I walked out of Kingdom with your title and pride, after taking your neck. Claims of technicality and prestige died when you believed you were the only person on this earth capable of a work ethic, sadly for you, mine spans 2 decades and no tweets of age will ever change the fact that on my worst day, in my worst state, I am 90% better than you at your 100%. Every time.

And you are at 100% Myojin, I’m no stranger to what you’ve done so far as I inspect my challengers like a hawk. And yet, you can learn a lot from a person’s eyes, yours, Donovan’s, Raivos. This is the Kingdom Main Event scene and I am sordidly fucking disappointed, cause I am surrounded by fear, pitiful validation seeking dead men- and that’s coming from a man fresh out of the seventh circle of hell. Your “improvements” got you a lackluster reign, and a sorry showing at the ladder match, and when it comes to this match, I am number one, built and self made Myojin and I don’t need to rely on “talent”, nothing about me was ever gifted, I had to fight for every square inch of ground I got, and the motherfucker I am was built brick by brick to dominate this world, and impose my will upon any division, any competitor- including you.

You might be a shining star but when we locked horns, I snuffed you out. You can brag about talent all you want but the man who came from nothing has something the natural born star will never have: Perspective, humility, grit.

The Summer of the Shining Star vs the Year of the Dreadknight, the 15 weeks of Myojin Fame versus the Bishop era. You are momentarily successful, I am consistently victorious. Don’t get it twisted: You are a world class talent, you are a superstar on the rise, and you are world champion material- but not here. Enjoy communion, Myo, because when we lock horns again you will have no excuses and nothing to answer for, and you will acknowledge me as the better competitor and your world champion, and I will take it all by force.

I am the world heavyweight champion, I am the man who clung on while others would have been nailed into a coffin. All of the pressure is on me? Not the way I see it. I am the one who brought two world titles, two hemispheres, onto one pair of shoulders and solidified what some claim to do, I materialized. As you sit there and transcribe all the things that you have done, all the doubts and nonsensical bullshit you say I am… all it does is fill me with vigor. I am going to overwhelm you, put a fucking JDAM through your hype train, and cannibalize the momentum you have built up.

I am the greatest of all time in my prime, because even at 35 years old, I am exponentially ahead of anyone on this roster, anyone in this company, and any of you standing in this ring across from me! You throw a brick into the Kingdom locker and room and 8 out of 7 men bent the fuckin knee, willingly or not, and paid their liter of blood and tax to their world champ, so don’t play that shit with me!!. I’m not just one city, one place, I have conquered every continent, sea to coast, to mountain, everyone on this world tour knows who the fuck I am because I’m not America’s Champion, Chicago’s champion, I’m the World’s Champion. The undisputed motherfucker on any shore, any city, any land: I am international.

In the company’s most successful year, with the most shocking moments, most historic title changes, most monumental events… at the top of the year, I stood above the rest. With every man down, it only got harder, with every competitor gone, it only got tougher. Yet I walked through all 40 miles of that, chin tucked, hands high, never wavering. I succeed in the eleventh hour, the 12th round, the final inning. With one single goal: Victory for the most prestigious belt in the company, and to make the destruction of my opponent so complete and utter, they will never come back to this ring again knowing as long as I rule the roost, there is going to be one champion.

Reigning, Defending, and undisputed across the globe and by the end of it all... I will have my vengeance, you will pay your debt, and whether you’re face first in the dirt, or staring at the light- You will hear hear that And Still and know the top division of the top brand of the top company in combat sports is ruled by your canvas superior and the second city warlord that will remain Kingdom’s oldest and most lethal protector.

The OWA World Champion.

Michael Bishop.

The time off was unwanted, but the challenge is more than welcome.

See you soon, mothafuckers.

Alyssa Grace, The Banshee, Darkane, Elijah Hampton, Rebecca Filth, 'Don' Hendrix, Remington Ivory Prescott and have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos August 20th 2022, 2:43 am by **MYŌJIN**

"Have you started to see what everyone has been trying to tell you?"

"...It's you again."

MYOJIN quickly realized once they heard their own voice come from a mouth that wasn't theirs that they were dreaming. It was their voice, but different, in a way that they couldn't put into words. Softer, almost like a whisper that they weren't entirely sure was anything more than them imagining it. That is if one could hallucinate in a dream that was already a figment of their imagination. The last time that they found themself in such a place in their dreams was a few nights before Final Destination, where they had unsuccessfully fought for the Ascension to the Heavens briefcase and lost their Outlaw Championship.

In the calm landscape of falling snow, standing next to them was someone who looked exactly like them- but wasn't them. Not exactly, something about the cadence of how this other MYOJIN spoke- their posture, it was much different.

"Everyone warned you about what the Golden Dawn was, what Arata Asakura was, and you chose to ignore them. Even worse, actually, you knew that he and Daito were far from good people. You knew and even believed that their cause was wrong, was evil- and yet you joined them anyway because it benefited you at the time. You lowered your morals and now dare act shocked by what lengths Asakura has gone now? You're better than that, Shouta."

Taken aback by the sudden harshness, MYOJIN reactively defended themself. "I never thought that he would go that far- To… To kill Michael-"

"You never thought he would go that far," Their other self repeated, laughing softly at that response. "You never thought the man that was willing to commit genocide, the man who almost killed Jaydayne Pendragon in front of you, the man that struck you with lightning before wasn't willing to commit murder because he lost a championship? Has your mind been warped so badly, or have you truly chosen to ignore all the wrongs that Asakura had committed? Shouta, you and I both know that you aren't that deluded to truly think that."

They had no defense to that response. Whoever the stranger that wore their face was, they were right. MYOJIN lowered their gaze silently, unsure of what to say. The blood on the Golden Dawn's hands was also on theirs, even if they didn't commit some of those sins, they allowed them to happen. MYOJIN had felt so much anger at Bishop and his former tag team partner, Savannah Sunshine, that they lost sight of their own morals. But they had never hated Michael, at least, not enough to want him to die. Maybe they could have prevented so much from happening if they had just looked past their greed and ambition for one moment…

“There's no point in contemplating what you should have done in the past, you can't erase what has been done. Besides, Michael has been brought back anyways.”

"...Who are you?" They asked, a hint of curiosity though also suspicion showed in their tone. Their other self simply smiled at them.

"You already know the answer to that, I believe." They responded enigmatically.

It hit them. MYOJIN's confusion quickly turned to a glare, "Right, my Ego- That little nagging voice in my head that has done nothing but cause me trouble. That's what you are."

The other MYOJIN simply shook their head while clasping their hands together, "Wrong, actually. I'm not that and I'm definitely not here to tell you that your arrogance and self-righteous anger is justified. If anything, I'm more like your…. conscience. The angel on your shoulder, even. The one that's trying to lead you to redemption.”

“So what is this dream, anyways? What's the moral of the story here? Am I just berating myself for my actions?!” MYOJIN asked with frustration, shrugging with bewilderment. “I already feel guilty enough. Besides, I tried to do the right thing and save Michael- what did I get? Complete rejection at my attempt… There's no point in trying to fix things if that's what you're saying. I can't!” They vented with frustration, yelling toward their mirror image. The winds began to pick up around them, the snow blowing wildly as the sky began to grow obscured. MYOJIN began looking around, panicked as they wrapped their arms around themself in a futile attempt to combat the storm. The “angel”, however, seemed unbothered. To be more accurate: patiently disappointed, like a parent trying to teach a child something they can't seem to learn.

“Shouta, you of all people should know it isn't easy to let go of grudges. You were that man's enemy for months, you quite literally took away a Championship that he held personal value in to spite him, not only that- You helped Golden Dawn gain those wishes at Dimensional Warfare, which ultimately led to him being wished to death in front of his family. If you truly want to make things right, you know it'll take more than that… But that's not your main concern, is it?”

The harsh frost nipping at their skin started to overwork MYOJIN as they fell to a seated position, shivering as the snowstorm grew even stronger. They knew exactly what their “angel” was referring to: the OWA World Championship. MYOJIN had felt conflicted about that title ever since they were deemed number one contender. They were torn: By chasing the highest prize in the wrestling promotion, they felt guilt still- knowing they would be attempting to take something that Bishop worked so hard for after they had already taken much from him before. Maybe Raivo was right, maybe MYOJIN wasn't deserving of that number one contendership anyways.

The “angel” simply sat down in front of them to meet their eye level. Clasping their hands together, their other self signed. “I can tell you one thing: You don't have a chance of being World Champion if you continue this pity party and let your self-hatred tear you apart.”

“...Then-... Then what else… can I do…?”

“You can change.”

“Answer me this: Why did you feel the need to save Theodor from Asakura and Daito? Why did you come to Michael's aid despite knowing the high chance he would still hate you regardless? Why were you hoping that he would be brought back to life before Game Over anyways? It's because in your heart, there is still good. There is still the same person who fought against Golden Dawn's tyranny some time ago.” Speaking, the stoic expression on the “angel”'s face began to change into the faintest of smiles. The snowstorm began to calm, the sky becoming viewable once again. MYOJIN took a deep, quivering breath- almost a sigh of relief as feeling began to return into their hands while they slowly stood.

“You may think you're irredeemable, but that's simply not true. You have done terrible things, yes, and you can't take them back- But you can work toward owning up to them, mending the bridges you've burned, and showing everyone that you can be a better person than you have been..” Placing a hand to MYOJIN's chest, the “angel” gave a slight nod.

“Remember who you truly are. Remember what you used to stand for. Remember what you fought for.”

The snow covered ground began to dissipate quickly, revealing vibrant green grass. Clouds disappeared, the grey sky above turning into a bright blue. Golden rays emitted from the sun, its warmth comforting to MYOJIN. A moment of clarity hit them as they took in the scenery.

And then they woke up, staring at the ceiling of their room, MYOJIN sat up. While it was only a dream, it had felt like something more than that. Almost a sort of vision that gave them an epiphany.

They weren't just another blind follower of the Golden Dawn. They weren't just a selfish opportunist with no true loyalty or compassion. Shouta Kuromiya was more than those things.

They were a Shining Star..

**********

The OWA World Championship.

One of, if not the highest prize in Omega Wrestling Alliance or even the entire modern day sport. A championship that carries an aura of prestige with the many names that have carried it. Legendary battles that are still talked about to this day were fought over it.

So much blood has been spilled over it too.

Friendships have been destroyed just to even have a chance to compete for that title. Lines have been crossed, even lives have been lost- albeit returned. That's how much gold wielded to a fancy leather strap matters to every single person in this promotion that has had or wants a taste of what holding that belt feels like.

And that's because it's more than just a belt: It's a representation of power. The person who holds the OWA World Championship holds the key to the Kingdom. They stand at the top of the mountain on their throne, watching as the many that will come to challenge them climb further and further. It's not everyday that you find yourself having the chance to be at the top.

So many probably assume that I was hoping Michael Bishop would not be revived, that he wouldn't make it to Game Ovsd. Of course, that would've been the easiest outcome for me- I would have walked into that squared circle and be awarded a title that I didn't work for, I should've been ecstatic that I was finally getting what I felt like I deserved…. But I didn't want to become the champion like that. Despite my history with Bishop and despite my ambition, I never wanted to win by some technicality. If I am ever to become World Champion, I need to know that I've earned it.

And there's no harder way than earning it against three of the most prominent wrestlers currently in OWA. Me versus Bishop versus DT the Ruler versus Raivo.

Raivo, the man who claimed that I was undeserving of my number one contendership gets the chance he was looking for. Even though I was not that long ago one of the hardest fighting champions on the Kingdom brand, going unpinned for a straight year until Final Destination- For some reason, he thinks he's earned it more. This is the same man who after losing the Spartan title, acted as if that championship was nothing but trash and shrugged at his failure to keep it- Someone who'll say that he's for making OWA a better place, but in reality, is only here for just one thing: to satiate his ego. Truth be told, what has he done that makes him a worthy challenger- the fact that he harassed Bishop's wife multiple times? He isn't much different than the people he tends to criticize, just another cookie-cutter arrogant wrestler that thinks he's owed the world for doing the bare minimum. Once the hottest thing on Kingdom after winning his first championship in record time, now just another name and in the shadow of his supposed henchman- DT.

I never forgot about you, but oh, do I wish that I didn't have to listen to your long-winded sessions of performing self-fellatio and your warped sense of reality.

I made things personal with you? If me making fun of the fact that your head is more reflective than chrome and that you bore people to the point of tears, your skin is far thinner than I ever possibly imagined. Still, you're just someone who is so desperate for respect and to be feared as some dominant force. But you're just completely unremarkable from the way you speak, to the way you dress, even in the way you wrestle.

You hurt my manhood? Are you a moron? Despite the many times it's been pointed out to even stated, you can't seem to pick up the fact that I'm not a man. Get that your thick, braindead skull. This narrative that you somehow embarrassed and ruined me falls flat the immediate moment someone replays the events of that night. If I recall that night correctly, only reason you left with my Outlaw Championship because I sent you and myself flying who knows how many feet out of the air. I destroyed you, rendered you unconscious- and unfortunately I did the same to myself in the process. Quite simply: I beat your ass too badly. I'll admit, losing that title at first stung, but you and I both will always know that you didn't win that championship because you defeated me- You got lucky that your limp body just happened to be on top of me, so what you should be doing is shutting the fuck up, letting the grownups talk, and most importantly? Say your welcome for me basically handing you your first OWA title on a silver platter, because that night I made you relevant for the very first time in this company- but everyone will always remember it as the night DT won a championship by getting the shit kicked out of him.

And who knows? Maybe I'll want that championship back, maybe I'll end your little moment of fame and take what I never truly lost. You see, while you're so busy spending your time ranting to Bishop,all you're managing to do is lose sight of the bigger picture. Ignore me, think of me as a lesser threat all you want. In a match like this? Where all I have to do is pin or submit someone in the ring, no matter who it is-? I can surprise you at any second while you'll have your head on a swivel, wondering if you can trust Raivo in a match like this to play fair toward you- Which he won't, given what's at stake. You're out of your depth, and it's about time that someone gave you the reality check that you could so desperately use.

And when we fought in a match where pinfalls and submissions mattered? I may have not pinned you, but I damn sure was faster than you AND smarter than you. I was reckless at Final Destination, I'lll give you that. I lit my ego get in the way and I paid for it, but that wasn't by your doing considering I left you out cold- and unlike you? I can learn from mistakes and adapt, gorw, and evolve to be a beter fighter than I was yesterday. You've been doing this HOW long with minimal success?

You're only the Master of your own little fantasy wordl, and I can't wait to ruin that for you.

But, I'm not going to waste all my energy just on you. You're not the only person that I have plenty of history with.

Hi, Michael.

It's been a while since the last time we've faced each other in the ring.

It's repetitive how every time it does happen, though, that everyone can count on you reciting the same thing to me: "You couldn't beat me at the Festival". Always referring to the same match that's happened, what, close to an entire year ago in a few more months? Maybe you continue to bring it because you'll think it upsets me, that I'll lose my focus because I can't get over the fact that you have an edge over me because you won that match and ended my first reign as Outlaw Champion. You know what? For the longest time, you'd be right.

Losing to you bothered me so goddamn match that I couldn't sleep at night for a long time. I despised you with every fiber of my being because you made one of the most important times of my life so miserably short-lived. It hurt me, Michael, and I took it personally than I've ever taken any other defeat in my life. I hated you, I blamed Savannah even though I knew she was already under pressure. I hated Kingdom and the management running it so I turned back to join someone who was once of my greatest enemies.

You can't seem to grasp that I'm finally at peace with that.

In the end, you beat me. Sure, the match who only happened because Dampshaw wanted to punish Savannah and I. Yes, the match stipulation was specifically tailored to benefit you against a newcomer like myself- and I never tapped or went unconscious: but those are only excuses in the end. You won. Congratulations, Bishop.

I want you to stay thinking about that match, stay imagining me as the same inexperienced MYOJIN that day, keep thinking that I'm that same kid who's in out of their league so I can FUCKING PROVE YOU WRONG!

Whether you want to admit it or not, whether you realize it or not- Ever since that day, I have built myself back up- made myself stronger and learned from every misstep I took. I didný properly beat you to get that Outlaw title back, but with three successful defenses and one of the longest reigns that championship has ever seen- I proved I was deserving, that I EARNED it. And all of that? The blood I've shed from others and myself, the bones I've broken and have had broke, the sweat and tears that I have poured into EVERY SINGLE MATCH to prove that I didn't need Daito or Asakura or whom-fucking-ever in my corner to get the job done was all leading back up to you, Bishop- To show you that I'm all new and fucking improved since the Festival, that the MYOJIN you choked out that night hadn't been on your level- but the MYOJIN of the present wants their fucking redemption. If it weren't for me at the last show, you'd probably still wouldn't have been able to show at Game Over.

You still have this perception of the me, that I'm nothing more than just the crybaby who took their ball and went home. Maybe I deserve that after everything I've done to you and to Kingdom as part of the Golden Dawn, maybe you'll never give me respect and see the wrestler I have turned into since. That's fair- and in any other scenario, I'd accept that.

But you have what I want. What I need. Not to just be at the top of OWA, but because I need to show you- and EVERYONE that'll be watching, whether from that locker room or the thousands in attendance or even the more watching from home- That I am capable of more, that I'm not just another Golden Dawn member, that I am not just some brat that's fucking angry at the world. I will [n]force[/b] you to acknowledge that I'm not that kid anymore. I will fight you with everything that I have in my heart, in my soul, to prove that I am World Champion material. That I am the Shining Star.

Underestimate me, look past me like you and DT and presumably Raivo have. I'm going to make all of you choke on every single word that's been uttered from your lips. I will leave as World Champion.

And I'm going to do it the right way. Enough with the games, enough of the tricks. I don't need Asakura or anyone interfering. I don't need the three of you to get distracted. All I need is my own talent, what I should've been relying on to win the Outlaw title back from Bishop- what the rest of you lack.

I'm leaving with everything- the World title and the Outlaw title. There will be no excuses or anything any of you can say when it happens, you'll have to live with the fact that you lost to me, the one that none of you thought was capable of making it so far.

Welcome back, Michael. I hope you enjoyed your time off.

Scott Oasis, Alyssa Grace, 'Don' Hendrix, Remington Ivory Prescott, DT The Ruler and Chad Ecclestone have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos August 19th 2022, 1:03 pm by **Darkane**

Madness.

We’ve all played with it.

The prospect of lunacy, the extremes, the peaks, the valleys, and the lines we cross to feed our own insatiable cravings for chaos knows no bounds. It’s tantalizing in a way that feels rebellious. To go against the grain of what’s considered rational or realistic is a high that only a select few can master and actually get away with scott free. We can’t help ourselves when we gravitate toward the allure of madness, it’s hypnotizing, it’s wondrous; it fills a void and answers the question of how far we can push ourselves to the brink without repercussions. But it’s often not reciprocated, madness isn’t mesmerized by us, it just needs a host to gorge on until it moves to the next random lunatic. Madness itself is apathetic, it does not prioritize a person over a person, instead, it just eats and eats. Madness is said to be a plague but without the living, madness is dead. You can’t have one without the other. Without madness, we would never push the boundaries. Without a living organism, madness is nothing but folklore.

Yet there are savants of madness who can harness it, manipulate it, and use it to swing the balance of power in their favor. The methodical types, the ones who are intelligent beyond their years; cunning and swift like the blade of a katana. They’re viewed as evil-doers, but more often than not they’re just misunderstood. This is why madness can blur the line between what’s real and what’s farfetched. Sometimes you have pitiless invertebrates use madness as a scapegoat to reroute the blame so they can avoid hard truths not only with others but ultimately themselves, like those who plead insanity before the judge even though they’re just as culpable as the next red-handed party. Between the ones who can control it and the ones who use it as an out, it can be increasingly difficult to judge who is unequivocally sadistic and whose balls have yet to hit the floor.

For the past month, I’ve laid low back home in New Orleans and I suppose it’s easy to harp back on your roots, even if it’s in recluse. It’s also easy to build up a false sense of security and a sense of comfort. Licking my old wounds and carving out charred remnants from my flesh day in and day out, lost in the bottle and in a constant haze. I lamented over what happened at FD4 until that horse was so beaten it failed to leave an imprint, instead it was just there; faded and residual. Observing the faces of my enemies on the wall, begging for them to tell me why they did what they did. I was losing it. My sanity.

I almost succumbed to the madness.

The hook was in me, but somehow, someway I managed to wriggle away. Maybe it wasn’t my time yet, maybe the grim reaper himself had a busy fucking day. I don’t know and I don’t care. What I do know is that the Darkane of old wouldn’t assume the position, spread his fucking ass cheeks, and take it like a defenseless sorority slut. The Darkane of old would happily fight fire with fire no matter the circumstances. The Darkane of old wouldn’t hide in isolation. He wouldn’t feel sorry for himself. He would be the one with his foot slamming down on the gas pedal. He would be the one going full throttle at every opportunity. He would be the one to show no mercy to every fucking victim he would add to his body pile.

But those names are ghosts now.

The game has changed.

Everything has been flipped upside down. It started with Graham Baker hanging me from the fucking gallows last year and progressively got worse. The Goetial King sits comfortably in cruise control atop his blood red throne alongside Alex Carter and HIM. Jacob Senn went all in. He pushed every single last chip into the middle of the table when he dug into the cold soil and unraveled a long gone buried secret. He unearthed someone who I thought was pushing up daisies.

Instead, he’s still making them rot.

FD4 was a fucking gut punch. Jacob Senn managed to turn the tables and voyaged to a place I thought existed only in my memory behind a lock and key. He pulled back the proverbial curtain and he ripped open a festering wound in an instant. He did what no other man could make me do, he made me feel. I wanted to pinch myself, I thought it was just a bad dream; a figment of my imagination in the simmering flames from the inferno, but it wasn’t. It fucking wasn’t.

Lazarus Arjen stood there in the flesh like a stringy limbed zombie with a deathly pallor and eyes of ice. I was frozen. I was numb; catatonic even. Even though my body was cooked from head to toe, it felt like an afterthought in the midst of everything that was transpiring. I spent weeks thereafter in shock, I didn’t know where to go or what to do. I was lost in my own wilderness and kept wondering why and moreso how. How did Jacob Senn know of Lazarus Arjen’s existence and worse yet how did he convince him to do his dirty work?

Then it hit me.

If you give Laz an inch, he’ll take a mile. He hasn’t changed much over the years. He still has his stringy blonde hair, that fucking god awful septum piercing, the stormy bags under his eyes, and the will to kill without order or structure. The same old pigheaded Laz; stubborn in his ways, unable to listen to reason or process information. And you kick down the gates to OWA for what? To collaborate with Jacob Senn in order to divide and conquer? To make sure his Immortal Heavyweight Championship is still shiny and polished? To buddy up with Alex Carter in pursuit of the Tag Team Championships? Bullshit. I see the anguish bleeding through the cracks of your coal fucking heart. I see it in your body language. I see it through your vapid threats. The ideation of power means jackshit to you, but the ideation of an undying vengeance runs rampant through your mind, but you’d be foolish to mistake my surprise for trepidation. I didn’t see you coming at FD4, but I saw what you’ve become.

An errand boy.

A shadow figure.

Once Senn enticed you enough, once he sold you the goods, once he left the door open just a sliver, just enough to weasel your way into the fray you best realize there’s no going back. New Orleans doesn’t want you, The Big Easy Undercity doesn’t want you, and most importantly I don’t want you. I can feel your dejection. To feel alone, to feel abandoned by someone you used to call a brother, but the truth is you were never fucking blood. You were an aimless dumpster diver I spatula’d off a grimy manhole cover and gave meaning to. I remember as if it were yesterday. I knelt down and cradled your face against the rays of the sun and I told you I would always be there for you through thick and thin. No matter what. That was my biggest mistake, not because it was a lie, but because I should have kept walking by the tattered and torn kid with dirt in his eyes and knees submerged in a rain puddle. I should have left you there in your own shame. I should have let you fall into the New Orleans abyss only to be mugged of what little you actually had all the way down to your tiny toy yoyo and string. To be inexorably violated in ways you can’t even begin to comprehend and to be drugged up by fucking animalistic methhead deadbeats with as little purpose in life as you had.

At least there you would have been able to fit in, even if you were a dime a dozen.

But damnit Laz, I couldn’t help myself. I fell for your sob story hook line and sinker. Even at a young age, you had a certain walk and a certain talk about you; a certain swagger that couldn’t be touched but you were so malnourished and uncared for it was hard to see through the tangled weeds at times. I guess part of me empathized with you. Part of me saw myself in you when I was at your age. I saw a mini-me, but I didn’t want that for you. I didn’t want you to follow in my footsteps. I wanted you to make something of yourself by your own merit and by your own individuality. I wanted you to be somebody worth a fuck. So I took you under my wing. I guided you along with a few others and we ran shit in New Orleans. Be it territorial warfare against rival gangbangers, to menial small time jobs and crimes. We were ready for anything and you were notoriously scrappy from the get go, you took no shit from anybody and I truly admired that. I was your biggest fan.

Until I wasn’t.

Until you started showing the same traits and the same pitfalls you still carry to this very day. The carelessness, the lack of patience, taking everything to heart, reactive instead of proactive. The same oversensitive cut-my-life-into-pieces 5’10” shitstack of teenage angst masquerading as a ruthless killer I remember. The same edgelord that didn’t know whether to shit or wind his wrist watch once the goings got tough. So you play the blame game and castigate me for wanting to better myself, as opposed to staying put as a part of a pact and as a slave to the streets for the rest of my life? I didn’t leave you to fend for yourself, I left you because you’re a lost fucking cause and were damaged goods. I couldn’t get through to you, no one could. So what do you do? You latch on to the next handout you were given by Jacob Senn. But somehow, someway to you he’s an upgrade when he’s about as trustworthy as you with a razor held to your wrists. That’s the most perplexing thing of all. Out of every single snake in OWA you could possibly choose to make a deal with, you chose the most venomous. Jacob Senn is going to want compensation plus interest for giving you the VIP treatment into his inner circle and into OWA. He’s not going to let you off the hook that easy and when you do inevitably drop the ball, he’s gonna come for your fucking head but he’ll be too late as I will have already picked it clean when I use your skull as a soup bowl. That’s blatant oversight from Jacob Senn. He thinks he can pluck you from obscurity and use you as a tool to cross someone (me) off his hitlist when you’ve barely had a cup of coffee in OWA. He’s brainwashed you and like many others you ate from the palm of his hand with no hesitation. The man’s a tyrant and you’re disposable, if you think my betrayal was so earth shattering, wait until he starts seeing you more as a nuisance than an asset.

Poor Laz doesn’t want to feel alienated anymore. Poor Laz wants to fit in and associate himself with an actual leader because he’s always been a follower. Whether I’ve been at the front of the helm or Jacob Senn, the sentiment remains the same as always. If it wasn’t for me Laz would be dead, if it wasn’t for Senn, Laz would be dead. Why do you always need a fucking pick me up? When are you gonna stop relying on others for gratification? Pull yourself up, get a fucking clue and quit playing the mary-go-round of self-loathing you meritless sack of shit. Maybe then you’ll find some semblance of balance in order to push through adversity for once in your life. But I’m not here to lecture you, I’m here to step on you, I’m here to walk through you to get back to Jacob Senn. All these words, mean absolutely nothing if they fall on deaf ears and I believe you’re past the point of no return. I believe you’ve wandered astray where you shouldn’t have and caught yourself up in a world not unlike the very decadent slums of New Orleans. Where nobody gives a shit about you, your track record, how you feel, or what your intentions are. OWA is a different animal entirely and so am I. I led The Big Easy Undercity for a reason, I carried The Dynasty on my back for a reason. I was the fucking general. I was the captain and you were part of a measly skeleton crew. This isn’t a changing of the guard, instead, it’s going to be a nasty reality check of where you rank and have ranked since you were spat out from the mouth of an alley twenty years ago. You’re so low on society’s totem pole that it’s a wonder your innards weren’t being flossed between the jagged teeth of a dozen chittering rats when Senn found you.

I guess you’ve got that survivability thing down to a T, even if it involves getting rescued time in and time out. The only fuck up you made was abducting my sister. Let me tell you something about my sister - the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. She’s psychotic and deranged in her own right. Threatening to kill her? That gets her mound wet. She eats that fucking shit up for breakfast. I know you and Senn think you’re using her as bait to get me up in arms and initially it worked, but I know my sister and even though I haven’t seen her in over a decade I know she’s teen times the sibling you ever could have been. I know she also likes to play with her food and if you think using scare tactics to keep her at bay is enough to get the job done. Then you better unclog the sewage from your ears. She’s been violently tortured and used for experiments while sifting through foster care homes like a hot knife through butter. She’s gone to war in prisons across America. She will die laughing in your fucking face, but she won’t have to concern herself with that as it’s a moot point. I’m not coming to South Korea to ‘save’ my sister or participate in the all-you-can-eat cat-on-a-stick extravaganza. She can hold her own with the best of them, but when I do arrive, I won’t be your knight in shining armor this time. I will be your executioner, I will cut you down and if my sister wants a piece of the action, which I’m sure she will for convenience's sake then boy, you are gonna be in a world of hurt. I’ll let her have her way with you. She’ll take you deep, she’ll use her tongue and coil around your member like a master artist, and then when you’re about to hit paydirt, she’ll mow you down like Joey Chestnut against stiff competition.

And I’ll be there to ask you how it feels, to be devastated by your former hero, to have your manhood looking like a chewed up eraser. To know that my sister is anything but an innocent bystander. To know that Jacob Senn’s hired gun, shot himself in the foot when he fucked with the one and only.

The GraveWorm.

That’s when you will realize that there isn’t a light at the end of the tunnel. That there is no saving grace with a barrel chest and a hero’s cape. And who you are as a person. As a good-for-nothing shitty ass father to your poor daughter. As a former protege. As someone who had so much potential, only to unceremoniously piss it all away.

Was never good enough to begin with.

Michael Bishop, Alyssa Grace, Elijah Hampton, 'Don' Hendrix, Remington Ivory Prescott, DT The Ruler, Lazarus Arjen and DGS have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos August 19th 2022, 9:32 am by **Violet Cunningham**

Trivial Matters

We open to darkness. Mist creeps up a large staircase, trailing down the lengthy halls of some long forgotten place. Laying on the floor, sporadically left behind and barely hidden by the thickening mist were shapes. Remains of the willing, of the content, of the wanting. They were fresh.

“Fear, glorious fear. It’s a natural emotion present in all animals. Now I’m curious, what do you think causes fear?”

Through the doorway at the end of the corridor, a tall figure stood in the center of the room. The mist writhed and coiled, sensing its master. And to the side, in the shadows, another figure stood. Short, wizened, it was this figure that spoke. There was quiet laughter.

“There is the kind of fear born of animal instinct, and the kind of fear born of a rational mind that terrorizes humans - namely, when you encounter a foe stronger than yourself and realise you have no way of fighting back against the unknown, your helplessness begins to sink in, and evokes inside of you a terrible and paralysing fear.”

More quiet laughter. The figure in the center of the room beckoned, and a third shape emerged from the gloom. A woman, as unimportant as she was beautiful, walked to the tall figure with reverence. Her hair was pushed off her shoulder, her head tilted to one side - but she didn’t care. She was content.

The figure bit down on her neck, not a dainty, gentle bite. Her neck was torn open, her blood drained, but she didn’t make a sound. She simply stood there, accepting of her fate, allowing her life essence to trickle away. And she smiled.

“When you are faced with this fear you have a number of options from which to choose.”

The lifeless body of the once beautiful woman was tossed aside, empty, worthless. The tall figure wiped away an escaped droplet from the corner of their mouth.

“You could flee, accept or freeze. But when meeting Lady Violet, a new unexpected reaction arises! You feel joy!”

The tall figure turned to the wizened one as it spoke - and responded.

“And how, I wonder, do people react once they feel joy in fear?”

The wizened one laughed, understanding the rhetorical nature of the question. But she wasn’t prepared for the next one.

“Tell me, Enyaba - what does it mean to live?”

The wizened hag paused, wondering about the true nature of the question before answering.

“It’s to obtain all that one desires. If you were to distill life into its essence, that is what it would be. A lust for riches, a desire for fame, food, love and lovers, that is life’s goal.”

“But one must always fight to get what one wants, isn’t that right, Enyaba?”

She spoke the hag’s name as if to remind her of her place - it was both a sign of respect and a display of dominance, befitting one such as Lady Violet.

“Indeed.”

“And if the battle is lost and one fails to obtain what one desires most, the result is frustration, pain and a sense of failure. One carries the wound into the future, into the next fearful battle.”

The tall one glided past, out another door and into a room of mirrors, each positioned to give the illusion of a world of broken glass. Enyaba followed, listening to her master.

“I believe conquering that fear once and for all is what it means to live. The one who stands at the pinnacle is the one who has no fear. Do you understand, Enyaba?”

Enyaba frowned, understanding the implications of the words spoken.

“I was the one who told you of your powers and how to use them, also you have an immortal body. Is there anything you could possibly fear?”

“Perhaps, old woman.”

A warning tone, quickly reminding Enyaba who she was speaking to.

“Hm. What burdens you, my lady?”

“The Power of Incredible Violence.”

Enyaba couldn’t help but show her surprise. “They worry you? Those worms are mere trash, your enemies are no match for your power!”

The lady looked over her shoulder, shadows obscuring her face, but not her eyes, which glowed fiercely in the darkness.

“Yes, but I must believe it’s destiny when the lives of those worms are so thoroughly entangled with mine. It is a fate that has been written for us all from the very beginning. Let me be clear - it is not them that I fear, but the fact that I can never underestimate their prowess. In order to obliterate all fear, I have decided that I must remove them from the cogs of fate.”

“You want to go and eliminate them yourself simply because you feel they cannot be underestimated?”

“Yes.”

“Foolishness! You should never engage in such trivial matters, they are beneath someone of your stature!”

Violet turned all the way around now, facing Enyaba and towering over her. Yet, only her eyes continued to remain visible, the rest was naught but a silhouette.

“Need I remind you, old woman, of the events that have been set in motion? We will face each other, and it is only then that our prowess will be truly tested. I’ve tasted their fear, and I know they’ve never fought opponents quite like myself and my partner before.”

“And the other two?”

“Irrelevant. At no point do I intend to waste my time on them, they will be wiped from the board without issue. I must focus on the ones that will prove worthy.”

“My lady, you are the master of your own fate. It is your destiny to destroy them.”

“Perhaps. Were fate to be true, then I would need not worry, and yet here we are, discussing matters you deem trivial. Tell me Enyaba, do you doubt my concerns?”

Enyaba barely stopped her trembling before answering.

“Never, my lady.”

“Good. Make the preparations, no doubt my opponents believe victory is inevitable. It is up to myself and my partner to assure them otherwise.”

The mist thickened suddenly, swallowing The Reaper entirely, leaving Enyaba alone, in the dark. She knew what she had to do. And she felt joy.

Jeff X, Alyssa Grace, Remington Ivory Prescott, "Killer Bee", DT The Ruler, Lazarus Arjen, Krysis and Chad Ecclestone have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos August 18th 2022, 7:30 pm by **Alyssa Grace**

THE ROAD TO HELL IS PAVED WITH GOOD INTENTIONS.
GAME OVER.

It’s a funny thing, how you can go your whole life with this idea about who you are. About what you need. Who you need. About how the things you were deprived of, left you to grow up lacking. Half a person made up of stiff joints that can’t carry you out of your past, because they’re all bound up tight in the scar tissues of the nerves and the maybes. You think if you ever got a re-write… you would know how to fix it all. Map out that damage and charter a way out. Y’know, cut out the bad tissue before it can grow. Fix yourself. Fix your life. Then, maybe… you’d be all you could have been. Before the bad came and paralyzed your potential. Even funnier than all of that is one day, you stumble in on a truth that you never could have known until you got everything you thought you could have wanted.

That thing you thought you needed to make you whole.

That missing piece. The key to everything you thought was wrong with you.

You get it, and you realise that… as good as it feels, there’s no room for it.

No room because as it turns out, that emptiness was there for a reason. It was a space to grow in. And you did. At some point, when you weren’t looking… You grew up. And all these other things you thought you needed to become whole, they were never yours to start with. I don’t need to look to anyone else to fix me anymore. I’m complete within myself, I don’t need someone else to do it for me. I am not my mistakes. I am not my faults. And for the first time in my life I can feel that. Whatever hollow spots are still here, I hope they’re just there because I made room… and let the bitterness go.

I’ve been cold for a long time.

Then someone relit that fire inside of me, someone special who has been a fragment of warmth that has shown me that the cold was temporary all along.

Liz.

An old ghost came in and held up a mirror. I took one good long look and decided I hated what I saw in there a hell of a lot more than I hate anything else right now. It made me angry. Not at any of those who have bested me, but myself. That I drove myself right off the rails like this. That anger has chased that long winter wind out of my bones. It is as welcome as war to a soldier. I’ve wanted this call - the one saying that battle has come to find me. I know it will damage me, I know it will break me down further but beneath was a pride under the sorrow, a glimmer of metal to face what was to come, my anger like razor wire under snow. Life has had me under its thumb, life has tried and almost succeeded in taking just about everything I hold close away from me, life has fractured my psyche with incredible loss after incredible loss and for that? Life and everyone it throws in my way has me to reckon with. The road has risen to meet not just me, but my partner in crime also, the path has been set and it’s time for us to walk down it with a smile on our faces and a target on our backs.

In less than three months, Liz and I have taken the tag team wrestling scene by storm, in our second match as a cohesive unit, we captured our first set of tag team championships - our second pair coming only a few weeks later at the expense of two of the best the wrestling world has produced in the form of Christopher Sabertooth and Diantha Rosso. Adjusting from one scene of wrestling to another would be a challenge for most women but thankfully Liz and I have proved since the beginning of time that we aren’t like most women. Now, I don’t like to rely on statistics to prove a point but when you look at the playing field here, The Power Of Incredible Violence have it all - we have the experience, the best relationship and two sets of championships from companies that contain talent just as lethal as the obstacles that are in the way of Liz and I making our ideas into a reality. One of the many advantages I find myself equipping in this is the knowledge of how dangerously powerful ideas can be. Ideas can turn nobodies into Steve Jobs, but ideas can also cause an individual to take everything they already have going for them and throw it by the wayside. If you're prepared to fully invest into your ideas, you can become the greatest thing the world has ever seen, or you can be left desolate, forgotten, never to be seen or heard from again. Of course, if the combination of Yuna Kurosawa and Izumi Takeda were to beat Elizabeth and myself or even Bad Meets Evil, don’t get me wrong, their idea that they belong here and that they’re more than capable of being the first women to hold those beautiful belts would become validated. Hypothetically if they were to get a win over anyone else in this bout, they’d change a lot of people's opinions about us and perhaps more so about themselves, make no mistake about it, this is a high stakes match for us all, Yuna and Izumi included.... but the expectations? The expectations for anyone not named Alyssa Grace or Elizabeth Karlson couldn’t be lower. I didn’t trust Yuna and Izumi to put the effort in to make this far and they proved me right when they barely earned their victory and sure as hell don’t trust them to put the effort in now when it actually matters.

I’m tired of beating around the bush and being respectful to individuals who quite frankly don’t deserve the time of day so I’ll be blunt, no one expects Yuna and Izumi to walk out as champions apart from Yuna and Izumi. They have it ingrained in their minds that they somehow have what it takes to get the better of Liz and I and maybe we’re to blame there, maybe we allowed this to happen, maybe we made the goal of beating us too tangible for people over the last year. That’s a mistake we’re working on fixing and not to be too full of myself but I believe we’re doing a very good and very quick job at that. Alyssa Grace, the world champion, isn’t walking into this bout looking to kill, no, Alyssa Grace the tag team specialist is walking into this bout prepared to kill - and this version of me is far deadlier than any iteration of me the world has witnessed over the years. That’s a promise I know I can stand by. Things have changed, we have changed for the better, anyone who refuses to acknowledge that is fucking stupid. I want to command the ambition Yuna and Izumi have but when they’re matching into war with a plastic sword and a wooden shield, it’s hard to do. Really, I should pity them, I should have mercy because look at them and then look at Liz and I.. but I can’t bring myself to even want to do that. Neither women are really anything special. Sure they may be fit, confident and somewhat capable wrestlers when they can be arsed to be.. but how many wrestlers only have those things going for them these days? Too many. If there's any sort of silver lining behind this, it's that there will come a moment where the speculation of whether Yuna and Izumi can do the impossible reaches the end. It's that moment where they will know, I will know, Liz will know, Marie will know, Violet will know, the fans will know, the world will know the truth. That Yuna and Izumi just weren't good enough. They just can't hang. There will be that moment. It'll be a pause in time, a collective awakening, a revelation in mass, where we are all reminded what we already knew in the first place:

The Power of Incredible Violence are better.

The Power of Incredible Violence are the best.

Who knows, perhaps they’ll even personally realise that we’re the best.

To solidify ourselves as the greatest tag team on the scene right now - we need those championships so we’re going to take them. I understand it’s easy to write us, especially me, off as a desperation riddled egomaniac desperate to propel herself back to the level where she used to so confidently sit but that’s not true. Admittedly some of what I say is hyperbole, and some of it is just raw emotion, but every bit of it comes from a genuine fire and desire that lies inside. Unlike most, I have intelligence on my side and I’m not using that as a weapon. I stand before you as a self assured genius who does what she does best - create. When the times got tough I became close to turning my back on things and giving up entirely, if the world was going to deem me as a pathetic shell of the woman I used to be, I believed for a while that the best thing I could do was become exactly that but man, I was wrong. Sure, I almost gave up the one thing I love but the keyword here is almost - one thing this business has taught me is that almost is never fucking enough for anything.

Did I ever anticipate myself standing in this position? No, I did not. But am I happy and almost salivating at the mouth to be in this position? Hell fucking yes I am. The one and only better thing than creating magic on my own every time I step into the ring is creating magic with my greatest friend standing right by my side every time I step into the ring. There’s something poetic about the relationship Liz and I have. Bound by blood, united by the thrill of the kill, the only people who understand what we’re truly capable of is ourselves. We have the power vested in us to shift the paradigm to our whim time and time again. We’re no longer adhering to the rules, we’re fucking changing them. Your perceptions? They’re going to be shattered. When we speak, we don’t just talk, we make our words into reality. Equally, we call other people's reality into question until they're forced to stare themselves hard in the mirror and question who they really are.

Hello Violet, hello Marie.

A vampire and a witch, alright, you two certainly are the most interesting team in this bout. The perception of the supernatural is quite humorous to me, hell, the two of you don’t even need to do anything but smile and feeble folk are shaking in their boots. Individuals like the two of you are often just fantasy so us here in OWA should consider ourselves lucky to have the reality before our very eyes and I’m sure we would feel that way if the reality wasn’t pathetic. It's the same old story, yet no one ever learns. It's the same old dance, but no one bothers to play another song. I can’t lie and say I’m not somewhat intrigued about the mystical side to Bad Meets Evil, perhaps the child in me never quite got over her fascination with the mystifying macabre concepts of things such as witchcraft and vampirism. For Liz, it sure is true that the two of you are nothing like she’s ever faced before, for me? Not so much. I had a Banshee hot on my ass for months, I had one of the deadliest demons, figuratively and literally, on my trail for almost a year in the form of Hanavoc, so against my will, I have some experience in this department. Now, I’m not saying that Bad Meets Evil compares to the aforementioned entities because that would be an insult to them all but there’s got to be some traits that overlap. Is that going to guarantee victory for Liz and I? Of course not. There are plenty of other factors that will be justification for the crowning of The Power of Incredible Violence as the first ever Women’s Tag Team Champions. My experiences simply just give me a slightly better perspective and understanding on how to tackle individuals like Violet and Marie and in this situation I have no choice but to weaponize and utilise even the smallest of advantages as much as I possibly can.

The Power of Incredible Violence may merely be mortals but we are a different breed of human, one that Bad Meets Evil has never encountered before. Making it this far is rather commendable and I advise Bad Meets Evil feels proud for getting far enough to stand across the ring from Liz and I, as that is all they're going to have. The levels of the game we're playing up to this point have been difficult but nothing too hard for the vessel or the psyche, that is about to change. We're the final fucking bosses. We're the favourites. We're the threat. We're the victors.

The respect you hold for me Marie is not lost on me, although my words may indicate otherwise, I do feel a level of respect for yourself and Violet. There is something admirable about exposing your rawest self to the world and refusing to change despite the increasing pressure from society to conform, I might not be intimidated by or even really impressed with what the two of you are and what you bring to the table but at least you’ve remained who you are at your core, more than half of this industry can’t relate. I hope that doesn’t change once I’ve caved your skull in. It’d be a slight shame. Yourself and Violet had the upper hand against us momentarily on Odyssey and I must admit something, you’re right, I am afraid. I do fear failure. We all do to some extent. My fear is not something I consider to be a fault, it is something I consider a strength, a motivator, my fear of failure is emblematic of the intense desire I have to grasp the reins and shift this business as we know it in a different direction. There is no other choice but to succeed. I’ll accept death before I accept defeat and I’m not quite ready to leave this world yet. For as long as there is breath in my lungs, there is a chance I can make my wildest dreams an even wilder, grand reality. Sometimes a chance is all a woman needs.

They say the devil is nothing more than the sock puppet of God. He can be described best as God wearing a scary mask. Just an alias by God to do his own dirty work, and set the motion of yin and yang into all that exists. There's two sides to all things. There's the chapel and there's the dungeon, there's love and there's indifference. The duality of light and darkness exists in all things, and though light beams shine down on me and I'm learning for the first time what true love for others and for the self is really like, so equally have I found an even deeper, darker, more vengeful, more vindictive side of me than you can even imagine. Thoughts come into my head every day -- intrusive thoughts of the monster I've had to be to make it this far in a business as monstrous like this. I've spent so long trying to get rid of it and subdue it, and I'd prefer to be at peace, but I know the monster isn't dead. I know there will be those who call for the hammer even when they're nothing more than ants. Thus is the peril of having this much power. A word of advice for my opponents would be this, you’re more than welcome to toe the line, but whatever you do, don't you even dream of crossing it if you even want to think about earning an opportunity to try and take these titles from Liz and I down the line.

OWA Promos NduOS9-8xNdT1Epm9shf3ZpnEsdTNZmaNQFaSclqabMUZ5WwrqocXRrSTLksR-wNRZz0LouIfvZUgr9MoeUU29bs4BylZmvSYGXmGDRzC1gvbM-RqaFxwPyoLxGD7QvBJMicPJkkC-3ARJIbmJtBmw

Michael Bishop, Bobby Wheeler, Jeff X, The Banshee, Elijah Hampton, Remington Ivory Prescott, "Killer Bee" and have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos August 18th 2022, 12:48 pm by **Elijah Hampton**

"You sly, conniving motherfucker, you. How long I’ve waited for this. And how short you’ll come up.

Now, I’m well aware that on paper, you have everything going in your favor. The championship. The political power — and of course, the numbers game that comes with it. A clean bill of health while my leg is clearly not at 100% — just one example of your many extreme measures to try to cut me down. What else, hmm? Oh, and of course, you also have the experience on your side. So on and so forth. So yes, the deck that YOU shuffled, may very well be stacked against me heading into our match at Game Over. **Elijah lets out a soft chuckle** But I hope you know that this only means it’s going to look that much worse for you when I ultimately find a way to overcome the odds and clear the obstacles you deliberately put in my way, just to pin your shoulders clean to the mat regardless and rip that torch from your grasp in the process. That Immortal Heavyweight Championship — I like that shit, to be honest. I want it. But I think it wants me even more. I see the way it looks at me. The seductive glances and the glimpses, mhm. And I’m going to get it. Because in the end, it’s as if I always get what I want. This being no different. Plus, it’s going to look mighty fine draped over my perfectly toned and broad shoulder when this is all said and done. Then again, anything looks good on me. Including your blood — something that’ll be spilled by the buckets. Now, I can only imagine that this is an outcome you may not like nor accept, but be honest, in your heart of hearts — well, let’s pretend you ever had one for a sec, there’ll be a small part of you that would be proud right? The student becoming the master. Taking some of your lessons and applying them. Beating you at your own game at Game Over — kinda poetic when you think about it. But then again, if we are being honest here, that would be a forced storyline, even though that didn’t stop the media and reporters from running with it anyway, since you were never much of a mentor to me in the first place. See, instead of you extending a wing for me to be under and learn from, I got a cold shoulder instead. And that’s fine. Darkane and Matt made up for it. But, you never really made yourself accessible. Giving off this vibe that you were far too busy and far too good to get acquainted with the newest Dynasty member. Too busy brainstorming ideas to advance your career. Being in your own head. Being up your own ass, more like it. Spinning your wheels in a race against time. Knowing you had to add another heavyweight title to your name before it was too late. Feeling the heat and the pressure that the new crop of talent brings. Knowing you were going to continue to get passed by. I don’t blame you. You can only twiddle your thumbs for so long. You can only bite your tongue for so long. You are only in your prime for so long. So you made a call out of desperation. And to your credit, your gamble, while risky, gutsy, cowardly — or whatever you want to call it, paid off in spades. You got what you wanted. That’s always what always mattered most to you anyway. The glory, while I’m sure it felt nice, it came at a cost. You turned your back on those who supported you. Sacrificing the friendships you built over years of time. Gone. In the blink of an eye. Trading in those years for one night. Cold-blooded. Now, I can’t speak for the others, but personally speaking, I never really felt that betrayed by it all. Sure, that could just be me downplaying it. The copium. But since I wasn’t brought into the fold until much later on, I never really knew you that well. Then again, judging by your actions, nobody did. Professional wrestling, it’s a business. And even though it’s easier said than done, you have to take your emotions out of it. Because being blinded by rage, would only take my eyes off the prize. I came to OWA with a chip on my shoulder. Walking through the doors and down the halls with some big dreams and aspirations in mind. Dreams that some thought were a bit unrealistic. A bit out of reach. But I never wavered. I never listened. Because I am far too stubborn to put a ceiling on what I can and can’t accomplish. My goals, they aren’t really out of the box. Pretty straightforward. But what it all boils down to is the fact that I want to be the best professional wrestler that I can possibly be.

And I get it, that’s crazy talk because of how OWA has been as of late. Feeling like I stumbled onto the set of some supernatural show that would air on The CW. Making me feel like the odd one out because I don’t have these powers and abilities that some of the men and women here seem to receive out of thin air like this is Sky High. Or maybe this is more of a horror story with the constant deaths. The deaths I never mourned for because well, what’s the point? They come back to life a week or two later like they are Jon Snow. It has happened so much that it’s been normalized. This shit isn’t normal. Like, I don’t seek to settle the score with my arch nemesis and beat the hell out of them in another dimension. I’m here to wrestle. I’m here to compete. On this planet. In that ring. And I guess that makes me a throwback wrestler all of a sudden. Even though I can come off as a little extra sometimes, I don’t need the extra bells and whistles. Sometimes simple is better. And really, I am a simple man. What you see is what you get. And what you see before your very eyes is your next Immortal Heavyweight Champion. But how I become that, isn’t so simple. Because Jacob Senn alone from a talent standpoint? He’s one of the best to ever lace up a pair of boots. His resume speaks for itself. A hall of fame career in any company he’s worked for. With a trophy room, since a case wouldn’t be enough to hold his numerous accolades, with all of his previous championships on display. And then you factor in Project Smile. Alex Carter. Laz. And Michelangelo if he’s still a thing. And of course, the black magic he practices. He’s got all that. And I’m sure a few tricks up his sleeves to boot. While I’m over here, struggling to stand on one good leg after I took a lead pipe to the knee a couple of weeks ago. If I’m not able to get my hands on some magic healing potion here soon, I could be done for. For the first time in my career, I feel like an underdog. I feel like I’m fighting an uphill battle. And I’m not sure what to make of it. Although, I’m leaning more towards the nonchalant type of attitude of not really caring. Because the way I see it, you can assign these roles if you want. But it won’t stop me from caving Senn’s skull in with any weapon I can get my hands on. Preferably just my hands. Yeah, I want to feel his skin under my fingernails as I rip him to shreds. With his blood on my hands being more than just an idiom. And I get how this is starting to come across. Some of you are thinking I’m going against what I just preached from a few moments ago. The spiel about how wrestling should be about business first and foremost instead of your personal affairs. Wishing ill will towards your opponent sure does sound personal. When I don’t see it that way. On the contrary, it’s about respect. It’s about doing my homework and understanding who my opponent is and what he’s capable of. I know it’s going to take more than just one Book of Eli or one Final Curtain to keep him down. He’s survived much worse. He’s a proven cockroach after all. Meaning if I have him on the ropes, I must keep moving. I must keep applying the pressure. The pressure of my boot on his neck. Or on his skull. Not letting up. Not until the job is done. Not until I get what I want. Not until Senn gets what he oh so rightfully deserves. All because of his own making.

You’ve really gone the extra mile to try to get under my skin. You’ve concocted every little devious plan that your brain could possibly muster up in hopes of throwing me off my game. And yet, my feathers remain unruffled and my focus is still locked in. But that’s all this is to you — a game. A game you’re trying to rig. Constantly changing the rules as you go so you can remain at the top. Bringing in new players at every turn. Your allies — what an interesting, uninspiring bunch they are. But nonetheless, they seem to trust you for whatever reason. Like you have some squeaky clean reputation to back you up. As if your true motives and intentions are out in the open for all to see instead of hidden deep within. Perhaps you are force-feeding them the same load of codswallop you tried to pull with me. How you’ll elevate their careers single-handedly when the fact is that once they serve their purpose in your eyes, you cut your ties with them and you move on to find another meat shield to protect you. But at Game Over? There will be nobody to protect you from the heinous and grotesque beatings I’ll put you through. My thoughts become your reality. Dragging you from hell and back. Beating you to a bloody pulp from post to post. From the first bell to the second. To the point, you’ll become unrecognizable. Everlasting wounds that will haunt you for your remaining days when you TRY to look at yourself in the mirror. Then again, that probably wouldn’t change much since I doubt you’ve been able to stare at your reflection for more than one quick glance these days. You aren’t proud of the man you’ve become. You can hardly stomach it. You’re just in too deep now. Knowing there’s no turning back. So you have no other choice but to fully commit yourself to your cause and to you being the condemned piece of shit that you’ve transformed yourself into. Speaking of which, I gotta say, that what transpired on Olympus when you brought out Darkane’s sister? Not at all surprising. Getting family involved, while effective, was kind of lazy on your end. As if you are reading How to be a Bad Guy 101. When the only book that matters here is The Book of Eli. In the moment and in your eyes, taking his sister hostage, might have felt like the right thing to do. You got the reaction you had hoped for. But you failed to factor in what happens next — which I notice, is a reoccurring theme when it comes to you. A bold strategy you drew up on a crumpled-up napkin — a strategy that won’t possibly pay off for you in the end. Take it from me, the only sane person in this matchup of ours — I wouldn’t exactly go out of my way to piss off The Graveworm. He kind of has a track record of coming back stronger and more dangerous than ever before just when you think you can write him off — he starts another chapter, with you being a footnote. He’ll not only even the score but run it up. To the point, a mercy rule should be implemented but I get the feeling he’ll show you none of it. But with that said, I’ll let you live that regret later on when your paths inevitably cross again. Until then, this isn’t about Darkane, even though you claim it is. Yeah, even with my body broken and bruised and battered at the hands of my friend in that last man standing match, which you of course made happen in the first place, I remember you talking your shit, behind a titantron of course, so you can feel safe. Running your mouth while you attempt to convince the world you haven’t been running from me this entire time — you’re a fucking track star man. Acting as if you aren’t sweating this proper matchup. When your actions and your eyes tell a different story. If you truly viewed yourself as the lion and me as the jackal, you wouldn’t have gone through all this trouble to put this off. My name wouldn’t be burned into your brain. My name wouldn’t be on your lips every time you speak. But let’s pretend that you truly aren’t afraid, Jacob. That’s fine. But I’ll advise you that you should be. Because I’m hungry, Senn. Starving. And the only thing that’ll curb my hunger and satisfy my belly is a chip. And I’m not talking Lay’s or Ruffles. I’m talking championship. A heavyweight one to be exact since I’m a big and strong boi. I have yet to win one. I kinda want to change that. Sooner rather than later, preferably. And would you look at that, as I take a gander at my calendar, I have the opportunity to win just that at Game Over. It’s crazy how some things just work out. But let’s go over something you know a thing or two about. World titles. Let’s take a trip down memory lane — and tell me about your first. Your first-world title win. Who was it against? Which arena was it in? The company. The time. The number of those in attendance. What color scheme was your gear? What did you eat before? How many bottles of champagne did you pop after? When you got backstage, were your boss and your peers giving you a standing ovation? Or were you met with some bitter vets scoffing at you and thinking that should be them and that you took their spot? I’m sure you can answer these all and then some. All the fine details. As if it happened yesterday. Because we all remember our first. And as you briefly relive that moment, that moment you worked so hard for, that moment you’ll forever cherish, that first huge career milestone — you now know what I’m willing to go through to have that moment of my own.

This isn’t going to be some lazy stroll in the park. For either of us. It’s going to come down to grit. To sheer will. And whoever wants it more. I will of course say myself. You will say yourself. There’s nothing we can say to convince the other. Our skulls are just too thick. All I gotta say is I’m all in. I’m pushing all of my chips towards the center of the table. Putting all of my eggs in this one basket. I could rattle off a few more cliches but I think you get the gist of it. Because even though this sounds lame, it’s true that when it comes to this profession, nothing is guaranteed. Goes for life as well. This is MY big moment to capitalize on MY dream. There might not be a second. In my mind there won’t be. That’s the mindset I have heading into this match. This is do or die. There are no do-overs. No backup plans. This is it. I have to deliver. Not just for me. Not just for The Dynasty. Not just for Olympus. But for OWA as a whole. And for its fans. Because someone needs to put an end to Jacob Senn and his reign before he completely spirals out of control. Why not me? He’s run roughshod over the entire roster. Leaving a stack of bodies in his wake. But not mine. I’m still standing, with a fucked up leg and all. While you head into this match with a fucked up brain. Call it even. Let’s talk about it. Let’s talk about these “voices” you hear. This dark passenger, who seemingly grabbed the wheel and took over your career — only to swerve you into the barricade at Game Over. Okay, so what, you’re a lil cuckoo? Shit, for what we do for a living, and with what most of us are willing to give and sacrifice, I think we are all a little bit mad. And yet, even with the man or “god” you present yourself as in current time, there are still people out there that want me to help save you because of the man you used to be. They want me to help you exorcise your demons. When that doesn’t interest me in the slightest. They don’t realize that you are far too gone. There is no fixing you. You are lost. And soon, you will lose everything you “worked” so hard for to be in this position. Such a shame — but not really. Because this has been building and building, between you and me. Something has to give. And what will be given to me, is your Immortal Heavyweight Championship."

VaeVictisBD, Michael Bishop, Alyssa Grace, The Banshee, Darkane, Mark Michaels, Remington Ivory Prescott and have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos August 18th 2022, 9:46 am by **DT The Ruler**

…Along comes a Ruler…

DT The Ruler: If anyone asks, I’m not here…

(DT The Ruler is still in the United States, at one of his homes instead of his office, wearing a bathrobe and slippers. After dealing with several business deals he made over the last few months, he decided it was time to refocus on the next Omega Wrestling Alliance PPV: Game Over. He gave the order to one of his maids while walking over to his Home Theater, sitting down and starting a film. No, it was not on an LED monitor)

Well, well, this should get me in better focus.

Last time I spoke, I was too busy dealing with some of the business deals I was trying to conclude from my time overseas. At that time in my Seattle office, I was just getting to some of the Chinese accounts, but now I’m creating a lot of free time to let more of my thoughts out as I begin to get myself mentally prepared, and despite saying a lot before, I still have a lot to say now.

To start, though…

(DT The Ruler reached into his robe pocket and pulled out a cigar and lighter, getting settled in the chair as the movie continued on)

It would be hard for me to look in the mirror and say I don’t like a good revenge movie. I love seeing those movies for many reasons, but particularly because it always is a testament to what a human- male or female- is willing to physically put themselves through in order to even the playing field. An Eye for an Eye does not leave the World blind, no, because most people do not commit evils great enough for eyes to be taken, despite what happened to one Elle Driver. Revenge is always going to be a Top 5 motivator to why anyone pushes through challenges in front of them, and I understand: few things feel better than seeing those who’ve wrong you taste defeat, experience loss, or even meet with death. Death Wish, Lady Snowblood, Fists of Fury, The Crow, The Godfather, and in some cases Oldboy are some of my favorite ones, as all of them show what that desire to even the score can do to and for a human.

(DT The Ruler lit his cigar and took a puff while the movie was reaching its first action scene)

My personal favorite one is a less spoken of Hong Kong film called Along Comes a Tiger, one where a young boy is forced to witness his father’s murder and then dedicates himself to killing the man responsible. Along the way, he has to kill many connected to that very man who committed the atrocity, and even vowed to remain mute until the day he can exact his revenge. Questionable dubbing aside, this movie is one I immediately thought of when it comes to Mr. Michael Bishop, but unlike the main character known throughout the film as the Miracle Man, Mr. Bishop decided to speak His Truth, which is unfortunate. Mr. Miracle Man understood that silence was golden, and in order to achieve his goal, he needed to exclusively take intelligent but swift action, and the directors understood that casting Mr. Don Wong Tao as the lead would convince the audience that this man was serious about that action.

I dedicate this… conversation… exclusively to you, Mr. Bishop, for several reasons, but one of the main ones is because I attributed your recent movements to movie characters I witnessed. A lot of those characters went to extremes because they had to. Some of those characters had to not just physically inflict pain but like the Miracle Man in this film, they emotionally had to hurt innocent people they met along that path to retribution. Despite the PPV we meet being called Game Over, I know you’re not going in with the same mindset as those who participated in fighting games at the EVO event that passed.

Unfortunately for you… me neither.

Mr. Bishop, need I remind you that despite all of those films I named being very inspiring, very well thought-out and intriguing, with plots that’ll get you to one-up everyone you believe you’re better than, maybe hit the gym and do a few extra reps, all of the main characters of them are not based on reality. When it comes to the horrible moments of my life, I’ve had to accept that reality, too. And in accepting that reality, I had to fight realistically everyday to make sure all of the bad things I’ve experienced I don’t experience again. Few times in life will you get to even the score, but if you ever get the leverage to do so, you should target the right targets. However, you have no leverage here. Not even the OWA World Championships gives you leverage here, Mr. Bishop. In my efforts to become a champion again, I could’ve done much worse to those on the Kingdom brand. And I didn’t, and it happened anyway. But you, Mr. Bishop, I expect you to be a bit better than what you’ve already displayed.

We’ve never really come to blows or met in the ring in a way that’s worth mentioning, but you decided to reach to Clash of the Titans, as well as the way I obtained this very Championship I currently hold, which I understand: you have to grasp for any and every straw to disparage a very capable opponent. First thing I want to do is remind you, Mr. Bishop, of the definition of marginalization, which is talking down to a man who entered number 9 in a Rumble match and made the Top 8 while being…one of the last 10 to enter? What was your position again? Hold up. (DT The Ruler checked his cellphone for his secretary’s old notes about Clash of the Titans 2022) Ah yes…37 of 40! WHAT PERSEVERANCE. EYE OF THE TIGER. YOU REALLY WENT THE DISTANCE! MAN WENT ULTRA INSTINCT TO MAKE IT! Yeah, the bragging rights in regards to your performance compared to what The Ruler did falls short there. But I guess the finer details don’t matter, right? They usually never do; the commoners only care about the Box Score once the dust is settled. You threw Satanic Senn out to get that big win you needed and opportunity, so congrats to you there. But your desire to discount what I did only shows you are not very mindful of your opposition in ways that matter.

Ever since that very night in Brazil, The Ruler has done nothing but prove himself AGAIN for the masses to see where it matters most. Winning Tag Team Warfare that included the Tag Team Champions, coming within inches of becoming Outlaw Champion in one try, not too far off from also gaining the briefcase for one of the main OWA Championships, dominating my Outlaw Title defenses after gaining the belt: all just a small sample size of what I’m capable of. There’s no coincidence as to why I’m suddenly gaining all of these title opportunities, Mr. Bishop, because like you supposedly did: I worked for everything that’s coming my way. Even when no one acknowledges my actions towards greatness, I don’t wait for anyone to make me feel as such. The true greats fight through all challenges, through all adversity, and ultimately get their name etched in stone, no matter how many are willing to watch it happen. You win some, you lose some, but you don’t back away. When all of the many participants of The Clash and Ascension to the Heavens I’ve been against had everything to say outside of Yo Momma jokes about The Ruler, I looked at their broke asses in the face when that bell rang and hit them with the truth, one that showed those idiots that there is clear difference between what they say they’re going to do and what I AM.

I will address one more important thing, Mr. Bishop, and that is your past as Outlaw Champion. Even prior to The Clash, I caught a whiff of your past with the very belt I hold now, and I must say that it is excellent that you added prestige to the belt. A lot of people see my title and the Spartan Championship and automatically turn their noses up, as if being anything but World Champion means they are lesser than. Most of these characters I witness in OWA don’t even deserve to hold the belt that keeps my slacks at my waist, nonetheless a championship belt, but they have everything to say about championships like mine. But I must say, just hearing about what you did when holding my title leaves The Ruler even more confused as to what point you were making in your attempt to place The Ruler lower than yourself. You see, Mr. Bishop, as a Professional Wrestler, the best of them, the ones that actually set new standards, do exactly the type of thing you supposedly did with the Outlaw Title and that is elevate its worth, make it worthwhile to not just see the Champion prance around with a belt but want to fight them for it. For that, I give you a very light Golf Clap, as you did what champions of worth are supposed to do. Maybe if I feel like it later, I’ll jump in the air and click my heels together, but that’s all the kudos you get now. Great wrestlers always stand that way and their mere presence should raise not just the stakes for everyone involved but the overall value of everyone and everything. With that aside…

Let me speak to you from one current Champion to another…

Mr. Bishop, I look at you and hear the rage in your voice; the determination in your mission to avenge your own death sounds great for an afternoon Spaghetti Western. Perfectly logical considering you were just dead. But as a man who desired to become a Champion in this part of the business, you already are slacking when taking the environment into consideration. One of the most important aspects of becoming and being a Champion is being prepared for your opposition, and you clearly were NOT. I want you to look at your recent rival again, a man you still need to get at in Mr. Arata Asakura, and ask yourself a couple of questions, the main one being, “Why did I underestimate the lengths he’d go to stand above me?” You’ve been here in OWA longer than myself, and you allowed this man… this man, one who is an admitted Nationalist, a recognized extremist, now murderer, with a group of blind disciples, loyal henchmen, who all meet at a HEADQUARTERS- not even at a business site or a conference room or whatever- willing to submit to a God figure to destroy your chances at a shining moment.

It's a damn shame.

(DT The Ruler took another puff of his cigar just as one of the minor villains appeared on screen, walking through the town the Miracle Man goes to, and kills a person who challenges his authority after bullying a little kid)

At this point, Mr. Bishop, it goes from being shocking that this man is willing to go to otherworldly lengths to stand above all, to being foolish as to not prepare to better counter him outside having a bunch of homies and the Power of Friendship to stand against that degenerate. I must say that it is impressive that this man, Mr. Arata Asakura, looked down on you so much, thought of himself so much better- despite your victories- that when you finally won over him, he used a wish he could’ve done so much with…to take your life. Now, I don’t know how these wishes work to be honest, but something powerful enough to cause a fatality I imagine can do many other interesting things. I’m assuming Arata could’ve wished to be just given the belt, Hell he could’ve probably wished Hitomi Tanaka sat on his face for all I know. But instead of those options, he was so scarred by you that he thought murder was the best one. Amazing. All the things he could’ve done, and he used his wish to kill you. Mr. Bishop, I hope for your sake you don’t make that mistake again going into Game Over, or else your time near that Championship will be even shorter than it’s already been. You have Mr. Raivo who hates your guts and looks at you as just another undeserving White Boy, standing where he should be at the top of Kingdom’s food chain. You have Mr. Myojin, a follower of your arch-nemesis, looking to gain some semblance of respect back after leaving Final Destination 4 with nothing to show for his yearlong efforts. And then there’s The Ruler, a man that does not mind interrupting the plot to your Lifetime movie in order to regain any resemblance of past glory and become one of the winningest men on the roster in a short time, Mr. Bishop.

I would also like for you to keep this environment in mind, as you’ve been here longer than myself, and I understand the setting a lot better than when I dropped my John Hancock on the dotted line. You see for The Ruler: I’ve only been here close to eight months. That’s not long, and that length is important considering the events that have transpired in OWA. I still have no idea what the Hell was Dimensional Warfare, and that was the show that opened my eyes as to what to expect. I find it rather… unusual… that you still haven’t adapted as you climbed the ladder. That’s not a good showing of a Champion, Mr. Bishop, and that questionable showing continued on when you mentioned your fight career. Yes, that time of your life has some transferable skills, but the Wrestling ring is much more multi-faceted, and the variables change once you face not one opponent but three simultaneously. You should know that after having had to fight both Mr. Arata Asakura and Ms. Azumi Goto. I speak on those things because as a champion, you seem very unaware, not willing to gain the tools needed to counteract the environment’s hazards, as if you developed Tunnel Vision since The Clash, or you’re more meat-headed than you let on.

(The movie cut to a scene where the minor villain was practicing and then met the Miracle Man and fought him one-on-one, only to meet his eventual death after a lengthy but one-sided battle)

Ah, this part is pretty good. One of the most interesting characters in terms of presence meets his end. The man couldn’t even wash his own blood away from his hands before death. That’s the beautiful thing about revenge in films: it’s pretty deserved. Unfortunately, I’ll emphasize once again that this is a movie. At Game Over, I’m not going into that PPV to act out a very well-choreographed fight to the death with you, Mr. Bishop. I have one main mission in mind and that is to leave as Champion, with your belt being the focus. Much to your credit: you fought from the bottom of the pile of OWA crap and I get why you’re angry; it’s justified. But when it comes to what happens from bell to bell, the story in the ring is not as beautiful as what a Hollywood-esque screenwriter creates. The Wrestling ring is brutal and heartless, neutral in how it feels about circumstances, unfeeling when it comes to life stories. And with the repertoire I possess, the power I impose in that very ring, you’re going to have to bring yourself very close to that deathbed in order to stand a chance. My many battles of the past and understanding of the present already affords me the knowledge and ability to stand atop Kingdom as its main Champion. And make no mistake: I will push hard to become champion once again.

So, if you really want to fight, if you really want to try me where it matters most: bring your fighting spirit and anger and hatred and angst and come at me. Try your best but come prepared, Mr. Bishop. Because for you I absolutely will be, as I am for everyone else! Sympathy, empathy, concern, remorse: NONE OF THAT MATTERS WHEN YOU’RE IN A FIGHT. Maybe after I take your belt to add to my collection, I’ll shed a tear and wipe it away with a few hundred-dollar bills.

But for the time being, your Master and Ruler feels nothing.

Scott Oasis, Alyssa Grace, The Banshee, Elijah Hampton, Remington Ivory Prescott, "Killer Bee" and Chad Ecclestone have spoken. It’s such good shit!

“What are we, to all of you?

Let it hang in the air for a moment. Marinate on it. Think about it. Contemplate it. Take your deep breaths and exhale, then come back.

Clear-headed? Ready to go?

Good.

You’re going to need to be nothing less than that, but to get this far I’d assume that you know that. You four-you may’ve made it this far, may’ve qualified in the same way that we did, but the real challenge begins now. The leadup, the preparation, the mental gymnastics undertaken to understand the reality of what waits before you. We are going to bring you war that you’ve never seen before. We are going to bring you the fight of a fucking lifetime. We are going to enter with our two sets of championships strapped around our throats, on our waists, or over our shoulders, and we will walk out with another pair strapped wherever we can fucking find room for them.

Why’s that?

Because we are the Power of Incredible Violence.

More than that moniker, though, we are everything. The progenitor of this tag team division, the heavy-breathing mother which spilled this all forth from itself, creating something beautiful in an act of crimson destruction and carnal rage. We’ve already proven how fucking serious we are with what we do, how intensely we take all of this shit, the lengths that we’re willing to go to in order to secure our place in the fucking history books. We are the real fucking deal, and we’re more serious than a god-damned Widowmaker Heart Attack-something you’ll be assured of when we send your cold frames back to whatever spouses wait for you behind dirty windows, or watch you from behind rusted barricades.

We are the fucking pinnacle.

Ruthless and violent by the nature of our creation, the genesis of the bond between Grace and I was that we’d grown tired of beating the ever-living shit out of eachother, sharpening our iron on one another, that we opted to take that wrath to others. We won our first match after delivering a deluge of violence as of yet unseen to two championship hopefuls in APEX, carried a set of belts that we’d liberated from another brand in to seek challengers to defend them against, and defend them we did. In a brutal contest, our newfound partnership was put to the test, and we passed with flying fucking colors, even putting one half of the other OWA Tag Team Champions in the fucking DIRT in the process of getting there. We carried those fucking pounds of gold on our shoulder, and we’ll defend them with every breath until the fucking wheels fall off.

We can say the asme for the SSW Tag Team Championships-which sit, proudly, upon our shoulders, liberated from their prior names alongside a name that was doing little other than collecting dust. We made our mark-in two of our four matches thus far as a team, we have walked away with gold. We have become kings-no, Gods in just a few short moments. What takes some teams entire careers took us THREE FUCKING MATCHES, and we are not stopping anytime soon.

Not for our detractors, who’ve tried so desperately to tear us down before we’ve gotten moving. Not for our watchers, who want to see us get back to the solo stage-but why would we, when we’ve found so much success here, when we’ve found a bond deeper than blood? Especially not for the four of you, who’ve found yourself on quite the precipice, staring down the twin barrels of a loaded shotgun, trying to keep your fingers off the trigger but knowing the inevitability of the moment is the buckshot travelling up those barrels shredding all that you are and have ever been to a thousand pieces and painting the fucking walls with your remnants.

Why is it inevitable, you ask?

Because you stand before two of the best on the goddamned planet. You’ve made it through the gauntlet to get here, and you think you’ve accomplished something, but you’ve just become the first four sheep to cross the threshold to the slaughterhouse. You’ll be an example-just as Diantha and Havoc were, just as Reigner and Ruri were-corpses left in the wake of destruction left in a deluge of Incredible Violence. Take some solace in the fact that you won’t be forgotten, you get to be a fucking part of something, a willing participant in the birth of a movement, an aspect of a moment in history that’ll be remembered forever-fucking more.

But let’s get to the brass tacks of it, shall we?

Bad Meets Evil. Parlor tricks and bullshit. Terror on the fucking walls, and we’re left to clean up whatever refuse you’ve dragged out by pretending that you’re owed a fucking spot in this match. Give me a break. Over in APEX, I’ve been wasting my fucking time fighting someone who thinks that she’s the reincarnation of Michael fucking Myers, and now I have to do that shit here, too. You two witchy cunts think that you have a chance in Hell at walking out with those belts, of course, but why? Because your fucking tarot deck told you that things came up in your way? Because you beat one team to get this far, and so it’ll be easy to plow through the remaining two?

Think again.

We ain’t pushovers, and I’m not saying that to imply that you are, either, because you’re clearly not to make it this far. Hell, Violet scares the absolute shit out of me, but fortunately I’ve fought a few fucking giants in my time and I know how to cut them down. You may have carved out a path of destruction to get here, staked claim and pushed ahead of Ellie, BIANCA, Ruri, Remi and all the others to get into this match, but it’s a gamble you’ll surely regret taking, because this ain’t yours.

It’s ours.

Brute force will get you so far, and the spirits you pray to can’t save you from the violence that we’re bringing down upon you, incredible in nature and unbelievable in volume. When I think about this coming bout, the ramifications of it all, the fact that in front of a packed fucking crowd, Alyssa and I will be walking out with gold on our shoulders at your expense…I can scarcely breathe.

You know why?

True art like what you’re going to witness from the two of us doesn’t take chance and circumstance, a team like ours wasn’t formed out of necessity, but a desire to push further, to go harder, to try and become Gods in any fucking way that we fucking could. Alyssa and I beat seven shades of shit out of each other in the past, we felt one another inside and out in our combat techniques, we chased the fucking sun in each and every bout we competed in, and we almost fucking had it time and time again. We forged a bond in blood, and we intend to come correct when we walk into this bout, we intend to carry that shit forward, we intend to WIN, to crush each and every piece of opposition against us.

Bad Meets Evil, eh? That’s fine. We know there’s only one true way to crush something evil, to banish it from this world, to put the heel of your boot against the back of its skull and crush it into the fucking cement. True evil forms in this world every day, and it’s not waited out, it’s not outlasted, it doesn’t leave, it fucking takes root. You could do that, too, you could grab these belts and carve a legacy across Odyssey that you two are Queen Shit on the fucking mountain, but you won’t. You won’t get the chance to seed this Earth, you won’t get the chance to start something new, you won’t get the opportunity to prove to the world that you can do more than what’s been given to you so far.

You are going to run headfirst into a fucking wall, and that wall is the two of us. You will try, I assume, so fucking hard to survive, but you will not. You can not. You will falter, you will fall, and you’ll get a kick in the fucking skull for your troubles, send you packing.

You’ll get a round of applause for your effort if you impress, though. So bring the fucking fight either way, eh?

As for our other opponents…clever, trying to stab a dagger into the heart of what we’ve done elsewhere. Kurosawa’s cute little dig seems to have stuck out in my mind in the past few days-the Real Corsairs, eh? You think that you’ve got a leg up because you managed to put away the dregs of the dregs, the fucking cunt-drippings of something that my mentor created and some tall, thin twig managed to appropriate into a brand that he ‘carried’ on his shoulders just as actively as he carried those SSW Tag Team Championships. Honestly, if Noah Reigner was defending that pirate namesake as much as he was defending those belts-he lost that shit on his own accord, entirely. You call ‘em real, we call ‘em dead, and since they wanted to play pirates and fly a Jolly Roger, we can play by their fucking rules;

YOU KEEP WHAT YOU KILL.

We put the Corsairs in the dirt, and that was an effort. Alyssa and I damn near died trying to put Ruri and Reigner out in that ladder match, and based on her performance in this tournament it seems like we stomped what was left of the Kitsune’s fighting spirit out, too. If the two of you managed to sprint forward and beat them, well…I’m unsure that what you consider the real Corsairs even truly exists anymore. Flags can change ownership, names can be taken, and the ‘true form’ reveals itself in time.

But this ain’t really about Corsairs, is it? The Corsairs aren’t the faction that holds two sets of tag team gold upon their shoulders. We may be part of ‘em, but in this realm we’re TPOIV, nothing more and nothing less. What are you to us? Two upstarts who got lucky? Two competitors who found themselves an opportunity to scavenge, to feed off the remnants of battle-worn veterans who couldn’t put up a fucking fight? At least Bad Meets Evil had to fight their way in-you two got lucky. You think that luck’ll carry you to the championships at Game Over, you’re dead fucking wrong-I’d argue that you spent all of it to get this far, and that it’s full and clearly run out.

Just like you.

This team of yours, happenstance bullshit that it is, already burnt through the limited fuel you had to get here. Stepping into the ring against kings of this division, this corner of the industry, that’s gonna be a bad fucking move for you. It doesn’t bode well for your career prospects, your continued time in OWA, your physical well-being...Alyssa and I don’t leave bodies whole, not anymore. We don’t leave remnants to drag themselves together and come after us, we finish jobs when we start them, and we move onto the next targets. Over and fucking over again, we pursue glory and we focus, whole-heartedly and intensely, on greatness.

You are not that.

The two of you won’t even be a footnote in the dialecticals of this fucking reign, because you haven’t yet earned that spot, nor will you. The only outcome here is death-not a tight fucking showing, not a solid outing, but an unending deluge of violence that results in the crushing of your skulls and the losing of what you are, the disassembly of you on a subatomic level by the force of extreme and excessive violence that is myself. The most rub you’ll get out of this is a sense of euphoria during the few moments that your brain shuts itself off when both of Alyssa’s feet dig into the base of your skull and press your fucking reset button.

Coming here was a fool’s errand-for all four of you, really, but especially for the two of you. This isn’t yours to take. This isn’t your match to partake in. You should savor those moments you had striking Violet and Marie from behind, those seconds that your hands held high in the air and your hopes ran deep-because that’s the last fucking hope you’ll feel related to this fight.

It damn well may be the last hope you feel in this promotion.

Grace and I are in the business of making history, holding three consecutive sets of tag team championships and carrying the banners of the companies we represent from place to fucking place, match to fucking match, challenging the best of the best-that’s what we do. That’s what we’re going to continue doing. This is just a stop on our road to glory, and while we’re not deluding ourselves about the talent of our competitors, we’re also not pretending that we’re not ready to give this our all. We’re not deluding ourselves into thinking this is a cakewalk-quite the fucking opposite, we want a goddamned war and we want to spill all the blood that we can fucking spill. We want the gore and the carnage and the tongue and the teeth, we want it all.

We want to fulfill this God Vision, and we don’t do that by taking it easy.

When the four of you step up to the plate, you lambs step through the threshold to face the meat grinder, press your forehead to the cattle-gun and Cross the Rubicon into this next chapter of not just your lives but of Odyssey as a whole-know that you’re part of something. If you keep any thought in your head after the beating you receive, let it be that, that this matters, that even when you don’t walk away with gold on your shoulder or around your throat or waist as Alyssa and I will, you’ve still made history. You’ve still stood toe to toe with TPOIV at the rising action of a meteoric hero’s tale, and you may even live to tell the tale yet.

Be proud of that.

As you move forward in your career and join a list of names that grows larger and larger, a pile of corpses discarded on our path to Valhalla, know that you were among the first. Know that you were a catalyst for this action, a quick-spark to further ignite a fuse burning down a powder keg of rage and industry change. Know that you may have had the illusion of choice, a chance to stop all of this, to stab a stake into the heart of the beast that’s going to stand at the top of this industry for a long fucking time, but you never really could have altered the course of history. This shit’s set in stone, written in the stars, a destiny achieved by two souls intertwined. Not a solitary action could have derailed us, and none of the four of you could have made this any less likely than it already was.

It is, as it tends to be, preordained.

Alyssa and I have a grand plan, a machination in mind, a course of action to take that sets us on a path to permanent, ever-lasting glory. It starts here, with the grasping of the women’s tag team championships, the first two to ever do so within OWA, and proceeds well fucking onward. You’re gonna see a fucking legend being made, eh? You’re gonna see, firsthand, that blood’s well fucking thicker than water.

You’ll see that firsthand, full fucking force, before you falter and fail.

For us, it’ll be a night of glory and gold, but for the four of you?

It’ll be Game Over.”

VaeVictisBD, Michael Bishop, Bobby Wheeler, Jeff X, Alyssa Grace, Remington Ivory Prescott, "Killer Bee" and have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos August 17th 2022, 2:29 pm by **SKazama**

- - - - - - - - - -

OWA Kingdom - Sunday, August 7th, 2022

- - - - - - - - - -

- - - - - - - - - -

Even in the evening hours, the warm air of late summer brushes throughout the Guangdong Olympic Stadium. The only reprieve for the attendees of OWA’s Kingdom event is the slightly cooler breeze that is blowing through due to the scattered rain storms in the area.

’I’ve…missed this.’

Matthew Kazama, known to the professional wrestling world as Silver Kazama, sits among the crowd at the floor level. A plain black t-shirt and a pair of basketball shorts are his attire of choice, with a baseball cap that rests on his head to help shy away any unwanted attention. If one was to ask the man what drew him to this event, and at this time…he could not tell you.

’How do you explain to someone that you felt something pulling at your every instinct to be here?’

Shaking the thoughts from his mind, he settles into his seat and tosses a piece of popcorn into his mouth while taking in his surroundings. The familiar atmosphere of the spectacle that is professional wrestling warms his very soul as a small grin spreads across his face. His eyes roam from one row of stands to the next. The world around him moves at a steady, forever constant, pace as he absorbs the peace among the chaos of it all.

And then he feels it.

The chill that crawls up his skin, from his heels up to the base of his neck, causes him to twitch ever so slightly. The dark tattoo that rests ever-present over his heart and up to his left shoulder flares slightly, making him rub it slightly as the lights dim and the low hum of the speaker system fills the area.

’Something’s coming.’

The lights go out and white strobe lights take their place as an electronic introduction riff blasts through the sound system. A lone figure stands on the stage and resonates what can only be described as power.

Rita Gonzalez: And also representing Team 1, from Omaha, Nebraska, weighing in at two-hundred and forty-four pounds…”The Black Blade”... David! Gideeoooonnnnn! SMIIIIIIIITH!

The man on the stage starts to move towards the ring as Kazama’s eyes hone in on him. As the lighting shifts in the stadium, recognition graces Silver’s features. Watching the man make his way to the ring, he looks as stoic as ever. One could even say more so now than ever before. Rising to his feet, Kazama munches on his popcorn a bit more as the bell rings and the match begins. His eyes stay focused on the ring as he leans back in his chair.

’Something’s different.’

David’s movement is just as decisive as he remembers. It’s the power behind them that makes Kazama’s eyebrow quirk up slightly and the dark black ink on his chest swell in delight. He rubs at his chest absently when the thought hits him. His eyes widen and his breathing begins to quicken. The world around him seems to turn into a blur as the black ink across his chest begins to grow and spread ever so slightly across the back of his shoulder and down his tricep.

’David…what have you done?’

The sound of the stadium fades to muffled silence as Kazama watches Smith’s every move. Every harsh sound of his strikes connecting pierces through the muffled silence as Silver studies his fiercest rival’s movement in the ring.

Click…

Clack…

Click…

Clack…

The slow clacking of dress shoes hitting the floor in a slow stride reaches his ears, but his eyes do not move away from the ring.

”You can sense it. You’re becoming more in tune with it if you’re able to tell this quickly.”

Kazama’s eyes slowly turn from David to the source of the voice. An older gentleman dressed in a neatly tailored suit stands next to him, looking at the ring almost fondly. With a content sigh, the man sits down in the empty chair to the left of Silver. Kazama’s eyes narrow at the man, his fist balling slightly as his hands rest atop his knees. The man notices and lets out a soft chuckle.

”Come, now. We both know better.”

”What do you want? What did you do?”

A laugh this time, full with mirth and arrogance.

”I, my boy, did nothing. He made a deal, just like your family. Well….not your family…despite their blood in you now.”

Kazama’s eyes turn back to the ring, and like a shade lifted from his eyes, he can really see it now. The aura. The darkness radiating off Smith. It’s almost suffocating, taking it all in at once. Silver’s eyes look to his left at the man next to him.

”You’re telling me you had nothing to do with this? Really? This has you written all over it.”

The man turns his gaze from the ring to properly take him in for the first time. Dark red eyes meet bright blue ones, and silence reigns for a moment before the man turns his fiery gaze back to the ring.

”Foolish boy, just like your brothers, always dealing in absolutes. Look at him. Look at it. Does it feel anything like what’s inside you right now?”

He didn’t have to look. Kazama shakes his head before turning his attention back to the ring.

”Not even close. This is…bigger. But how is that possible? You’re…well.”

A bark of laughter from the man as he raises an eyebrow, humor written on his face as he spares Kazama a single glance.

”The Devil?”

Kazama nods his head as his tattoo flares again. Then he feels it, the cool touch of a ghost of a finger grazing his shirt where the ink laid beneath. Despite the cool touch, his skin flares as the tattoo practically sings in delight at the touch from its creator.

”Yes…A shame you’ve…shackled my Gene this way. The power you could possess…your brother knew it.”

Gritting his teeth, Kazama pulls his shoulder away from him, relishing the feel of the flaring tattoo resting once more.

”This gift is what killed Jin.”

”I wasn’t talking about Jin.”

Kazama’s head snaps from the ring to the man. His eyes narrow as a low growl escapes from his throat.

”If you’re trying to sell me on Kise even entertaining you, you’re out of your fucking mind.”

Infuriatingly, the being better known as Lucifer shrugs his shoulders as he clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

”Regardless, the point is moot now. They’re dead, and you’re the one who possessed my Gene. But this? This…is far more beautiful than I imagined it would be.”

”So, if not you, then who?”

Red eyes meet his gaze once more, and Kazama is the one to flinch away first this time.

”You humans…so desperate to know…yet understand so little. The Cosmos is unfathomable to your fragile minds.”

Kazama’s eyebrows raise once more as he regards Lucifer cautiously.

”You’re saying there’s higher plateaus than you and…well…God, I guess?”

The low, humorless laugh that comes from Lucifer’s mouth causes Kazama to shudder. The rushing sound of the stadium rushes to meet his ears as Lucifer’s last words barely whisper into his ear.

”Everyone works for someone, Kazama.”

Looking to his left, the Banished Angel is gone and only the full Olympic Stadium remains.

- - - - - - - - - -

- - - - - - - - - -

Later That Same Night - August 7th, 2022

- - - - - - - - - -

- - - - - - - - - -

Sharing a locker room with someone for years becomes quite useful when you’re attempting to find them in a crowded event such as this one. Leaning against the wall near the talent’s exit at the back of the arena, Kazama adjusts his cap slightly as his eyes linger in the direction of the locker room.

’Come on, Smith. We both know you never stick around long.’

He shifts against the wall, absently massaging the spot on his shoulder from earlier. He narrows his eyes slightly in thought, contemplating what Lucifer spoke about, before scoffing and shaking his head. The sound of footsteps to his right makes him turn his head. There, coming fresh from the locker room, David Gideon Smith strides purposefully towards his desired location; the exit. Resolving himself and nodding to himself, Kazama pushes himself off the wall to face his rival. His arms still crossed neatly across his chest, he raises one hand to remove the baseball cap from his head.

”It’s nice to see you haven’t missed a step, David.”

His tone comes out casual as Smith’s eyes find him for the first time in over two years. Recognition flashes across the man’s stoic features as he slows his stride. The two men stop a few feet apart from each other, their eyes locked on the other and the feel of the air around them shifts slightly.

”Matthew. What are you doing here?”

Kazama shrugs with one shoulder, playing it off slightly from the offset.

”Oh, you know me. I was just in the area.”

”Bullshit.”

”You’re not wrong.”

The accusatory tone in David’s voice causes Kazama’s eyebrow to quirk slightly. The casual grin falls off his face as he regards David. Saying nothing, David’s eyes narrow slightly as if trying to solve the puzzle himself while waiting for an explanation to the original question.

”Something…told me to come here. What happened, David? What did you do?”

For a split second he sees David’s eyes marginally widen before this mask of composure washes over his features. With a humph and a small head shake, Smith continues his stride, moving next to Silver.

”I’ve done nothing more than what’s necessary.”

Kazama’s arm reaches out, clasping David’s shoulder to stop him. In that moment, a shot of electricity fires through both men. Kazama’s eyes narrow slightly as David stops, not even sparing him a glance. The exit door opens behind him, and a strong gust of wind pushes through the hall past the two.

”Let. Go.”

”David…Whatever it is you’re dabbling with…it doesn’t end well. Trust me.”

This time David’s eyes turn towards him. A piercing, icy glare etched across his face as he repeats himself in a low whisper.

”I said…Let. Go.”

Kazama nods his head in resignation as he releases the larger man’s shoulder. He looks towards the locker room, his back to David as he lets out a soft sigh.

”I can sense it, David. These things…they don’t just affect the deal maker. It affects everything. Everyone.”

There’s a slight pause before the sound of David continuing his walk out the building echoes throughout the hall.

”Stay away, Matthew. Get in my way, and you’ll lose it all.”

Kazama’s head turns around slightly, only to see him already gone. A soft shuddering sigh escapes from his lips as he looks towards the locker room and offices in front of him.

”I already have…”

He stands there for a moment, almost unsure of himself as he looks ahead. Then, after what feels like forever, his eyes narrow and his fists ball at his sides. With one final resolute nod, Kazama takes a step forward. Instead of walking towards the exit, he strides deeper into the backstage area towards the management offices.

- - - - - - - - - -

- - - - - - - - - -

Two Days Later - August 9th, 2022

- - - - - - - - - -

- - - - - - - - - -

”Even as recently as a month ago, If you had asked me if I would ever wrestle again…I wouldn’t have been able to answer you. This business…this life…it takes so much of you. I’m getting ahead of myself, aren’t I?”

A soft sigh comes from his mouth as he stares down at the camera in front of him. The small red light indicates that he is recording, as he takes his seat in his chair. His elbows rest on his knees, his hands folding neatly together beneath his chin as he smiles.

”You all will have to excuse me. I’m a little rusty at this bit, and as much as I wish it were, this is unavoidable. But nevermind me, this stuff is like riding a bike, and I’ve had the training wheels off for quite a number of years now. No…let’s talk about you all. That is what you’re waiting for, is it not?”

Silver Kazama, freshly signed with Omega Wrestling Alliance, takes a brief moment to scan around his office. His eyes roam across multiple pieces of wrestling memorabilia throughout the years before returning his focus to the camera across from him.

”I’m sure you all have a lot of questions. I know I would if I were you. Hell, even on my end of things, I have questions. There’s been a lot of talk over the last few years about me, hasn’t there? Speculation. Rumor. Innuendo. I’ve heard everything from ‘he’s fallen out of love with this business,’ to ‘he doesn’t have it anymore.’ Through it all, I have been radio silent. Not because of arrogance or because of some misguided belief that you don’t deserve to have this curtain peeled back…”

He leans back, running both hands through his hair before he folds his arms across his chest.

”It’s because, in a way, both statements were true. From two thousand and four until two thousand and fourteen, I’d given everything to this business. I scratched and I clawed, owed absolutely nothing, and I forced this business to look at me as how my family always saw me. Worth it. Worth the time. Worth the investment. Worth the backing. Worth all the bullshit that goes on when the lights are off. And it happened. It happened when I beat Dominic Mazzio for the EHWF World Championship. It happened again when I won it back at Scars & Stripes. Until…it stopped happening.”

A hand comes up to rub his face as he shakes his head.

”I became jaded…numb to it all. Despite the work, despite the success, it just all felt hollow, and what you all saw from me suffered because of it. Nothing seemed to stick. Complacency turned to bitterness. Bitterness turned to anger. Anger turned to rage…and then I left.”

Kazama stands from his seated position, pacing left and right slightly as he considers his next words.

”At first, being away from all of this, it felt really good. It felt nice to be able to sit at home with my wife and son. It felt good not to miss holidays, or birthdays, his first day of school. Hell, I’ll be honest, it still feels really good. But…it doesn’t feel complete.”

Pushing a finger into the center of his chest, he taps the area of his heart a few times before sighing.

”For the last six months, hell, for the last year, I fought against it. I didn’t want to tell my wife that her husband was going back on the road. I didn’t want to tell my son that daddy’s going to miss some things. Hell, I don’t want to. But I have to tell them, because I will. I will, because last week the urge became something that could no longer be ignored. This feeling…this fire inside my chest can’t be smothered with my daily life.”

Silver glaces to his left, to the door that is out of view of the camera. He casts a forlorn smile in the direction he knows to be his son’s bedroom.

”It wouldn’t feel right, though, to come back without addressing all of you, without explaining, or without apologizing.”

He turns his attention back to the camera. His eyes alight, and his voice thick with emotion.

”I’m sorry…to each and every one of you. I’m sorry for the betrayal of trust. I’m sorry for the disappointment and failed expectations. I’m sorry…for all of it, really. Today is a new beginning. Today is a new day. Today, I am officially a signed talent for Omega Wrestling Alliance, and coming up at Game Over, I am one of six competitors for the Icarus Championship.”

A louder chuckle escapes Kazama’s throat as he shakes his head almost in disbelief.

”This opportunity…This chance at making up for past wrongs…to fill the burning emptiness inside…I do not take it lightly, nor do I take it for granted. I know that not everyone walks into a company like this and receives an opportunity as such. Nor am I arrogant enough to think that it is an opportunity only afforded to me. What I am, however, is a man who is going to seize what’s in front of him and make the most out of it.”

He lets his arms fall, one clenching into a light fist as he holds the other out open palmed towards the camera, as if offering to take someone’s hand.

”I cannot do this alone. So I’m asking you, every last one of you. From the ones who I let down when I left, to the ones who I proved right by falling off the horse. Take my hand, come with me. One more time.”

- - - - - - - - - -

END

- - - - - - - - - -

Like a moth to the flame. Dance, little Kazama. Dance amongst all that power. Let it was over you and feed that which you choose to starve. Soon my wonderful creation...soon.

Stark, J.D. Damon, Alyssa Grace, Remington Ivory Prescott, Chad Ecclestone and DGS have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos August 17th 2022, 5:17 am by **Krysis**

On a Mission

Game Over V #1

August 17, 2022
9:46am
Training Facility days before Game Over V

After losing the 6-Women Tag match, Devi has parked her car, got out of it, wearing nothing but her training gear with the focus look on her face as she walks towards the training facility and enters. When she entered she saw her dad, Mr. Krysis and his students knowing that Devi needed to be prepared to keep her Lethal Sparks Championship and unify the OWA Openweight Championship.

...You know…I'm gonna pretend that Angelina Magnum pinned me last night.

Devi is in the locker room getting ready to train with her father and his training students. As she laid her head in the locker.

I'm going to pretend that I partnered with not one…but two champions…TWO CHAMPIONS!! Two champions that already made the alliance, and acclaimed that this…THIS..is there era, this is there "So-Called" Thotyssey Era! Devi got her head off the locker and start walking out the locker room and ready for training You know this teamwork could have worked if Filth and Felix wouldn't be so stubborn T.H.O.T.S and I was off my game a little and now Daisy Thrash is somewhere smiling and she got the momentum headed for the 3-Way match, well what happened at the end of Odyssey before Game Over V huh? While I was down for the count both Rebecca Filth and Felix Hartley already standing tall, and already that I'm already in the state of mind that I'm gonna have to win this match…

Training is already in progress, as Devi striking on heavy bag, jabbing on the speed bag, evading striking, doing push-ups, practicing grappling, hitting weights, etc.

*sigh* I can’t look at myself in the fucking mirror knowing that Devi Krysis is complete and uttered failure, and total loser, a fucking loser that holds the LAW Lethal Sparks Championship like it's a constellation prize, like it's a toy belt that people buy it on Ebay, NO! It's a title built on the legacy of one lady….Brody Sparks! And Daisy Thrash has much as I cared about your fucking history about her cause I never been to EAW like you, Serena Bennett, and Felix Hartley did, Yes you're only person who shares a locker room, but never been part of the Brody Sparks Tribute show. Because I debuted after all that happened. But when I came to LAW, and won the Spark Cup Battle Royal at Lethal Hearts, I was awarded with the Lethal Sparks Championship and Monica Vaughn trusted me to hold this belt and I did, I've being a fighting champion, defending in ppvs against ⅔ of Princess of Wrestling successfully! So Daisy you can go ahead and act like my promo doesn't mean shit, keep calling me names, slapping me with insults and what not. But I lost focus after all that happen in the 6-Women Tag match, I got careless that's all is.

Devi had finished her today's training, she headed to locker room and hit the showers.

And now…that you come at me, spouting nonsense, how am i failing to live up to the legacy of Brody Sparks by holding "THIS" Lethal Sparks Championship! I mean you right, I used her signature Seeing Sparks. But that didn't stop the crowd from chanting her name. And let's be honest Daisy, enlighten me, do I see you do one of Brody Sparks moves like I did? Nope! Do the crowd chant Brody Sparks name when someone like you Daisy uses her Moves as a tribute like I did? Absolutely not! But one thing that I won’t allowed is Brody Sparks legacy be disrespected and tainted by someone who shares a locker room with her and sure as hell by someone who having a live sex orgy with Rebecca Filth and the bunch of undead freaks that The Banshee unleashed. That would be you Felix Hartley!

Devi has got out the shower, dry herself up and put on her casual clothes as she grabs her LAW Lethal Sparks Championship out of her locker and look at it.

Now champ, I'm pretty sure that you and Filth are pretty good right now, after my poor performance in the 6-Women Tag Team match, you must be proud that Angelina Magnum pinned me and not Daisy right? You must have been after that post-match beatdown that you gave them and I'm glad that I didn't take the wrath for both you ladies because I want to head to South Korea, 100 percent so I can't wait to embarrassed you Felix and Daisy and unify both titles and no I'm not putting on OnlyFilth page, cause I don't have it, and I don't want the Lethal Sparks Championship being violated, cause I want to prove to Stephanie Matsuda, Monica Vaughn, my former boss Madam Vega, Jeff X, Alyssa Grace, and even NAMI that I'll live up the legacy for Brody Sparks for many years and years to comes. So when I win and unify both of the championship, people will not treat this legacy like a joke, I'll take on all challengers like NAMI did to her OWA Goddess Championship, Filth and Felix can start there pornhub with all of his jerkoff friends and Daisy well…I don't know what your future holds after Game Over.

Regardless, the Lethal Sparks Championship will remains with me and the OWA Openweight Championship will come home to me and I might figure out a new name when unify both OWA Openweight and LAW Lethal Sparks Championship. Clock is already ticking on your title reign Felix and Thotyssey Era will the end!

Screen fade black.

Michael Bishop, Stark, Jeff X, Alyssa Grace, The Banshee, Remington Ivory Prescott, "Killer Bee" and have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos August 17th 2022, 1:48 am by **Daisy Thrash**

With the click of the lock, the hotel room door swings open to reveal Daisy Thrash wearing a sports bra and leggings. Breathing deeply, she hauls herself inside and collapses back first on the bed. After a few moments, she pulls out her phone and opens up Spotify. She pulls up the Deftones’ White Pony album and sets it to play. The music plays softly in her AirPods as she gazes up at the ceiling.

“Hey, you. It’s Daisy. From Empire, all that time ago. Don’t know if you remember me or not. I mean, I don’t even know if you can hear me right now. I’ll admit that I’m not really the spiritual type. I might just be the crazy lady talking to the ceiling. Oh well, I’ve been worse. Might as well update you on our, well, mostly your friends. Believe it or not, Aria and Aren are having a baby. Crazy, right? I’m sure you would’ve been the first pick for the godmother. Tarah opened up her own promotion, Slaughterhouse Wrestling. Horror and hardcore focused, of course. Joined up for a bit before it got put on hiatus. You should’ve seen it. There was a deathmatch in an aquarium! Bitches got slapped with stingrays! Bet you would’ve loved it. No need to worry about Monica, she’s being very well taken care of. Cloud went ahead and retired, heard they’re settling down in Japan. Oh, and Cloud’s a commentator for us now. She replaced another woman named Ashley Walker.”

Daisy releases a long sigh before continuing.

“Fucking general manager went and got her killed. I’m sure she’s wherever you are now. If you see her, could you tell her that Daisy says hi? And that she’s sorry.”

A gulp.

“Anyway, you’re probably wondering why this nobody you barely knew is reaching out now. Lemme try and give you the short version. In LAW, they came up with a championship for rookies. Called it the Lethal Sparks Championship. Made, of course, in tribute to you. Then LAW went the way of the dinosaur and that championship fell into limbo. Until now. I thought I was just competing for the Openweight Championship. Then the Sparks Champion jumps in and puts her belt on the line, too. Now this match is even more complicated. And more meaningful. It’s no longer about just being a champion, it’s about protecting a legacy. Your legacy. Nevertheless, I’m ready to step up and be who the Lethal Sparks Championship needs. I’m not gonna try and be you, I know better. You’d probably slap me in the face if I even tried. When you went out there, you were always nothing but yourself. You carved your own path no matter what anyone else had to say. That’s something I always admired about you. That, and the fact that you could have easily bullied me and never did. I appreciate that more than you’ll ever know. I just wish…I wish there had been more time. I wish I could’ve seen what you would’ve become. I wish you could’ve seen what I’ve become. I’ve been chasing that Openweight Championship for so long now. Now that it’s going to be unified, I know it’s now or never. When I go into the match, I’ve got to be 100% involved. I can’t afford to lose focus. I can’t leave any openings, all my moves have to be crisp and clean. I’m not afraid to put in the work. I want you to be proud that someone like me serves as your legacy’s guardian. Hope I can represent the 206 just as well as you did.”

Daisy wipes away a stray tear.

“Ok, I have got to take a shower now. The cleaning staff might charge me extra to deal with my smell!”

Daisy stops the music. She places her phone and earbuds on the bedside table.

“Good night, Brody.”

*******

I told you. I told all of you that you couldn’t keep me down. I took blows from all three of you and kicked out of every single one. Even had you all coming at me at once, I didn’t even think of backing down. I handled it, and we won. Yeah, yeah, I know Angelina was the one who got the pin. But she never would’ve done it without me. Thank me in your Razzies speech, Magnum. I went ahead and lended the Banshee a hand too. Since I beat the crap out of Rebecca, she’ll have that much easier of a time cleaning up and plucking that Women’s Championship right off Filth’s waist. Because I’m such a giving person, I’m going to give the OWA faithful something they’ve waited far too long for. They’ll finally have an Openweight Champion they can be proud of. Not to mention, Brody Sparks will have a champion that she deserves. Not some high school mean girl or a wet blanket. It’ll be another tough, gritty bitch from Seattle who isn’t afraid to crack a few heads to taste some gold.

Out of the three of us, I’m the only one who was ever fortunate enough to share a locker room with the late, great Brody Sparks. As brief as it was, I can’t deny that she had an impact both on me and the wrestling world at large. Not only was she a one-of-a-kind personality, but she could go between the ropes. If she had been in that chamber match, she would have become EAW Women’s Champion for sure. I remember being backstage during her tribute show. All the chants of “Thank You Brody'' rocked the arena. I couldn’t help but think to myself that this is how I want to be remembered. Not for the number of championships or sponsor deals I had, but for making a statement. For being a unique, undeniable force of nature that people would never forget. That journey starts with the Openweight Championship and, of course, the Lethal Sparks Championship. It starts with me conquering the two of you at Game Over.

Ugh, I can already hear that hyena-on-crack laugh of yours, Felix. I can’t possibly defeat you since you’re so dominant, right? Yeah, it didn’t look that way on Odyssey. It seems like you and your Thotyssey bestie actually, gasp, lost. Who scored the finishing blow, again? Oh yeah, it was me. Impossible things really do happen every day. I can’t wait for your excuse train to leave the station. “But, but, Devi was the one who got pinned!” “Me and Rebecca aren’t weak! Look at the temper tantrum we had after the match!” Dude, you lost. Deal with it. It’ll give you some good practice for Game Over. Oh wait, I can’t win because I’m “ugly”, right? I don’t fit the arbitrary American beauty standards. How super duper sad. Men don’t objectify me. Oh noes, whatever will I do without precious male attention? Probably the same things I’ve been doing, but with a little more beating the brakes off you. Interesting that we’re doing this match in South Korea. Turns out there’s a feminist movement over there called Escape The Corset. It’s all about refusing to conform to the ridiculously rigid beauty standards in Korean culture. Even in the plastic surgery capital of the world, there are still those fighting back against the industry. If women in an even more conservative country than the USA push back against patriarchal beauty crap, don’t act so surprised that I can push back too. You know what true power is? It’s not mutilating yourself to fit men’s desires. It’s not being beautiful while knowing beauty isn’t the end all be all. That scares you, doesn’t it? I don’t care about being pretty, so you can’t use that to shame or control me. I won’t run away from you crying like those other girls on the playground. I know what I’m worth and I sure as hell don’t need your validation. But how could you possibly judge my worth? You don’t even know what that championship of yours is worth. Newsflash, you’re the only one who considers it a “stepping stone.” When I rip it away from you, I won’t be putting my nasty feet on it! I’ll carry it with the pride and dignity that it truly deserves. This time, no one will be robbing me of my victory.

Devi, Devi, where did you go? You’re usually the first one to speak up, no matter if others can comprehend you or not. Now it’s barely a peep. What happened? Did attacking me for no reason not go the way you wanted? Shocking. Maybe my well-deserved boot to the head made you glitch out. Just turn yourself off and back on again and you might be ready for Game Over. Ready enough for me to whoop your ass yet again. I’ll admit, you had us fooled for a bit. Felix and I both thought that this new Devi might be just the slightest bit tougher. Nope, you were staring up at the lights for the ten thousandth time. Now you’re under a rock somewhere and can’t even defend your own actions. This wishy-washy bullshit ain’t gonna cut it. At least I stand by my convictions and I’ll eagerly back them up whenever necessary. You may drop her name, you may do her moves, but you do a piss poor job of guarding her legacy. I’m actually glad you shoved your way into this match. Now there can be a Lethal Sparks Champion worthy of the title and the responsibility. They say the champion makes the title, not the other way around. In my hand, the Lethal Sparks Championship will become far more prestigious than your tiny mind could ever dream of.

I feel like I’m in the Wizard of Oz. I’ve got a wicked witch on one side of me and a cowardly lion on the other. Luckily, I’m not some meek little farm girl. I’m a woman with the mind, the heart, and the sheer balls to yank that brass ring right from under their noses. I can’t and won’t doubt myself now. I haven’t come this far to only come this far. Unfortunately for you two, I don’t have the patience to play nice anymore. It’s no mercy time, ladies. You started this fight, but I’m going to end it.

Michael Bishop, Jeff X, Alyssa Grace, The Banshee, Remington Ivory Prescott, "Killer Bee", DT The Ruler and DGS have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos August 16th 2022, 9:39 am by Guest

I do not believe in redemption.

The evil acts one has committed — the truly evil ones — cannot be forgiven. Murder, pillaging, torture… men capable of such heinous acts do not deserve mercy, nor do they deserve forgiveness. That is why I do not look for it. I know who I am. I know who and what I have become. The opportunity to be forgiven has long since passed me by and I have more than come to terms with that reality. “Redemption” is for the weak and when I say that I do not mean those who are redeemed are the ones who are weak. No, it is the ones who offer it. When I step into that ring and I hear the boos, when I read about Golden Dawn being monsters, that is why I shrug my shoulders. I have seen who these same people cheer for. My mind has become like a broken record as I think about how the ground around the likes of Kenny Drake and Christopher Sabertooth is worshiped despite the atrocities and violence they had a hand in creating. I could go on and on about why they are not worthy of compassion but I would simply be telling the same old story to the same old brick wall as Golden Dawn always has. We know why they are given a pass for their misdeeds and why we will never get that same treatment. Is it unfair that their complexion, their country of origin, gives them the right to forgiveness that we will never receive? Yes. Does that bother me? Not anymore, no. I have never seen such willful ignorance and after everything that has happened I know that this is finally my chance to laugh in the faces of those who have tried to hold us back for all this time. That knowledge only fuels me to press on. Being shot in the foot would once upon a time have been the straw that broke the camel’s back, the final sign that maybe this hasn’t all been worth it for our mission… but I have come too far and done too much to give up now, especially knowing just how close Golden Dawn has gotten to finally realizing its goal.

You must realize that not even bullets can stop me.

If they could, Michael Bishop would have been able to put me down himself all those months ago… but he didn’t. Just like the rest of you, he came up short in Dimensional Warfare. Those sick, twisted individuals were fortunate enough to hold me down for a three count but that was all they were able to manage and lightning will not strike twice. I am certain of that. It matters not what is thrown at me. Bullets, blades, barbed wire, concrete… I have faced it all. The taste of blood pooling in my mouth is a feeling I have become all too familiar with over this past year and a half and yet still, after all this time, through all the pain and torture and suffering that I have been dealt, I still stand.

Jack Daito simply cannot be destroyed.

Beaten? Yes.

Bloodied? Most certainly.

But never stopped.

Stalled, perhaps. But I will not stop. I cannot stop. Not until I have ensured Golden Dawn’s mission has been completed. If I am to do that then winning the OWA World Tag Team Championships at Game Over is absolutely imperative. Our cause has faced much adversity but we have proven time and time again that it is adversity that we can overcome. Our actions to do so may have been extreme but they pale in the extremity of the actions of our enemies to attempt to undo our hard work. When luck was not on their side they had to resort to the alteration of time to bring back Michael Bishop, knowing that there was no Emmanuelle to save their skin at the last second this time. It is a testament to how these fools think. If they had their way they’d live forever, immortal beings, so-called “defenders of OWA” as The Frontline, forever hogging the spotlight and never allowing anyone who does not sit within their inner circle to rise up to their ranks. You don’t believe me? Just look at the evidence. The moment that Arata’s wish was used — a wish that was earned from a match that Golden Dawn won fairly, despite how you all choose to perceive us — they jumped to Michael Bishop’s rescue quicker than you could utter the word “Revenant”. Already they were making plans to bring him back from the dead, unable to accept reality. So they did as I said. They altered time. They went to the future to change the past… but it doesn’t stop there. Not only did they bring back Michael Bishop but along with him came the return of Kenny Drake. Another villain of the past brought back to the mortal realm because he became “friends” with the right people. No repercussions for his actions, no consequences… but then why should I be surprised? The Frontline and their allies have never been capable of facing the consequences of their actions. If they had then we wouldn’t even be in this mess in the first place.

When you take all of this into consideration, would it be so bad if Golden Dawn simply won? Would we be any worse than The Frontline? At least we are honest. We know who we are and what our group stands for and we don’t hide it from the masses. The Frontline likes to play superhero when in reality they’re no different than we are, they just hide that behind smiles and rallying speeches. They’re still fueled by their own egos, believing that there’s something special about each of them but they’re blind to the truth. They bent over backwards to resurrect Michael Bishop and Kenny Drake but would they go through the same trials and tribulations to bring back someone like… a Noah Krieger? Would Emmanuelle be repaid for how she aided them at the end of Dimensional Warfare? I have a hunch that the answer would be no. They are not a part of The Frontline and they can continue as a unit without them so their lives don’t mean anywhere near as much. They wouldn’t dare admit that, of course, and I can guarantee that they’ll try and deny it… but we know. The Golden Dawn knows they’re liars. They’ve already proven it plenty of times before.

The only lying they’ll be doing soon, however, is lying in the dirt. Christopher Sabertooth, Jeff X… it’s almost poetic that you are the holders of the OWA World Tag Team Championships as Arata and I challenge for them together for the very first time. All of this talk of Dimensional Warfare and I’ve yet to remind everyone of what my wish was, though I’m sure the two of you don’t need it. The bone-chilling, abyssal darkness of death is not something one easily forgets, I would imagine. Emmanuelle was able to save you from that eternal fate once but her wish is used up and I’m going to make sure there’ll be no way to manipulate time to change history again. Last time I didn’t have to get my hands dirty. I simply wished for your deaths and you fell into the ether… but this time I have the opportunity to really do some damage. I can cause unrectifiable destruction and steal the World Tag Team Championships from your cold, dead hands when I’m done. With that being said, if you’re smart you’ll heed my warning for Game Over.

You’ve seen plenty of proof that you can’t kill me… but I’ve already killed you.

And I’ll do it again in a heartbeat if you give me the chance.

Re: OWA Promos August 16th 2022, 4:11 am by **DT The Ruler**

Why does justice feel two-fold here?

(After a chaotic episode of Kingdom in China, the OWA Outlaw Championship is displayed in its display case in DT The Ruler’s Seattle, Washington office while two of his Security guards stands next to a negotiator for a Chinese businessman. An LED monitor in his office shows the outside area. He stands with a briefcase just opened while most of his being is standing upright, slightly off-camera, counting throug- you know what? No. He’s just eyeballing the money)

DT The Ruler: Looks short.

Negotiator: Sir, I can assure you the price you asked for your services is there. I even counted the money myself before comi-

DT The Ruler: Look, good sir, I’m just eyeing at this money and even held the briefcase in hand before opening it, and it seems lighter than it should be. By now I know what a million looks and feels like in this brand of briefcase, so you better not be lying to me.

Negotiator: Everything you asked for is there, guaranteed. My boss is a very generous man; he knows what’s best for business.

DT The Ruler: Sure, he does. Let me remind you right now that in order for my company to open an account and begin operations with your constituents, I will only accept 100% of the starting price I named when I spoke to your Boss face-to-face for two hours. (He waves for one of his Security Guards to his desk while closing the briefcase) Take this and have it counted. You and the other guard lead this man to the Waiting Room before that.

Security Guard: Yes, sir.

(As the negotiator was escorted out of the office, DT The Ruler handed the closed briefcase to the Security Guard and reminded him where to bring the case to. As the office was clearing out, DT The Ruler's iPhone rang and he answered.)

DT The Ruler: Speak… … ... *sighs* You got a call from an associate of Mr. Chan? What did h- … … did you remind him of the starting price for shipment with us? … ... OK, did you also tell him that the product he wants us to move is pretty weak, according to our Lab Technicians? … ... Listen, you tell and remind Mr. Chan that this company does not work on IOUs and Promises. We are very thorough and have a lot of nonsense to deal with in the States to get products moved without a trace. If he wants his product shipped and distributed by my company and associates, he needs to pay the price I told them. Accept nothing less.

(DT The Ruler hung up his phone and placed it on his desk before waving for the doors of his office to be closed. He then placed on some reading glasses, took a deep breath, and looked at some paperwork in front of him about his upcoming opponents for OWA: Game Over. DT The Ruler then shook his head in annoyance then leaned back in his chair)

Finally, I get to rest my mind…a little.

To be quite honest, I didn’t want to come back to the United States and financially, I don’t have to. Just from the past few months surviving the OWA World Tour, I did not look forward to coming back to…this place. Well, I’m referring to the country; my office is pretty nice. The business-related nonsense is expected from the Saudi Arabians, the Chinese, and the Japanese; you at least know from the get-go, it’s all business and there’s no friends involved. They’re not going to front about wanting to reach an exchange of good and services. No one likes you but rather likes what you have and what you can do. The US, however, tricks its citizens into believing that there is a such thing as equality, that there is a such thing as freedom, and that justice is real. It’s hard to believe in any of those fantasy ideas when while I was dealing with OWA stuff primarily, Roe vs. Wade was overturned, showing these whorish American Women that they’re not as free as they think; I’m sure some porn careers will indeed be shortened. It’s hard to believe in a country that allows the filthy rag that caused Emmett Till to be murdered to be paraded around in the News when things are slow and outrage is needed. And don’t get me started on that mayonnaise monster, Rudy Giuliani, who tried to play Hooky when it’s time to speak Under Oath about his connection to possible Election fraud. I’m sure a few of the Mafia underlings in New York still impersonating Joe Pesci's voice love the man, but he’s pretty useless in the overall scheme.

The regular Black American experiencing the reverberations of injustice and freedoms being challenged is just another day in the life…unless you’re like myself. However, as with what’s been happening while in OWA, it’s less than true anymore, as OWA shows the spirit of America pretty well. Since being on Kingdom, myself and my business partner continue to be held down and held back from prominence on the brand. Mr. Raivo took things a lot more personally than The Ruler has in that regard, because I know in my mind it was only a matter of time before we were given anything resembling the green light while mediocrity may sometimes appear but stand less of a chance. You can only hold back greatness for only so long, and I knew that OWA personnel would come around to see what I’ve been telling everyone about myself since I came back. And to think: I didn’t have to threaten anyone’s life. I didn’t have to take anyone’s life. I didn’t have to undercut anyone beyond just beating them badly in the ring, though I could’ve easily with my resources. All I had to do was do what a lot of these other people are failing to do and that is compete in the squared circle. Black People especially, from the athletes to the actors to the scientists: all they have to do is be put on equal footing and the rest of the field is in deep shit. Ego will not allow people to admit how screwed my competition is at this point, and I’m sure they’ll dig real deep to try and disrespect me as Outlaw Champion- a champion ready and willing to head-up against anyone at anytime, anywhere. They’ll use every single instance of my OWA run as to why I’m out of place in the title match or why their chances are better than mine, but after being in this company long enough, the question that should be asked is…

“Am I really?”

Of everyone in this championship match, my tenure’s been the shortest. My time in OWA does not compare to any of the participants, and that is perfectly fine. However, the fact that I’ve already caught up to the competition to the point that The Ruler can be considered for a match not even The Ruler believed he’d be chosen to participate in shows everyone what I’ve been saying since I returned in January. Unfortunately, justice is two-fold…again. You see, I was absolutely content- for the moment- raising the stature to a championship people were downplaying due to its association with The Golden Yawn, due to it having a 24/7 stipulation attached to it, and due to the circumstances under which it changed hands at Final Destination 4 in Tokyo. Seeing Mr. Raivo- despite his methods- making it clear that he deserves an opportunity greater than the prestige of the Spartan Championship was fine by me. Sometimes you gotta let men find their own way and roll with it, and I am fine with skin folk moving up the ladder. I just was chillin’ like a mutha fucka, like Martin Lawrence doing stand-up in his younger years, leaving the floor open to anyone who wanted to catch an ass whooping with the Outlaw Championship on the line, as I am a fighting champion and I don’t care who I have to face. But not only does Mr. Raivo get what he wants, but I get what is due to me:

...A World Title Match…

…at once…

…as opponents…

…

This is the bullshit I be talking about. Once again, there’s an opportunity for a Championship under unfavorable conditions, with The Ruler being placed IN YET another match with a business associate of mine in one of the opposing corners.

*sigh*

The last time this happened, Ms. Diantha Rosso’s ego took over to the point she believed disparaging The Ruler’s past accomplishments and dominance was going to stop me from going in and slugging it out in that Ascension to the Heavens match. And even then, she escaped with a briefcase due to LUCK. But despite the events of that match, I don’t just waddle in the corner and beg for Kenny Drake and Scott Oasis to acknowledge me. Opportunity I know will come, because I know how great I AM, and The Ruler does not take a pause because of a setback. In business, when negotiating with other investors and businessmen, sometimes it’s best not to be cute about what you desire to gain, but rather go the hard way to get what you feel you deserve. And I’ve always been willing to do that, especially when it’s time to throw down in the ring. The OWA World Title being on the table just means I have to go harder and without remorse at my opposition. The OWA Outlaw Title- my current Title- is said to also be on the table, but my attention span is not like the average Zoomer; anyone coming at The Ruler specifically for this belt better try hard to take it.

But as I analyze my opponents for Game Over, I sense a lot of feelings of anger, self-righteous determination, and of course selfishness, which is par for the course. The Professional Wrestling career is very much akin to the story of Everyman as you move closer to the World Title- if you get a chance to. And since I already made a point about how scarce these chances are, I’m not letting this one slip out of my hands. These hands that have grasped Gold many times, and I don’t mind once again making my hands into fists I get to bury into my opponents that believe I’m going weak. My calm temperament has been taken for granted for way too long, but even still I’m not going to scream my way through this match.

But the opponents who want to test my gangsta will scream in pain.

The first one I examine is Mr. Michael Bishop, just back from the dead. THE “CHAMP” IS HERE. Hopped out the casket, bastard…REINCARNATED. Yes, the one who got so strung out on whatever that Super Serum Jeff and Friends shot him up with that he thought it best to impersonate both the Kool-Aid Man and Beatrix Kiddo at Kingdom. Now I’m sure if Arata Asakura ever gets in a right state of mind, he’ll speak like Bill and suggest that Mr. Bishop does indeed deserve to enact his revenge, mainly against him. Losing your life because your adversary cannot handle an L is hard to justify, I know and understand that fully. The Ruler would probably run on piss and vinegar as well if I was juiced up back to life, just like Mr. Bishop. But the moment Mr. Bishop decided to misplace his Roid Rage was the moment he messed up. In all this, I’ve been trying to act as the Voice of Reason, understanding that despite his life being lost, people die every day, B. And instead of acknowledging that, Mr. Bishop decides to attack a man who tried to calm his crazy ass down while he went off the rails. Clearly, that stuff was fucking his brain up worse than venom messes up Bane’s physique. As angry as Mr. Bishop is about his circumstances, as much as he may have felt like he was running through the Crazy 88s at Kingdom before reaching one of the accomplices in that attempt on his life, what he needs to remember is that despite returning from the Spiritual Plane or wherever he believes his soul went, he is now very human, and he did not come back from death the way Al Simmons did, and I am not a person he wants to shit test. After finally getting myself in the right direction in OWA, after having to deal with nonsense a Wrestler of my caliber shouldn’t, I’d be damned if I let an undead get away with trying to pull a punk move after his friends played Monster Reborn. I have never crossed Mr. Bishop in a contest, but I have been observant of how he moves and approaches the ring, and nothing he does puts fear in my heart. Sprinkling anger on top of what he is capable of doesn’t do it, either! I am not opposed to stomping him so senseless that I make him feel like he should’ve stayed in that box! What Mr. Raivo did was out of character, out of rage and spite, and I expect Mr. Bishop will go at him hardest. But because of what he did to The Ruler, what he will unfortunately learn is that like many Black Americans in the United States many times over: true justice will not happen for what happened to him.

Speaking of justice…

Then of course, there’s Mr. Myojin, a man who many say has all the talent in the World, who has all the ability to be where Mr. Bishop is, but for whatever reason isn’t. Mr. Myojin impresses The Ruler as well, because from what I’ve seen and experienced when dealing with that boy, he shows many ways to reveal how much of an absolute bitch he is! As much as I hated the fact that the Outlaw Championship was not placed in my possession in the first try, The Ruler did not run away like a coward and cry in the corner. In fact, I promised I would find a way to get what is due to me. And even though I should also have that briefcase in my possession, at least I still left Final Destination with two things: the OWA Outlaw Championship…and his manhood. The Ruler is not completely onboard with Mr. Raivo’s actions towards Mr. Bishop; my line of works implores me to take a credo towards those that are already deceased and have nothing to do with my business affairs. But at least that man took some initiative and showed some balls to make an opportunity happen when the movers of OWA kept passing over him. This man, however, is a direct accomplice to all of these atrocities and assaults on people’s lives by his master, Arata Asakura, and when adversity hit him and he failed: he curled into a ball of silence. I saw Mr. Myojin at that Press Conference and what The Ruler witnessed was not the fighter he claimed to be prior to that match in Tokyo. Losses happen; not everything goes as planned. But as the Golden Yawn as a whole met with karma at Final Destination 4 in Tokyo, when justice was served for all of their actions towards the others on Kingdom, their weaknesses were front and center. A lot of them love the position of Champion, they love to stand on the top of a metaphorical mountain and disrespect everyone they unfairly pushed down. But when it comes time to get it going in the ring and face a 50-50 chance things may not work out during the climb up, these people start to crumble.

Of course, people will talk about how my sanity was being tested as well, because unlike many: I can self-reflect on a possible vulnerability. But the difference is: I never broke like a lot of these other OWA people have, to the point that they have to kill their opposition or sell their souls. Even in my very first title defense, not once did I attempt to shortcut my way to a win against Mr. Alejandro De Leon, as much as that was needed. Mr. Myojin however follows a man that crumbled mentally and only just recently did he say that his extreme actions aren’t gaining the results he desires, when that is false. If justice was real, neither him nor Arata would be up for chances at Championships at Game Over… yet here we are with them.

No matter, though, as that is what the environment encourages.

Once again, we’re both in a title situation, a chance to leave with some hardware. The way I was inserted into this match is the exact same way he was: random announcement, just like with Ascension to the Heavens. Difference this time is: I’m going in as a champion without questionable title defenses. And because of Mr. Bishop, The Ruler goes in pretty pissed off. Mr. Myojin took the biggest L the last time someone decided to make things more personal against Yours Truly prior to a match, and he will L again. I’m going in even more prepared since this World Title shot is one I’ve been given for the first time in years. YEARS.

And once again, we come to Mr. Raiv-

(DT The Ruler heard his iPhone ring)

DT The Ruler: Excuse me… (DT The Ruler picked up his phone and answered it with an annoyed expression) Speak. … … OK, I’m going to tell you just like what I told Biggs: you do not budge when it comes to the price they were told. If these investors want to get started with us, we do not do special pricing; this is not Wal Mart during the Holiday Season. I have a lot of clients to satisfy, and I don’t give discounts even to family members to move any product. If they are willing to pay the price I said, they can send a rep with the money to a location we agree upon. End of story.

(DT The Ruler hung up the phone and turned it upside down)

My Goodness, it’s frustrating how these people try to lowball, but back to what I was saying…

If anyone is supposed to experience some type of justice after months of nonsense, Mr. Raivo is definitely up there. Constantly ignored for questionable reasons, overlooked because he’s not out here being extreme for attention…until recently. And I believe because he wasn’t offered opportunity right after Final Destination, because of the fact that we both were assaulted by that bitch Jason in a mask prior to the show, this is the result. For what was not given to this man that is given to worse offenders, despite their evil deeds and wrongdoings, we see Mr. Raivo take things to another level, one I’ve been resisting the urge to touch. And the opportunity comes…finally.

Just unfortunately, we are placed in a match against each other.

Now I’m not going to press on as to why this is occurring once again with someone I conducted business with, but what I will say is this: may the best man win, which is one of us. You see in situations like this, I’m not afraid to compete against anyone, even my contemporaries, and that is something that even Mr. Raivo should comprehend by now. At the end of the day, only one person can be World Champion at a time, and I’ll be damned if I go into an opportunity and give it away…as a friend. That’s not how this is going to work at all. When I go into the ring at any moment in time, I am going there to inflict as much pain as necessary in order to secure a victory. I will do every single move needed to make sure my chances of winning are as to 100% as possible. Mr. Raivo, I’m sure, understands that about The Ruler if he’s paid attention to my last opponents and how things went for them. When it comes to titles, when it comes to the battle that occurs from one bell to the next, when it comes to winning with accolades and with respect on the line, I don’t play Friend Games, and I don’t expect him to. But I will warn him, if he comes at me with a lack of effort to win, if he comes at me with that Vegeta-like attitude that he’s shown, I will leave Game Over as Double Champion.

Respectfully.

So, he better bring it and prepare to earn his keep. Bring all he has to offer to the table come Game Over; I welcome it. When that bell rings and I see Mr. Raivo in one of the opposing corners, I expect Black Excellence and nothing less. Like Ms. Diantha Rosso, I expect Mr. Raivo to turn up and use all that pent-up frustration to tear through everyone else, to make Game Over 2022 the Pay-Per-View were Mr. Raivo shows why he is indeed Mr. Authentic by name.

But I’m still not handing him a W.

What’s going to happen in this contest is a lot of people are going to learn to respect Their Superior. I am Outlaw Champion now, and that by default should make them respect who I am, but I don’t need to name a ton of past opponents and experiences for everyone to realize my inclusion is a big fucking problem for all of them. Much of the types of wars these men have gone through, I have been on all fronts of and have already been tested, and I am always calling for a challenge. OWA has been needing someone like The Ruler on Kingdom for a long while, as it’s been infested with some of the worst aspects of this business.

And your Master and Ruler will gladly redefine what justice actually looks like after I take that belt.

(The camera faded to black as the phone rang once again)

Scott Oasis, Alyssa Grace, The Banshee, Remington Ivory Prescott, "Killer Bee" and Chad Ecclestone have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos August 16th 2022, 2:00 am by **Michael Bishop**

MICHAEL BISHOP

Loving Father, Husband, and Friend

“The Greatest”

May 11th, 1987 | June 24th, 2022

Michael Bishop himself knees down in front of the 1.5x3 granite headstone. It was was the physical monument of every enemy he’d made, every foe he’d encountered, and every villain he’d struck down. Many were surprised when he arose from that operating table ready to go, little did they know Mike could hear everything. He didn’t know why, but he was locked in a prison and forced to sit and watch as every coward who was too afraid to face him up front, laughed and mocked whilst he was out of commission. But, not just his enemies.

“Michael, wake up!!” the voice of his wife, Rebecca, plays over in his mind again, and again. Her fear, her despair, it haunts him even now, the inability to do anything about it in the moment drove him insane. The distant cries of his daughter, the panicked frenzy of voices of his friends. Time is relative and when you are a dead man, minutes seem like hours, days seem like years. The entire time he never stopped, he never quit, he never let go. Michael has always been a flawed man, but he was able to do what many failed to do and overcome the demons which kept him from the final pedestal. When air entered his lungs, and he felt alive, and the one thing that he'd always been at odds with. The trait of his that was previously a poison, now a tool like any other: Rage, righteous and absolute. Against the legion of foes looking to claw at his title, his family, against the world.

“Long Live Michael Bishop, America’s Champion”.

The last words he heard from Arata Asakura, parasitic as always, spring him to action; Mike rises to his feet and produces a sledgehammer. With a single swing, he hits the center of the headstone, knocking the monument to his death down. And then, he continues to swing. Again, and again, All that pent up anger taken out as he smashed the figment that Michael Bishop was dead and gone, over, and over. Before long, the granite is no more than gravel…. Mike douses the stone in kerosene, and with a single spark- lights it on fire.

He catches his breath… and he looks nearby, a similar gravestone under the tree.

He drops the hammer and walks over, kneeling down and wiping dust off of it.

LAURA BISHOP.

July 6th, 1958 | Feb 12th, 2019.

He steadies his breathing, his career was one of the greatest ever witnessed… and it would be nothing without her. His mother, and the promise she made him keep, well past her death, was one of the sole things that made him drive on through every trench and rough day. Many who are born in Chicago are buried there, many failed to leave the city…

Mike rests his hand on the top soil, and stares at her name just as intently as he did into her eyes 3 years ago:

“It’s not over Laura, not yet. We’re only getting started. It’s time to kill them all”.

----------------------

I am sorry to say- no, that’s a lie. I am proud to say, mothafuckers, that the rumors of my death were greatly fuckin’ exaggerated… surprise, surprise, boys: The Heavyweight King is back. You know after June 24th I can officially say that mine was the career that was never meant to be. Every opponent failed, all the gods, the heavens, and hells ganged up on me in the greatest handicap match in history and I won. Cast down into monotony and forgotten by the world, I crawled out of that pit with my bare fucking hands, fueled by pure fucking will to return to the sport that tried to reject me, to claim the prize they had all tried to deny me. For the past 800 days I worked to become what they tried to hard to prevent me from being. Something that even on my darkest day, I knew I once was, and had the potential to become again. The goal, the vision, the triumph I foresaw every single day in the trench weathering the storm, putting in work and biding my time knowing that my day would come.

It wasn’t easy, fuck no. I’m not gonna stand here and act like there weren’t times when I nearly lost myself to the fog of war. The number one cause of death of world title contenders is breaking under pressure. Season 4 was a cruel bitch; She was going to get her way, and you were going to die trying to decide it otherwise. If you slipped up for even a moment, you’d fall off that blade’s edge of main event relevancy and you would sink to the bottom.

I could have stooped to so many lows, and I didn’t. I walked into Tokyo a foreigner, an underdog with everything to lose and yet I sunk my claws into victory and pulled it from the jaws of the dragon, the grasp of the celestial; inch, by rung, by kick, by strike, by Hellbow. I went there to beat the champ, and I did. I could have pinned an Arata, gave the world another showing of him once again failing to meet expectations… but I didnt. I squared up to the woman who insulted me, underestimated me, and disrespected me- the living walking embodiment of every accomplished motherfucker in this company looking to keep me from what was mine, and I spiked her head into the floor, I pinned her shoulders to the mat and like each and every single one of her revered queen sisters I secured that pin, that redemption, that vengeance, that victory… one, two, three- Manifest Destiny fulfilled, doubts crushed,, and the most ambitious chapter to capture the oldest title finished, and the start of what is going to be one of the most infamous reigns in this company’s history.

New year, new season, new belt, new me. When the Inaugural Champion walked down that ramp, I thought a lot of things: Was he coming to gloat, call me out… the last thing I expected was to be given a brand new world championship and told what, deep down, in retrospect, I knew I was true. The era of gods and tyrants on Kingdom is over, a war that consumed this canvas earth for two years has been cast out in the most emphatic final battle the world had ever seen, in one of wrestling’s oldest homes of Tokyo. But that’s the thing: the war is over but the world still turns, people go home, they turn on the television and they look to see what is next.

It’s time for the era of fighters, fighting champions, and the baddest motherfucker to raise hell and reign over OWA’s oldest brand. The oldest battleground is once again decided by who wants it more, who’s willing to do more, and who’s willing to stick it out, scrap it out, and do whatever it takes when you’re tired, exhausted, and feeling doubt creep at the back of your mind. This World Championship was founded on the principle being the best in the fuckin’ world. You wouldn’t even see this title, get a chance at this title, if you didn’t risk it all, give it all you got, and spent years on the war path doing whatever it took to clear the division and make it impossible for them to say no: I found that out personally, I had to take on the entire company twice in order to do it.

It is prolific, in every single ounce and meaning of the word. The past season’s greatest wars and biggest events. were my check list, and every single time, I not only step up to the occasion, I assumed control. I’m the first Kingdom clash winner since Aria to successfully cash my chips in at Final Destination, and I didn’t do so falsely, I didn’t need the gauntlet, I didn’t need lightning. I put on a fucking clinic, fought the perfect fight and outright obliterated the main event scene, Kingdom no longer lives under the gunpoint of part time hall of farmers or genocidal shogun, every gold brand motherfucker now gets their checks cashed and pays tribute to the heavyweight reaper who annexed this motherfucker in 4 short months. And is it a surprise? I’ve got more title reigns, than the average kingdom roster member has years on this earth. When I move, it’s monumental. When I strike, it’s lethal. When I speak, it is biblical.

I am not just mixed martial arts royalty, I am combat sports infamy. I live in the hearts and minds of every single person I have left my mark on, and the scars I leave cut deeper than any flesh wound, they dig straight into the souls of mothafuckers who lived to tell the tale. People talk a whole lot of shit until they’re in Hellbow distance and then after that first strike, first cut, when the blood flows and adrenaline surges they know shit just got real. I am not just some striker, some grappler… I am a golden gloved, submission specialist, worldbeater. The division sleeps restlessly at night knowing if I come on the other side of that versus you are a dead man. You can’t stop me, you can barely delay me… fear me, run from me, hide from me, you only die tired when I have my hands around your neck, and I spike your head into the fucking ground. My arrival to the Main Event was inevitable, my challenge for the World Title was imminent, and the sight of me raising that belt was god damn prophetic.

It is time for us march into the future our head held high, our hands wrapped, and ready to do, what a good World Champion does: Put the boot to the neck of everyone who stands against you, a blade to every motherfucker who tries to challenge you, and seek and destroy any mothefucker who tries to come close. It’s time to return prestige, ethic, and red iron to this belt!! So here is me planting my black flag of war in the sand, and the banner is going through the back of not one, not two, but three mothafuckers, hungry to take my best, cunning enough to do whatever it takes- and more deserving than anyone to have me sending them out after I force feed them all of the shit talk, vices, and bullshit they decided to say after it seemed I was dead and gone!!

And in the same way I was sent out on that day in Jeddah, it’s time to violently audit the lackluster Kingdom World Title Scene, and closing the summer showing every single person around the world what it means to be the Full Metal Motherfucker that runs the gold brand!!

“Kingdom presents: The Festival”. As payment for dominating a Circus Deathmatch, I was given a shot at a championship I had helped found, build, and bring prestige to. Now standing toe to toe with someone, who beat the man, who knocked me out. The Shining Outlaw, Myojin. You had plenty to say, don’t shy away from it…. I respected it, I did! You were confident in every single thing you said about: Writing me off as a Gatekeeper, as a Journeyman you looked me in the eyes and said “Michael, I am going to beat you at your own stipulation and I am going to raise my championship high above your body, to prove that I am an Outlaw”.

And much to your credit, you gave it one hell of a shot. You got real close and I even felt hurt at some points. You proved why you had that belt. Also to your credit, you were ready to die in that ring, Myo. I respect that, but that is part for the course and dying doesn’t win wars, they’re won by making the other son of a bitch fall face down and die for your success story, to become an accolade on your rap sheet. You said I was yet another old veteran holding down the division… yet when we locked horns, you were outpaced, outclassed, outstruck, outgunned… and you can blame it on Savannah, but put any single referee in there and they would have all made the same call. My arms were wrapped around your neck, victory was rightfully in my grasp, because I fundamentally deconstructed you over the course of 17 minutes and by the end of it all; the longest reigning X-Factor Champion, the Breakout Star of the year, the five minute Outlaw Champion wasn’t shit against the war machine who’s ran the Gold Brand from Season 1 to Season 5, first match to last match, bell to fucking bell!! A lackluster run with the belt you literally-got-wished to you doesn’t change the outcome that when we run it back, and I destroy you, again, decisively.

You see there’s levels to this game and I have proved that I am at least 39 above the fuckin’ rest, I’m a world champion in the east, a world champion in the west, I’m the greatest of all time in my prime and I’m laying the blueprint for the greatest fuckin’ run in our sport. Call me an architect, call me a blacksmith. I’m here to shock the world by doing the unthinkable and I’ve started this year by having a goddamn stranglehold on the main event scene of combat sports’ two biggest promotions. Not holding it hostage, that’s because I walked right in and minced the motherfuckers. When it comes to rematches, I am king. That when it comes to this world title, I am king, and when it comes to anyone bearing the title Outlaw: I am your veteraned superior.

Donovan T, reigning, defending- falls of a fucking ladder and pins a man, unconscious- Outlaw Champion. It’s all love, Donovan, just like when you mocked my death not even five minutes after. It’s par for the course with our kind, that championship. Anyman, Anytime, Anyplace- On Sight. And as you learned back in China, that goes both ways you tren hugging piece of shit. That’s the standard… the bare minimum. You probably don’t know, so let me give you a history lesson: I made that fucking belt, I pulled it from the grasp of a queen on her way out, phoning it in every other week and I brought infamy to that tilt you wear so proudly. The Outlaw Championship’s heritage is war, and I am its roots. You put on a pretty good showing at the Clash, but all that flatlined when it came to me cause it wasn’t enough: You’re a bigger guy, but that’s no sweat to me- I punch above my weight at 250lbs, with the strike force to break bone, shatter legacies, and knock out gods.

I conquered Purgatory, I fought the Devil. Faced the grim reaper in a 30 day iron man match, that felt like 40 years, and I won. Not once did I waiver, break, or cower. I’ve got a steel trap of a mind, absolute conviction pumping through every synapse of my mind, body, and soul. Despite all of the adversity I shrug off the weight of the world because no one knows violence, death, fear, and suffering like I have, and I have wielded, and distributed in full. I am the Dreadknight, motherfucker.

Champion vs Champion, Heavyweight versus Outlaw. I split your skull, cracked your chin, exposed every weakness I needed to to make your failure at Game Over a certainty. Look at me when I’m talking to you, Donovan. If I didn’t get my wish-banned from the Outlaw Division… I would be a double champion right now, active every week, every second, because I can keep up that pace unlike you, and no one was taking that belt off me, and no one is taking the OWAC off me. You better bring everything you’ve got because when it comes to facing me with that strap on your shoulder, all you new blood have a bad streak. This is my Kingdom, I’m King of the Fighters, Cruel Dictator of OWA… and the Outlaw King. I will take everything from you and leave you in that, my hand high, World championship on my shoulder… and outlaw championship on your bloodied chest. See you soon, Outlaw.

When you step on the soil of Kingdom’s oldest brand, you are in my territory. This is Dreadknight Country. I said that 915 days ago; many laughed, others doubted… and yet no words were said amongst the silence after it was all said and done. Ever since I stormed heaven in Tokyo, and took what was mine in a Final War that saw a Tyrant scream and a Celestial die. I am known in OWA because when we square up, when that bell tolls, when I get my hands on you I take a piece of you, the crown I wear is heavy with all those I have stacked, slaughtered, and silenced. Queen, False King, Shogun, Hero, Villain, Mercenary, Outlaw- Spartan.

Raivo. How are the burn marks treating you, pussy? I dug deep into Myojin and Donovan, but if there is a more undeserving son of a bitch here it is you. Look at the facts… You think I’m scared of you Raivo? I’m the fuckin’ OWAC, I take shits bigger than you, hell my wife is taller than you, which explains why she didn’t want to fuck a manlet transitional champion like you. I ain’t afraid of you, if I wanted to I could roll up, put a pipe bomb through your window and a bullet between the eyes of you and every member of your bloodline. But I’m not the Golden Dawn, the xenophobic nazi fucks you sold your soul to for a title shot, so I’ll settle for beating your ass on TV and making you drink every meal for the rest of your life through a straw.

Your biggest victory in OWA was beating a washed up, on the way out Noah Quinn for his Spartan’s Championship and even then you nearly fumbled that fuckin’ bag. You hyped yourself up, but it didn’t stop you from becoming a launch pad to the resurgence of Jason Long. You even had Stark in that match, someone to take the fall of things went wrong… but that’s not how it happened, did it? You lost. To the man I eviscerated four times in a row, you lost, out were outclassed, outgunned, and your shining moment at the showcase of the immortals ended with Raivo losing his championship, on his back, because he couldn’t make the fuckin’ cut and do his god damn job.

Every single time a Spartan has squared up to me the result has always been the same; the warrior mythos dies on contact, their blood flows one glove high, and whether it’s face first on the ground, me standing over them as every significant strike pushes them closer to the void, or head deep in a triangle choke forcing them to tap to my asylum of offense.... Your lineage, Raivo, is a section of the graveyard I have made in my career. I’ve dragged men down, and beat them to death on this very canvas as their families begged me from beyond the guard rail to show mercy. That was on a normal night, normal rules, against good men. You’ve insulted my wife, threatened to lay your hands on MY DAUGHTER!! So tell me, Raivo, what the fuck am I going to do to you?

I will keep knocking you down again, and again, and when you’re done and Larry Blackwell peels you off that mat, you can cuddle close to your buddy DT for relevancy like the leech you are. Hell, you both will share the same fucking stretcher I send you out on!! Just as you cheered and jeered me being rolled out of Jeddah, I’ll be smiling when I make you nothing more than a statistic in my reign. I will take my vengeance, take my victory, and you will spend every single day with a plate in your head and permanent anxiety in your mind every time you hear my name, and chronic pain everytime you think back to what I did to you. And the last, still image of me raising my title high over you all will be burned into the membrane of your mind for the rest of your life.

Heaven averts their eyes, and Hell had all the time to claim me but they could not make the fuckin cut. Combat sports is a science and I have a PHD in it, I formulated it. I pioneered this shit and it’s made me one of the most lethal, violence, aggressive, and imposing figures in any cage, ring, or canvas battleground. A Jack of all trades in the sport to end all sports, whose deck is filled with the tools of war to bring stoppages to the world’s best, the most complete fighter on earth. All of you seek this Championship, but only I’m leaving with it; In still hesitation and fear, they say blink and you’ll miss it with me because I can end any man, anyway, at any time. Myojin sought relevancy as a champion, Raivo brought mediocrity, Donovan T seeks validation but he’ll get none from me. The name “HEAVYWEIGHT” inscribed on this belt by my hands, made for my reign, I am Afghanistan to those in the opposite corner, your greatest victories were easy days for me, we are not the fuckin’ same.

After Somme there was Verdun, after the Final War where I ended Kingdom’s darkest era, I march forth into the first battle of many for this brave new world. I am a fighting champion, I am a dominant champion and I’m willing to bet the house, bet the world, bet the title in the most stacked main event of the summer. I am not afraid, and the question is not: whether I walk out of South Korea with my championship, it is: will my challengers ever be able to walk again? The pace I set is unmatchable and unimaginable,

I walk into the Blood Sport 6 doubted, and I walked out the Outlaw King. I walked into Final Destination the underdog, and I left the conqueror and new champion of the oldest title in OWA, the lineal title. I walk into Game Over at only the very start of my reign, and I will walk out proven, hungry, and the most dominant force on the Gold brand for the next 200, 259, 260- 365 days to come because I fought for years, for several fucking lifetimes for this belt!! And I will not anyone, contender, legend, self absorbed, humble, or experienced- take this belt away.

You are all about to learn the art of war at a championship level as I had to; in the deep end of the pool. Challengers rising, enemies hungering, and I stand here, unafraid, undisputed, and ready!! And by the end of the hour, the end of Game Over I will rise out of the dust and smoke in Seoul, my hand raised, my reign strengthened, and my vice grip on this brand evermore stronger as I put the boot the neck, and the sword to the heart, of EVERY motherfucker who ever conspired me!! And when that bell rings, when I stand tall!! You will all hear, scream, and dread those infamous two words!!!

AND. STILL!!

OWA World Champion

World Heavyweight King

The baddest man on the planet is back, and it’s time to kick off this season with the war to end all wars.

See you soon.

VaeVictisBD, Scott Oasis, Alyssa Grace, The Banshee, Elijah Hampton, 'Don' Hendrix, Remington Ivory Prescott and have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos August 14th 2022, 11:06 pm by **The Banshee**

GAME OVER PROMO ONE

Insert Coin

The camera opens up inside what appears to be an arcade straight out of the early 90s. The red-brick walls are illuminated with various lit neon signs in bright colors, but the arcade itself is dimly lit, except for the arcades and neon signs giving off soft glows. Standing in the center of the room is an arcade that’s powered off. There’s no side or front paneling art, but the marquee on top simply spells out, “The Banshee.” Right as the camera centers on the arcade machine, the cabinet makes a few audible “beeps” as the screen lights up, showing a pixelated wrestling ring with the faces of many past and current Odyssey legends. The sound of a quarter being deposited into the arcade is immediately followed by “PRESS START” beginning to flash on the arcade monitor.

A loud, digitized scream echoes out the speakers, while on the screen a pixelated version of The Banshee shrieks at the random wrestlers in the digital ring… her scream LITERALLY blasting everyone off-screen to the right. However, a pixelated Jonetta Stone comes out of nowhere and stabs The Banshee several times. A pixelated Rebecca Filth then appears in the ring and immediately throws out a weakened Banshee, who disappears in a puff of pixelated smoke after hitting the outside. A computerized voice, deep and sinister, then utters the words, “GAME OVER.” The screen goes dark for a moment, before some smaller text appears near the bottom that states, “Insert Coin to Continue,” flashing in white and red colors. The sound of another quarter going into the coin slot causes the game to roar back up to life, as The Banshee’s face fills the screen.

The camera transitions back to inside the arcade, but in place of The Banshee arcade… now sits The Banshee, a roll of quarters in her hand. She looks at the screen and cracks a smile.

Hello Rebecca… I hope you had your fun playing your little games... because the time for games is over…

Does it strike a nerve whenever someone shines a spotlight on your body of work, Rebecca? For starters, no one quite embodies the term “paper champion” like you, because on paper, you do look like a great champion…

No one can deny the body of work that you’ve done over the past year in Odyssey, just like you have never denied ANYONE your body, regardless of their body or work.

However, the devil is in the details, and one look at the details in the majority of your matches shows that you… the devil… have gotten to the position you’re in not through sheer wrestling skills and overall talent, but by constant manipulation, unfair advantages, and plain dumb luck!

Are you feeling lucky about your chances, Rebecca? Do you have a rabbit's foot and four-leaf clover handy?

It’s only taken over two fucking years, but thanks to the support of The Banshee’s Horde getting too loud to ignore, the Odyssey Front Office had no choice but to finally give me the proper ONE-ON-ONE championship match that’s I’ve long since desired… But according to everyone’s least favorite Pretend-Pornstar Princess of Perversion, Rebecca Filth, this match for the OWA UNDISPUTED WOMEN’S was one that I FORCED myself into, and quite arrogantly, apparently… I should be angry with Filth’s words, but with all the toxic bullshit that spews from her mouth, it no longer gets under my skin…

I’ll be the first to admit I was wrong about you, Rebecca Filth… I'm humble enough to admit my mistakes, like letting you believe the hype you keep setting for yourself... I will never again underestimate you, though... Never again...

I was wrong about your odds in the Clash… I was wrong about your journey’s destination at Final Destination IV… I was wrong about your chances to beat Alyssa Grace for the top title in the world… Will I be wrong about my prediction for Game Over? What prediction, you asked?

The Banshee will dethrone Rebecca Filth’s Whoredom at Game Over when I win the Undisputed Title…

Please, Rebecca… please tell me that this prediction is wrong as well, because you’ve already labeled me as a fortune teller… but this time, something tells me that fortunes will favor me at Game Over…

Speaking of past fortunes though, how much brain damage have you incurred since the Clash, Filth? Because you clearly remember a different set of events from the Clash then what actually transpired… for instance, you like to romanticize the Clash as one of your greatest triumphs, but anyone looking at the facts can see that your story has more holes in it than a yacht made of Swiss cheese! Let’s start with your entry… you were one of the LAST people to enter the Clash, and you sure as hell never even approached the ring until AFTER Jonetta attempted to extinguish The Banshee with that mystic dagger… so I have to imagine it’s pretty fucking easy to eliminate someone over the top ropes after they had a fucking knife stuck in their belly! So no, it wasn’t this epic David-vs.-Goliath confrontation that you’d fictionalized it to be, since I was nearly FUCKING DEAD when you suddenly found your misplaced courage… courage that’s never in short supply when you’re speaking on a microphone, yet is nowhere in sight whenever I’m physically in your presence…

And since you’re such a connoisseur of Odyssey history, then it should be easy for you to really recall that same Ultimate X match you’re so fucking proud to have on your resume… You know the one, right? You defended the Openweight Title against several other girls… by lying in the damn aisle and masturbating for the majority of the match! Rest assured, you’ll get no such respites of pleasure in our match, because I’m not letting you out of my sights for a sorry fucking second! You think that by bragging so loudly and often, no one would bother to even check… but hell, even someone with a terrible memory could recall just how… DEVIOUS AND CUNNING… you truly are…

However… I respect the mental mindgames you’ve flawlessly executed on most of your opponents. From your small stature and lack of experience, you managed to have one of the most epic beginnings a rookie has ever had in the OWA! Two championships, winning the Women’s Clash, and headlining Final Destination IV… It’s the storybook beginning that most of us could only dream of attaining, but you Rebecca… you made it a reality, even though you stretch the truth like an established attorney.

You certainly don’t lose matches, that is a certifiable fact alone… But wait a sec… didn’t you JUST LOSE a three-on-three tag match on the last Odyssey? And who was that against… Angelina Mangum, who’s really just another sex-oriented slut with a bad case of mean girl jealousy… Daisy Thrash, who put a good thrashing on you and your teammates… and oh yeah, THE BANSHEE! Now, I’m sure you and your newest BFF Felix felt a measure of satisfaction when you clobbered me with a fucking wrench like a deranged plumber, followed by you two putting me through the announce table using your aerial hot-dog tactics…

But you now hold a loss to The Banshee… the first of many… and I bet that just eats you up like its aggressive cancer, doesn’t it? Your quest for “perfection” is forever stained, even if you pretend like it never happened.

So who gets “one more embarrassment to add to your pathetic career?”

Rebecca Filth, that’s who…

It’s so adorable that you are trying to put on such a brave front, because you’ve developed a knack for cutting and running, a creature that thrives on seizing opportunities and being crafty… You claim that you’re ignoring me and all my seemingly-random sneak attacks… spoiler alert, those attacks were NOT random… And you can cry out how you’re the champion, and as such, shouldn’t be bothered with less “important” things like The Banshee throwing tantrums… And Rebecca, do you want to know what real fame… real POWER looks like? Then consider this… I’ve become the biggest face of the Odyssey brand over the last few months, my popularity dwarfing the likes of you, the fucking Undisputed Champion of the brand… and I did it all without ever holding gold around my waist once…

You can’t buy real power like that… And it’s because I formed something that’s become instrumental in my success, determination, and drive to win the belt… a strong connection to my fans… my family… MY HORDE!

So what part of the match was a “preview” of our upcoming bout at Game Over? You were given a “fair fucking shake” against The Banshee… and you couldn’t quite do alone, as we all knew all along… Do you think that you and that slutty treasure troll Felix will be able to leave me in the same state I was in when Odyssey went off the air? You played your hand both early and predictably… But go ahead and bring your wrench and winch, because I don’t want to hear the plethora of excuses you’ll surely have for why you lost the belt to The Banshee at Game Over…

You sit there and talk about how badass and brave you are, like you’re the most fearsome warrior to walk the hallowed halls of any venue Odyssey takes over… but it’s obvious that you’re nothing but bravado in front of a camera and audience, for one only has to watch your matches to see that you, Filth… while far more talented than I initially believed… you fight with FEAR in your eyes… I saw it on Odyssey… I tasted it, even…

It... was… delicious…

Rebecca Filth can jump up and down and scream all she wants that she doesn’t fear me or what I can do, but when we meet for the OWA Undisputed Women’s Championship at Game Over… the world will see what kind of mettle and moxie you’re truly made of, XXX Alpha… and I won’t need voodoo, zombies, or black demon magic to win the title, because I’M ALREADY THE FUCKING QUEEN OF THE MONSTERS!

AND I WILL MAKE YOU BOW TO ME, BITCH!

You will LEARN to respect me… I will DEMAND FEAR from you as I break your body and spirit, but just know that your suffering has only begun… You claim that my attack on you was the “biggest mistake” that I’ve made, but it’s clear you have that backwards… Your biggest mistake was the moment you put your hands on me in the Women’s Clash…

It will be your final mistake, “Final Girl.”

Speaking of your poorly-aging nickname, do you still believe that you’re the “final girl” in this horror thriller of ours? The odds are still stacked against you… you are blonde and skanky… chaos follows you like an attached puppy… you are being hunted, but this time, you won’t make it by the skin of your fucking teeth… did you forget the rules regarding horror films? Do you really not know tropes outside of pornography? Forget the fact that it’s usually the sexless virgins that survive the film, let’s look at the motif which will bring your downfall full-circle…

At Game Over 2022, Rebecca Filth will perish… due to “Sudden Sequel Death Syndrome.”

Keep believing that you’re invincible… that you “can’t be killed,” it won’t make a damn bit of difference in stopping me from taking my rightful title away from you, some pathetic worm with a Napoleonic complex, like an angry little Chihuahua… You’ve been barking very loudly ever since you won the Clash, but it’s time you find out how LETHAL my bite can truly be…

No Rebecca, it’s going to be ME that relishes “the thought of finally being the one to ruin your moment.” I’ve already ruined several of them… and you received the message every time, because there is no better teacher than pain, and come Game Over, a whole semester of brutality, butchery, and bloodshed will be taught to you…

You still believe that “morality” not holding you back gives you an advantage over me? I know you’re not stupid, but you’ve certainly proven that you can be very gullible and naïve by putting false faith into ridiculous notions like “The Banshee is a fan favorite, and thus, has to be a good guy.”

Get the fuck out of here… have you actually seen everything I’ve done since my arrival on Odyssey over two years ago? Moreover, do you remember what lead to finding the connection to The Horde? It was when I punished Jonetta right after Revy freed me from her control… My vulnerability was exposed, yet I refused to let it change me, which I think resonated well with my fans… so don’t make the mistake by believing that you aren’t the only one in the match that has no “soul or reputation to worry about,” because my soul is already damned, and I’ve built my reputation on BEING A FUCKING MONSTER! And you have the gall to actually insist that you’re going to beat my ass? You’re going to need a lot more than Felix, a wrench, and bluster to get past me at Game Over…

Rebecca Filth and Felix Hartley are the same because they are sex-loving sluts who own their promiscuous behavior…

I’ve never actually thought this, because I originally thought Felix was a local trick trying to earn meth money by licking Rebecca’s filthy taint… But Filth, you’re absolutely correct: “Pick something new!” Yes, “it’s BORING” and “fucking lazy” to consistently hammer in on the same details over and over again, like a carpenter with bad OCD… so why don't you practice what you preach against, Rebecca? You tried to compare me and Hana Nakajima by claiming that Morrighan and she were both “possessed” by demons…

The Banshee is NOT a demon, and I have NEVER claimed once to be one… It’s obvious that you haven’t been paying attention to even the “surface level bullshit,” because you still fail to realize that I’m not like Havoc at all… Havoc is its own entity… Havoc isn’t the one in control… The Banshee is ALWAYS in control! And again, because it bears worth repeating in cause you got dried cum in your crusty ears, I’ll say it again: The Banshee is NOT a demon… The Banshee IS a monster… No…

THE BANSHEE IS THE QUEEN OF THE MONSTERS!!!

Moreover, you clearly don’t know anything about The Banshee if you think I was going to try to “prudify” Odyssey… The Banshee’s Show, hell, The Banshee’s BRAND… Your strong ownership of your sexuality isn’t something that I find upsetting at all… Do I strike you like some of the original pillars here?

Most of those Odyssey “pillars” I single-handedly destroyed in some form or fashion, just as a reminder…

I could care less about your sexual exploits, because for one, I’m a demisexual anyways, so I don’t find anyone sexually appealing just on sight and sound alone… not that it’s any of your fucking business, just because you like to leave nothing to the imagination…

Besides, nothing will quite get me off more than taking the belt from your bloodied and broken body after you fall to the Cry of The Banshee at Game Over…

Also, if you think your sexual mindgames and exploits will work on me the same way it works on the other ladies on the roster… It’ll yet be another fatal mistake on your part… so go ahead and call me “daddy” again, try mocking me without your protection around… I’m sure your “fear” will have taken hold of you by then… hell, you’re already feeling weak in the knees just thinking about it, aren’t you? Good, that means you’re intelligent… I like my prey to have a little sport, after all…

It’s slightly amusing to me to see you try to run your current opponents down, because I know that you’re not as stupid as whore as you like us to believe… For example, you mention that I’ve had a huge chip on my shoulder ever since I put a “past her prime” Jonetta Stone into the ground…

Let’s break down what’s wrong with this picture here… For starters, Jonetta was anything BUT past her prime… in fact, she was STILL IN her prime when I finally got the vengeance I sought after for YEARS, because I can hold a grudge like no other… She was one of the most dominant women in the brand’s history, and someone that YOU HAVE NEVER BEATEN, if this is the tit-measuring contest you seem to be craving…

But don’t take my word for it that I know you truly DO FEAR AND RESPECT ME… remember all the excessive bragging you conducted after you won the Women’s Clash earlier this year? You actually spoke the following sentence: “And I was the one that eliminated everyone that mattered. Jonetta Stone, The Banshee, the other future star, Liz Karlson.” Not enough, you say? Well then, you also bragged that you “… threw the BEST and the BRIGHTEST on this fucking brand over the top rope. Banshee, Jonetta, Liz Karlson.” Would you like me to pause while you wipe that egg off your face… or is that jizz from your last truck stop detour?

You do realize that, by trying to demean me and my victories, you’re also demeaning yourself?

Are you that narcissistic that you can’t even accept the fact that I’m just better than you?

I've enjoyed playing games with you, Filth, but at the appropriately-titled Game Over, you run of quarters, credits, continues... See ya soon, bitch!

Michael Bishop, Alyssa Grace, Remington Ivory Prescott, DT The Ruler, Chad Ecclestone and DGS have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos August 14th 2022, 7:36 pm by **Jeff X**

Vengeance

New Bern, NC

August 13, 2022

The scene opens up to the inside of a small dive bar on a busy Saturday night. The place is crowded with people all laughing, drinking, and enjoying their weekend. A crowd has gathered around the stage as it’s obviously karaoke night. An overweight young man wraps up his objectively bad version of “Friend in Low Places”, and the crowd still claps and cheers for him regardless. The DJ then checks the signup sheet.

“Give it up for Kevin everybody! Up next is…PRESLEY!!! Get on up here, Presley!”

It’s just then that we notice Jeff X standing at the edge of the bar, leaned up against the wall, drink in hand, alongside his longtime girlfriend Presley Dawn, leaning against his shoulder. After hearing her name called however, she jumps up excitedly.

“Oh! That’s me!”

“Have fun, babe. I’m going to go smoke real quick.”

“Okay, see you when you get back!”

Jeff gives her a kiss before she rushes up and hops onto the stage. He sticks around as Presley begins to sing “Wide Open Spaces” by the Dixie Chicks. He smiles as he watches her for a moment before heading out the back door to smoke. The sound from the bar muffles out behind him as the door shuts and Jeff heads towards a picnic table out back, having a seat and lighting a Marlboro Red up. Jeff looks up at the starry Carolina sky and a smile actually breaks out upon his face.

“You know…with everything that’s happened over the last few years, I really shouldn’t have anything to be happy about. I’ve been at constant war with forces that are far more powerful than I, merely a mortal man. I’ve been beaten, bloodied, bruised, and broken, both physically and emotionally, over and over and over again. I’ve witnessed my friends and loved ones murdered right before my very eyes. Between the Great War, the Vision Quest, Dimensional Warfare, and everything in between, I don’t remember the last time that I had a good night’s sleep. I’ve even had a glimpse into the future and the things I saw absolutely horrify me when I think about where this world could be headed. With all of that, I really should be rethinking my choices and considering moving on from living this kind of life. I’ve made my money. I’ve built a lasting legacy. I’ve more than done my part in helping defend this brand from the evil that constantly plagues it. I know that logic dictates that I should listen to Presley and walk away…leave this all behind, maybe start a family, and live out the rest of my days laughing and drinking in amazing little shithole bars just like this one. Get out while I still can before this business and this company takes even more away from me than it already has. But…I prefer to look at things from a different perspective. Because despite all of the bullshit…all the pain…all the heartache and suffering…I look around the landscape of Kingdom and I see a whole lot to be happy about. The Frontline is still here, stronger than ever. Michael Bishop’s back, alive and well, and he is STILL your OWA World Champion. Me and Chris just snapped a seemingly unbreakable record and now are the longest reigning World Tag Team champions that this company has ever seen. And, then of course…there’s the one thing that might make me happier than anything…”

Jeff looks up at the camera now, a sadistic gleam to his cold, blue eyes as he hits his cigarette.

“Arata Asakura and the Golden Dawn are now officially left for me and Chris to bring an end to…once and for all.”

Jeff takes a swig from his beer, allowing his gaze to drift back towards the sky.

“Arata…we’ve been down this road for far too long. Our paths…mine, yours, Chris’...they have intertwined for years now and the wars that we have raged on one another have defined the fabric that built this brand into what it is today. I’ll be honest…I thought that I couldn’t hate you more. After everything we’ve been through…the treachery, the bloodshed, the violence, the death…I didn’t think that my opinion of you could sink any lower. But still…I always held out hope. You see, you can say what you want about me, Arata. I might be arrogant. I might be ignorant. I might be impulsive. I might not think things all the way through all the time. But I’m nothing if not loyal. My loyalty to this brand, to this group, to my family…it knows no bounds. And once upon a time you were a part of that. Once upon a time, you were someone I looked at as a brother, in every sense of the word…even if you did never feel the same way. But then…things changed. You snapped and had this weird superiority complex where you blamed everyone else around you, myself included, for your own shortcomings. Foolishly claiming that oppression because you just couldn’t fathom that maybe you weren’t as good as you fucking thought you were…and it caused you to go off the deep end. You made your deal with devil in Inzanagi…and you didn’t give a single fuck about who you hurt along the way. You turned your back on the Frontline like the snake you are. You blindsided us…bloodied us…and you revealed yourself to be nothing more than a selfish, cowardly traitor. But it didn’t stop there. You used your newfound power to do terrible things. I’m talking truly heinous shit. Now, I get it. I’m no fucking saint myself. That much is obvious. Believe me, I’m not normally one to throw stones inside of a glass house. I’ve done some pretty fucked up shit myself in my day that I’m not particularly proud of. But the shit you’ve done, Arata? It’s been next level awful. I’ve watched you drive bolts of lightning from the sky directly into people who once loved you, myself included. I’ve watched you bring your daughter…your own flesh and fucking blood…the SAME little girl I used to see wandering around the arenas backstage, so innocent and full of life…I watched you bring that little girl in from the future and stick her directly in harm’s way by inserting her into the middle of a bloody and violent war. I’ve watched you MURDER hundreds of innocent people in London in cold blood. People who had nothing to do with this business or this war. People whose families STILL grieve to this day knowing that they’ll never see their loved ones again. All for what? A fucking title belt?! You can say what you want to to try and justify it, but no matter which way you spin it…that’s evil, Arata. Pure fucking evil. But even still…throughout all of that…despite everything we’ve been through inside of the ring…and despite every terrible act against humanity that I’ve witnessed you commit out of it…deep down inside I still held out hope that somewhere in there was the man I once knew…the Self Made Man that had all the talent in the world…the man who fought with honor and dignity for the right reasons…the man I looked to as a brother. But sadly, that last sliver of hope I had that my old friend still existed somewhere in that warped mind of yours was dashed on that fateful night in Saudi Arabia.”

Suddenly, Jeff’s demeanor changes a bit. You can see his jaw clench up as he grips the bottle tighter, taking a small sip from it to calm himself down before continuing.

“When I watched Michael Bishop, lie there on the mat as he took his last breaths…when I saw the tears streaming down Rebecca’s face and heard Lita…heard MY fucking goddaughter’s cries echo above everything else in that sold out arena…when I watched you MURDER my best friend…my brother…the ONE man who has stood beside me through EVERYTHING that we’ve dealt with in this business without me ever so much as having to question his loyalty or ever have to ask for his help. When Michael Bishop died on that mat…so did Arata Asakura…both the old one I once knew and the one that stands before us now. Because now I don’t care if the man that stood at my side in the early days of the Frontline still exists somewhere in the depths of your mind. I couldn’t care less. The Self Made Man is dead to me. I’m finally ready to put that part of our past behind me. You finally managed to prove to me that he’s gone and he’s never coming back. And the Golden Dragon…the Gaijin Killer…THIS version of Arata Asakura…he’s soon to join him. Because what you did Arata…it’s un-fucking-forgivable. And I will have my vengeance. Granted, Mike probably SHOULD be the one to dish out this retaliation, but as the OWA World Champion, he has other responsibilities he must tend to, which is more than fine with me. Because now me and Chris get you all to ourselves and I won’t have to hold back and wait for Mike to deliver that deathblow…I can just do it myself. And trust me, Arata…I will. For nearly two years now, you’ve sat there and tried to preach to anyone who will listen to you how evil I am, unnecessarily enraged that anyone could ever view me as some sort of hero and determined to expose me for who you believe I truly am…an ignorant and arrogant warmonger…the true villain of this story…the man solely responsible for the death of Kenny Drake and all of the bloodshed and war that’s been waged on this brand since the very beginning…that’s what you believe I am, isn’t it, Arata? That’s what you want everyone else to see me as too, right? Well fuck it, Arata, it’s your god damn lucky day. Because if that’s the man you want me to be so badly…”

“Then that’s exactly the motherfucker that you’re going to get.”

Jeff takes one last puff from his cigarette before snuffing it out on the top of the picnic table and turning back towards the camera.

“That’s who you want me to be then fair fucks to you, Arata. Because at Game Over, you’re not getting your former Frontline comrade, Jeff X. You’re not getting the Hero of the Year, Jeff X. You’re not getting the protector of Kingdom, Jeff X. You’re not even getting the Tag Team Champion, Jeff X. You’re getting the trained to kill first and ask questions later Marine, Jeff X. You’re getting the enraged, murderous convict, Jeff X. You’re getting the violent felon, Jeff X. You’re getting the man who threw a whole career away and did a fucking dime in a correctional facility for driving a shard of glass into a man’s throat and painting the fucking wall with his blood. You’re getting the man who pulled the trigger without a second thought to slaughter people that he didn’t know in a war he’s not even sure he supported in the first place. You’re getting the motherfucker that I see when I look in the mirror and hate myself for…the motherfucker that I still see every night when I close my eyes and the nightmares set in bringing up all the shit that I’ve done in my life that I’m not proud of. THAT’S the motherfucker that you’re going to get, Arata…because that’s the motherfucker you deserve. You thought I was the villain before? That I’m the the physical embodiment of everything you perceive to be wrong in this world? Well trust me motherfucker…you ain’t seen shit yet.”

Jeff takes another drink from his beer and shakes his head. You can see the anger in his eyes and hear it in every word he speaks. He’s deadly serious.

“Arata Asakura…Jack Daito…the Golden Dawn as a whole…you fucking cocksuckers may have thought your experience having been at war against me and the Frontline this whole time would give you some kind of a clue as to just what you’re walking into…that you know by now exactly what you’re up against…but you don’t You have no idea. You have no fucking clue of the hell that I plan on rain down on the both of you…and anybody else in your little fucked up organization that might decide they want some too. Saru? Rin? Sakuya? Raijin? Inzanagi? The fucking Grand Elder herself? I don’t give a single shit. Bring them all. None of them will be able to save you. Because you took something from me, Arata. There’s not much in this world that I have left to truly care about…only my family. Not the one given to me by blood, but the one I forged through my own experiences. The Frontline. THAT’S the only family I have left and you took it upon yourself to take one of them away from me! All because of what? Because you didn’t have the fucking talent necessary to win a fucking match? So you threw a temper tantrum like a petulant fucking child and took away my brother right before my very eyes. So now…now I’m going to take something from you.”

Jeff pauses to light up another cigarette. He rests his elbows on the table and breathes a cloud of smoke into the air and begins to elaborate in a surprisingly calm voice.

“And I’m going to start with your right hand man…Jack Daito. The man who’s stood by your side throughout all of this, hoping that his allegiance and loyalty to you will make you look past his obvious shortcomings when it comes to actually getting something done. I want to be mad at Daito. I really do. I want to hate him with the same vigor that I do you, Arata. But the truth is that I can’t. I can’t bring myself to have such contempt for a man that doesn’t even matter to begin with. He may have been there since the very first time the Black Sun made their presence felt on Kingdom, but that’s literally all he has been. Just…there. A meaningless piece to the puzzle often not even spoken of because his existence quite literally has no significance to it whatsoever. He’s a background singer. An extra in a movie. A fly on the wall that you never notice because they just don’t fucking do anything aside from be there. Tell me Daito…what role do you play here? Aside from getting shot in the fucking leg and squealing like a fucking schoolgirl about it, name me ONE memorable moment that you’ve ever been a REAL part of. ONE accomplishment to your name that you have to be proud of. Just ONE fucking reason why ANYBODY should care that you’re employed in this company at all! Can’t come up with one? Yeah…me neither. Which is why I don’t find myself filled with the same level of rage when I hear your name or see your face. I just feel…nothing. And while you may think that that’s good for you and your health…it’s not. Because while I may not hate you, Jack…I despise the man that you serve so obediently. And I will destroy you first in order to hurt him. I will make him watch as I rip your throat straight from your neck and spill your blood all over the canvas. I will make him witness the light leaving the eyes of his most trusted and loyal follower. And I will make sure that he knows that it’s all his fault. It’s not yours. As I said…you’ve just kind of been there this whole time. And that’s all you’ll be at Game Over as well. Just there. But this time…you’re going to be there in the wrong place at an even worse time. And you’ll pay in your own blood for the actions of your master.”

Jeff quickly takes another swig of his Bud Light, chasing it with a long drag from his smoke.

“But I’m not going to stop there. Oh no, Arata. I will not settle with just taking Jack Daito from you. I want more. Once Daito is finished, I will turn my attention to you and will unleash the kind of hell the likes of which you have never imagined. And it will not be quick. You will know the meaning of true pain…true misery. I will fight and scratch and claw and break and rip and tear at you until you’ve felt every emotion that I felt watching Mike bleed out at my feet. I will not stop until you regret the very day that you watched a wrestling match for the first time. I will not stop until you’re begging me to…until you’re begging me to show some kind of mercy and pleading with me to just go ahead and take your life like you did his. And then…then I will. I will grant you your wish. I will hear the cries from your family. I will watch as Rin realizes that if she ever wants to see her father again, she’s going to have to travel even further back in time, to before Game Over ever took place. I will see the tears flow down little Izaya’s face, fresh off his third birthday, knowing that daddy isn’t going to be there to celebrate his fourth. And I promise you…I will not feel a single shred of remorse because of it.”

Jeff down whatever remains in the bottle, slamming it down onto the table.

“Because this isn’t about the Tag Team Championships, Arata."

"This isn’t about Kingdom."

"This isn’t about good versus evil."

"This isn’t even about the Frontline or the Golden Dawn."

"This is about vengeance."

"This is about retaliation."

"And on everything that I love, I will have it at Game Over…even if it’s the last fucking thing I ever do.”

[Fade to black]

Michael Bishop, Alyssa Grace, The Banshee, Remington Ivory Prescott, DT The Ruler, Chad Ecclestone, JosieGreyEsq and DGS have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos August 12th 2022, 9:20 pm by **marielacorriveau**

Salt, Lavender, Rosemary

Marie sits alone at a table, incongruously set in a muddy, foggy field. She shivers, the chill in the air penetrating her thin black dress, and tries to focus on what’s around her, tries to ground herself with what she can see and feel.

The threshing has been done already, and the straw left behind is wet and heavy when she kicks it under the table. The fog is thick, obscuring everything more than ten feet away in any direction. It comes to her in pieces, slowly forming together, and then clicking in place.

It’s summer. It should be hot, the air should stick to the inside of your lungs and weigh down your clothes. This field should be full. There hasn’t been rain in days.

This
isn’t
real.

As soon as that sinks in, Marie looks across the table. There’s a heavily veiled woman sitting across from her, her features (if there are any) completely obscured by the layers of dark blue cloth. It brings to her mind the St. Lawrence river in the darkest part of winter, rippling and thick and an unreal blue-black, a colour that can’t quite be captured, that disappears from your palm when you try to scoop it up.

She looks down, and there’s a steaming cup of tea in front of her. Marie can place it from the smell - raspberry leaves, red clover, fir needles, cornflower. It’s a forager tea. She’s made it plenty of times on foggy days like the pastiche she’s been dropped in. The steam billowing from the cup blurs the space between them, adding another layer to the spirit’s disguise.

“Tea? Really? Couldn’t rustle up a senat board?” She snorts, pushing the cup away from her.

“Is this what a hero does now? Storm in indignantly, make a show of herself?”

“I’m not a hero, I’m a wrestler.”

“Ah, but you are now. Isn’t that your grand purpose? To speak to the little lost girls of the world? To drag witches and dhampirs into the light? To give them hope?”

The venom in the spirit’s voice as it says that last word makes Marie shiver violently, and she can feel the smugness across the table. She needs to get a stronger hold over herself. She can’t show weakness, not even here - especially not here. This isn’t real, but that has its own dangers - she won’t let this spirit dominate her in her own mind. She won’t be another Hana.

“What’s so wrong with that? They’re out there, why should they hide?”

“Because people hunt monsters.”

“I’m a witch. Violet is a dhampir. The two of us are a team, and neither of us are actually monsters. It’s just who we are. We don’t deserve to hide for our entire lives, and neither does anyone watching us. You don’t understand. This isn’t your world anymore, people don’t think like that now. And what’s your point anyways? Are you trying to shame me for making little girls witches? For giving hope to dhampirs? There’s a thousand paths for them to explore, things locked in their own histories waiting to be unearthed, and no puritans left to burn them.”

“Oh, Marie. You don’t really believe that. You knew you couldn’t go to the kingdom, they would’ve stoned you”

“Is that your big angle? I didn’t go because I wasn’t booked. They don’t buy a plane ticket and a hotel room for people they don’t need on the show. If I had been needed, I would’ve gone, head held high.”

“Because you knew you were protected.”

“They almost shot Filth and Magnum. They killed someone! Is that protection? I didn’t ask to be left behind. I didn’t ask to be protected if they took me. I went to Indonesia, didn’t I?”

“In Indonesia, the law was on your side. In Saudi Arabia, it wasn’t. You made that very clear to me, don’t you remember?”

“I remember. You can try and get in my head all you want, but I’m not afraid of you. I locked you up. This is a pretty decent trick Madame, but it isn’t real. If you wanted to freak me out, something a little more corporeal would’ve been the way to go.”

Marie pats her pockets.

“Really? You can do a cup of tea but you can’t give me any cigarettes?”

The figure across from her laughs, and Marie almost flinches - almost.

“I thought you were an athlete, cherie. That’s a terrible habit for you to have.”

“What are you, my mother?”

“Of course I am - after a fashion. I’m your mother, and the mother of all those little girls you corrupted when they saw you and your dhampir take in their adoration after beating… what were their names again? You seem to have already forgotten them. You piled them underneath you like refuse, like the dirt under your feet, and you made the people enjoy it.”

“Corrupted.” Marie spits the word back at her. “I haven’t corrupted anyone. Witchcraft isn’t corruption. It’s part of history, part of humanity. Anyone who saw us and wanted to learn could learn at the feet of people in their own country, from their own culture. They can take back what was stolen from them when missionaries came and convinced them it was all evil. They can be the generation who heals that damage.”

“Yes, yes. I saw your dukun. Don’t look so surprised, you carry me with you everywhere you go. I was the only one who did - you seemed less proud when it was time to put him on camera. Seems that even you can admit that there are times when it’s best to stay in the shadows. And yet there you were, barging into that ring, showing the whole world what you are.”

Marie taps her fingers against the table, irritated and trying to hold it in, trying to keep the spirit from seeing it’s getting under her skin.

“Let me spell this out for you, madame. Plain as day, so you can’t misunderstand me. Violet and I have chosen to be who we are, unapologetically, in front of the world. That’s our choice, no one else’s, and we won’t make it for anyone else.”

Before the spirit can speak, Marie continues.

“We beat Becca and Kalisi, and in a couple of weeks, we’ll beat Yuna and Izumi, and The Power of Incredible Violence too. Don’t get me wrong, I like Izumi. I like her passion, I like her drive, I like that she’s worked her ass off to get here and I hope she achieves her dream. The only thing I don’t fucking like about her is her partner. Maybe you could make me feel a little bad for beating Becca and Kalisi, they’ve never done a thing to me and I don’t have any ill will towards them. Maybe you could try to plant your seeds of doubt in my head about Alyssa and Liz, because I have respect for them. But Yuna? Yuna is a two faced bitch who needs to be taught something about respect. Yuna shook my fucking hand when I beat her and then turned around and called me a Barbie, tried to denegrate me - and no, before you ask, I’m not going to explain that to you now either. You lack both the historical knowledge and the cultural context. I just plain don’t like Yuna, and so much the better if we stomp her ass into the mat on our way to the title. Couldn’t happen to a nicer fucking person. And The Power of Incredible Violence?”

Marie snorts.

“They’re good friends, sure. They work well together, fine. Alyssa is a wrestler I respect, and have respected in my time here, and Liz has earned the same from her performance. They’re solid competitors, but they only won because Ellie and BIANCA were too focused on how much they hated each other to finish the match. It was a really lucky break for them, but it’s not going to happen twice. We showed everyone that on Saturday. Tabernak, we had them beat down until Izumi and Yuna decided to insert themselves into it and sneak attack us. Ellie and BIANCA were tossed together and became canon fodder for their trouble, Bad Meets Evil is a team. I care about Violet. I care about the vision Violet came to me with. I will not let her down if it kills me.”

“Do you get it now, madame? You can’t scare me, and you can’t convince me to lock my doors and hide, waiting for witch hunters to burn down my house with me inside. I have something now that you can’t touch. I have Violet. I have Bad Meets Evil. And we, together, two people with one purpose, one unstoppable driving force, are going to take those title belts at Game Over, and when we do? When I raise the hand of my partner, the person I am closest to in the world, the person I allowed to have a tiny piece of my soul so that we could be that single force? We will show the whole world what the outcast, the freak, the monster, is capable of. We will lift up thousands of little witch girls and bastard dhampirs and show them that they don’t have to be afraid. They may have tricked you into seeing the devil in the mirror, madame, but I told you, this isn’t your world anymore. All that self hatred you’re carrying?”

She softens a bit, leaning forward. “You don’t need to hold on to it, madame. They lost. I swear to you, they’ve lost. Look at me, look at us. We’re the proof. All of that, it’s all dust. It’s a better world now, madame, and you can be happy that it is. You would have been safe in this world, and loved. It doesn’t have to be this way.”

The figure reaches out and pats Marie’s hand, sending cold creeping up her arm.

“Ah, Marie. You sweet, stupid girl. You don’t fix people by beating them.”

-

Marie wakes with a jolt, looking around frantically. She’s still in her seat on the plane. No one seems to have noticed - no one, that is, except for Violet. Marie locks eyes with her for a moment, and gives her what she hopes is a reassuring smile. It’s still quiet, cabin lights off, and the few people that aren’t asleep have earbuds in or books in their laps.

She relaxes into her seat, reaching under her blouse to pull out a small, rusted key. The leather cord it’s on is hot from her skin, but the key itself is still ice cold.

“Bitch.” Marie mutters, pulling it over her head and putting it in her carry on bag. She’d have to remember not to fall asleep with it touching her skin again. A long bath with a heavy dose of salt and rosemary should wash away any lingering influence from the hag in the trunk. There didn’t seem to be any damage, but she wouldn’t leave it to chance. She couldn’t let anything happen.

With a long sigh, she settles down again, wedging her pillow behind her and pulling her cheap airline blanket tight around her.

When she dreams again, she dreams of burning.

Michael Bishop, Bobby Wheeler, Jeff X, Alyssa Grace, The Banshee, Remington Ivory Prescott, "Killer Bee" and have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos August 9th 2022, 12:01 am by **Daisy Thrash**

“You’re worthless!”

“You'll never be good enough!”

“No man wants to date a crazy feminist!”

“Why don’t you just give up?”

Yeah, I’ve heard it all and more. Not only from outside, but also within the confines of my own head. The Greatest Hits of How Much You Suck running 24/7. Good times. Thing is though, they’re just words. And never my words. Those only have power if I allow them to. So guess what? No one’s words, even from my own intrusive thoughts, can define who I am. Only I get to do that. Y’all know what time it is? It’s time to remind everyone of exactly who the hell I am. I’m Daisy fuckin’ Thrash and I wasn’t put on this Earth to quit. I can see the vultures ready to circle around me and pick my bones. “See?”, they’ll all crow. “She couldn’t make it! We all told her so, why didn’t she listen?”. Hate to break it to you, but there'll be no carrion for you to feast on. Not now and not ever. The only end for you is the slow and torturous death by starvation, choking on your own lies. You want me to cower away from your pathetic barbs? Shrivel away into a husk in the bottom of some dark pit? Uh uh, not gonna happen. I refuse to be locked up and forgotten about. Like the sun I will always rise, no matter how cold or black the night. On Saturday, in Beijing, I may go down. But I will not remain that way. I will be pouring every gallon of sweat and blood I’ve got into earning my victory. Am I crazy? Perhaps. But one look into my crazed eyes and you will see the gaze of the future Unified Openweight Champion.

You know what I see when I look at the self-proclaimed “Thotyssey”? Nothing but laziness and complacency. That hunger that burned within them during the title chase. Snuffed out. Doesn’t sound like anyone I would want on my team. There is someone who sounds pretty good, though. Someone with the sheer chutzpah to get up in the champion’s face and give her a taste of her own medicine. Three times. Someone who beat Jonetta Stone, a former Athena’s Cup winner and Women’s Champion in her own right. Someone who beat her in such a way that we will never hear from her again. Someone like…The Banshee. Lucky me, she’s on my team! If you ask me, she certainly deserves to have a chip on her shoulder. As for Angelina, well…she’s clearly shown her ass. Oh well, her compliments were nice while they lasted. Now she’s back to trying to suck the Thotyssey teat. “Omg, those girls I called ugly were mean to me! Can I come play with you guys again? Pretty please?” Sorry sugar, but the milk’s all dried up. You’d only be their sacrificial lamb, anyway. Eating pins like candy while they keep smelling like roses. How do I know? Because I’m the one with the wrestling knowledge. The only reason you know that commentators ask if a team can coexist is because I said something about it. Maybe your acting career will go much the same, copying off actresses far more talented than you. At least it’ll give you and Elizabeth Olsen something to talk about. You know what, this is nice. I can get all my anger at you out now and be able to focus on the real threat come Odyssey. So hey, if you’re gonna copy someone, it might as well be someone who’s been around the block. Otherwise, just don’t do anything fucking stupid. Or we’ll be reenacting a certain scene from The Wrestler. I’ll give you a hint, it involves a stapler.

I’m no idiot, I know a certain pair of blondes are gonna be the biggest threat in this match. Despite this, I can’t help but laugh. There’s variations between the two but it leads to the same refrain: we’re all somehow just jealous of them. C’mon, you’re killing me here! As if anyone would be jealous of either of you. You are both so far up your own asses that you think you’re somehow the pinnacle of womanhood. Truth is, the patriarchy gave you both a good, dry fisting and transformed you into their hand puppets. Hell, knowing Rebecca she probably liked it. The sex industry does different things to different people. For a couple of weak-minded tools like yourselves, it only served to brainwash you into believing that the most important thing about a woman is her looks. Look, I know honesty and transparency are foreign concepts to you two, but I’ll tell you something point blank. I don’t care about how sexual you are. Do it, don’t do it, I don’t give a fuck. The reason I hate you is because you’re a couple of vindictive little bullies and that’s all you’re ever gonna be. That’s why you keep throwing around all the petty, middle school level insults. So no one can look any deeper and see that your self-esteem is being propped up by toothpicks. Lemme ask you something. Without your championships, without your “perfect” bodies, what are you?

Nothing.

The gold, the qualities you love lording over us, it’s all temporary. Beauty fades. Championships change hands. I know, it seems inconceivable right now. But it’ll happen one of these days and I guarantee you won’t be ready for it. Felix especially won’t be after Game Over. So what will you do? Pout? Cry that it wasn’t fair? Demand a rematch because it’s absolutely impossible that you lost? I can’t say for sure, but it will definitely be fun to watch the fireworks. Me? I’ll do what I always do. Keep learning, keep fighting, and keep believing in myself. People have broken so many of my bones, but they’ve never broken my spirit. But please try. It’ll give me something else to laugh about.

Felix sweetie, I don’t know if you know this but we didn’t pick our teams. You didn’t pick Devi, after all. Then again, with how quickly you changed your tune on her, someone with half a brain could’ve easily thought that you did. Let’s face it, you only care about Devi’s championship because you could possibly win it. I love how Devi gets praised for attacking me but then Banshee attacks Rebecca it’s suddenly pathetic. Love me some hypocrisy. I don’t know what you heard about me, but allow me to set the record straight. One, I don’t have a Twitter account. Real life activism is much more my thing. Two, I don’t “steal” championships. Instead, I rip them from the holder’s hands while staring them in the face. Because I want them to know it was me. You want to see some action? Just wait until I smash your face into the canvas on Odyssey. Mr. Director, I await your cue.

Rebecca, I heard all that you had to say about me. I thought about it for a bit and came to a conclusion.

Why the HELL should I listen to you?

Maybe if you were in my place, you would’ve given up by now. Not me, baby. You think I’ve reached my ceiling. Bitch, I don’t HAVE a ceiling! Face the truth, you and Felix have peaked. Life for you can’t get any better than this. It’s all downhill from here. In my case, my potential is limitless. I have nowhere to fall, so I have everywhere to grow. I’ll start by leading my team to victory. Then who knows? Maybe it’ll be the Women’s Championship next.

Michael Bishop, Jeff X, Alyssa Grace, The Banshee, "Killer Bee" and DT The Ruler have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos August 8th 2022, 11:59 pm by **"Killer Bee"**

Four guys. Three Matches. One person who will emerge with a mystery prize and the right to call themselves the winner of the 2022 Dark Kingdom Tournament. I didn’t sign up for this thing thinking it would be a cakewalk. Getting by Dick P. Slaughter was tough enough. My ass STILL hurts from hitting him with the Jam Session onto all of those chairs. But, it was enough to get the job done, right? So, here we are. Four guys who have a lot of differences in how they wrestle and how they view wrestling and what they hope to get out of it. Four guys who couldn’t be more different in terms of lifestyle. But we all have a common thread in our stories now. We all had to go through hell to get through that first round to be here and we’re going to apparently have to go through hell a couple of times over to get to that pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.

You guys know about me, right? The rising Young Lion who is just starting to cut his teeth in the business. I’m not as experienced as Noah or Jacob, obviously. Both of them have wrestled elsewhere and I’m not even as experienced as Titan. I’ve had…what, five, six matches now? Not just in OWA, but my entire career. And now, probably before I’m ready in the opinions of most of the wrestling world, I have my chase to stake a claim and lay my marker down in a big way on Kingdom. But…I know it’s not going to be easy.

Titan, you’re a beast. I don’t mean that in a derogatory way either, you’re an absolute unit of a man. Every once in a while back when I was still training, I saw you a few times and you absolutely jumped off the TV screen on Olympus. You’re not just a brutal man with no brain though: I can tell you’re a well cultured man. Most people don’t go around quoting Greek and Roman mythology or point out who their favorite artists are without so much as a second thought. You’re a very interesting man, someone whom I’d like to have a lot more discussion with in the future on a variety of topics. Unfortunately, if we both happen to make it to the Dark Kingdom finals, it won’t be much of a social call. It’s going to be a fight to see who comes out on top in one of the most grueling annual tournaments in professional wrestling. You interest me. For a guy hanging out at the damn Louvre of all places and a taste for fine art, you picked a hell of a profession.

I guess I can’t talk too much. I was actually going to wind up being a poker player if I wasn’t a wrestler. I know it’s a shady business and all that but I don’t think I was put on this planet to not have an exciting life. By the time I was twenty I was sneaking into big-time cash games with card sharks, mobsters, and professional gamblers and hustlers of every kind. I had to figure out fast who was there for show and who was there to really gamble…and if they could back up what they were spitting out. You…I’m not sure if you can back up all this talk you’ve been doing. Not to say you’re not a great wrestler or athlete, I think we’ve established that. But just like my opponent in the semis, Noah Kreiger, you don’t seem to see me as much in the way of competition. You seem to look at me as another character in your Aesop’s Fables, another broken body to hang in your mental collection of portraits of the men you’ve broken.

I have no intention of being any sort of easy mark for you. I know that you have a lot going for you and you believe that this tournament is just a coronation for you to make your mark, but I can tell you that if you and I meet you better bring your working boots instead of a book or a story. I don’t care how big, tough, cultured or experienced a wrestler is, I’m not going to back away from them and not fight. You would do well to remember that. Nobody in this tournament is an afterthought. Especially not me.

Jacob Striker, your reputation precedes you. I’ve heard a lot about who you are and what you’re about from Emmanuelle and while most of it isn’t good, what I’ve seen of you in the ring is very good. You’ve obviously got some beef with the other two guys but I noticed that you didn’t talk much about me when you made your little video. Was it because I was quiet and preparing and not on social media? Did you think I was not worth the time and effort to address? I mean, don’t you know my manager? I heard that you and Emmy go back a bit and she was honestly a little offended you didn’t talk to her! I think she may have been more offended by the fact that you’ve become a “pretentious, self-indulgent, self-righteous jackass clown” (her words, not mine) and then decided to declare that the ring was a Sacred Place. While I don’t go as far as calling the ring a sacred place or holy place, I do give a damn about the business. I know that if I got to the final against you we’d put on a hell of a match against one another, if for nothing else because you have the ego and desire to keep going far past a point when you should give up.

I’m not all that dissimilar from you.

The pressures of wrestling seem to get to you though. You rail on and on about how people disrespected you when you first became a champion. Why are you still wound up on past things? I know you’re focused on the present and your match to a degree, but it seems to me that at least a small part of you is focused on things that don’t matter anymore, things in the past. If you feel the ring is truly sacred and special, drop all that other emotional baggage you have at the Brody Position. Don’t bring it to the ring when you’re going against Titan and if, by the grace of the Good Lord I make it to the final, definitely don’t bring it to me. Because I don’t care. You’re not the first person to be doubted. You’re not the first person to be overlooked and underestimated. Hell, you’ve done it to me already once before. We all have our struggles in this line of work that we have to go through to get through to get to the other side. So just suck it up and wrestle, okay? That’s all I ask from you. I don’t want to hear your stories about being held back or disrespected because, hell, I was trained by Carlos Rosso. Disrespect is ingrained into your DNA. Hours of being told you’ll never be shit, that you’ll never be fit to stand in an OWA ring or any other ring. And this was the guy that was training me to fight! If you can’t stand the criticisms of others, wrestling isn’t the sport for you. Me? I relish being told no…which is why I think Carlos trained me in the first place. He saw the spark…the neverending desire to make the people who doubt you shut up. And if you’re stupid enough to doubt me? Guess what, I’ll shut you up too.

Noah. I’ve been thinking about this for a while now and I’m damn happy that if I’m not going to make the final of this tournament that it’s somebody like you who stops me from doing so. You care about the business, but you need this more than anything. You’re willing to risk everything to get to that final and I respect you for it. I haven’t felt chills like I feel when I think about standing across the ring from you for a spot in that final since I stood across the ring from MYOJIN, wrestling for the Outlaw Championship. I was nervous, but I was ready too. And I pushed him to the limit until one mistake kept me from reaching the dreams that I had ever since I was a child. I know that you need this tournament. You need this to put a stamp on OWA, to plant your flag so to speak. There’s just one problem with that for you as it pertains to me:

I don’t give a shit.

And I mean that with every ounce of respect possible too, man. I really do. But I can’t afford sentimentality now and I’m pretty sure you’re aware you can’t either. This is sink or swim for a spot in the finals, in the last big main event in OWA before Game Over. It’s a chance to revitalize your career or take mine to dizzying heights that I can only dream of right now. Now, I didn’t just train hard and pray that I would be able to beat you, man. I’ve been studying you close. Your tournament matches, your matches from other companies. Any and every bit of information I could get on you I have my hands on. I’m prepared to take you on and I’m prepared to send you home or to the hospital or even the goddamn morgue if I have to to make it to that final. There’s this thing about young lions…it takes us a while to get our claws sharp but when we do? The old lions fear us and make way.

Boys, this is a very complicated way to deal with a very simple math problem: Four Minus Three Equals One. One of us is going to be left standing when all of this is over. One of us is going to have the rights to call ourselves a winner. I didn’t come this far to go home with nothing. I know I’ve got the tag title shot and a career ahead of me and an exceptional manager and all this that and the other, but I’m a greedy sonnofabitch too. I want to win this tournament and I will go through all of you at once if I have to get there.

I hope you boys are ready because I damn sure am. I don’t care if you’re a veteran, a champion, or a God Killer…

We all have to play our hands the same way. We all bleed, sweat, and feel pain.

We all are willing to pay the price.

I’m just willing to pay more.

Alyssa Grace, The Banshee, DarkCircle, DT The Ruler and Chad Ecclestone have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos August 8th 2022, 11:58 pm by **Stark**

Delusion is much easier to live in than to face reality and accept things for what they are.

At the lowest points of my life - and trust me, I have had MANY of those - it would have been so easy for me to completely lose myself to my vices and insecurities. To just stay on the streets and become a husk of myself, to let the cocaine take over my life entirely, to blame everyone for my situation but myself... that would have all been so easy. Not once in my life though have I opted for the coward's way out and hide from what was in front of me.

Fight.

That's all I know how to do anymore. Not make excuses, not feel sorry for myself, all I can and will do now is fight, until I can't anymore. Not just for as long as I'm Goddesses Champion, or a wrestler at all, as long as I live, no matter what adversary I face, I will fight it, and I will WIN.

So tell me why you think that this pathetic bullshit you're coming at me with is going to fly at all, BIANCA.

If this match is so important to you BIANCA, where have you been this whole time? Thirst trapping on Twitter, you seem to be taking more pictures at the gym than completing sets, it's so easy to look good in a dress - trust me, that used to be my career before I became a professional wrestler. I spoke my peace and said what I had to say to make sure that you're not just another waste of my open challenge like Rebecca Brookes ended up being, and then I got to work. But as I heard from many people, no one cares about how hard I work. Fair enough, that's why I do it silently. It seems that in your case, you may have been better off saying nothing at all. Fools don't know when to stop talking though, and you've proven that to me.

I'm going to invalidate everything else you say after the fact that your last match in OWA before your fragile little ACL tore in half was for the Goddesses Championship, and you failed to win it. Now watch as history repeats itself again as you face yet another champion that you have no shot of beating. Your quest for gold ends with me. You can make as many excuses about why you walked out on Ellie Quinn last week, and I know she sucks, but that's no reason to throw a match. You don't think I hear and see the things people say about Devi Krysis? Yet I have enough respect for her and what I KNOW she's capable of to always stand by her side and fight my hardest, even when we're up against beasts like Jeff X and Christopher Sabertooth. Meanwhile you didn't even trust yourself enough to beat two women who you should know better than anyone else considering you buddy up with them over in JET... Sad. It's one thing to suck, it's another to admit it. You walking out on what could have been a win and a guaranteed spot at Game Over to compete for the Women's Tag Team Championships... That was a hard admission of the fact that you don't have what it takes to win.

Yet after that you still had the audacity to answer my open challenge. Amazing! What makes you think that after such an embarrassing loss that you can continue to make excuses for, saying you're too good for Ellie, calling her minor leagues, saying no one has the right to team with you - despite you joining up with the same people you ran away from on the last Odyssey because you know your one-legged attempt at being relevant anymore just isn't going to work - with all of that, I don't know why you think you can call this is an inevitable victory... No matter how many people I defend this championship against, there will always be another fool to walk into the clearing of MY kingdom and tell me that I don't deserve to sit on this throne as the Goddesses Champion. Well that's why I run these open challenges - come at the Queen and you'll be sure to miss.

"Imagine that for a second, you earn your shot only for management to get mad and make your life a living hell", you say?

Imagine not watching the damn show you're a competitor on. Scouting doesn't seem to be your strong point, but then again, neither is winning, so let me ask you, why are you even here?

If you think that having a one on one match getting turned into a six man contest sucks, what can I say other than womp womp. You should have won the damn match, and you would've been the Goddesses Champion right now. Instead you broke your leg. L. O. L.

You call this open challenge a curse. Not really. I invite any and all competition! I WANT to face the best of the best. I'm not scared, because if I was, I'd be out here making excuses about being mistreated by management like you are, and like how Brookes was last time. You guys just don't watch Odyssey clearly, so let me just remind you that Llorona has had it out for my damn head for months. She hates the fact that I'm Goddesses Champion and no matter who she sends at me, no matter who answers my open challenge, no matter how much she tries to rip this title away from my hands, she has not been able to.

Still, do you see me complaining? If anything, I'm just mad that she's getting in the way of me having the best matches possible. She's taking away what should be decisive wins for my soon to be record setting Goddesses Championship reign.

See you said it yourself. You just care about "being champion", wanting that piece of gold around your waist. You say you're ready to steal it if you need to. Is that what champions are made of? I thought they would've taught you better at the JET Dojo. I won't disrespect the man who helped get me off the streets and into the ring, the man who gave me a second chance at life by betting that my sad coke-head ass could actually make something of herself as a professional wrestler. Unfortunately that man was only the Head Trainer, Eijiro Takahashi. It seems that everyone else running JET these days has shit for brains because they have one of the biggest stars in this industry, the Golden Goddess, and half the time they don't even bother calling me to come out on their shows. That's fine though, why would I bother? I'm just honoring the contract, I'm ready to call it quits on that small-time Joshi indie promotion and start spreading my wings in the bigger companies of the world. Represent the Goddesses Championship around the world and add more gold and accolades to my collection. Meanwhile you can keep coasting off that "World Title" you won there four years ago, bragging about how you got booked for the first match after JET's return and downsizing, being the face of a once-great but now not so much promotion. Now that you know you'll never achieve that same measure of success with your peg-leg, you can stand in the shadows of women far greater than you like Liz Karlson and Alyssa Grace, and let them carry you back to the top... Then again how much can you really expect from a group of girls who couldn't even come up with their own faction name! You guys are so funny.

You know, you can call me cocky, arrogant, a bitch, a cunt, whatever. I've heard it all at one point or another, those things just don't bother me anymore. I'll tell you what this is. This is the confidence that I've earned from going through the rigor of being one of the top champions of OWA, fighting the best of the best on Odyssey and walking out with the Goddesses Championship every time. You can look down on Remi and Ruri, you can call Revy a joke, you can say that I only "survived" Rebecca Brookes when I know damn well I had that win locked before Diantha Rosso decided to involve herself in MY business... You don't seem to realize how lame that all makes you sound. What makes you think you're better than any of those women? They don't make excuses for themselves, despite how much they lose, they just get back on the horse and keep riding. First time you fell off that horse you tore your ACL. Yes, I will joke about it over and over again. It's always just as funny. The women you look down on for no reason are the kind of people I respect, and those are the ones I'll gladly fight any time, because that's what this sport is all about. Not being born the best, but becoming the best, through the power of determination. Never give up isn't just a cheesy catchphrase, it's a motto to live by.

Now as I continue to listen to your pathetic rambling, I still can't do much more than laugh. I mean seriously. You're STILL making excuses for why you walked out on that match! If you really didn't care, you wouldn't bring it up, but you continue to do so, because I'm sure it's starting to eat you alive as reality sets in. You're not what you claim to be, you peaked four years ago in JET and you've done nothing but fail since. You can say that your leg buckled under the grand expectations but that's just bullshit and you know it. You're going to tell me that you being born with every advantage and underperforming at every given venture is somehow better than me losing it all and regaining it back with NOTHING but my own power? You're an idiot, what else can I say at that point. No, I'll tell you what it is BIANCA, the fact is that you just aren't able to carry anything. You're right, you had the stink of the developmental call-up because all your time in OWT amounted to was a failed run on Odyssey. And I'm not going to hold that against you entirely because you are right, I failed too.

Where was I when I left Odyssey you asked? I was doing what I always do best. Fighting my demons. You think I'm afraid to admit it? You're coming at me like it's some sort of "gotcha!" but I'm not delusional like you. I know where my faults are. I know that I came into OWA way too far in over my head and did nothing but get my ass kicked until I fell back on my bad habits and got suspended. I went back to Japan to get my head back together until I was ready to return and then... well you know, the rest is history. The losing streak, the Goddesses Championship win that shocked the world, and now here I stand. I'm not even going to dignify your pathetic attempts to try to rile me up. Felix Hartley is more important than me? Good for her, I thought she would've been defending that championship then tonight, but I guess I've just devalued this Goddesses Championship so much that Llorona is punishing me by letting me run my open challenges, booking me for Game Over a month in advance, and coming after my head each and every week. That's how little I matter, I know. It's actually really sad.

Alright that's as much as I can hold in my laughter at this point. I didn't realize I was a transitional champion, 200 days with this belt to just keep it warm for the next champion. You're right. Thing is BIANCA... the next champion isn't you. It was never going to be you.

I'm not jealous of you BIANCA, far from it! Why would I be jealous of the one-legged failure who has done nothing but fail and make excuses her entire career. I'm too busy out here on my 220th day as champion, continuing to cement my reign as the Golden Goddesses Champion, soon to be the greatest of all time...

But before I break that record, I've gotta break your feeble little leg again.

Damn, how is that still so funny?!

Jeff X, Alyssa Grace, "Killer Bee", DT The Ruler, Lazarus Arjen, Chad Ecclestone and JosieGreyEsq have spoken. It’s such good shit!

glass ceilings August 8th 2022, 11:54 pm by **Felix Hartley**

“Felicia Jackson? Dr. Chandler is ready for you.”

The meek voice of the receptionist called out into the waiting area. Felix stood up, a black hooded (but still form-fitting, obviously) sweater on her torso with the hood pulled up. She slips her designer sunglasses off and hooks them onto the zipper of her sweater. She is lead into a small, quiet room with a maroon leather sofa, black bookshelves, a desk, and a lamp on either side that provided unthreatening ambience.

“Long time no see, Ms. Jackson,” Dr. Chandler’s pleasant greeting was met with a faint half-smile from Felix as she sat down on the opposing couch. “How are you doing?”

“Fine.”

It took her a second to remember that her therapist wasn’t really asking out of pleasantry; she was beginning the appointment. They both exchanged a look before Felix nodded, clueing in.

“I’ve been on top of the world, actually. I’m really only here out of necessity and not because anything is wrong.”

“Well that’s still an accomplishment, many people think that therapy is dependent on their moods that day. My clients who make the most progress understand, like yourself, that therapy is a long road of ups and downs and not just an overnight fix.”

Felix smiled coyly. She didn’t need the therapists’ validation. Dr. Chandler caught on, though, and immediately started asking the hard-hitters.

“Tell me about the ritual,” She slipped her glasses on her face and began scribbling at the very top of her notepad.

“Ritual? Um,” Felix’s eyes darted back and forth out of confusion, “I mean obviously I cleanse. After that is typically a toner…Then a virgin marula oil…A moisturizer - with SPF, because obviously–”

“You know I’m not asking about your skincare.”

Silence.

“Felicia what concerns me is that the world saw this...display. This display that you put on at a – a what, a ‘black mass’ – and I must say although we haven’t been working together long that doesn’t seem authentically you.”

“Most of my work involves people not being authentically themselves. I’m very good at what I do.”

“But it goes beyond that, I think…”

Dr. Chandler flips through her notepad to a few notes back, particularly from when Felix wrestled Marie Bouchard.

“This particular evening–”

“My opponent was a fucking hippie-ass, crystal-deepthroating, hocus pocus numbskull. I was getting in her head. Showing her that anybody could throw a gimmick around and still suck at wrestling. I was making fun of her.”

“And that’s easy to believe if you’re…not a psychotherapist,” Dr. Chandler crossed one ankle over the other, resting her head on her fist as she looked intently at her client. “The connection that I choose to make is that you lost somebody very important to you who also happened to be heavily involved in Satanic rituals. Somebody very knowledgeable about the left-hand path.”

“There’s no connection to make,” Felix’s knee began bouncing, her eyes darting off so she didn’t have to make eye contact.

“Let me put this in a way that might motivate you to work through this a little more… Guilt is a heavy, heavy burden. It’s like stress. We think of it in terms of this intangible emotion that manifests in ways like anxiety attacks, depression, insomnia, changes in our moods, changes in our appetite… Perhaps even hinders our work performance…”

Dr. Chandler watches as Felix subtly squirms at the mention of her work performance.

“Something you, right now, couldn’t possibly bear the thought of losing because that would be detrimental to your livelihood.”

“What’s your point?” Felix snapped.

“My point is,” Dr. Chandler slips her glasses down again as she takes a serious tone. “If you don’t find a way to work through Alexis’ death, and you keep pushing it down, and you keep acting out in ways that clearly is not you… your career could very well suffer. You feel guilty because you could see she was slipping away when Zion came charging back into her life. He took control. You had a gut feeling that nothing good would come of it, and then she turns up dead. You felt like you could have done something, even if that’s not true. When, in your entire career, have you ever been slathered in fake blood and symbolically sacrificed to the devil? The answer is never… “

Felix kept her gaze locked on the floor in front of her.

“Felicia… There is nothing wrong with working through this in the way you know how, or a way that is healthy. But you also need to recognize that you are capable of building your own career. Your mentorship was just that. Mentorship. You can lead a horse to water but you can’t make it drink. So…” She tosses her notepad aside nonchalantly, “You can miss her. You can grieve for her. But.. you don’t need to become her.”

You don’t need to become her.

_________________________________________________________-

“Imagine being so goddamn coveted in this company that your opponents…. Literally beg to be on your team before the match even begins.

It’s too late, Angelina. You made your bed and you were mad we didn’t want to come to your slumber party. Your sad, pathetic groveling has only proven that you don’t have anything close to what it takes to hang with Thotyssey. You’re weak. You broke the second you realized Filth and I teamed up together. You weren’t mad that your shot got “taken” away from you… You were mad that you couldn’t be Bex’s little sidekick. You were mad that you thought being handed a shot at the Undisputed Womens Championship in your second real match meant something, like it justified your inflated ego, just so I could come along and pop it like an ugly little balloon with a bad nose job. You weren’t “researching a role”, you were praying that you would maintain your status as a main eventer. And thanks to us this week, you did. But only because the options are slim. You know that already because Devi is on our team, and Daisy is on yours.

Everybody knows if this was the high-school dodgeball game, they’d get picked last. No one was saying that was top-secret information, I just ain’t going to lowball my own team to make myself feel better. I don’t need outside validation. I know my fucking talents.

You want to be a part of this team so bad but you can’t even be loyal for one night! How are most of y’all supposed to be the team the crowd cheers for and yet you’re tearing each other apart instead?

I thought about that a lot but it was obvious…there’s nothing you could say about Filth or myself that would tear us down that would make sense. Because we’re dominant. Because we have Championships over our shoulders. Because we have REINVENTED the idea of a “women’s wrestler”. We’ve busted the stereotype wide open time and time again that you could only be one thing in this industry and if you weren’t the lame “ChiLdHoOd DrEaM” typecast, it meant you couldn’t wrestle. If you liked showing your tits and ass on camera, you were talentless. It gave y’all some comfort because you thought being a talented wrestler justified being a virgin into your 30’s.

Like, you just KNOW Banshee’s never fucked. And Daisy could use a little loosening up before Game Over. Or are boyfriends something you can’t have when you’re THAT much of a diehard feminist? I can’t keep up with the tropes anymore.

So naturally when not ONE, but TWO women within a year show up on Odyssey that shatter the glass ceilings, everybody panics. You thought one was a fluke…but then she dominated Odyssey for a year. Then she won the Clash out of a whole ass THIRTY other women, some of which are legends in this industry. But again, no matter how much hard work you put in - or how much natural talent you have - people will always tell us it’s luck. Or we “stole” our victories. You can spend years wrestling instead of stripping - like I have - and I have yet to be given any real respect or credit despite holding more championships than most of Odyssey put together.

Then I came along. Everybody panicked even more. Everybody got their granny-panties all knotted because suddenly they realized they were losing the spotlight. They didn’t want to martyr themselves to something as “bottom-rung” as Bra and Panties matches because god forbid we “set women back” as if it’s not coded into our DNA to love a little bit of attention and validation. So they got mad at ME. It’s not MY cross to bear that women wanted to vote or work or what-fucking-ever. It’s not my problem that some women don’t fucking care to be seen as equal.

But what y’all don’t realize is it’s better to be seen as not equal than not be seen at all.

Then I go ahead and win the Openweight Championship and boy did that stir up some fucking controversy like I don’t deserve it or something. Because what, I took my clothes off for money nearly 10 years ago and have been wrestling ever since? I was nineteen when I made my debut. It wasn't even legal to drink in the United States. I’ll always be reduced to the slutty Barbie bimbo.

And I love it. I thrive on it. I lean into it. And you hate it.

You hate it because it’s supposed to be the thing that makes you better than me but when that formula doesn’t work in the ring you can’t handle it. It’s the same type of shit that’ll make Banshee change her identity again after making fun of Devi for doing it. Y’all could have a death in the family but losing to a sex worker? Whew, no thanks. We’re above that.

Face it, you’re just not as good as you think you are. Any of you. Your sad, pathetic displays of pseudo-pretentiousness has only fueled my desire to actually try in this business because eliminating or at the very least debasing your careers not only brings me joy, but makes me feel like we’re cleansing the professional wrestling industries of the same weak-minded, over-hyped, unoriginal, talentless shit-piles that you keep trying to convince yourselves that we are.

It’s a new era. And you’re not in it."

Jeff X, Rebecca Filth, "Killer Bee", DT The Ruler, Lazarus Arjen and JosieGreyEsq have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos August 8th 2022, 11:50 pm by **Jeff X**

Frontline Forever

Guangzhou, China

August 8, 2022

As the back door to the bar opens up, we can hear loud music blaring and the sounds of people laughing as what appears to be a party of some sorts rages on late into the night. One man, however, appears to be trying to escape the noise of the party, as Jeff comes walking out onto the balcony to get some fresh air. He’s dressed plainly in a cutoff black t-shirt and blue jeans, with his signature camouflage Realtree hat sitting snugly atop his head. He leans against the railing of the balcony and stares out at the bustling nightlife of Guangzhou, breathing a heavy sigh before taking a swig from his bottle of Bud Light.

“Two hundred and sixty days. For two hundred and sixty days, Murder Inc. has held the OWA World Tag Team Championships. For those of you at home who don’t realize the significance of that number, that now makes Chris and I the longest reigning Tag Team Champions in the history of this company. Longer than Wolvesden. Longer than the Queens of Wrestling. And, yes, even longer than The Dollhouse. Yet another accolade to be added to a rather long list of accomplishments in the careers of both Chris and myself and, to tell you the truth, I should be happy. I should be in there celebrating…after all, it is a massive achievement for us and Presley went through the trouble of organizing this whole party…but to tell you the truth…I just don’t feel much like celebrating.”

Jeff pulls out a pack of Marlboro Reds, lighting one up and breathing a heavy cloud of smoke into the night sky before continuing.

“Because despite breaking such a long standing record and despite successfully completing our mission of bringing Michael Bishop back to life…I still have a hard time celebrating any fucking thing until we finish the job. Arata Asakura…he killed our brother. Even though we were lucky enough to bring him back…that still doesn’t change what he did. So as far as I’m concerned, our mission is only half complete. As long as that motherfucker is breathing, we still have work to do. Retaliation still needs to happen. When you hurt us…we hurt you back. It’s what we do. And I’m far from willing to let Arata not getting his OWA World Championship Match be punishment enough. I want it to be painful. I want it to be bloody. I want him to rue the day that he ever decided to climb into a ring in the first place. I want to watch the light leave his eyes as he takes his last breath. I want to see the pain on his family’s faces as they realize their patriarch isn’t going to be coming home. Not just for what it would mean for the future that I’ve unfortunately had the displeasure to witness…but for what he did to our brother. Until that happens, I don’t give a shit about parties…I don’t give a shit about records…hell, I don’t even give a shit about our match in a few days.”

Jeff takes another swig from his drink, chasing it with a long drag from his cigarette.

“Why should I? I have far more important things to deal with then three glorified nobodies that are on the verge of having their OWA careers end before they even fucking begin. But nevertheless, I still have a job to do and I fully intend on doing it. Despite how little I care about these three, their existence, or their soon to be completely forgotten wrestling careers…I’ve still done my research. I’ve still been training. I will still be fully prepared to do what I do best when we step into that ring in a few nights. And I will still handle business just like I always have. But that’s the thing that these three don’t get. For me…for Chris…for Theo…this is nothing more than a mindless part of our jobs. For some people it may be filing paperwork and for others it might be answering phones. Just a monotonous task that must be done at work. For us though…it’s having to deal with insignificant little fucks like you that will be gone before anyone ever realized you were here. You think we care about any of you? You think a shitty actor or a delusional old man or some prick that can’t hold his liquor to save his life will even register on our radar? In a year, we’ll have forgotten any of you even existed. This is just another boring day at the office for us. But for you three? For you three this is the biggest moment you will ever have. This is the one night that you’ll be able to tell your grandkids about years from now. And when they don’t believe you, you’ll have the video evidence to back it up! You were there, sharing the ring with the Frontline. The men who saved this whole fucking planet. The men who you all owe for still being able to breathe the fucking air that you breathe today. But also the men who are soon to be responsible for killing your careers.”

Jeff takes one last drag from his cigarette and flicks it off into the night. He turns around and rests his back against the railing as he looks up at the camera.

“But then again, you don’t see it that way, do you, David? You truly think that we’re the ones that are in over our heads. That somehow your very ‘prestigious’ career elsewhere makes you a much bigger threat than we are. After all…you are fire and wrath and rot and ruin and butcher and reaper and blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, BLAH! Get the fuck out of here. I mean, do you even listen to yourself, man? Who the fuck talks like that? Listen dude…I don’t give a shit about your forty seven title reigns or your three hundred promotions. None of that shit means anything here. The only thing that matters is what you do inside of that OWA ring. And us? We’ve done it all my guy. Everything that there is to do, we have achieved. Since day fucking one, we have made this company into the biggest wrestling promotion anywhere in the world. And you know it. You can talk all that shit you want about this being shallow waters, but if you truly believed that, you wouldn’t have crawled your weird little ass here in the first place. Downplay it all you want, but you know this is the big time. You know that this is where legends are made and legacies are forged. And I’ve built mine on the back of destroying people like you who have come here, thinking that they’re unstoppable, only to quickly find out that these ‘shallow waters’ contain the biggest fish. I don’t give a shit what ‘darker depths’ you come from, man…cause once I’m done with you, you will be plunged even deeper into the darkest form of depression that you could ever imagine when you realize that, for all your travels, all your championship wins, all your victories…that you were never a real threat at all…but just a bumbling idiot reminiscing about accolades nobody cares about and talking about things he could never understand. Oh and one more thing…maybe you’re new to this whole criminal thing, but take it from somebody with some experience…if you’re running from the feds, maybe don’t sign with a nationally recognized wrestling company that announces exactly where you’ll be and when you’re going to be there to the whole world every two weeks. Fucking idiot.”

Jeff shakes his head as he turns his bottle up, taking another long swig.

“But, of course, you’re not the only fucking moron on your team, are you? You’re in awfully like minded company by keeping Chad Ecclestone right there by your side. Chad…bro…I get it. You’ve starred in a few movies, I guess. Maybe a commercial here and there too. Congratulations dude. I’m very proud of you. Respect the hustle. Keep it up and maybe one day you can be on Nobi’s level in terms of crossover appeal. But you will NEVER be on my level when it comes to what happens between those ropes. You act as if I’m somehow supposed to be impressed that you’ve managed to make yourself some money over your career. Big fucking deal. So have I. The difference between us is that I made that money BECAUSE of what I do in that ring…as opposed to you…who’s only got a spot in that ring at all because of the money you already had. I didn’t give a shit about your successes outside of the ring, Chad. None of that shit matters here. This isn’t Hollywood. This isn’t a fucking movie set. There’s no director, there’s no script, there’s no fucking stunt doubles. Hell, most of the time, this isn’t even just pro wrestling. This is Kingdom. This is life and fucking death. This is where forces beyond your fucking control collide. This is where the fate of the God damn world can be decided by actual fucking warriors. And you’re not built for that. I can tell it just by taking one look at you. You’re soft. Too soft for this world…for MY world. You need evidence of that? Look no further than how you’re STILL bitching about Kenny Drake making you play with scorpions. Well, son, if you’re not equipped to handle what’s essentially a glorified fucking insect, then there’s no way in hell that’s ready to step inside that ring with me…let alone with Chris and Theo at my side. You may have managed to pick up some wins against Darius and Sena over the last few weeks that have somehow managed to boost your already overinflated ego, but they’re not us. They’re not the Frontline. Not by a long shot. We may have had some shit to take care of for the last month, but your days of being coddled with inferior competition are over because the boys of Kingdom are back. The Frontline is back. And while we still may have much bigger things to take care of than you, don’t think we can’t find the time to end your fucking career along the way. So go ahead and sit there making the same tired redneck jokes that everyone before you already has…because very soon you’re going to meet the same fate that they all did when I stomp you into nothing more than a bloody puddle of shitty jokes and even shittier acting.”

Jeff takes another swig from the bottle before smirking a little as he stares up at the camera.

“Oh and as for you, Arthur? Keep that fucking bottle of painkillers close, my man. You’re about to need it more than you know.”

Jeff finishes what little Bud Light remains in his bottle, looking somewhat disappointed about it.

“I’m sick of the talking. I’m sick of listening to people who mean very nothing in the grand scheme of things. Unlike you three, we actually have important shit to do around here. Shit far more important than you. So I very much look forward to running through you as if you were never there at all…so that we can move onto what truly matters…like getting retaliation for Mike. And as for you three? While you may be in far over your heads, at least you can take solace in the fact that you won’t have to go through the same levels of suffering that Arata will…considering none of you mean shit to us…or anyone else for that matter. Now if you’ll excuse me…”

Jeff walks towards the door, but glances backwards one last time.

“I have a party to get to.”

[Fade to black]

Rebecca Filth, "Killer Bee", DT The Ruler, Lazarus Arjen and Chad Ecclestone have spoken. It’s such good shit!

one more // odyssey oo2 August 8th 2022, 11:49 pm by **Rebecca Filth**

“It’s funny to hear a bunch of women who have never been able to do what I have done try and cut down my fucking career. You all want so bad to undermine me and tell me I’m worthless. But there isn’t a lick of fucking truth to your words.

But I get it. How do you criticize a perfect bitch like me? I mean, what is there to say about me? My career has been nothing short of flawless. And my reign is off to a killer start. And I can see you all fucking SEETHING. It kills you, doesn’t it? That with a shrug of my shoulders and barely any effort I walked into a business you all love and shot my fucking star right to the top.

You bitches are still scratching and clawing for any sliver of relevance. Meanwhile Felix and I sit on the throne, at the top of the fucking mountain. We’re the kind of women that got shoved into the Openweight division simply by chance. We were new and they had nothing else for us. So we get stuck in some contendership match that we can’t help but win. Then we follow through and capture gold in our first instance. And Felix will do with her belt exactly what I did with mine. Fucking dominate. Until she gets bored and moves on. I can almost guarantee that she will hold the belt that I am holding some day not far off. Because succeeding is what we do. Winning is what we do.

We don’t have to wine and cry and stomp our feet for opportunity after opportunity. Because unlike you cows, we don’t squander ours. You place an opportunity before us and we snatch it up and take it for everything it’s worth. It’s why you bitches can’t wrap your head around us. It’s why you fucking hate us.

Because you can’t beat us. Because we are better than you and it kills you.

Where are your belts, ladies? Where are your accolades? Most of you have been here far longer than us and you have NOTHING to your name. Nothing to show for it. Just balled fists and angry scowls.

And it’s why this week, we’re going to step into those ropes and put on the match of the fucking ages. We are going to keep the arena on their feet. Felix Hartley and Rebecca Filth’s fine asses tagging together? What more could the fans want? I told you all I am here to make moments and bring eyes to Odyssey. My reign will be ANYTHING but boring. I won’t have some forgetful reign like Cloud or some short, miserable reign like April. Nah. As the first Undisputed Women’s Champion, I’m making history. And this match is nothing more than a fucking showcase for Felix and I going into Game Over. It’s just a little taste of what is to come for you sluts in a few short weeks.

And it’s gonna taste like failure. Hell, even Angelina knows it. She came out the gate hot this week ready to rip us apart. She was yelling and screaming about just how fucking close she came to beating me. The same sad story that every woman who has ever faced me had. They can’t admit their own failure. Do you know how many times April Song has told me that she ALMOST beat me? But she never quite got it done, did she? Nah. And neither will you Angelina. Almost doesn’t fucking count in this business. I’m the one that left Odyssey with MY belt and not you. Did you realize that you were starting to sound like that whiny bitch Daisy? Acting like something you NEVER had was stolen from you? Because as soon as Felix and I stepped up to the plate and put you in your fucking place, your tune changed, didn’t it?

I get it. Your jealousy got the best of you. You want to be us so fucking bad. You wonder if you hadn’t been so unlucky to be my first defense, maybe we could have been something. You lay awake at night thinking of me. Wishing that I’d chosen you instead of Felix. You saw the power team of us form and you wished you could be standing next to us. I get it. I’d want to stand next to me too. I wouldn’t want to be the one with the poor luck of standing across from Felix and I. You think of yourself as hot shit. You’re one of the hot girls. One of the slutty sluts. Your entire career was in my fucking footsteps. I should have seen it. You were begging for my approval. You laid it all to bare out there because you wanted me to see you. But instead I beat your ass, I cast you aside and I teamed with the true talent on Odyssey, Felix.

And it kills you, doesn’t it? That you’re not one of the slutty sluts. You’re not in the hot girl club. So sorry but blackfishing Barbie is so last year. So you can save your little love sonnets about us. I know what you’re doing. You see what’s coming. And it’s another fucking loss. You see that Felix and I, even with Devi on our side, are leaps and bounds above what you’re tied to. You see yet another loss in your future and you’re trying to avoid it at all costs. Your ego is bruised because literally no one in this match likes you. Not the whores. Not your teammates. Not even Devi. You’re the odd woman out. And you’re realizing that once this match is over and you have a literal loss to Devi Krysis on your record, you’re done here. That is, unless you cling to my fucking coattails, right?

Save your shit Angelina. We all see right through it. I’ll never choose you. You’ll never be one of us. You are exactly where you belong. With the losers. You can’t sit with us and you never will.

You belong with team delusional. You honestly fit perfectly with Daisy and Banshee. Daisy, honestly I envy you. If I had a career like yours, I’d be jumping off the nearest building head first. I truly don’t know how you get up everyday and don’t feel embarrassment and humiliation washing over you. Like you are so scrappy and determined and you fail every time. But you keep getting up. You don’t let loss keep you down. I mean, how could you? It’s all you do but here you are. Maybe you’ll get lucky. If you keep kicking around long enough for Felix to get bored of the Openweight title and drop it like I did, if you’re still around, you can pick up the pieces. Sixteen years into your career and you can finally wrap your little fingers around a piece of gold that is all your own. But only once Felix leaves the scene. And only if someone half as talented as her doesn’t come along and steal it from you. Because we both know that your odds of taking that thing from Felix are slim to none.

You should realistically be thanking me for bringing back bra and panties matches. Why do you hate them again? Because you don’t have to have any skill to win them? Ohmygod. You should challenge Felix to a bra and panties match if you ever want to win then. You have no skill! It’s perfect! And probably the only chance you’ll ever have to win a fucking match. But knowing you, you’ll find a way to choke at that too. Honestly, I don’t care if you’re afraid of me, Daisy. I prefer going into a match where my opponent is too fucking stupid to see what’s coming. I want to watch the realization wash over you in real time when I am beating the living shit out of you in that ring. See the difference between you and I is that when I make a fucking threat, I follow through. Every. Single. Time. You? You wanna talk about spilled blood and shattered bones. I think you’ve been hanging around with the Banshee for a little too long. Because you’ve never spilled blood or broken a bone that isn’t your own in your fucking life. So save your spooky threats and your rage. We’ve all seen what happens when you step inside that ring. You look good. You put up a good fight. But when push comes to shove, you don’t know how to push yourself into gear and finish a fucking match. Baby, I’m an expert at finishing. Don’t worry, I can teach you how to finish. I can show you what a true climax looks like in that ring.

Oh sorry, does that offend you Banshee? I know my sexuality is upsetting to you. I get it. I’d be upset too if no one ever wanted to fuck me. But if you think for a second I will let you shame me, you can go fuck yourself. This is MY whoredom now and I have no plans to let you usurp my reign and prudify my fucking brand. You got all these zombies ready to strap your opponents down and you’re not trying to fuck? You’re missing the mark Banshee! This is why you’ll never stand at the top. You can’t see the bigger picture. My sexuality doesn’t make me less than you. It doesn’t make me a disgrace. It’s what sets me apart. It sets me FREE. And you’re damn right its fucking empowering.

How many bitches am I going to have to listen to say that Felix and I are the same because we like sex and aren’t ashamed of it? Like it's BORING. It’s fucking lazy. And frankly, it’s untrue. Like okay. Hana is also possessed by a demon. So by your logic you and Hana are the same. Possession? Been done before, Morrighan. Pick something new! Like are you fucking joking. If you were paying attention to anything more than surface level bullshit, you’d know that Felix and I are completely different. Like for instance, she was nice enough not to call you a fat cunt when you body shamed her. Like aren’t you supposed to be the fan favourite? But you come out here trying to talk about stretch marks that don’t exist. All while your muffin top pops out of your gear? Ok sure.

You have a lot of fucking arrogance for someone who forced herself into this position. You can claim you EARNED this shot. But attacking me three weeks in a row isn’t exactly earning an opportunity. You may think this week is a given. Because you’ve already ‘destroyed’ my team? Sweetheart. You may have BLINDSIDED me and Felix. But I’ve legitimately beaten EVERYONE on your team in one match or another. This isn’t a fucking attack. This is a MATCH. And in those? I don’t lose. I tossed your hefty ass over the top rope at the Clash. I beat Daisy in the Ultimate XXX and I just put Angelina down in a bra and pantie match. Winning is what I do. And like you said, I love a clusterfuck of a match like this. One with six sweaty bodies rolling around, grunting and rubbing up against each other?! MMMM my fucking specialty!

This dirty, disgusting whore, is going to beat the shit out of you this week and then I’m going to march into Game Over and dangle my title in your face before snatching it from your grasp. You think this is your moment to shine. But really, it’s just a fucking mistake. The horde can’t save you. Angelina and Daisy by your side can’t save you. You’re in too deep. And after this week, you will forever have a loss on your record to Devi fucking Krysis.

One more embarrassment to add to your pathetic careers.”

Jeff X, "Killer Bee", DT The Ruler and Lazarus Arjen have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos August 8th 2022, 11:45 pm by **Tyler Kulina**

Kingdom Promo #1

"Next Battle"

Tyler was in good mood. He's followed through on his promise to set things right and now he finds himself booked for a tag match on the next episode. Ty wasn't one for tag matches, but he's getting paid so it was all good. His siblings were going nuts about his victory, telling their friends at school that their brother was Kingdom's newest star. It felt good that his siblings looked up to him, but he hoped none of them wanted to become a pro wrestler. Other than training with Uncle Steve, Ty focused on stepping up his game. He just had to stay consistent and focus on the upcoming match - nothing more, nothing less.

--------

I must say, that De Leon pack doesn't hit quite as well as I thought it would. But hey, sometimes who you smoke isn't about the taste, but the message of the branding. What's my slogan?

(Tyler leans forward with his hands out.)

These hands are rated 'E' for everyone. Anybody in this business can 'get' the business. Now as much as I don't like playing well with others and as much as I want a rematch against Titan, I'll let this tag match rock. I don't know much about Dick P. Slaughter, but the opp this week are two old cats who spent too much time lambasting others while realizing they've done nothing the entire time they've been traveling these back roads and flying coach across these blue skies. This "Time Lizard" - some Kang variant wannabe - talks about the coming of a 'New Dawn'. Sometimes I wonder if these OWA bozos wannabe wrestlers or preachers!? Like are you trying to sell me some nutra-vitamin or meet me in the ring!? Do I have to sign five other cats just to get my check!? Mr. Oasis, what are we even doing right now!? Reginald talks about how his old self was a shell of who he used to be, but that's where we differ. I always know who I am, regardless if I'm at my best or my worst.

(Ty reaches for a stack of Pringles and starts digging in.)

There's a trend I've noticed with these old pro wrestling dudes. They want you to care so bad about what they've done and where they've gone, but it's all hoopla, ya know? It's all a way to get in your head, to think they're more important than they actually are. Like for instance, take Reggie's partner JD for an example. Ever since Aria Jaxon smoked his pack, he's been slowly going off the deep end. His homie Kyle didn't do a damn thing to him, but he wants to blame his boi for his own failures. Heh, where I come from that's some bitch shit, feel me? Like what does JD want to accomplish, by denying the role he's played in the downfall of his career? Denial is more than just a river in Egypt, feel me?

(Ty takes a moment to chew on his Pringles.)

I get it. Both of my opps feel like they're in the twilight of their careers and it's only a matter of time before that little speck of hope fades into obscurity. At least until they get the motivation to come back yet again and announce to the world how much they've changed and how "this time things are going to be different." Sitting in the shadows of a boiler room like some weird incel head-ass. Man, this business really do make people lose their minds. JD called himself the glue of the Kingdom roster, but the only thing he's holding together is this false narrative that he's more important than he actually is.

(Ty sighs and puts down the Pringles can.)

So the two of you have this dangerous alliance going on. 'The Time Lizard and Rogue Wolf joins forces!' This Saturday Morning superhero team-up is such a bore, man. That Stark guy made a good pohint about crybaby enhancement talent trying to be something they're not: killers. I never took a life before, but I spent time around actual killers. I know what dangerous men are supposed to look and act like! JD? RD III? DPS and I are going to Walter White express our way into bringing the danger to y'all. You don't have to do anything but to lie there and watch as we turn this New Dawn into dusk. Sunrise, sunset bitches.

(Tyler smiles and turns off the stream.)

Mark Michaels, "Killer Bee" and DT The Ruler have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos August 8th 2022, 11:41 pm by **Noah Krieger**

KINGDOM — PROMO #2 | BLOOD AND SACRIFICE.

In the wake of a monumental opportunity, such as the one that has been bestowed upon me — it’s quite important to not only comprehend the magnitude of what’s been laid out ahead of me, but the desires that can be created in the same space aswell. Before my aspirations for a more suitable lifestyle could even have the ability to enter my imagination, it only felt like a simple dream in retrospect, my aspirations felt beyond my reach, almost as if it was impossible to reach a new chapter in this eternal story — that came to be known as my life. An idealistic, perfect ending continued to vaporize before my own eyes, and the little direction that I believed I could control, it turned out to be nonexistent, and from there my entire life proceeded to crumble. Although, this was once a life I led, I never felt as if I controlled my own direction, this story wasn’t mine to dictate, and that wasn’t a life I believed was worth living — and that’s why change is the most influential action that can be taken in an individual’s existence.

I know this from experience, trust me.

If we all took a second to simply breath, to understand that fate can truly be a horrifying thing to think about, but it can also be a powerful force in its own little way. Whether I would’ve admitted it in the past or not, that’s a significantly mute point, but without undying love for this sport, without the patience that has been learned along the way — there’s no possibility of me being in the position I find myself in today, but that’s what makes all of it worth it. With that knowledge, comes the elimination of the unpredictability factor. I’m well aware of what lies ahead in my not-so-distant future, and the challenges that will inevitably come from it, but that’s just the thing — this world certainly rewards those who live their life with an unapologetic amount of patience, but I refuse to continue living by that philosophy for another single day. For the past half a decade, I’ve been able to take each step upon this unforgiving world with a grace of patience, a certain amount that would understandably break a man’s spirit — but that isn’t who I am, nor who I ever will be. For the first time in my life, I refuse to question my decisions, or to wait for my next opportunity to live out my potential. It's about time I’m the one who’s in control of my own story… and unfortunately for you, Sena — you’re the first to check off my list.

If I’m going to be able to advance my career in a timely fashion, I’ll have to forget about what the two of us have undeniably been through, the transgressions that we’ve had to face to make it this far in our industry, and the obstacles that we’ve had to overcome to be taken seriously — and it’ll have to return to the back of my mind. In the past, I’ve spoken in-depth about the impatience that you clearly possess, and while you have shown signs of improvement, it’s not even fully about the experience that you unfortunately don’t inhabit, but rather the characteristics that I believe we share, I see a lot myself inside of you. Believe it or not, when I initially found myself intertwined with this industry, I felt lost at some points, I didn’t understand the difference between experience and drive — the willingness to succeed can come from deep down within you, and the experience that can be acquired along the way is only an incentive at times. However, when I look at you and the silence that has surrounded you recently, it’s made me realize one solidifying point — the drive that you’ve been able to find, it won’t be enough to take this opportunity away from me, I’ve worked incredibly hard to reach a universe where any of this is described as a possibility… and now that I’m here, I won’t falter.

Patience is not always key.

To be frank, I need this, Sena, I’ve come incredibly far for a purpose, and it’s never been for an opportunity to fail, nor do I wish for it to be due to a lack of trying — I didn’t come this far to seek failure. Nonetheless, do you know what I’ve always known deep down, especially in this instance? I need this challenge way more than you, I need this win to validate my work in this company, and somewhere within me, is the man that can become something bigger than himself, and deep down — I need to know that taking this industry by storm is still a possibility. I’d like to think that isn’t a personal matter, and if I can be honest for a moment, that’s never once been a thought in my mind, but I’m also well aware that my intentions to walk away, with the entire globe depicting me as the superior individual isn’t a possibility if I were to allow you to find the drive suitable for this occasion, which is why I hope you understand that ridding you from this tournament isn’t a decision that has been taken lightly in any regard, but rather one that I wasn’t given a choice in the matter — if I were to allow you to rid me of this potentially life-altering opportunity, my life’s work would soon turn into a foolish game, which is something I’m not keen in watching unfold, which is why you must fall, Sena.

Not because I dislike you, but because I have a deep hatred for failure.
The insecurities that you possess aren’t an issue to me any longer, nor will it stop me from claiming what I currently desire, Sunday night won’t be your claim to fame.

As I mentioned previously, our impending battle isn’t the conclusion of my evening, because as it was made clear to the four of us, this week’s edition of Kingdom won’t be what we’ve become accustomed to, not by a long shot. My night isn’t allowed to come to it’s culmination until I am able to hear the satisfying second closing bell of the evening — and that can only become feasible upon making it to the finals portion of the given tournament — which is something I’m not willing to blow, not in this lifetime, and certainly not in the next. From my view, Titan has made his stance on Sunday’s impending events quite clear — he will stop at nothing to inflict however much pain is needed to break his opposition, no matter the discomfort he may cause, the limbs he may shatter, or the tendons he may snap — it simply doesn’t matter. Nonetheless, I’m here to tell you before our possible singles meeting, none of this frightens me, and the threatening demeanor that you’re convinced will lead you to the promised land — it’s only a matter of time before doubt begins to creep into your mind, and the Conqueror Of Gods is nothing more than a failed natural disaster.

I wish you’d stay silent for a moment, everything you’ve put into this sport has been simply about pushing forward, solely in the act of spite. It’s almost as if you feel obligated to torment the challenges that attempt to breathe the same air as you — but you fail to realize the inconsistency in your methods, and that’s to be expected in all honesty. I’m not anything like Tyler Kulina, and the storm that you undeniably unleashed upon him won’t be transferred over to our potential battle — can you guess why? I’ll never fall into a simplistic trap, no matter the stance you’ve decided to take upon this journey, it isn’t one that I’m willing to follow, nor will I ever subject myself to your reign of terror. Whether you’ve allowed yourself to truly understand what I’m prepared to endure, to put my body through — it doesn’t even matter.

The prepared destruction that you speak of is only one possibility, one that won’t be fulfilled.

Truthfully, I don’t know why you would expect a different response, I’ve always believed that if you count on yourself, if you’re consistently involved in an environment where support is its main focal point, but you continuously fail to believe in yourself —everything you’ve built will soon evaporate, and blow away in the wind’s directed course of travel. You’ve never once fallen into a state of doubt, and if I were to say that if the two of us were to meet within the squared circle, that’d been an unchallenging night — well I’d be unequivocally lying. You clearly feel as if there is nothing stopping you from reaching heaven’s gate, to fulfilling the destiny that you feel is somehow owed to you — but it’s about damn time you realize the path world dominance won’t come to fruition, not while I’m guarding the gate. As long as you’re willing to KILL me for a prize that I’ve swore to obtain — I’ll always be there to bring you back down to reality. The fact of the matter is, I want this more than you, I need this more than you, and I’ll do anything possible to walk out as this year’s Dark Kingdom Tournament Winner! No matter what — it’ll be mine, even if I have to bring out a side of me that hasn’t been seen before.

I’m almost confident that your emotions will hold you back…

As I previously mentioned, Sena, you’ve constantly reminded me of the past I’ve chosen to take, but he’s not the only one in all honesty — which is why I’m talking directly to you, Jacob Striker. Without a singular doubt in your mind, you clearly feel as if obtaining two world championships, and earning the right to list it upon your extensive resume, that it somehow justifies a sense of confidence within this line of work — but I couldn’t disagree more. While I can’t speak from experience, I can detail my journey towards obtaining the goal that you’ve already achieved twice — and gaining confidence only led to distraction in the long run. With that being said, I can fully understand why you can feel a sense of invisibility, but that will only lead to failure.

I doubt you were able to achieve all you’ve been able to by forgetting what led you to the promised land in the first place, but maybe I gave you too much credit in the first place — ignorance isn’t always an obvious trait to follow, and you’re a prime example of this. If you don’t firmly believe that this journey that we’ve decided to embark on will come with an array of obstacles, then there isn’t a chance for you to make it out of this weekend with everything you’ve aspired to achieve, nor who you imagined yourself to become. On the other hand, I am well aware that I don’t have a cloak of invisibility, but after half a decade of hard work and sacrifice within this industry, and never allowing myself to forget where I’ve come from, or who I have become — no matter the accomplishments that are achieved along the way, I have always remained true to myself. Nonetheless, sooner rather than later, you’ll show your true character, and that your abundance of confidence will eventually cost you — because as I’ve said time and time again, the emotions that have aided you to a career filled with riches – they won’t last. And eventually, they’ll only lead to your demise, and if it comes to it — I’ll be the one to set the flames, and I have no intention of putting them out.

If it comes down to it, being humble is sometimes a stronger feeling than evergrowing confidence.

See you all Sunday night, best of luck.

"Killer Bee", DT The Ruler and Chad Ecclestone have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos August 8th 2022, 10:49 pm by **"Killer Bee"**

Well, Pyongyang didn’t turn out the way he thought it would. To say his match with Chad was bizarre would be doing a hell of a lot of injustice to the word bizarre. Soldiers with live ammunition. TWO JET LIS? Kim Jong Un and a stadium full of people who had no idea what the hell they were watching. It all came down to two wrestling moves in the end. He missed his; Chad landed his.

One.

Two.

Three.

And that’s that. There he was, settled down with a headache, a hurt ego and disappointment. There weren’t any of the usual trainers and medical personnel in the back considering OWA was strangely cheap for such an extravagant event…and the fact that North Korean officials didn’t think “Imperial American capitalist scum” were entitled to doctors or even basic medical attention.

*SMACK*

To add even more injury to insult, Emmanuelle had come back there and smacked him pretty hard in the back of the head, a minor punishment for failing to close the match that he seemingly had in hand with a victory right in his grasp. To his surprise Emmy simply just sat next to him on that simple wooden bench in the locker room. They could still hear the rest of the show going on as they just sat there in silence for a moment, Emmy chuckling before giving him a small post-match lecture.

“I told you not to do that crazy leg drop shit from the top rope but do you listen to me? Nope.”

“I’m sorry…..”

“Don’t worry about it. You’re not hurt too bad, you learned a lesson, and we’ve still got that tag title match in your back pocket. Plus, you need to get over this loss pretty damn quickly. Word out on the street is that Scotty and Kenny are planning on having a nice, bloody finale for this tournament before Game Over. The semifinals and finals I hear are gonna be on the same night, so you’ll need to get ready. And don’t forget, the whole 24 hours with complete isolation and all that. You don’t have time to mope.”

“You’re not mad?”

“Meh. Can’t win 'em all, dude. I would have preferred you to just go for those German suplexes that you’re good with instead of the Jam Session, but you’re not injured. I can live with that.”

“Thanks.”

“No need to thank me. I’m gonna step outta here to give you time to get cleaned up. I’ve got some more matches to watch.”

“Watching matches?”

Sena’s confused look wasn’t without reason. Emmy usually kept her stay at Kingdom events relatively short when she could. She’d help Sena get ready, either watch on a monitor in the back or accompany him to the ring, then she’d go back to the hotel. She wasn’t one to stick around longer than necessary.

“You do realize you haven’t picked a partner yet, right? I’m going to get some scouting done to find you a suitable partner. Or….at least help you find one. That’s your choice at the end of the day.”

There’s no point hiding it: I’m a little terrified of what is in store for me on Kingdom...but in a good way. For the first time in my career there is a possibility that I could be wrestling two matches in one night. Now, for most people who have not laced up a pair of boots to perform in this endeavor we call professional wrestling it wouldn’t seem like it’s that big of a deal, right? To me, it’s a very big deal. I’m the smallest guy left in this field from what I gather, and if I have to stand face to face with a guy like Titan I’m going to look VERY fucking small. I saw what he did in his first round match against Kulina and I’m glad the guy can still wrestle. Jacob Striker has started rubbing people the wrong way since he came back, but he’s an accomplished champion the world over with a ton more experience than myself. Same with Noah Kreiger. As much as I want to focus on those other two and start making plans for the finals of such a prestigious tournament, I have to make sure that I get past this guy first. Noah. What we went through in Japan was strange to say the least. Even though I wasn’t able to win THE prize and claim a World Championship opportunity, I did manage to leave with something: a free shot at the World Tag Team Championships. I mean, I don’t have a partner right now and the Champions are now at present the longest reigning holders of said titles and two former World Champs themselves, but I think that’s a pretty fair compensation for a long day’s work in Oasis’s playhouse.

I’ve been wanting this match one on one ever since you arrived in OWA. Not because of your record or all your accomplishments or anything like that. Not because I have any particular problem with you because…well…I don’t. It’s because wrestlers like you I figure I can learn something from. Victory, defeat…pretty simple when you think about it, right? Wrestling’s supposed to be simple according to most people, you beat someone up, they beat up on you and whoever has the better night gets their hand raised, counting out the rare times you wind up in a stalemate which (chuckles)...our situation obviously can’t allow seeing as this is a tournament. Back to what I was trying to get at though: people like you I genuinely feel I can learn from. I learned about the toughness of the soul required for this line of work when I stood across the ring from Masanori Kawada. When I fought MYOJIN, I learned that no matter what I had to keep focus on what was going on in the ring. Against Daito, I learned that I had to set aside things like fear and respect and anxiety if I’m going to compete with the top dogs around here. And last time out I learned against Chad….well, there wasn’t much to learn there instead of not leaning too heavily on one move so much. And not to wrestle in North Korea ever again in my life…and not to get in between two Jet Li's fighting for the fate of mankind.

ANYWAY

I know that you have the advantage of experience. You know what I have going for me? I have the advantage of being an absolute nobody when compared to the three of you. I’m an unknown, mostly overlooked quantity…except by you. Now, I know you’ll probably pay lip service and say that you’re not going to take me lightly or anything like that, but be honest with yourself…do you yourself even believe that? Because I don’t. I play poker and gamble a lot as a hobby, you know? I’ve learned a lot about reading people’s body language, their tone of voice…the look in their eyes.

You already have one eye on the final. You see me as a tough, maturing wrestler, but not somebody you could ever imagine finding a way to beat you, especially in whatever demented kind of deathmatch they decide to put us in. That’s where you’d be wrong. Maybe a couple of months ago back before Final Destination I wouldn’t have been much of a threat to you…but now I’m extremely dangerous because I have zero expectations and zero pressure. You, Striker and Titan, you’re risking your reputations on this tournament. You guys NEED this prize to validate your careers up to this point. We don’t even know what we’re fighting over honestly since the prize hasn’t been revealed, but all of you are treating this like it’s either the rocket jetpack from The Rocketeer or a career-revitalizing car wash.

Me? I’m just a scrawny Young Lion in a little way over his head, right? You would do very well to take this match with me very seriously, Noah. You don’t want to put all the hard work that you have put in, that incredible match with Chad that you had to help kick off this whole tournament to go for nothing and I understand that. But you’re going down. Someway, somehow. You can beat me most times. If we were wrestling a series you’d win. No problem. But all it takes is one time. One mistake. One unlucky break for you…and just like that, The House has you weeping about a bad beat.

I’ve been trying to keep Sena focused on Noah, but believe you me I’ve got you other two boys well scouted and well accounted for. Let’s start with the muscle man who moved from Olympus. Titan, right? Conquer of Gods is a pretty hefty, if not sacrilegious, nickname. That tells me a lot about you, honestly. You’re a narcissist of the highest order…and before you get angry and write me an angry intellectual letter let me admit that I’m a narcissist too. We think very highly of our damn selves and in a lot of instances that’s for good reason! But you, I wonder if your narcissism borders on delusion. The way you talk, the way that you go about your business you seem to think that you are some…well, Titan. But let me tell you something, Kratos von Steroid, I’ve seen plenty of men like you. I’m not talking about the muscles and the power wrestling and all that. There’s not many athletes like you. I’m talking about the way you talk and the way you carry yourself. The way you’ve been blowing smoke out of your ass one would think you’d have come over from Olympus as a damn world champion. But…no Prestige Championship, No Openweight Championship, No Outlaw Championship that I know of. What have you been doing over there on Olympus before you came here? Were those greaseballs like Senn and Darkane THAT goddamn tough on you? Me, I think it’s just a front. Your persona. Your hype. All of it masking up what you really are: a juiced up musclehead with a brain on his shoulder but absolutely nothing in the heart.

Sena’s a lot of things. Small. Inexperienced. Sometimes unable to listen to solid fucking advice. But there’s one thing I know that kid has and it’s heart. Guys like you, when the sledding gets too tough, you run away. You hide. You go somewhere else to greener pastures. You don’t know what it’s like to hold the legacy of a wrestling family in your hands. You don’t know what it’s like to have someone like me busting your balls for every single mistake you make. You don’t know what it’s like to have absolutely EVERY reason NOT to be in this business but be in it because you love it and want to help it grow. That’s why Sena’s better than you. You’re a better athlete and all that and you are driven…but you’re driven by the wrong things.

And as for you, Jacob Striker…what the fuck happened to you? You and I haven’t wrestled but maybe once or twice, but you seem to have become a bit of a primadonna of late. Where the hell do you get off talking about what people deserve and what they don’t deserve, huh? You’ve been a nice champion over there in WrestleWorld and I know how good you are, but what has you thinking that the universe revolves around your ass? Seriously. I’ve eased up a lot on my hatred for wrestling, right? But one thing that I’ve always got fucking annoyed by is tired, angry vets whining about “their spot” and “their time” and all that other crap. You’re a good enough wrestler to get by without doing that tired schtick, so just fucking drop it, please. You look like a complete dickhead.

I honestly worry a little more about Sena competing against you than against Titan or even Noah in his semifinal. Not because I think you’re better than either of those two men. But because even though you’re on this whole “Ring is Sacred”, blah blah blah kick, you’ll do anything to win a tournament like this. You’ll cheat. You’ll steal. You’ll do whatever you have to do. I’m not saying that those two wouldn’t…but I think for someone that talks about honor and respect so much nowadays that you have extremely little shame. Maybe slightly more than Raivo or Chad. I haven’t quite figured out which one of them is the biggest chode on this fucking show not named Arata Asakura, but I think by the midway point of the season I’ll have a good guess by then. I can sense that even though you want this tournament title in your trophy case and even more the mystery prize that comes along with it, you want to beat your chest a little more because some mouthbreathers online and some of the boys in the dressing room hurt your feelings and said not nice things.

Grow the fuck up.

Sena’s coming to fight. And he doesn’t care if he has to pull double duty. We want to build something special here and this tournament is a nice little vehicle to do just that. We win this, then we find a tag partner and go after the World Tag Championships, and then we relish in whatever award winning this bloody affair entitles us to.

All these people involved in this tournament have talked about destiny, about entitlement in some shape or form. “I’m winning because I’m the best! I’m winning because it’s my DESTINO! I’m winning because I’m bigger and have more muscle! I’m winning because I’ve been working hard for a long time and now it’s my time!”

Taniguchi Sena doesn’t give two flying fucks about it and neither do I. As for the types of matches that we could have? He doesn’t know and he doesn’t care. He knew what he signed up for and he was willing to gamble his life to see how far he could get. How much blood and sweat he’d have to trade in for what would be the biggest win of his young career. Titan, Noah, Jacob. You three boys are in for the fight of a lifetime if and when you step into the ring with Sena. I just want you all to know that before you go on TV and make big spectacles after the fact and you’ve lost. “Ohhhhh, I didn’t take him seriously! He’s just a young boy who got lucky…blah blah blah.”

That narrative is going to die in China. And if it’s necessary, Sena will make any of you three die if necessary to take home the Dark Kingdom tournament. And when you die, I doubt any of you three are gonna have Jeff X or Christopher Sabertooth traveling through time to save your asses.

Just a warning!

DT The Ruler and Chad Ecclestone have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos August 8th 2022, 10:25 pm by **Theodor Pavel**

Theodor Pavel - Promo #2
“Doritos are not trash”

After the delightfully early dinner, there was a very happy Romanian who just got home. Alandra was kind enough to give a ride home to Misaki and him, but business was still needing to be done. As soon as Veronica left, Misaki gave a firm reminder that he needed to go on a stream tonight to promote Kingdom’s event in China. He dragged his feet while going up the stairs, glancing back at Misaki and Fat Anya while trying to figure out what to even say. He sent out the tweet..

OWA Promos Ne_w2yTDZ6iwXzdSnv7pq0t6jSq7MF05a6DofV7gAp2ecenmoZR2fxhf-TScXEBBRJGA9LCYxXmqnQu101FucOw8On24b2RBGTPJ5pG14Q1R0dJiFJyhm7FtFoNi5dyXdsR6oTjJ520VKNGQ4q2OIzE

OWA Promos Ne_w2yTDZ6iwXzdSnv7pq0t6jSq7MF05a6DofV7gAp2ecenmoZR2fxhf-TScXEBBRJGA9LCYxXmqnQu101FucOw8On24b2RBGTPJ5pG14Q1R0dJiFJyhm7FtFoNi5dyXdsR6oTjJ520VKNGQ4q2OIzE

Now it’s Showtime.

::The Pavel Household::
::Nerdy Office::

(NachoKingROM Has Signed On.)

Within ten seconds, the viewers were signing in to the stream. Theodor, removing his suit jacket to reveal his dark red dress shirt under the black waistcoat. Upon looking at the viewers, he undoes his cufflinks. As he rolls his sleeves up, he notices some of the comments from the viewers.

Theodor Pavel
“Thank you for coming. This is nice. Misaki said this would be a good idea. I agree. I’ve been very quiet since Final Destination. A couple words, but you know the story. A lot has happened. Misaki and I teamed up for the first time ever last week, that was a lot of fun. Still, there’s a lot I want to cover about the upcoming Kingdom. It’s in China. I have never, that I know of, been to China. We occasionally eat at a restaurant here that has Chinese food. It’s very good. Still, it’s going to be a fight. A six man tag team match with Sabertooth, Jeff X, and I against Chad Ecclestone, David Gideon Smith, and Arthur Lucideus. Any questions?”

He looked through the comments, seeing all kinds of interesting lines from the viewers. One of the questions was ‘You heard what they’ve been saying about you, right?’. Theodor nodded for a moment before continuing.

Theodor Pavel
“I did find out some of the things that were said. Veronica sent me some videos during the drive home and we were watching them. I want to point out a few things. First off, this Chad man. He said that Misaki is a mail order bride. When we heard this, obviously Misaki laughed about it. I thought it was pretty rude for somebody to mention that, especially since I did not know what a mail order bride was. So, I looked it up. Granted, we met on twitter and Mr. Morgan flew her to America for a seminar. She never left because we enjoyed each other’s company. Had I known that I could simply hand over some money and say ‘Hey Misaki, marry me. Here is my bank account..”, It would be weird.

Here is the truth, Chad. I don’t have to pay a woman to love me. Maybe you do this a lot, if so.. I’d like for you to get a health check before we fight. We’re planning on having another child, and I don’t want my child to be sick because of a disease you may have. So, common courtesy if you’re okay with this. Take a shower, scrub very hard. Scolding hot water works too. Come to China, stay away from the women, no matter how much they cost you. Then, walk in and get checked. I appreciate your shit words, but I’m not concerned about our match. I’m concerned about Fat Anya and Misaki, making sure they don’t get what is wrong with you.”

He noticed some reactions on the chat, plus the line ‘DGS says he’s going to kill you.’. Theodor’s jaw nearly dropped, nearly offended at the comment being made.

Theodor Pavel
“Are you saying someone is going to try and kill me? Somebody in OWA is going to try and kill me? Has he ever watched Kingdom before? If I go a night without someone trying to kill me, it wouldn’t be much of a night, would it? Havoc wanted to rip my body apart. Asakura wanted to take my soul. Rin Asakura wanted my phone number so she could ruin marriage.. Nothing changes. We get threats all the time. The problem with being threatened is they didn’t succeed. In some cases, they didn’t even try. I’ve been a bit-player in OWA for a long time now, but even then, the threats happen. It’s what David Smith does with it, obviously he won’t kill me. He won’t harm me. He won’t even upset me because I know who will be there in my corner. I know who will tag out to me, I know who I will tag out to. That's the confidence I have in my teammates.

Even going beyond that. Alandra wanted me to go to this store. Hot Topic? You’d love it! Shit, it is so dark in there with all these people with piercings and chain wallets. I almost bought one, but then I thought maybe it wasn’t for me. You, I think you would like it. A lot of posters and t-shirts. Did you work at one? Were you on break when you said you’d try to kill me? It’s okay, I won’t call your manager to say anything, but I will say one thing out of warning. Jeff X is a known badass. Sabertooth is a bad man. I am the Hands of Ice. I don’t give a shit what people say, but I care what they do. You try it, I kick you. I’ll end the match right there because you’re not very nice. You’re kind of rude for your comment, nobody likes that. What is Good Charlotte? I ask the cashier, Mel. Her name is Mel, she may know you if you’re not new. She says that was the name. I don’t know if it was the song or the singer, but it wasn’t very good. Shut it and fight.”

That went off base. Theodor dropped back into his chair, kicking his feet up onto the desk. After looking through some comments, including ‘Good Charlotte sucks!’, Theodor nodded.

“Not a good song. Now, I did listen to what Arthur Lucideus had to say. I want to point this out. Why does this happen? You get a golden opportunity to sell a fight to people so they come to the show. No, you said nothing aside from your dislike of Jeff, Sabertooth, and I. The rest of the time, you were getting beaten up? This is a great look, I admit. Here comes underdog, Arthur Lucideus. He gets beaten up by random man, goes to fight on Kingdom and the same thing happens. Were you drunk?

I don’t understand how you’re supposed to be threatening when you lose to someone who isn’t an OWA wrestler, much less possibly a wrestler at all? I don’t know of this person, but they kicked the shit out of you and all you can say is ‘Well, I move on and I lose again’. Enough. Just stop. If I could give you a tiny word of advice, stay away from Disneyland. I saw a man get beaten up by Goofy. If you were to fight Goofy, you’d lose too. He must be seven feet tall. I can’t kick that high. Misaki would need to be on my shoulders and kick him.”

A comment rolls in, stating ‘Doritos were made from garbage in Disneyland’. Fuming from the words he just read, he points at the screen.

“This is a lie! We have eaten Doritos. Doritos are NOT garbage. They are very good. Wait, why is this even brought up? I’m here to talk about the six man tag. A big match with a lot of people watching. Champions, eventual Champion, three other guys. This is great! Tune in and watch as Jeff & Sabertooth team with me to beat these men up. Doritos aren’t shit, I’m sure we’ve all enjoyed them. Including you, Mr. Garbage. “

Misaki quietly enters the office, flanked by Fat Anya. She puts Anya into the arms of Theodor, looking at the screen.

Misaki Pavel
“Did someone mention Doritos?”

Theodor Pavel
“Someone said they are Disneyland garbage. I wonder if it was David Gideon Smith that said this. Are you there, David?

Infuriated by the Doritos comment, Misaki shoved Theodor’s chair to get into the shot. A lot of emojis on the screen with ‘Zara!!!” rolling down the line.

Misaki Pavel
“Dorito su wa gomijanai! ! Sorera no chippu ga nandede kite iru ka sae shitte imasu ka? ! Koitsu-ra o buttobashite yarukara dareda ka shiritai! ! Anatahadare? ! Anata wa teodōru ga hanashite ita ano otokodesu ka?!”

While Misaki was ranting about the disrespect to the flavored nacho chips, Theodor took a drink of his water while glancing down at Anya.

Theodor Pavel
“Exactly! You know what Misaki thinks about this fight. About the disrespect to the Doritos. She’s angry. You know who else is angry? Fat Anya, right here. She told me to tell you that Lucideus, Eccleguy, and the homeless man are all asking for trouble. You call Misaki a mail order bride? She would very expensive.”

Misaki Pavel
“You can’t afford it! I’m assuming he’s cheap?”

Theodor Pavel
“He is cheap.”

Misaki Pavel
“Teodōru wa sore o shimasendeshita. Kare no jōshi wa watashi ni okane o haratte America ni kite, kare to issho ni torēningu shi, watashitachiha koi ni ochimashita. Watashitachiha koi ni ochimashita, anata wa kirainahitodesu!”

Struggling to understand most of what Misaki just said, Theodor looked at the camera, pointing to his wife in agreement.

Theodor Pavel
“That’s right, Chad. Misaki doesn’t want you to even show up for Kingdom. Misaki, please take over. Full load.”

Picking up Anya awkwardly, Theodor walks away, bringing Misaki to sit down at the desk. She glances at the screen.

Misaki Pavel
“Yes, so he’s a little busy right now with Anya, but I want to say something about this match. Normally, I keep things pretty quiet, but Theodor shouldn’t be teaming with those two. He’s facing off against three people who are new. They’re trying to make a name for themselves. Sabertooth though, he caused problems that got a man killed in this company. Jeff keeps pulling Theodor into his battles, which he knows my husband will do it because he cares about Jeff. This has to end. Thank you for everyone supporting him, but this has to stop. We want to be able to enjoy life, knowing that he won’t be killed just for the amusement of others. He doesn’t mind it, but I do. We have a family.”

(The awkward silence on the screen told the entire story. Misaki had enough of the wars. As the typing came back, there were understanding comments from the sympathetic viewers. Some weren’t so nice about it. She glanced off to the side, seeing the door open. In came Theodor with Anya. She stepped up to him, taking Anya from him before storming out the door. Confused by the actions, he sat down at the desk.)

Theodor Pavel
“I’ll just say this in conclusion. I’m all for the new wave of wrestlers coming in. They deserve a chance to face off against veterans like Chris and Jeff. What better way to make an impact. Me, I just want to get back in the ring and put the focus where it belongs for me right now. I want to be the OWA World Heavyweight Champion, and a loss will hurt that momentum. I want this to work for everyone. For me to succeed though.. Chad, Smith, Lucideus.. You’re going to have to fail. Someone has to fail, I’ve done it enough. Now is the time for me to succeed in what I do as a professional wrestler. Fight. Win. Become The Best. Thank you guys.”

After finishing up, Theodor scrolled up briefly to look at the comments made. He was confused by some of the comments made to Misaki regarding what she said. Theodor glanced over at the door, then at the camera. A quick nod from the Hands of Ice signaled for the stream to come to an end.

(NachoKingROM Has Signed Off.)

"Killer Bee", DT The Ruler and Chad Ecclestone have spoken. It’s such good shit!

- Bloodshot - August 8th 2022, 9:23 pm by **Arthur Lucideus**

- Bloodshot -

August 6th, 7:30 PM - Guangzhou, China

It's a warm evening in Guangzhou, China and Arthur Lucideus is outside enjoying his free time with Hazel Knight. Arthur and Hazel have been invited to a private establishment to enjoy sake and Chinese food but in actuality it's a business meeting between Arthur and Zhou Fen.

Arthur is still feeling the effects of being shot in the chest and almost couldn't travel because there was a small piece of lead stuck in his chest. Arthur and Hazel have arrived at the private establishment and the bouncer outside checks their IDs before letting them in. Arthur and Hazel walk down the stairs and find themselves in a small club with beautiful women all around them.

Hazel: "Wow, they're all gorgeous."

Arthur: "Don't worry Hazel, they pale in comparison to you."

Hazel: "You say that now but I'm sure after a few cups of sake you'll be hitting on three of them."

Arthur: "And I'll blame the sake, you're right. Don't worry I'll refrain from drinking as much."

2 hours later, Arthur is very drunk. He has been joined by two Chinese women and they're laughing at him even though they don't know what he's saying.

Arthur: "Now listen ladies, it wasn't like that... he left her and went to Japan! She was lonely so I decided to offer her comfort, it's not my fault that I got her pregnant!"

Suddenly Arthur sees Hazel talking to Zhou Fen and she looks a little uncomfortable.

Arthur: "You ladies coming to the show tomorrow? I can't believe I have to team with a guy called Chad!"

Arthur burps and the ladies look disgusted and leave.

Arthur: And my opponents! Jeff X? What kind of a name is that? Sounds like the Fortnite username of a 12 year old streamer."

Arthur looks around and sees that the ladies are gone, he then spots Hazel walking towards him and she sits down next to him.

Hazel: "Umm... Arthur... I want to leave."

Arthur burps again.

Hazel: "Oh god, your breath stinks."

Arthur: "Your face stinks."

Hazel: "Yes yes, very funny Arthur but can we please leave now?"

Arthur: "Why? Is there something wrong?"

Hazel: "Yeah... the owner of the club Zhou Fen tried to aggressively make passes at me and umm... I don't really feel like partying anymore."

Arthur looks furious and gets up, he stumbles a little bit as he makes his way over to Zhou Fen.

Arthur: "Hey! Zhou Fen! Great party my man but we're gonna split now."

Arthur tries to swing for Zhou Fen's face but misses and falls flat on his face, everyone laughs and Zhou Fen's bodyguards start kicking him in the ribs, on the back and in the head. Zhou Fen then bows down and whispers something in Arthur's ear.

Zhou Fen: "In China, we take honoring the host very seriously and an offense like this normally would mean that I blow your brains out but since you're drunk and a stupid Englishman, I will let you go... this time, but you better make this deal happen or I will hunt you for the rest of your life."

Zhou Fen then kicks Arthur on the head and knocks his lights out. Multiple hours later Arthur wakes up in a warm hotel bed at 1 AM with Hazel next to him watching the TV.

Arthur: "That motherfucker."

Hazel: "Hey... look who's awake. How's your head?"

Arthur: "Hurts like hell."

Hazel: "I didn't think you'd wake up before the morning."

Arthur: "Getting blackout drunk or knocked out never lasts long on me, it's a blessing and a curse."

Hazel: "You should really take things more slowly, your bullet wound isn't exactly recovered so I wouldn't go around starting fights."

Arthur: "I'm a wrestler, it's what I do."

Hazel sighs and then gets up, she goes to search for something in her purse. It's a bottle of painkillers, she throws it to Arthur.

Hazel: "They're to ease the pain, I got them from one of the girls at the club before we left, she said that she really liked you and wished you a speedy recovery."

Arthur: "I wonder which one it was... I hope it was the hot one."

Hazel sighs and sits down next to Arthur, she turns off the TV and the light on the end table.

Hazel: "I'm gonna go to sleep, good night Arthur."

Arthur: "Good night Hazel."

Arthur gets up and gets a glass of water, he puts the pill in his mouth and takes a swig of water.

Arthur stands still for a moment and then collapses on the floor, it wakes up Hazel who quickly turns on the lights.

Hazel: "ARTHUR!"

Hazel quickly rushes over to Arthur who's lying on the floor with blood pouring out of his head.

Hazel quickly runs out of the hotel room and is looking for someone who speaks English so that they can call an ambulance for Arthur.

Hazel quickly runs back in with a Chinese man who's on his phone and we then fade to black.

Jeff X, "Killer Bee", DT The Ruler, Chad Ecclestone and DGS have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos August 8th 2022, 9:22 pm by **DarkCircle**

{The screen flickers a couple of times and then comes blazing to life as we see a panoramic view of the Guangdong Olympic Stadium resting on the vast expanse of the city below as the camera then pulls back to show us none other than the "Cronenberg of Clotheslines" himself, Jacob Striker, enjoying the view of the upcoming venue for this week's edition of Kingdom before he turns to face the camera}

Jacob: First off Titan, I want to make an apology because while I was catching that promo you tried to do the other day, I kept zoning out because that was the...what, third...maybe...self idolizing piece of shit bit of wordplay that I've seen in then...what, how about we call it a *week*?

I mean yes, I find it flattering that you compare me to the "Fall of Icarus" of all pieces of art and that's a piece that I actually grew up with because my dad kept it in his office in the home that I grew up in, Titan. So I understand the analogy that you were trying to make all too well.

However, you trying to tell me that I need to learn from it because you're just going to roll on over me like I don't even exist because you're "meant" to win everything because it's your "destiny".

{Jake snorts as he shakes his head for a few seconds before fixing the camera with a serious look on his face}

Jacob: Do you know how many people over the past nine months alone have been telling me that it's my "destiny" to be beaten by them, to be made humble and learn my place in "their world" as it were?

Do you know how many times I was forced to sit there and listen to them go on and on about how great and powerful they were and that I had little to no chance of ever beating them because they had this great advantage or because I just wasn't good enough to beat them?

Seriously, Titan, how many times do you think that I've heard that in the last nine months *ALONE* only for me to prove them wrong time and time again?

In Wrestleworld, so many people were telling me that I wasn't meant to be the Territorial champion because I was just some fucking bum who would do everything to bring dishonor and shame upon that title and destroy the legacy of it's previous holders like Myojin, Zane, and Indy Darling...but instead of loosing it in my very first defense like so many people were claiming that would happen because it was my *destiny* to *lose*...but instead I fought harder than anything to prove my worth and in the end, I proved everyone of my detractors wrong time and time again, not backing down from a challenge any and every time that it was put in front of me.

Because that's who I am, Titan.

I'm the bastard the changes your so-called "destiny" from being a supposedly unstoppable titan into the whiny little child who's been spanked in public for throwing the most epic of tantrums when they don't get that one chocolate bar at the Walmart check out!

And that's not me saying that because I have the utmost confidence in my skills alone, Titan, oh no!

That's me saying that because all you're doing is saying the exact same thing that everyone has been saying about me, only for me to prove them wrong time and time again.

But that's not to say that I believe myself to be "unbeatable" or any of that bullshit because there is always that slim, oh so *slim* ghost of a *chance* that you can squeak a victory past me and go on to face either Noah Krieger or Taniguchi Sena in the finals of this tournament.

And I'm easily admitting this because there is nobody in this industry that is one hundred percent beatable, Titan, because there is always going to be someone out there that's going be that quarter fraction faster than you to hit that one move that will stun you for just long enough to get that three count victory...and you *know* it!

{The serious look slowly slips from Jake's face as he talks, his lips curling into that signature wolfish grin of his as his white teeth flash in the noonday sun of the day}

Jacob: And that's the reality that's rushing fast to meet you head on, Titan.

Because at Kingdom, I'm going to tear you down off of that ivory tower that you're ego has built for yourself and I'm then going on to face off against either Noah or Taniguchi in the finals of this tournament and I'm going to *win* this whole damned thing because I'm not afraid of the "what ifs" or "possibly maybes"...because I've beaten the odds time and time again and I will continue to do so until my career in this sport is long since fucking *FINISHED*!!

And unlike you, Titan, I do all of that while respecting the ring because the ring is sacred.

But sometimes, one does need to sanctify the ground one fights in with the blood of both the worthy…

{That wolfish grin becomes a little bit more…feral}

Jacob: …and *UNWORTHY*.

But the reality of the situation is this, Titan, and that is your overbearing ego refused to allow you to see anything past what you think is rightfully yours and because of it, you’re already looking past myself and everyone else in this entire tournament because all that you see is what you think is already yours made manifest at which point in that thick head of yours, you’ve already won both of the matches ahead of you that night when in fact is you really haven’t because by the time that you wake up and realize it, I’ll be owning that right fucking arm of yours as I’m making you tap out.

That’s not hubris or ego on my part, Titan. No, that is the simple truth of the matter because you choose to submit to the sirens of your own ego instead of understanding the truth which was you had a real and serious threat step into the ring with you on Kingdom and you simply chose to ignore it.

Speaking of ignoring threats.

{Jake does a little mock-polite wave to the camera}

Jacob: Hello there, Noah. Probably didn’t think that I was actually paying attention to you while I’ve been dealing with that lump, Titan, eh?

No, I caught your latest promo and saw that my greatest weakness is my…weariness? That I have forgotten how to survive in this sport?

{The grin disappears from Jake’s face as he motions at the arena below in the distance}

Jacob: Noah, after we get done with this Dark Kingdom tournament and I walk away the winner…you and I are going to have a long and very, *VERY* painful conversation about what your lack of…vision is in this industry. Because clearly you are not seeing the same things that I’ve been seeing over the past couple of years as I have been busting my ass *internationally* while I’ve never heard of you before the announcement of this past Kingdom card.

I have never been as focused in my life as I am right now, kiddo, and while you say that I’m not able to take the needed risks, then obviously you don’t know who the fuck you’re talking to because if you go and ask people like Arata Asakura, Graham Baker, Stephanie Matsuda, Christopher Sabertooth, or anyone from anywhere else that I’ve fucking wrestled since I have first entered this sport, then you’ll hear that I don’t care what the risks are because I’m the one who usually is the first in line for a fucking fight.

Because as of right now, you’re the one who didn’t understand the risks of pissing me the fuck off by implying that I don’t do anything in this sport with the same fire and passion that I live my life by or that I give my future wife either and if anything, she knows how to draw lives of hellfire and fury out of me that would render you nothing but an after shadow upon the wall that you once stood before!

{The wolfish grin then reappears on his face, but it does nothing to match the pure leashed malice that shine in those ice blue eyes of Striker’s}

Jacob: But above all else, right now I’m completely focused on the matter at hand.

Titan….Sena…Krieger.

This Sunday will be a long and bloody night for me, one wrought with pain in its purest form and not a thing that I have ever ran from.

You all wish to test my resolve, my dedication…you all want to see the weight of my fucking *heart* and depths that I will go to in order to get the job done?

Gentlemen, I will beat you to death with your own gall bladders if it means me winning this tournament.

Be seeing you all very, *very* shortly.

{The screen fades to black}

"Killer Bee" and DT The Ruler have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos August 8th 2022, 9:09 pm by **Sayla**

Ruri Kuzunoha sits in the middle of a stairwell, leaning against the railing, In her hand is a baseball. Ruri looks at the baseball for a second before speaking

I have no idea why I have this, it was just… kind of here when I got here. Something that I feel like… I’m starting to become on Odyssey… just some discarded, irrelevant… thing left alone until someone stumbles upon it.I have to wonder how many times I’m gonna be given another chance around here, I swear I gotta be on what my tenth now? I couldn’t put Filth away. I barely made a scratch in the Clash. I wasn’t able to make it to any match at Final Destination. The B.O.B. Games was a bust… the tag titles are now out of my grasp… am I missing anything?

Ruri shrugs her shoulders as she continues to toss the ball into the air.

Does it really matter? I’ve had one of the worst slews of bad luck that I’ve ever seen here in OWA. If I were to just walk away, not a single person here would bat an eyelash. Any waves that I was supposed to make barely broke the surface, and honestly, there ain’t anyone who I can blame for that but myself… and I’m okay with that. Because no matter how mny times I fuck up around here, no matter what anyone else thinks of me… I’m not going to just quit.

Ruri says as she lets the ball drop, hitting the stairs and bouncing down them.

Because I am not like that ball. I ain’t gonna let myself just fall back down into a pit of my own despair. I’m going to stop myself from falling, and I am going to keep getting my ass back up and pushing and climbing higher and higher.. I lived there for the better part of the year, and I ain’t gonna let myself go back. That being said, I am going to do everything that I can to come out of this coming match with a win, despite whatever you plan to do Tomomi.

She lets out a small sigh as she leans back a bit more.

We haven’t had the chance to meet Tomomi, nor do I think you ever had the intention of meeting me… I don’t know why, but I just have this feeling that you’re not the kind of girl who’d ever have associated with a punk like me. You’re the bright shining star of your dojo, who has everyone’s eyes on them.. You’re the kind of person who’d show up two hours early and stay three hours late just to make sure you got everything right. Bright eyed, eager, and full of a certain kind of energy that would make even the roughest toughest bastard sensei’s squee over how cute you were. I’ve seen girls like you come into the business, and I’ve seen far too many of them leave without ever getting a chance to really come into their own. Even before I got into the business, I’d see them come into my dad’s school and they’d burn out before making it to their second show.

I’m honestly glad that I can be your first match here, because trust me girl some of the other women on this roster? They prey on girls like you… but luckily you ain’t gotta worry about that. Instead, you and I can focus on getting to know each other out in that ring, as we… to borrow a phrase from a friend, give each other the best scrap that we can give. I may not be anywhere near the totem pole here in OWA, but you know something? I know that I can damn sure be one helluva doorwoman. If what keeps me from falling back myself, is benign there for newcomers like you, then that’s fine with me. I’ve spent way too much time here trying to fit in, and belong… when I could be focusing on being there for anyone who feels the same way I do, anyone who needs someone to talk with, or to step into the ring against so she can blow off some steam, or whatever.

So, Tomomi Shinozaki come our match on Odyssey I want you to give me every damned thing you got. Show me why you were considered the top of the class in your dojo. Show me exactly what you’re willing to do to fulfill your dreams, and I’ll give right back tenfold. You may get mutliple chances to pick yourself back up here, but you only got one chance to give everyone a good first impression. So, let’s make sure that yours is one to be remembered… whattaya say?

Ruri says with a wink and a smirk before we fade out.

Jeff X and "Killer Bee" have spoken. It’s such good shit!

» OWA Promos! (CLOSED AS OF 4/16/19)
» OWT Promos!
» OWA Promos
» OWA Promos
» OWA Promos

OWA Promos

OWA Promos :: Comments

OWA Promos

Similar topics

Similar topics