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!

Kingdom 2 September 9th 2022, 8:34 pm by **Mark Michaels**

THE INTERVIEW.

( The scene opens not in a lavish jungle, or bustling city. It doesn’t come in on a shot of the open sea, or any exotic location for that matter. Instead opens on your typical backstage wrestling interview set. Banners for OMEGA Wrestling Alliance, and it’s Kingdom brand hang in the background on either side of a large flatscreen monitor, while reporter Cori Simmons stands in the foreground with a microphone in her hand . looking professional, and confident as she always does. )

Cori Simmons: Ladies and Gentlemen I’m Cori Simmons here with a special report for OWA.com. With Kingdom: Vindication just a few days away, I was granted an exclusive interview with one of the competitors scheduled for the first ever Box Office Brawl in OWA history. He’s one of the newest stars on the Kingdom brand, and his exploits out of the ring have already garnered him something of a cult following on Sunday nights. Without any further ado, allow me to welcome my guest, Dick P. Slaughter.

( Dick enters the frame and takes his mark standing besides Cori. Simmons looks up, slightly in awe of Slaughter, though few would ever be able to tell as her professional demeanor and attitude never waiver. )

Cori: Mister Slaughter-

DPS: Ma’am mister slaughter was my father. Go ahead and feel free to call me Dick.

Cori Simmons: Alright Dick. You’ve had a few matches here on Kingdom already but haven’t gotten a win yet. Conversely, it seems that outside of the ring, you find yourself in these, for lack of a better word, action packed adventures. Do you think that these two facts may be linked, or is there some other reason you are still looking for that first win in OWA?

DPS: That’s a great question Cori, and I don’t believe that the things I’m doing outside of the ring have affected my performance inside the ring.Excuse me.

( Out from behind one of the banners leaps a masked henchman who lunges at Slaughter. Dick side steps his attacker and sends him crashing off screen.)

DPS: Sorry for that. like I was saying, nobody wins them all. but the important thing is giving your all, and becoming better from each loss, and I believe I’ve done that, and the experience I’ve gained in the ring will serve me well going forward.

Cori Simmons: Now with that in mind How does it feel competing in a Box Office Brawl? Does this type of match favor you? And how do you prepare for what’s sure to be a grueling contest?

DPS: when it comes to fights like this, I draw on some inspirational writings I heard a long time ago that says ‘though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I will fear no evil, because I am one bad mother fucker. The only way you can prepare for what’s sure to be a knock down drag out fight is to lace up your boots, tape up your knuckles, and be prepared to walk through hell and back. Something my opponent for all his loud mouth blabbering, doesn’t have the Ecclestones to do himself. Sure he’s beaten up Keanu Reeve, Van Damme, and Tom Hanks in his films, Let’s see how he does in an actual fight against someone who isn’t pushing fifty, because if he thinks coming at me with his ‘I’m an Oscar winner’ bullcrap’ is gonna win him this fight, I’ll be reminding him otherwise by taking all his award statues and shoving them directly up his narrow ass.

Cori:m Simmons: Since brought up Chad Ecclestone, he has been very vocal about both this match, and his feelings towards you personally. Would you like to take this chance to respond to some of the accusations, and claims he’s made in the lead up to this match?

DPS: Usually I wouldn’t bother because guys like Chad are just pansy ass punks with tic tac testicles. But I’m his case I’ll make an exception. Like how he tries to claim I’m on roids because his arms thin and ropey. Bullshit Chad. Here’s some free advice, don’t go getting your silk panties in a twist because you can’t measure up to me. And apparently it seems in more ways than one. Or how he says I’m a relic best left in the past. Just from how big an asshole this guy is, I wouldn’t want him to think I was cool anyway. Who the fuck actually likes hanging around with Chad besides his money grubbing, whore of a wife, and the people he has to pay to pretend they can stand his company for more than 30 seconds? So fuck his opinion about what he thinks about my taste in music, the car I drive, and way I dress, If I’m not his cup of tea than fuck him, I know plenty of people who enjoy me like I’m a shot of tequila.

But one thing I didn’t care to hear was this jaber talk about toxic masculinity. I’m not here to push toxic masculinity. I never want to see someone suffering, nor shutting themselves off from getting the help they need. I don’t look down on women, I treat everyone based on the person they are. That’s why I chose to give this interview to you Cori, you’re hands down the best in your field and you work hard to boot. I respect that, hence why I’m here. I’m not about toxic masculinity, but I’m not going to apologize for having the balls to act like a man. To give people the proper respect, to not treat those around me like ants, and not be afraid to take your licks to get what you want. I believe in hard work, I believe in helping the little guy, and i don’t believe you should mistake having possessions, for being a decent human being. I also believe that in times like these, smug little pricks tend to get what they deserve.

And when it comes to Chad Ecclestone, I can think of nothing he deserves more, than me balling up my fist, and punching him so hard that he ends up shitting his $5,000 pants. You ask me what my motivation is Chad? I’m not here for the money, and I’m no knight in shining armor. Im just a guy doing what he thinks is right, and right now that’s kicking your ass on behalf of every single person you shit on day to day without ever realizing it because your head is lodged firmly up your ass. My motivation is knock you the fuck out plain and simple, so that guys like Ho-Sook can smile as they crack open a beer and celebrate you getting your well earned just deserts. My motivation is make the boys in the locker room shout ‘OH HELL YEAH’ when you get 360 no scoped. So I say I got plenty of motivation to beat your ass black and blue, meanwhile you’re such a goddamn drama queen that you cook up some pretty lame shit that I’m sure you stole from one of that new film of yours that’s a blockbuster video exclusive rental.

I mean how much of a low down, dirty, son of a bitch do you have to be to invoke your dead wife, to claim you have some kind of higher purpose or reason to compete on Kingdom? I’m here to test myself against the toughest, the strongest, the quickest, and the absolute best in the world to make myself better because As they say, steel sharpens steel. Chad want to compete in the best I. The ring so he can continue to justify jerking off to his own headshot. Speaking of which, when this bell rings I can promise this Prima donna pretty boy that he’s gonna need to call up his photographer, and the graphic designer that put together that digital bullshit, because I’m gonna beat his ass unrecognizable. Think Charlize Theron in Monster only permanent. He better have a good plastic surgeon, because there won’t be any stunt men to take the punch for him, no director to say I gotta make him look like he knows what to do in a fight, and no screen play where he wins in the end.

This is real life, not a set in some backlot. There’s no sign telling people to laugh at your crappy monologue jokes, and no errand boys to do your dirty work while you sit there making a total ass out of yourself. You better realize right quick that this match isn’t in your back yard, but it’s right up my alley. Because there’s nothing that I love to do more than to kick ass. This match isn’t about money. It’s not about what car you drive, or who’s more popular. And It ain’t box office records that are gonna be broken. You’re gonna see When the bell rings, that there’s no prop department here to keep you from getting knocked the fuck out. The chairs and ladders are solid steel, the trash cans and stop signs aren’t made to give or break away, and it won’t be candy glass that I smash over your head. You call it being unimaginative to tell you what I’m gonna do, I call it fair warning so you don’t go around bitching when I kick your teeth down your throat. My fists are coming at you with bad intentions, worst than your acting in that last piece of shit movie I walked out of.

Cori Simmons: And we have time for one last question. Is there anything you’d like to say the Kingdom audience?

DPS: Yes. To everyone watching, buckle up, because in a box office brawl i am promising all of you, a knock down drag out fight, that will leave you hanging on the edge of your seat. Get ready for the kind of action, and excitement you can only find with the man named Dick P. Slaughter. And as for Chad Ecclestone being able to chew solid food, it’s a wrap, I guarantee it.

( with that Dick makes his exit from the scene.)

Cori Simmons: Well there you have it folks, Dick P. Slaughter will be on Kingdom, and he sounds ready to go to war. For OWA.Com I’m Cori Simmons reporting.

Dick P. Slaughter will return in Indiana Jones and the Search for Chad Ecclestone’s nuts.

Scott Oasis, The Banshee and Chad Ecclestone have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos September 9th 2022, 4:58 pm by **Theodor Pavel**

“Why am I being second guessed? Every day, it feels like that’s what OWA is doing to me. People walk up to me on the street and assume I’m broken. They assume it. Scott Oasis thinks I’m broken. ‘Oh, the toy is broken, let’s move on’. Let’s find someone better, yes? That’s what seems to be happening right now. I go away to do these horrible things for the right reasons. I march in line with my best friends to make sure that this world has a future. I march with Jeff X, Michael Bishop, what’s left of the Frontline. The real Frontline. We’ve fought wars, we’ve fought in churches, we’ve fought everywhere. We went to the future and fought there too. I come back from 2150, you know what happens?

I’m Mike’s Friend. Other than that, people forgot that I was even here.”

Inside of his lovely home in Anaheim, Theodor Pavel is pacing like a caged lion. He isn’t quite full of rage, but there is something wrong with this equation. The frustration is beginning to set in for the Hands Of Ice, having a negative effect on his patience and determination. He seems to be fired up, but do we truly believe it?

“What do I have to do? This has been a huge selling point for me, as Morgan would say. Oh the big selling point.. What is being sold? The redemption story of Theodor Pavel, or another chance to push him away? I don’t want to go away, I love this. This was fun for me at first, now it’s almost an obsession. I was honored to be the man to defeat Chris Sabertooth when he was the OWA World Heavyweight Champion. Of course, it was non-title. To the world, it counted; it counted to me too. Then, the lights come on bright and Theodor loses again. Losing..Losing..Losing. Even when I win, I lose. Somehow I lose. Cheapshots from others, no fight on Pay Per View whether it was Game Over or even Final Destination, I didn’t fight. I put on a sumo suit and helped Angelina Magnum become a star. If you ask the fans, they’d say SHE won the B.O.B. Games. Fine.

She did win the B.O.B. Games, but so did I. I did just as good, aside from a bad football game. I am not Tom Brady. I don’t deflate my balls!”

(Continuing his rabid pace around the Pavel Residence, Theodor looks down at himself. Not impressed with his own physique, he glanced at whoever he was talking to.)

“Is this the problem? Oh, Theodor isn’t in wrestling shape. He might need to wrestle in a t-shirt! I’m not 65 with bad man boobs. I’m Theodor Pavel, I’m supposed to be a star by now, right? So, what do I get? I get to defend myself all over again, this time against Jacob Striker. He has a lot to say, always throwing shade. Making things personal. I had to deal with Chad Ecclestone, now I have to deal with a man who doesn’t see himself facing me.. But a man who’s facing my boss.. My mentor. He doesn’t want to fight me, he wants to fight Mr. Morgan.

‘Oh, Mr. Morgan this.. Mr. Morgan that. Mr. Morgan said something mean about people. Mr. Morgan stepped on an ant in the parking lot…’... I’m right here.. I’ve BEEN here!! I haven’t left my post to find something else, I’ve been fighting here in OWA for two years. I’ve been through every single thing here. Fighting with Asakura.. Fighting with future robots and zombies.. Being drugged to see a vision that was just me laying in a bed..Paralyzed. Not the guy who fought Michael Bishop, the World Heavyweight Champion, and defeated him in front of 100,000 fans in what was my biggest match ever. Win or lose, it was going to be the highlight of my career. Jacob Striker, you’ve said so much about this match.. You haven’t said a word about ME.”

Growing even more frustrated with the words of Striker, Pavel comes to a slow stop, looking around the room.

“I’m not going to pick apart what you’ve done in YOUR life. I’m not going to do that because your life isn’t like mine. We’re different people. You see a man who is a lapdog to his mentor. You don’t see me, you see him. Just like how many don’t see me, they see Michael Bishop or Jeff X. Better yet, they see Arata Asakura and the things that man did to my friends and I. This is why I can’t continue like this. I made a promise that by the end of the year, I would be the OWA World Heavyweight Champion. How can I look in the mirror, after saying that.. Lose to you in my first singles match in months? What am I going to do? Kick this off with a loss? Some might want that, and that’s fine. You want that, why? Because you want what I want. You want to be the World Heavyweight Champion. Being a Territorial Champion for Wrestleworld isn’t the be all, end all.. Is it? I’m going to clue you in on something.. I turned down Wrestleworld.”

Shaking his hand upward to explain himself, he continues pacing back and forth in the living room.

“I know what you’re going to say, because it’s what EVERYONE else would say. How dare I be picky about where I go to wrestle? Why wouldn’t I want to go to the same place that so many have gone to? Why wouldn’t I want to challenge myself against the likes of the people there? Much less, under the watchful and careful eye of Banch Morgan, my friend and mentor. That’s exactly why. I don’t need to be watched and directed. I’ve done a pretty good job of NOT being that guy anymore. I stepped out of the shadows in Los Angeles when I fought Bishop. The shadow shouldn’t exist anymore, but you keep treating me like it does.

Not treating me like the man who could possibly defeat you in the ring by himself. Not treating me like the guy who puts 100% into everything.. EVERYTHING. Instead I’m the one going from country to country, seeing buses and production trucks that have everyone’s face on it, aside from mine. I’ve been isolated for a long time, while you have been given a chance to fight for a title shot. You’ve had great matches in OWA, an idiot would deny it. You’re tough, you’re strong. You’ve made an impact since I’ve been benched. Notice that, since I’ve been benched.”

While he continues pacing around the room, his knuckles are being cracked. He’s nearly jumping around as if he’s trying to fire himself up for the fight of his life.

“I’ve seen you beat my mentor. I’ve seen you take a barbed wire bat to a woman, a good friend of mine by the way. I’ve seen you do a lot of things, but the one thing I haven’t seen you do is actually be the best. You’ve fought better people and you beat them. You’ve never really been..The best. Neither have I, don’t worry. I’ve been told that plenty. The proof is there, I’m not the best wrestler in the world. We’re not. We’re lions in a cage, waiting for our food. We’re being watched by everyone, but we’re not being good enough. So, maybe instead of me getting in there in Incheon with the idea of winning a match by someone who could fight.. Maybe I should go with the idea that if we don’t impress the fans in South Korea, then we’re not going anywhere. We’ll be sitting here in this same spot that we’ve been stuck in for a YEAR. Waiting to lose to the next one. Waiting to be replaced by the Raivos and DTs..and MYOJINs. Same people that I don’t believe are as good as me, but that’s not the point.

Whether you want to admit it or not, it’s us against the world on Kingdom this week. Rather than speaking about things that I never did, or said.. Focus on what I’m willing to do inside of the ring. You want to be taken seriously here? So do I! I’m not here as a result of being a Champion elsewhere, I came in with ZERO professional wrestling experience, only trained. Right off the bat, pegged to be one of the biggest names in the sport today. That didn’t happen, did it? No.

I’m just me. At the end of the day, that’s all I can be. What I can do though, is make sure I don’t fuck this up and lose to a guy who for all I know, may not be here by the end of the year. I can’t take a chance on what ifs. If you’re the better wrestler, Striker.. You’ll win. Don’t let it be a fluke, actually win. Don’t be the others guys who got by me because they had lightning strike, interference, a time traveling daughter, or a cheap shot when the motivation was completely gone after being paranoid over a 24/7 title. Be better than me, Striker. Can you?”

All the thoughts are pouring back into his head. Memories of the big matches that he’s had in OWA, only to be sent back down when there was another to take his position. In his mind, he should have defeated so many more people, but has always found a way to fall when he was needed most. A choke artist? Some may call him that. Those same people have already said that winning the B.O.B. games only created more problems for him, as it will be yet another letdown. A third chance to become the OWA World Heavyweight Champion, a title he has failed to win twice. Maybe Jacob Striker could be just what the doctor ordered.

“Don’t confuse me with others, Striker. That’s all I ask. I’m not going to bring baggage into this match. That’s left in my head and it doesn’t go any further. That’s for another time. Once the bell rings, those don’t matter. What matters is you and me in there, and we’ll fight. No paranoia, no hostility over what you did to one of my best friends. No worries about my mentor being in your way. No point in thinking about what I didn’t say about Ryo Sakazaki. It’s just us. For that moment, I won’t even hear the crowd. Whether they love what we do, or hate what we aren’t, we’re going to fight. It’ll be one hell of a fight.

Maybe then, just maybe.. I can break free finally. That’s my motivation as we march to that ring and fight in front of the sold out crowd in South Korea. I can hopefully…HOPEFULLY finally convince people that I’m not some toy that’s been sitting in the box for months and months.. That I’m the best at this. To be the guy to face Bishop and defeat him, I have to be. The road to that is a tough one, and unfortunately.. It starts with you. No offense. I’m not coming to Incheon to lose.”

Something feels therapeutic about the last bit of what he said. Theodor Pavel, after months of waiting and trying to get a chance to be the best in the industry, might actually have a path to get there. It won’t be an easy one, but it’s a path nonetheless. As he finally calms himself down, he walks over to the couch. He peers over at what has been motivating him to finally speak up and fight for his spot that he feels he deserves..

Picking up the one he calls “Fat Anya”, he looks at her. Seeing the look that his own child gives him, it’s all the motivation he needs to bring the biggest fight of his career to South Korea. No more waiting, no more stepping aside. No cuts.

Michael Bishop, Scott Oasis, 'Don' Hendrix and DT The Ruler have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos September 9th 2022, 4:09 pm by **Michael Bishop**

“We’ve got to see this through, whatever it takes”.

Michael’s own words echo throughout his mind as he’s taken back to last year; Shortly before Hardcore Havoc 2021. Frontline was stretched thing; Jeff was battling Arata, Theodor was off making a name for himself, which left JD and Bishop himself to hold the line. Whatever it took. They were due to square up with an invasive force led by Reginald Dampshaw… He thinks back to the night before, JD and Mike were at a bar. They didn’t know what that barbed wire war would entail, if they were going to come out of it alive… but they needed to.

“So much for a bright new world” JD says, taking a sip of his drink. Mike’s eyes snap to him; in a different time, JD and him were enemies, the Wolvesden and Mike weren’t on the best of terms. Now… they find themselves unlikely, yet loyal allies. “We have to keep fighting for it. It only gets worse before it gets better and they’re counting on us to quit. Ryan-”. Mike’s utterance of JD’s name draws his attention, they lock eyes: “The boys are off playing hero, we’re in this together. Whatever it takes”.

After a long minute… they nod to each other “Whatever it takes” Damon echoes. The wolf looks around, then up-nods towards Mike before asking: “Medical says if you keep putting yourself in harm's way, one day you ain’t gonna get up off that canvas. Why do you keep gambling?”. Bishop sits back, shrugging: “Someone’s got to give the mothafuckers in the dark something to fear, besides, I can’t let you do this shit alone”. The two share a laugh before JD holds up his glass-

“Cheers”. Back in the present day, Bishop sets that very glass he cheers’d with down, a shamrock with a skull adorning the center. He finds himself at his house and sitting across from him isn’t JD but the OWA World Championship. Mike stares deeply into the reflective gold face; He already felt the growing tension between him and Theodor, Jason, and now his former brotherhood with JD erupting. All for the glory, and the 10lb strap of gold. This sport was cruel, but his love for it, and his place as it’s top champion took precedence.

“He’s still your friend” a voice tells Mike, he turns; his wife, Rebecca. She comes over and places a hand on his shoulder, Mike isn’t having. “He burnt every single fucking bridge, ‘becca. With Jeff, with Chris, with me when he left you and Lita alone after vowing to stand by you both”. The rage dripping from Bishop’s voice is apparent; “-And he teamed with the same motherfucker that was cutting people up last year. Fuck that. Both of them stand at the gate of hell, and know the consequence for trying to take the sword to Kingdom”.

“What are you going to do?” She asks.

Mike continues to stare into his reflection within the belt; A former friend now traitor, and an old foe, looking to capitalize on a victory by challenging him. The answer was obvious: “The same as ever, ‘becca, as I said when I crawled out of Hell…. Kill them all”.

-----------------------------

Opportunity; they say she knocks but she stays far away and only rears her head unless you make her. Force her to step out into the light, make the circumstances so in your favor she can no longer deny you and make her presence known. One’s ability to manifest their goals is only limited by how badly they want it, how willing they are to get it, and how consistent their motivation and drive stays when shit gets hard. When I threw my first punch I barely knew what I was doing, 20 years later I have the deadliest five knuckle railgun in the industry. I walked into 2020 an old gunslinger the world barely remembered, on a road to redemption and I stepped off that road one of the most decorated men in modern pugilism.

I started August, dead. No pulse in my body, no breath in my lungs, and I walked out a proven, definitive, world champion. And I walk into the fall, the winter, with more crosshairs on me now than I’ve ever had in my career. And as the gods as my enemies, with heaven and hell having failed to have taken me… Sometimes, there’s a knock, but with me? I’ve always ripped that door off it’s hinges and hand deliver my exacted will to whoever the fuck prevents me from what I want to achieve. I am hellmarching vindication, OWA’s most dominant world heavyweight champion. Regardless of the ambitions or inhibitions of Frontliner, brother, former friend or newfound foe.

And it burns you up inside, doesn’t it JD? Don’t say it was ever for Kenny because if it was your performances were a disgrace to him and an embarrassment to the wolvesden. Their heritage was a direct pipeline to the world title scene and their successor was a forgettable Spartans champion, and a forever looping midcard from season 1. That’s who you are, isn’t it? JD Damon, best friend to Jeff X, right hand man to Kenny Drake, always playing the second fiddle because that’s where you’re most comfortable and you don’t want to admit it. Just tall enough to try, but not good enough to grasp the brass ring of excellence. That is all on you. Your inability to grind it out, put on the work, learn from your mistakes.

Be careful who you call friend, and let the record show: I’d rather have a brother in arms like Theo, would would go to the future and back to same me- than a snake like JD who was ready to forget about me after I pulled his ass out of you he fire not once but fuckin twice!! Theo might be coming after my title, but he’ll say it to my face, so I can have my rounds ready to be put through his skull. You? You’re conniving and I think it’s time to run back 2021 and humble you like Jeff did. Lita’s Godfather who went to hell, the future, and back to help me when I needed it most. You’re right, you did help me- only when it directly benefited you. And when it didn’t? You were nowhere to be seen, neck deep in the locker room of the men who tried to hang you just 11 months ago. Jeff shook your hand and he made amends. By the end of this? There will be no handshake, there will be no live and let live, because you will not get off that mat and for the second time in 2022 there will be a dead wolf on the canvas.

Check it; The last 5 years of my career were the most daring, dangerous, and high octane than the last 15. The last 2 years of my life forced me to come to terms with who I am, who I needed to be, and what I was gonna do to be that man or face implosion from my own hate, rage, and greed. I spent 700 days trying to be the heavyweight reaper I was back in the day, world title gold around my waist, knowing that no matter how dark that gutter was I could claw my way out, and I could prove to the world, to my doubters, to my rivals- that no matter how deep the hole got, I could make it all worth it. I spent the last 1,000 earning this moment, this era, this year every single fucking minute.

You have had shot, after shot, gifted to you on a silver platter because JD Damon doesn’t know who the fuck he is. In a faction like Frontline, where talent and prestige line every active member, you are a choke artist of the finest and that is on you. Every man who comes up for this title, says it’s about respect. What they want is Acknowledgement, that they’re the better man, that they deserve this title more. Fuck off, Fuck That, and Fuck you. The entire company had a chance to cash their chips, and fight for their claim just like I did at the start of this year, in brazil. You quit before the clash even began, what were your words? Oh, I remember: “Fuck this”. The mindset of JD Damon every single time shit gets hard and he suddenly realizes becoming world champion is more than coasting off his formerly dead friend’s legacy. Opportunity is about seizing it, and you choose to not even lift your hand. You even admitted you don’t expect to walk out of here as world champion. It’s not my fault I was always one step ahead, and that Champion vs Champion match cemented one thing: Your worst day as the Spartan Wolf, was an easy week and an easy paycheck for me. The only fault I owe is not separating your vertebrae when I had the chance, maybe then we could have been spared 16 months of your self misery bullshit.

My words cut deep, because the truth is unimaginable to these two. They are responsible for their own inability to reach the enlightenment they seek and they are doing by cashing their chips in at vindication, is gambeling their career away against a man who will give their run, and their life, an early expiration date.

And you know that all too personally, Dampshaw. What I did to ya’ll last year was so brutal, they tried to fine me. And so I said to them, what I said to you, when you gathered an army to storm Kingdom right before I culled them; Come and get it. And they never came knocking, but you did, and the mangled bodies of your men twisted in barbed wire stand as a forever memorial as to what happens when you try to walk onto my turf and make it yours: It becomes your graveyard.

I don’t fear the snake oil you’re trying to sell them, Dampshaw. I have taken the time lizard to war, pushed them to their limit and all your superform tells me is that your endgame, your fifth gear, can’t even get me off of first. I could fill a book with the amount of times you quit before the bells were even rung. And… I have your number, both of yours; taken by force, slotted into this fucked little head of mine and I will wrap it around your throats and force you to concede once again. Dreams are easy, and I am the harsh reality of what stands between you and every motherfucker for the rest of time because no one is taking this belt. When you spent 40 years in hell, 40 minutes in that ring is easy, and I had 20 years of experience to create the terrifying onslaught you will be put through. That isn’t high horse arrogance, that is absolute confidence, and you’ve both been in the ring with me enough to know that it is true.

The man that stands before you is not the same one from the year before, or the one that stood beside you. Smash my knee, cut my leg off, put a fucking hole in my skull, stop my heart- all it does is piss me off and delay the inevitable. I am a revenant, a phantom, and a spirit of absolute retribution fueled by nothing but hate, raged and the adrenaline drive to seek and destroy for the most revered world title in the world as the definitive world heavyweight champion in the world. Championkiller turned reigning, defending heavyweight king, the apex predator of OWA with the most prestigious 10lbs around my waist. You may have survived an easy day in central park with Mushroom Mayhem, but the time between those bells will be the worst experience of your life, and you have the scars to know those words, my words, are backed by action.

And Still, And forever,

your OWAC.

Diantha Rosso, Scott Oasis, The Banshee, Theodor Pavel, Rebecca Filth, DT The Ruler, Lazarus Arjen and Felix Hartley have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos September 9th 2022, 11:31 am by **Chad Ecclestone**

SEASON FIVE - EPISODE FIVE POINT TWO
MEMES: THE DNA OF THE SOUL!

The scene opens in the interior of what appears to be a ridiculously massive, poorly lit, and decidedly low-rent warehouse. Long tables stretch into the distance, with a production line of young Korean men miserably slaving away in front of computer screens with sweat on their brows.

Stepping into the shot is Chad Ecclestone, wearing black trousers and a white dress shirt with the top two buttons unsecured. He’s visibly sweating from the ambient temperature in this sprawling room, which seems to be cooled by little more than a few ceiling fans hanging high above.

“Whew, I’m sweating up a storm in this hellhole,” he says, dabbing sweat off his forehead with an expensive designer handkerchief before turning his gaze to the nearest laborer, and jovially asking: “Hot in here, isn’t it?”

The worker turns and stares at Chad, a confused expression on their face as they say, “이 하얀 크래커는 도대체 누구인가?”

Chad’s confusion mirrors the Korean man’s own puzzled look, as the actor/wrestler scrunches up his face at the bizarre gibberish being spoken to him.

“Sure thing, little guy, whatever you say. Keep up the good work!” he says, slapping the man on the shoulder so hard it sends his face slamming forward into the computer monitor in front of him. With that friendly little exchange completed, Chad turns back to the camera and walks forward, the cameraman backing up with every step that the actor takes.

“We’re here in Incheon, South Korea, ahead of the next episode of Kingdom. With the filming for my upcoming cyberheist/NFT tie-in film ‘The Metaverse Has Fallen’ officially finished and ready for post-production, I found myself with a bit of extra time on my hands... so I figured I’d come to this country a bit early, and check in on a few of my social media content sweatshops,” he explains, before realizing he just described it as a ‘sweatshop’ and rushing to correct himself, “I mean, place of gainful employment for these third worlders who would otherwise struggle to feed their families...”

Overhearing Chad describe their country as ‘third world’, one of the Korean men looks away from their computer screen to correct the actor.

“Actually, Mr. Ecclestone, our country is rather wealthy, with a high standard of living. In fact, South Korea’s GDP for 2021 wa...”

“Nobody asked! Back to work!” barks Chad, not even pausing to look as he continues on his aimless stroll up the aisle. “As I was saying, I’m out here creating jobs for these poor bastards! Giving them purpose! A paycheck! A reason to wake up in the morning! I’d like to see the Frontline have even a fraction of the positive impact I do! But I’m not here to discuss those overhyped clowns, I’m here to speak about Dick P. Slaughter, the walking steroid advertisement who seems to spend more time destroying public and private property than he does doing anything constructive. If you ask me, considering his abysmal track record in the ring, he should be getting in less high-speed car chases and doing more training, but that’s none of my concern.”

“If I were some unimaginative lout like Dick, I’d spend the entirety of this recording listing all of the injuries I plan on inflicting upon his person, and bragging about how tough and strong I am. But that’s hardly entertaining, am I right, people? You see, Slaughter, unlike you and the rest of the OWA roster, I know a thing or two about putting on a show and drawing a crowd. If I told the audience watching this everything I planned on doing to you in our Box Office Brawl, letting them know my plan of attack, my training regime, and all the moves I’m going to hit you with... well, they’d have nothing to look forward to on the day of the show! Am I really the only one around here who has a natural ability to put on a real spectacle, and to keep people interested and invested? It sure does seem that way, as poorly as that reflects upon my so-called ‘peers’ in the world of professional wrestling.”

“But, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. Because every man needs one thing to truly excel in this life... and that’s whether they’re a Hollywood God like me, or a common, blue-collar working stiff like my fine Korean friends here,” he says, gesturing around at the seemingly infinite number of men typing and clicking away at their computers. “Can you guess what that is, Dick? No? Too busy spiking Trenboline and scarfing down raw scraps of beef you found in the dumpster? Well, we don’t have all day here, so let me answer my own question for you: motivation. Everyone who’s anyone has it, and nobody in the world has ever done a damn thing of note without it.”

“And you know what? I’ve looked around the locker room in my short time with OWA, and I’ve noticed one glaring difference between myself and the rest of the people there... well, aside from my money, my good looks, and my smoking hot French-Canadian wife, of course. Motivation. I have it, and you — and your fellow goons — don’t. I have a reason to be here. A reason to win. I have not only a reputation to uphold, but I also have the memory of my,” he pauses, briefly choking up as a single tear springs forth from his right eye, “dearly departed first wife to fight for. A beautiful woman, albeit not nearly as beautiful as her younger sister that I went on to marry in my grief, who was taken from this world too soon...”

Chad wipes away that lone tear, and the trembling in his voice quickly disappears, as he appears to move on far quicker than anyone who is actually mourning a dead wife would be able to. He shrugs, putting the entire topic behind him as he continues to walk and talk.

“What the hell is your motivation, Dick? As far as I can tell, you don’t have one, other than getting an outlet to vent some of that pent-up small dick energy and roid rage in the ring. And it seems like management has set me up to be your victim... or so they think. I really get the sense that the dumb bastards running this company are dead-set on underestimating your boy Chad Ecclestone. Well, let them, because it’ll be the worst mistake of their entire lives... and they’ll only realize it when I ascend to the top of the mountain here in OWA, unzip the fly of my $5,000 pants, and proceed to piss down on everyone from the very peak of this sport.”

“That includes you, my dear friend. You may talk a big game, strutting around like the very definition of a man’s man, but I can see through your little act. I am, after all, the greatest actor this world has ever, or will ever, bear witness to. So I’m not fooled by your performance. Deep down, you know you don’t have a chance in hell. A box office brawl puts this match firmly in my territory, Dick, and I simply cannot lose with the home field advantage. You’re stepping onto my turf, and I plan on showing you precisely what happens when inferior talent gets it in their tiny head that they can challenge the undisputed King of the Box Office.”

“And you want to talk respect? How about showing some for your betters instead of running that mouth of yours. You’ll never get anywhere in the real world acting like that, big man, particularly when you throw around threats of bodily harm against someone who’s beaten the likes of Iko Uwais, Tony Jaa, and Jean-Claude Van Damme on the big screen! Do you think I’m scared of you? Is that really what you believe? Let me tell you, the amount of death threats I get every single day would make you piss your pants in fear and hide under a rock if you were in my position. Hell, I get a couple dozen a week from the Church of Scientology alone, ever since I turned down their invitation and told them to kick rocks. The funny thing is, I would have joined, but I refuse to sign up with any cult that psychotic manlet Tom Cruise is a member of. Anyway, if you think you can get in my head and shake me up with some crude promises to bash in my face, or whatever other tired, boring threats you can think of, then I’ve got some bad news for you: you can’t.”

“You know what really pisses me off, Dick? The thing that I’m going to keep in my head while I’m kicking your ass up and down the aisle on Sunday? The gall, the sheer disrespect, of implying that my films are boring or forgettable. I would think even a professional thug would know better than to stoop so low, but I’ve clearly overestimated the morality and decency of the wrestling world. I don’t have to recite any of my famous lines. That’s what scripts are for. I don’t need to rattle off my filmography or countless accolades. That’s what Wikipedia is for. And as for three reasons why a casting director would pick me over a ‘nutless chimp’ as you so eloquently put it... first of all, let’s leave your mother out of this. Second of all, just take a look at my body of work, the passion I put into every project, no matter how beneath me it may be. Just look at my performance in OWA thus far. Four matches, without being pinned or forced to tap... more than you can say for yourself, isn’t it? Yeah, you may look the part of certified bad-ass, but looks can be deceiving. Take a glance at my absolutely chiseled, yet still slim and svelte, physique. This is what a real tough guy looks like, pal, so take it all in.”

Chad pauses for a moment to hit a double bicep pose, the muscles under his shirt straining the thin white material. His point made, he continues to stroll towards the cameraman, who keeps backing up as the actor speaks.

“And a stunt double? You smug little prick, how fucking dare you suggest I don’t perform my own death-defying, audience-enthralling stunts? I’m the modern day Jackie Chan, without the stupid accent! If I were a man of lower class, I swear to fucking Christ I would take your stupid face and...”

He stops suddenly, catching sight of something on one of the computer screens as he strolls past. Leaning over the shoulder of the Korean in front of that particular monitor, he speaks with barely-restrained excitement.

“Wait a minute... Chung Ling, pull that last one up and maximize the window!”

“My name is Ho-Sook, Mr. Ecclestone.”

“Did I ask? Do it, or you’re fired! Plenty of people would be damn happy to have your position!”

Sighing, the minimum wage worker alt-tabs to the image in question, as the camera moves to zoom in on the image. A meme of such quality, such pure, unrefined truth and beauty, that it will surely cause Dick P. Slaughter to pull out of the upcoming match and retire in shame.

Chad licks his lips, eyes glimmering in the dim light of the depressing and bleak social media content factory.

“Perfect. Go get yourself some of that shitty fermented cabbage you people are so fond of, Ho-Sook. You’ve earned a break, and an extra five American cents for the day as a bonus!”

With the power of sweatshop-produced memes on his side, he cannot lose.

Scott Oasis, The Banshee, DT The Ruler and Felix Hartley have spoken. It’s such good shit!

“You don’t get to live a bad life and have good things happen to you.”

"Brother had that in the chamber huh? Let me, once again, break down your entire promo before Ryo Sakazaki embarrasses himself like per fucking usual.

You're a fucking idiot. Actually, either you don't do your research or you're just an idiot. My first title match here? This is my second in my short return to OWA. My first title shot came at Game Over when you got pity title shot four hundred. You're the Make A Wish version of Arata. Less successful, less talented, cries more, gets more title shots and opportunities to prove yourself, and fails and fails. Your recent failure was just here. You failed to bring anything worthwhile to this dance. The only reason you're here is because R.I.P wanted a day off. A whole lot of people felt sorry you got such a shit reaction at the last ascension to the heavens match, but let’s be honest; it’s deserved because you’re only standing here as a champion because everyone felt sorry for you. You are a failure. If he gave a damn, I'd be facing R.I.P on Olympus and not you. I've gone back to study you and I'm embarrassed to even step in the ring with you, not because I don't believe in my skills, but because you'll make this an Out Pity each other encounter, less of a match then anything. I'm extremely tired of these fuckers with NOTHING on, so they will spread nothing but the worst lies to make yourself let out a sound for a reaction. And the only reaction it gotten wasn't by anybody in the back, it wasn't by anybody that watches our company. It was a fucking sigh from me knowing I'm facing a fucking retard for this match. It all makes sense why you've been bullied for ages now, because you spew the most worthless of shit and think it's all that. Now, I'm going to add on and bully you to the Ex Champion Line.

You LITERALLY REPEATED THE SAME THING ABOUT PROJECT HONOR FROM YOUR FIRST GO AT ME TO NOW! Is that ALL YOU CAN BRING UP?!?! I'm seriously at my wits fucking end here. All you can do is say my heart isn't ready and bring up Project Honor like I wear that fucker on my sleeve. That place died and you're about to be buried next to it. You want to bring it up, let me run the comparison. You and Project Honor are the same: both need others to stay alive, both come out as bloodsucking masqitos that will die the most unheroic death of them all. Do I think this will be one sided? Didn't you say you were going to destroy me, rip my heart out of my chest? But if I saw I'm going to beat you and win that title "Oh no no not how we do things in OWA :woah: calm down there buckaroo!". Man fuck you. I seriously love listening to you raise your level of stupidity with each statement after the other. You wanna talk about my arrogance? It comes with the time and punches I've put in. To die once, come back, and be better than you, yeah I will let my nuts swing on it. You? Your arrogance comes from a title given to you for you to shut the fuck up. And most devastating kick in history? I'm sorry I didn’t know I was facing an MMA star with one of the most deadly kicks in the game in Michael Bishop or the guy who punt kick skulls in of one Jason Long. Nah, I'm facing the not even top ten kicker in OWA for a title that in your first day as champion dropped the belts net worth farther than the grave Queen Elizabeth is going to be buried in. Most deadly kick but haven't finished a match with said kick? Wanna know the difference? My kick has been recorded to end matches with a three count, I heard the same can't be said about you?

I know how wrestling goes: you will most likely retain because that champion gets one pity retain per law it seems, but even then, management will see how fucking backtracked you are and realize the mistake of giving you the title to begin with. And judging by what I've seen from you, I should buy you a gun so you can finally say that you shot yourself in the foot both literally and figuratively, but then again, judging by what you've produced, you'd manage to miss that point every time too.

I'm not stupid, I can see what title that is. And it’s not yours, because real men can hold it, not validation seeking Sheila trapped as secondary characters in their own story, that get five minutes of screen time and somehow manage to destroy the belts integrity in under two of them. Oh, and remember that talk about my arrogance? How you backtracked and became arrogant now. And stop bringing up Project Honor man God damn. I was the one fired from there and I ain't bring it up as much in two promos then you have already. You're worse than the person who constantly calls me "The Legacy Of Project Honor".

Bro said I will call him a joke and when I didn't, said I was building a non-existent character? HUH?!?!? Do you not realize how stupid your sound? I didn’t do what you said I was going to do so you have to try that? Are you fucking stu- Why am I asking I know you are. I know you're running on fumes which is why this promo is below average as it is, but I expected a fire from you and I got Winter, because you fucking froze on anything gold you'd have to say on me. Bro used the same heart jokes, Project Honor jokes, lied about his kick jokes and figured it would stick and wanted to say anything I said was "video poker". And to a degree, sure, everything said is a Gamble in this sport we are employed in, and when you tried pushing all in, betting all your chips, you lost every single chip you have with your hand.

Also you say I disrespected you, though I never said I respected you in particular, just your skills which even in your dull state of promos I still do respect what you can do in a ring, you showed none. You said you respected my skills, but yet make the most constant of heart jokes when everyone knows on my deathbed, my heart is more over then you have ever been. People rather try to be the reason I stop living then step in the ring with you because they have more to gain off my life then facing the less famous Rin Asakura. Your entire promo is backtracking itself. Afraid To Win? I've been champion, won main events, all this I can prove over and over again, and that's not even in that death trap you keep mentioning for a cheap pop, but I'm afraid to win? What's funny is you say I'm Afraid To Win yet you're Destined To Fail, as shown by much of your OWA career. You see, I don't care if the uppers wants you to be anywhere near the Immortal Heavyweight Champion, because if this is what you'd bring to the table when facing Jacob Senn or Elijah Hampton, then you're going to be absolutely fucking Ripped Apart With Your Heart Getting Stepped On With Me Sitting Back Laughing My Fucking Ass Off. And to the arrogance "you're not winning because my name is Ryo Sakazaki" but still blasted me about my arrogance.

What you did though, was sign your death certificate. You're going to tell a five year old that you're going to send her dad to the same grave I was at? Are you fucking stupid? Now fuck that title I want to bring your head home to her on a silver platter with a apple shoved down your throat. Then, I'll piss on your corpse, shit on your corpse, 'spittle' on your corpse, then hire the nastiest bitch on earth to 'squirtle' on your corpse.

"You did not offer up the respect-" "but you took the respect you gave me and stabbed me in the heart" Ah can't make up your mind on if I showed respect, everyone get used to that. "You want someone to blame for Game Over" Ah someone with no proof that I blamed someone else, get use to that. "My name is Hades and I'm a demon-" "and I spoke to God" Ah God and Demons don't like each other and wouldn't talk to each other because they're enemies for life because God and Satan hate each other so he backtracked himself again, get use to that. "Fear in your eyes" even though I've died, nearly died, been through worst things then fighting the male version of Sheridan Müller but somehow have fear of Ryo, get use to that. "One Demon You Cannot Overcome" Ah another wannabe Havoc but isn't as good as a demon as Havoc, everyone get use to that. Do you see where I'm going with this? You're everything you've tried to paint me as, but worst.

This, Ladies and Gentlemen is what happens when you immediately run out of gas in the tank and are trying to run on the remaining fumes you have left. And this is your first defense too! You have failed yourself again by not stepping up to the plate when you were needed. I spoke enough about your drug infused Rambling so I'll leave you with a question.

After I beat you for the OWA Prestige Championship, will you kindly fuck off like we want you?

DT The Ruler has spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos September 8th 2022, 11:55 pm by **Hana Nakajima**

Odyssey: Terror of Bad Vocabulary.

08.09.22 Tokyo, Japan

*For the first time in a very long time, Hana didn't find her name on the PPV card. Though she was partly happy that she didn't have to go to South Korea, as she was still trying to cope with what happened to April. Or maybe with what Hana did herself, that put April in hospital? The young Japanese girl did not remember what happened after the last bell. There is a void in her memory from the time, when she allegedly brutally abused her best friend. Moreover, this time the blame could not be put on Havoc. As everyone has seen, facepaint never showed up. Besides, even though Havoc took control many times, Hana always felt his presence in it. This time the girl felt nothing. The emptiness inside her was gathered in her head and heart. An emptiness so dangerous, that it exploded like a grenade when it was unleashed. All this time Hana thought about what she should do. Did it make any sense to try to apologize to April? Nobody would believe her anyway, so Hana decided to give it time. Instead, the girl preferred to focus on the opportunity that was her golden ticket last year. Could it be the same this time? It's hard to say, but Hana wanted to do whatever it takes to win Athena's Cup twice in the row.*

*The shot opens in a place that looks like an old tailor's shop. The thick layers of dust show that no one has worked here for a long time. The camera slowly moves its lens around the room, until it finds a red haired figure sitting at a table. When it comes closer, it catches the face of the well-known member of pink brand, Hana Nakajima. The girl is dressed in a black sweater with the exposed shoulder, black leather pants and heavy tied boots. The viewer can immediately notice, that she is holding a needle in one hand and a small object in the other. After a moment, Hana tosses it forcefully on the table, revealing that it is a small rag doll with a white-painted face and bright red hair.*

What the fuck is wrong with you? I've been in this fucking industry since I was seventeen, and I've never seen someone so gross and decieved of any class...like you Banshee. I have never dealt with someone with such a narrow mindset. I never thought that I would have to waste my time again on someone, whose only weapons are insults on middle-school level. Dumb lines that aren't even good, instead completely pointless and simply gross. Bitch, you are living in the body of a woman who is probably hitting her forties. You are yourself an entity that I suppose has been wandering around this world for a long time. And all you can do is insult my mother and call me whore? This is so pathetic, Banshee. Do you really think that by doing such a thing, people would start taking you seriously? Or maybe this is the terror you talk about all the time. Although, I would rather call it terror of bad vocabulary.

*A short but ironic laugh breaks out of Hana's lips. However, the girl moves on quickly with whatever she has to say.*

Ever since Banshee came out on Odyssey, we've been hearing the same shit all over again. You promise all the time, that we will know your anger and terror. But what have you done in the last two years, Banshee? Yeah, absolutely nothing! So it's quite ironic to me, that you are coming after me like this. You say you've forgotten who I am? That OWA fans got me out of their head? These few questions lead me to one conclusion only, Banshee. You are becoming more and more delusional day by day. With each successive failure, you become even more desperate to finally mean something. That's why you talk all this nonsense about spreading chaos and violence. However, no one believes in them for a very long time. No one cares about your shitty threats, because no one is afraid of you. Most importantly, no one believes your promises, because you failed to keep them every single time. So if I were you, I wouldn't have much hope of winning the Athena's Cup, because you will just shit yourself as always. What a shame, this time it will be in the first round. Listen up, Banshee. I don't care how much you want to believe it, but no one shares your opinion of me. Nobody is stupid enough to remove my existence from their memory, just because I missed one PPV. Oh fuck me, I just took part in the most important event that Odyssey had at Final Destination. Even if I didn't win it, I was still part of the history. What can not be said about you. Seriously, I don't even know what you've been doing in japan. Oh wait, haven't you been trying desperately to regain your honor after Jonetta was hoeing you for months? Oh, it is funny how easy it was to stop the Banshee. All it took was some stupid amulet to get you trapped. And this is the so-called Queen of Monsters? This is fucking hillarious. This is even more amusing that such a pathetic thing like you, is the first one to point fingers at me. Are you such a narcissistic soul as to think that my victory over you is the greatest success in my career? Bitch, I am a multitimes champion. I won the damn Empress of the Rising Sun Tournament undefeated. I was at my fingertips from the main event of FD. You have to be actually dumb to think it doesn't mean anythig. Especially since your list of achievements is one big zero. For years, you haven't done anything that would bring you any closer to winning anything. All you did was tickle your ego by talking about others as if they were garbage...only to fail to them in the end. So I guess you can understand what my conclusion is, Banshee. Your entire career is nothing but a series of humiliations. And I would love to add one more from myself, because you can be sure of one thing. I won't let you get through the first round. Not only because I want to win the Athena's Cup again, but because you're a worthless piece of shit that doesn't deserve mercy.

You want Havoc, huh? Who the fuck do you think you are to give me demands? Whether or not he shows up isn't up to you, it is only my will. And to be honest, i don't expect his contribution, because despite what is in that stupid head of yours. I don't need him to defeat you, Banshee. I understand that you live your obsession about Havoc and you want to overcome such a powerful being to ditch the label of cheap cosplayer of him. The thing is, you are absolute shit compared to him. What's more, when it comes to significant matches, you can't even defeat ordinary people, let alone a high-class demon. However, there is one thing I would like to explain to you, because it seems that you do not understand something important. Or maybe you are so pitifully defending yourself against the truth. Can be both...The thing is, Havoc didn't beat you at Boiling Point, Banshee. I did it. I was the one who kept your shoulders pinned to the mat, as the ref counted to three. So it doesn't matter if Havoc just showed up for a while or not. You failed to me and you will get a repeat of that on the next Odyssey. Deal with that already or you will end with a broken heart one more time. But honestly, it doesn't matter if you face me or Havoc, knowing you, you'll still make excuses on why you failed. Listen, I may be emotional and passionate about wrestling, but at least I accept reality, Banshee. You live in your imaginary world where Banshee is some top tire competition. Whereas you never got past the mid level.

You couldn't accept your weakness, when you lost to me. You couldn't be mature enough to deal with failure at the Clash of the Titans. Therefore, it did not surprise me at all that once again you were bitching about Rebecca Filth. Don't get me wrong, I absolutely hate this dirty hoe. I am disgusted by her and I think she took Odyssey down the worst possible path. I despise the fact that, because of her, we moved to some shitty divas era, or whatever it is. The thing is, she is still more worthy of being a champion than you ever will be. She can be stupid and delusional. She can be pathetic and disgusting. These few things actually make you smile. However, you know what made Filth walk out of Game Over as champion? The fact that she's not afraid to do whatever it takes to get what she wants. And while everyone loves to hear about how honesty and honor are important, it doesn't matter in the slightest. Wrestling is a never-ending war. If you want to win it, you have to get your hands dirty with blood from time to time. That's why, I'm not going to blame her for using little help at all. At least it saved us from your short joke of a reign, because we all know you wouldn't survive the first defense.

Am I supposed to be afraid, that Filth didn't finish you at Game Over? But why would she do that? You are already finished for months. Llorona only keeps you on Odyssey as some freaky attraction. You think she's giving you a chances, because she believes our little Banshee will finally do anything. While she, and everyone else is just laughing at you. They pay attention to you, only because they can't wait to hear what stupid shit you will say this time. They can't help but laugh as they hear another imaginary story of why you lost again. So this is reputation you want to have? Then maybe it is time to change the industry, because it's neither a circus nor a comedy club. This is a high league and you will never belong here. AND THIS IS THE CONTEXT.

As I mentioned before, I know you desperately want to see Havoc, but what happened to April a few weeks ago should be enough of a warning for you, Banshee. You should understand that the real monster wasn't him, but it was actually me. That's why, it's very stupid of you to provoke me. Especially since I don't control the dark impulse in my head. It just shows up and destroys everything in its path. So if I have been able to massacre so much, someone I call my sister, then think what I can do to you. I can crush your face. I can break your bones. Welp, I'm even capable of killing you without hesitating. And you know what? Now, I understand why you want Havoc. You are choosing less of an evil. But you can't run away from me, Banshee. I have heard enough from you to make sure that you will not move to the next round. I will do what it takes to make sure...Your next destination after our match will be your own autopsy.

*Out of nowhere, Hana grabs the tailor's scissors and stabs them in the head of a rag doll. This is how recording ends.*

Diantha Rosso, Jeff X and DT The Ruler have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos September 8th 2022, 11:50 pm by **The Banshee**

ODYSSEY PROMO TWO

Silence Won't Save You...

The camera opens up inside a makeshift editing room. The Banshee is sitting with an extremely terrified editor, who appears to be pulling up clips of the 2021 Athena’s Cup finals. After clicking around a bit, The Banshee turns and growls at the editor, who bows and scrambles out the room in response, possibly pissing his knickers as he stumbles outs the door. The Banshee then smiles at the camera.

It’s not like you to be silent, Hana…

Usually you have quite a bit to say, but what can you really say to The Banshee? You already know that you and I are slated to meet for a repeat shot at the Athena’s Cup, but you haven’t bothered to show up so far… why?

Are you feeling a bit scared, Hana?

It’s only natural to fear the inevitable… and it’s inevitable that you’re going to learn a new level of respect for me after our next clash… if you even manage to survive, that is…

The Banshee turns and screams at the monitor, shattering it in hundreds of pieces. However, the image on the monitor, which showed the moment Hana Nakajima had her hand raised in victory in the 2021 Athena’s Cup over The Banshee, appears projected all over the room. The camera then zooms in on The Banshee’s eyes.

This is all I see when I hear the name, “Hana Nakajima,” or whenever someone is foolish enough to mention the 2021 Athena’s Cup to me… can you imagine how irritating this has become? The better woman didn’t win that night, because you had help from a demon with male genitalia, so the match result shouldn’t have fucking counted in the first fucking place, unless you’re identifying as a hermaphrodite… but you’re too fucking “cute” for something like that, aren’t you Empress?

The camera zooms back out, showing The Banshee sitting in the same room as before. However, there are no images being projected now, and the room is lit in only a soft red light. The Banshee smiles, blood appearing to be oozing out of her mouth, as she pats a lead pipe against the palm of her hand.

If I were you, Hana… I’d be begging Havoc to take the reigns for this one… because it’s gonna get nasty and bloody for you… not to mention the level of punishment and agony that I’m gonna inflict upon you like a plague unto medieval peasants… although it’s clear that, around here… you’re the disease, and I’m the motherfucking cure!

I’m not gonna be dishonest… I still haven’t gotten over that loss… It eats away at me like aggressive cancer… Do you wanna know why?

It’s because I know I’m better than you… hell Hana, you’re so damn feeble that you make Princess Peach look like Ripley from Aliens! How you managed to avoid a rematch with me until now, I’ll never know… but a part of me can’t help but feel some disappointment that you’ll be showing up alone. Now, don’t get me wrong… I’m going to cherish every second that I get to open up a new gash on your bloody body, to the point that I’ll give new meaning to your nickname “The Lady in Red!” But it would be the cherry on top of the sundae if Havoc comes along to save you... only this time, he's gonna be the one in need of saving... what a predicament that leaves you in...

Some would think that Thotyssey has me distracted from the task at hand… you’d be a damn fool if you truly believed that, because I already have a path back to the title…

And that’s going right through you… quite literally, because I’m going to rip your stomach open just to see if you truly got a backbone in that Polly Pocket body of yours, unless Havoc has ripped that out of you as well…

Hana, you used to be much more than just a cum-chugging Havoc groupie… actually, now that I think about it… no, no you haven’t… or maybe you just failed to make much of an impact back then… some would say the same thing about me… the difference is, they’re not saying that about me now…

If you have any last wishes, I suggest you experience them now… because no amount of falling stars will offer enough magic to prevent me from snapping your goddamn neck in several fucking places!

Who’s rooting for you at this point, Hana? I know you’re not deaf… I know you’ve heard the thousands of voices in every arena Odyssey has been in… all those voices screaming for The Banshee… the voices of The Banshee’s Horde… how envious you must be, that a monster like me has gained the support of the fans, while you continue to be a trivia night question at the local Applebees!

Don’t worry about me, Angelina… you’ll get your opportunity soon enough… as I said before, Thotyssey won’t survive the year… just like you won’t survive me…

Besides, I wouldn’t turn my back on your current opponent first… Gwen Harper isn’t gonna let you get by her without a fight that’d make Patrick Swayze’s character in Roadhouse proud… and rest assured, my back isn’t turned to mine at all…

I can hold grudges like no others before me… a long time I’ve hungered for the opportunity to break Hana’s skull open like an egg… and I’m looking to make a fucking omelet out of that bitch’s brains!

Did you think that life in pro-wrestling would be like Sailor Moon and Pokémon? Did you not expect consequences when you and Havoc decided to cross a monster? While some may feel sorry for the current state of disrepair your career has fallen into… rest assured that The Banshee has no pity for her enemies, and on Odyssey… you’re public enemy number one to The Horde… which means that I’m going to feast on your blood like a starving refugee…

Do you think that you really stand any chance against a pissed-off monster… let alone the Queen of the Monsters? Even my harshest critics couldn’t argue that I’ve more than lived up to that moniker… while you just lived up to become a big disappointment…

You should keep rooting for your other boyfriend to continue holding on to his tag team title… because it’s the closest you’ll ever be to gold again… I’ll fucking make sure of that this Saturday on Odyssey, when I take one step closer to the 2022 Athena’s Cup… and another step closer to redemption…

Would it have been better if I’d spouted all this off on Twitter? You certainly seemed quick to tweet off at the mouth last week, but even your social media has been a lot like your Odyssey career lately…

Dead… quiet…

It’s probably wishful thinking that Havoc will make any kind of appearance, considering that you’ve been as quiet as a fucking church mouse… but I’ll continue to hope, so that way I can validate what I’ve always known…

I’m better than Havoc… I’m better than Hana… I’m better than both of them combined… but something tells me that I’ll only be able to prove half of it… rest assured, though… I will indeed prove it…

In a world full of surprises and bewilderments, there’s nothing that’s gonna be more assured than The Banshee pummeling Hana Nakajima into a puddle of blood and brain matter… anyone expecting another result is bound for certain disappointment…

The Banshee will be the 2022 Athena’s Cup winner… vengeance demands it… The Horde wants it… no one can stop it…

Hana Nakajima, you can be the first to witness it… but take solace in knowing that you won’t be the last…. Every bitch that crosses me in this tournament will fall… Banshee-Ween 2022 will change the landscape of Odyssey like never before…

See you soon, Hana… For The Horde…

Diantha Rosso, Jeff X, DT The Ruler and Chad Ecclestone have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos September 8th 2022, 11:28 pm by **"Killer Bee"**

Seoul World Cup Stadium

Seoul, South Korea

This is a little hobby of mine. I like to come to the stadiums and arenas where shows are going to be and just kinda drink in the environment a bit. It’s a bit strange. My father is Korean, born not too far from here in a suburb where a lot of expats from all over the world live now. I’ve had a lot of unique moments in my career, but wrestling in front of distant relatives and friends of my family is a special treat. Not only that, but having what’s likely going to be the main event match in front of a crowd that’s likely going to exceed 67,000 people.

It’s a wonderful feeling. It’s an opportunity that I probably won’t have again so I’m going to relish it for sure.

The opposition? That I can do without.

Tarah, I respect the fact that you’ve come back after taking some time off. And, just so you know, you’re not the only one who can read body language and look into a person’s eyes and immediately see the accumulation of bullshit there. I know you. As much of a good game as you’ve talked about how you’re going to build Odyssey from the ground up it still hurts you that you lost to me. You, as Stephanie and Aria and others have done, don’t ever see me as being on top level with you until it’s far too late. Even in your “dead form”, you never thought I could beat you. And now, with your Karen haircut, baggy jeans and new friends and your new attitude…you don’t think you’ll lose again.

And you’re extremely confident too.

But I know the competitor in you if nothing else. It would absolutely DEVASTATE you to arrive back into the promotion you helped build, onto a show that you have never ventured before for one reason or another…and lose to someone like me who is closer to retirement than chasing the world championship again. You can hide your flaws, your fears, from other people. But you cannot hide that from me.

I think you misunderstood the point of why I told you about the titles and their history, my place on them and the others who have held them. Even this Athena’s Cup tournament, which I have been fortunate to compete in several times before, has a rich, colorful history despite its young age. Eris. Jonetta Stone. Hana Nakajima. Everyone who has won it went on to become world champion, Jonetta producing one of the best reigns that OWA has seen so far. You see, I didn’t list the history to make myself look big or make you look small. I told you about the history because I’m a representative of that history. I’ve shed blood, shed tears, broken limbs and have plenty of scars to demonstrate what Odyssey means to me. And I don’t take offense to many things, mainly because I’ve done plenty of offensive things myself, but claiming that Odyssey is in need of a culture change is offensive to me.

It’s offensive to the work of Rebecca Filth, who neither of us like but EARNED every inch of ground that she stands on. It’s offensive to Diantha Rosso, someone who you overshadowed for a long time before the lioness finally found her claws. It’s an insult to The Banshee and her supporters. It’s an insult to NAMI, someone who barely could tie wrestling boots a couple of years ago enjoying one of the Goddess Championship runs of a lifetime. It’s a slap in the face to Dulce Torres, someone who grinded and grinded for this brand until she was foolishly discarded by our General Manager, herself a former world champion whose work you’re shitting on.

By insulting them, you’ve insulted everything I’ve ever done here and everything they’ve achieved. And I can’t abide by that, even if I’m fighting for the honor of some people I don’t necessarily like too much.

Yeah, go ahead, call me a laughingstock. But I’ll tell you this: I would much rather be a laughingstock, a shell of what I once was than a person who lied to herself for six years, who was a puppet for six years, WHO LIVED THE LIFE OTHER PEOPLE TOLD HER TO LIVE FOR SIX YEARS! I MAY NOT BE A WRESTLER WHO WINS A LOT OF MATCHES THESE DAYS, BUT I’M STILL APRIL SONG! I ALWAYS HAVE BEEN WHO I WANT TO BE….You can’t say the same, can you, Tarah? A robot used to shill merchandise in EAW. A Stepford Wife and Doting Mother. A hardcore legend who put herself through hell and never even fucking knew why she was doing it. For better or worse, I can get up in the morning and look at myself in the mirror and at least say I lived my own life. That’s why you’re back. You’re not back for Odyssey or even because you love violence are you?

You came back because you’re dead inside and you’re just trying to feel alive again. You see, saying that you “just want to fight” is the biggest lie you’ve told so far. You’re not lashing out just to pick a fight, you’re lashing out because you feel a pain that you yourself can’t fathom and you don’t know what else to do. It’s sad.

Oh…I’ve got a question for you: If the Old Tarah is so dead and gone…why do you still keep calling yourself the same shit you were back in New Jersey? The attitude hasn’t changed. The lust for violence hasn’t changed. The name hasn’t changed….the only thing that’s changed is you saying you’re a changed woman now.

Fuck off with that juvenile shit.

I really don’t know what to think of you, Tarah. It seems like everyone that I’ve tried to be nice to over the years, they wind up being a cunt. Stephanie was for a while. Azumi was for a bit. Rebecca Filth still is, even though I’ve given her respect she just hates my guts for whatever reason. Same with Alyssa and the Banshee. The only person who hasn’t done that was someone that you insulted too. I don’t know where Revy is or what she’s doing, but she’s not gutter trash or rubbish or anything of the sort.

She was a woman who came to stadiums like the one I’m sitting in now, to fight, to entertain, to be there and support me, and if you think I’m going to just sit back and let you talk about her like that then I guess it’s going to be a mild surprise to you when I take that barbed-wire bat you brag about and shove it up your ass. You can say what you want about me. Hell, a lot of what you say about me probably does have some truth to it. I probably should retire, if I wasn’t in this tournament I’d probably be retired. And if you had just kept your goddamn mouth shut I would probably have gone into this match with no desire to compete, no incentive other to try to win a trophy I don’t want to challenge for a title I couldn’t give less of a fuck about than I do right now.

But as I’m well aware of, being quiet and just being a wrestler never was your strong suit. You like to prod, you like to poke. I remember watching how you used to bully the Harunas and Ericas of the world. I’m none of them and you know this. You’re spending all this time talking about how you’re going to rebuild the NOVA EMPIRE…like that’s supposed to fucking scare anybody. Everyone on Odyssey wants to build an empire, establish a dynasty, build up an enterprise or faction or corporate subsidiary or whatever the fuck.

None of the plans matter if you don’t win.

Just think about what you’re saying. I’m supposed to be a “Warm up” for you before you get to all the big fish you’re actually gunning for. Hell, me and you probably got matched together in this tournament by dumb luck. Here’s a nerdy reference for you: remember when Anakin Skywalker started rambling about his “new empire” after Order 66 and then got the breaks beaten off of him by Obi Wan?

You’re looking real Anakin Skywalker-like to me right now.

It almost pains me to see you like this. I don’t know what happened at home and I wish you would have come to me to talk about it. Before you started talking, I was actually happy in a lot of ways that you came back. For the longest time, it felt like I was losing all my friends. Stephanie’s doing commentary. Azumi’s running her company. Revy’s on a milk carton. Llorona’s a GM, God save us, and Jonetta was literally buried. I thought maybe you and I would be able to coexist, even though we have this match.

I see it’s apparent that we can’t.

Now I’m not going to go around talking about killing you or promising that I’m going to beat you, even though I think I will. But one thing I’m going to make sure that you understand is that Odyssey is not just some place you show up when you’re having a midlife crisis to vent out your frustrations. Odyssey didn’t need your guiding hand BEFORE you retired and it damn sure doesn’t fucking need it now. And if you’re going to move me to the side?

You better bring a fucking army.

Funny thing, I have become a master of finishing off unfinished business on the bucket list of mine. Everyone in EAW used to ramble about not being able to win belts…I won two there before I left. Everyone here gave me grief for choking in World Championship matches…until I won one. Even on LAW, people gave me shit even though I was for a time the longest reigning champion of any title there…until I ended the longest World Championship reign in LAW history by putting down Sweet Roxy. People mocked me for losing out on the American Dream to Cloudy in WrestleWorld….until I won it.

I’ve never won a tournament. I’ve entered the Athena’s Cup twice before and had horrible luck. Stephanie and I canceled each other out one year and the other I had the unfortunate timing of running into Eris when she was at her best.

Like I said before, I don’t need to win this tournament…but how fucking wonderful would it be, in the face of the toughest field that could possibly exist for this tournament that a washed-up over the hill wrestler like myself win the tournament that’s eluded me my entire OWA stay?

How could you possibly get over the fact that your redemption was put on hold by a drunk wrestler in front of thousands of screaming, chanting Koreans, some of whom are probably aunts, uncles and cousins?

Imagine if you have to look at yourself in the mirror the next morning and wonder how the hell you’re supposed to build your NOVA EMPIRE now when you can’t even fucking beat April Song, someone you classed as the lowest of the low. Someone who you insulted but unknowingly inspired.

You’re not going to have to imagine for long…it’s going to be your REALITY really fucking soon.

I don’t know what happened to the woman I respect, but the more I get acquainted with this “New Tarah Nova”, the less I give a damn. At the end of the day, only one of us can say they know who they are, what they are, and why they are best suited to be a mainstay on Odyssey.

That person’s not you, Tarah.

Odyssey isn’t just my brand, it’s my home. And when you come into my home, you will respect it.. Even if I have to beat every ounce of respect that I can find out of your body. Pairing you with me was the worst mistake OWA could have ever made if they wanted you to start off your return run nicely.

I’m not going to just beat you, I’m going to expose you.

As a wrestler.

And as a failure of a human being.

DT The Ruler has spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos September 8th 2022, 11:14 pm by **Tomomi Shinozaki**

*buzz* *buzz* *buzz*

Darn...

(Tomomi looks at her phone, pausing for a second, and taking a deep breath before she presses accept call, and puts it on speaker phone.)

Tomomi: Hi Kenji sensei, how are you?

Kenji: I'm good Tomo, you did real good out there! Sorry it's taken me a while to reach out, but I just wanted to let you know that I'm proud of you. I know that it's been a rough road back to where you want to be, but as I saw on the TV it looks like you're starting to understand yourself better...

Tomomi: Oh... Thank you... You'd be wrong, but thank you.

Kenji: Tomo...

Tomomi: I know, I know, I shouldn't be so hard on myself. But that night feels like such a blur, and I know that I messed up somehow. This week I'm going up against someone that's very solid in the ring, someone that has been in wrestling for a very long time, and it's just... I'm having a hard time trying to come up with a game plan. I didn't know that it would be this hard to shake the cobwebs off. It's been such a long time since I've been consistently wrestling, and although it was nice to get out there in some respect, can I continue to do this on such a consistent basis? There's such a diverse roster here, how can I be so sure to... Be ready for anything, and everything they throw at me? And I know what you're going to say before you say it, but, it's a lot harder than you think. Ok? I can't just relax, there's a lot of pressure here. Like I said I've been out of the wrestling game for so long, and it feels like everyone else has been here for such a long time in comparison, and... They're used to the schedule, I'm not, and maybe I just got lucky.. I don't know.

Kenji: Shinozaki, you are the best wrestler that I have ever trained. You may be rolling your eyes right now, but it's the truth. I wouldn't put all my faith, all my time, and effort into you if I didn't believe that you could be one of the best in OWA, or hell even the world. I don't randomly call up former students of mine, you know? I only keep in touch with a select few, and that select few are the ones that I believe in. The ones that I created a bond with over wrestling, that I feel can keep up with me, or even surpass me. You are the latter. The only thing that is stopping you, is you.

Tomomi: I know, and I've heard it all before. It's just, tough to keep it in mind. Especially now because I'm in this new country, alone essentially.

Kenji: Have you been keeping up with your therapy sessions?

Tomomi: No...

Kenji: And why is that?

Tomomi: Some days it's just hard to get out of bed, I don't think you understand how hard of a transition this is for me. I'm not going to go out of my way to find a therapist when I have a lot of other things to do. I have to go to wrestling training, the gym, keep up with dieting, I have appearances now, media... It's a lot, and people are like interested in me for whatever reason, so I keep getting pulled in all types of directions.

Kenji: I get it, but at the same time you have to be the one to pull yourself out of whatever this is. You have to get yourself out of bed, you have to find the will within. You want to be a professional wrestler right?

Tomomi: More than anything.

Kenji: You didn't like the feeling of failure did you?

Tomomi: No, it just made everything worse.

Kenji: So take that regret, remember the feeling of how fortunate, and happy you are to get this second chance, and do your best to not fall back into that situation. You know this is probably your last chance. So, maybe trying to enjoy every moment as if it's your last can help you. You're not going to get fired if you lose. You're not going to get fired if you go out there, and give it all you got out in that ring, ok? They hired you for a reason, and in your last match, you proved why. You won that match. You won that match, all by yourself, remember that. It doesn't matter if your next opponent is a rookie, a 10 year vet, a multi time champion, it doesn't matter. Everyone is beatable.

Tomomi: Ok... You're right.

Kenji: Of course I'm right, I don't remember a time when I was wrong.

Tomomi: Ha ha, very funny. Anyway, I got to do this promo for the next show.

Kenji: Alright, good luck; and remember, just look for the weaknesses, everyone has them. Go get 'em kid.

Tomomi: Thank you Sensei

*beep* *beep* *beep*

Daisy, it's nice to meet you. I heard what you said, and I want you to know I appreciate you. I don't want anyone to feel alone, or like an outcast. Honestly, I'm here in a new country, and I made the move alone all by myself. I have a great supporting cast back in Japan, but with the timezone difference, there's only so much they can do. I, feel your pain. I mean I have always suffered with anxiety and depression, and I've always tried to figure it out any way that I could. Back when I was growing up, my parents didn't think that I needed to seek out professional help. It's just how things were back then, and so my family tried to manage it the best way they could, and the best way I could. But as the years went on, and I grew up, I realized that I don't need to do this on my own. Don't get me wrong it's still very difficult, and there are days that I don't even want to get out of bed. But, I do.. Most days, and I do my best. If you ever need to talk to someone about anything, I'll lend an ear. I'm always here to talk to anyone about problems because believe me, I have plenty of experience to try and help. But it seems like you still believe in yourself no matter what, and that's a very honorable thing. I can tell you're a lot like me in some ways. I can tell that you're hurt, and just trying to manage from day to day. We all have our reasons for the way we are. Some of it can be a chemical imbalance in our brains, or past trauma with life experience. But no matter what we try to tell our brains, that it's not that serious, and we can calm down, that overthinking, overdramatic, over-imagination starts to kick in, and we're back to square one. I appreciate you for being so open, and transparent, it's nice to see the human element in wrestling and not the same confidence that everyone pretends to have. Or at least I think? I can't be the only one that doubts myself. I can't be the only one that doesn't always feel like my true self. Anyway, I know that you will give me the match of my life when we get into that ring. Even with all your past injuries, and mental blocks, I know that you'll do your best.

I appreciate your kind words, and honestly, I don't know if I can even accept them. I won, but, I could've done better. It's like, we always remember the points in life where we messed up, and not necessarily where it went right. I don't know why, but that's just how it is for me. But, I can't think like that. Thank you, thank you, I just want this to work out. I want to give my all for OWA because they gave me this chance. I don't want to come all the way out here, and get in my own way again. If there's one thing that I know I can't do, is revert back to how the old me would think. But I like the way you think! Using my past failures, I did do something alright. Being the ace of the class, and looking out into the world, I could've been someone that thought they were better than everyone. But I'm also a realist and know that there are a lot of talented people in the world. We don't become professional wrestlers because it's easy, or because anyone can do it. We do it because we love it, and to get to this point in our careers you have to be very talented. As I know you are very talented. I'm sure you've gotten accomplishments a mile long, and if you really wanted to, after that injury, you could've just cut bait, and left the industry. But you're like me! You don't want to just quit, and leave a bad taste in your mouth. You want to live out your dreams to their fullest. You want to live with no regrets, and I respect that so much. I have learned so much from my time away from the ring. I have learned not to take things for granted, I have learned to *try* and not be so hard on myself. Very hard emphasis on try haha. But, if I'm not learning from what I've done in the past, then I'm not growing as a person. Every failure is a lesson, and I've gained a textbook of knowledge just from all the past failures that I've gone through. Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't be in the position that I'm in without my fair share of actual successes. I'll take the good with the bad, and be the best imperfect person I can be. I am giving you everything I got, and I'm excited *and nervous* about this opportunity. You are a great wrestler, and I know this, everyone does I'm sure. I came here, because it's the best company in the world, and I can't get such a diverse group of wrestlers anywhere else. I am here for the challenging stuff, for the hard-fought matches against people just like you. I want you to do your best, and give me all you got, and if I beat you, that'll just boost my confidence right up. And if you beat me; well then I guess I have something else I can learn from. I don't want to make any of the same mistakes twice, so I will try to learn from everything that happens.

You might not have anything to lose, but I've already lost it all, and refuse to back to that. You see me as someone that you just have to strike down, well I see you as my chance to stamp myself into OWA as legit. I am using you as a stepping stone, because you are that good. I beat you, and I think people might take me more seriously around here. I know you're not Ruri, and I don't want you to be. No offense to Ruri, but I didn't come to OWA for competition like Ruri, I came OWA for competition like you. For people that scare me, for people that intimidate me, for people that I see as a goliath that I have to conquer. I don't want a free pass, I don't want an easy path, I want to prove to myself finally that I am good enough. I wasn't exactly happy with how my match went last week, and as you pointed out it was Ruri. But, I learned a lot from that match about myself, and I'll be sure to show you just what I learned firsthand.

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

Re: OWA Promos September 8th 2022, 11:03 pm by **VaeVictisBD**

Oh, how I revel in the dismay my return has brought to Odyssey. Dare I say I almost missed it. Being such a figure of infamy that my mere presence causes such ruination among those that loath my very existence. How it puts a smile on these black-painted lips; a smile I’m sure not a single one of you have missed but it’s here all the same. La Verduga, Skylar Arceneaux; The Devil Herself back in the domain she was rejected from. We all know the adage of the greatest trick the devil ever pulled, but I have seemingly orchestrated a much grander heist. Not only have I returned to the fold, but I brought the unthinkable with me -- someone that not in a million years would you associate with a woman like myself -- someone who is chained no moore. Odyssey had grown so comfortable having forgotten what existed and so I unleashed Tarah Nova upon it -- much like a plague. How could I have possibly managed this? Unfortunately, the how right now is not of importance. The why, on the otherhand, is simply because I promised I would. To all of you. All those months ago where you were laughing your little heads off, thinking I was nothing but talk. I admit, I probably would have laughed too. I was far too charitable. I gave my time and energy to the likes of Nakita DuBov and Azurine Vebbins; I tried far too hard to make assets out of laughing stocks -- bring careers out of the mud and into the blinding lights of my unwavering purpose. Yet, in a cruel twist of irony, I was the one that was blind. I am not too proud that I can’t admit to my mistakes; I went about this the wrong way since the very beginning. But do understand, I had Odyssey’s best interest at heart. I had no other intention than to make the brand thrive. My only mistake was that I was unapologetically honest; choosing not incentivize a new era of Odyssey is to not sell the fantasy to the masses, but sell the reality of what it could become. I invested everything that I had, everything that I was, into making my vision of a beautiful, perfect, and profitable brand a reality.

Yet all it did was take everything from me. I lost Dorado Enterprises due to shareholders abandoning that vision. All my employ, all my assets -- my very social status went up in flames before my very eyes. And while I clung to the ashes of my burning legacy, I felt nothing but utter hatred for this entire left arm of a roster. Selfish, ignorant, entitled children thinking they could be the rebel yell of the industry and look at all you’ve accomplished. You allowed that disease-ridden street walker to be the undisputed Women’s World Champion, allowed her to commit a sacrilegious act in front of the Saudi Arabian royalty, and got an innocent woman publicly executed. And you’re proud oh, you’re all so very proud of yourselves. You cling onto the little things to justify it all, the Devi Krysis can-do-attitude that constantly finds her as the lovable loser, the women who bring nothing to the table but their ability to be sex objects, and then you have the few like Rebecca Brookes. The little what could have been stories of Odyssey, the ones you invest your entire hearts and souls into hoping they somehow find a way. But they only ever turn out to be utter failures. People who couldn’t even move the needle at the very top of their game. The one thing that wasn’t taken away in the midst of everything was my pity and oh, how I pity you Rebecca. You are inoffensive, but equally inconsequential in the grand scheme of things. How that rising star has fallen. You were supposed to be the next big thing for Odyssey, you were rubbing shoulders with the likes of Stephanie Matsuda bidding for the Women's World Championship and look at you now; you’re hardly even a blip on the radar. Your impact on the brand has been cushioned by failure and absence, you’ve floated so deep into the background people seem to forget that you’re even here anymore. That’s where you and I differ; when I make an appearance no one forgets it. Even in this match, no one is talking about how this is your big moment; how you’re finally going to grab the brass ring and finally prove to the naysayers that you still can amount to something other than being the afterthought that is left in the dust of people like Alyssa Grace and Liz Karlson. You aren’t in that conversation. Hell, you are a rung below even Devi Krysis, at least she has had a pay-per-view championship match in the last year. And yet here you are, declaring the Athena’s Cup like it is something that is owed to you. I hate to break this to you, really I do, but the only thing you are owed are your termination papers. This will be the only time I ever lord that fleabag of a champion, but at least her name is getting out there, at least her and her posse of glorified prostitutes or at the tip of peoples tongues. Even though I hold a grudge against Alyssa Grace, at least she saw the main event of a pay-per-view vying for the title. You? What are you but a wasted spot on the marquee? What are you but just another of the herd? And what are you in this tournament but just somebody given an opportunity that they have long since let slip through their fingers? Nothing. You are guardian of only a spot you have gotten all too complacent in. Got a spot but you have proven you cannot hold onto forever.

Just like everything else that I deem unworthy, you are destined to be purged from my vision. From what the likes of Tarah Nova and myself now look to build now that we’ve returned with a new, mutual perspective. Because that is what I have learned well I have been watching from afar, sitting in the chair that no longer held power or respect, watching as the Odyssey that could’ve been slowly burn to the ground. That what I was wanted, the Odyssey that should be, and the Odyssey that is can no longer be saved. Nothing can be salvaged from the self ruinous brand. Too many rotten apples growing in the garden of Eden. And that is why my alliance with Tarah is mutually beneficial. As she will axe down every tree, pull them out by the very roots, she and I will plant the seeds for what should be. No longer an Odyssey.

We’re building an empire. Let us see if I will deem you worthy to continue living in it.

Elijah Hampton has spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos September 8th 2022, 10:37 pm by **Gwen Harper**

Odyssey Promo 2
Angelina Magnum Vs. Gwen Harper
Athena Cup First Round

Priorities

The scene opens in silence as we see small mice and squirrels scamper about a lush forest floor. The small animals seem to be going about their normal day. Suddenly they all stop, heads turned in a direction off camera. Slowly we pan around to see a marvelous site. Walking into the frame is a rare and beautiful White Peafowl. Its feathers sparkle in the sun and its train of feathers flow behind it gracefully. It almost seems to be prancing as it walks the forest floor. The small creatures we saw moving about have stopped and scattered, fleeing from the arrival of the elegant bird.

With the smaller animals gone, the fowl has its choice of the left behind food, slowly making its way around picking at the nuts, berries and the like everything else left behind in their moment of shock and awe. Out of the camera's sight a small mouse runs out in front of the bird. It grabs up a berry but then stops as the bird lets out a shrill noise. The plumage of its train furls out slightly as it cocks its head to the side to look down at the rodent who dared. With a flurry of motion the white fowl rushed forward and snatched the mouse from the ground. With two snaps of its beak the mouse was gone. A much more filling lunch than what had been left scattered.

The camera pans back and is in motion as if we are watching the bird from another's eyes. Suddenly the plumage of the white peacock shoots open in all its glory. A soft growl is heard as the scene fades to black.

In the darkness the calm voice of Gwen Harper is heard

Early September

It has always bothered me, how someone can assume so many things based off of one useless detail or two. Perhaps its because of what you have taught me. That when it comes to the hunt it matters not who you are or what you have, it comes down to skill, to precision, to ability. This is why when I look at Angelina Magnum I can seem to wrap my head around her train of thoughts. There is a woman, who, instead of earning anything, thinks that because she has a rack and a makeup team, that she should be bestowed any and everything she should ever desire. Be that men, money, fame or in this case the Athena’s Cup. She lives in a fabricated dream of “being someone” even though her track record leaves more than something to be desired. Sparse wins here and there, and cozying up to the women she couldn’t beat like some sick high school drama queen who just HAS to have friends. She thinks these women Respect her, perhaps you should tell her but if not I can. But she had to know this was pity right? Pity from those she could not better? They felt bad for her, and decided to throw her a bone. Yet another thing Handed to Angelina Magnum.

What I don't understand and perhaps you will tell me, but is why Angelina thinks Money matters? She is caught in this loop of thinking her name, and her money mean anything. She screams that she buys her furs. What she fails to see is she may spend money, lots of it but the furs she gets, fakes. As poaching becomes harder to do. What I wear, the real deal, cut and cured by my hand. She is so proud of the food her five star chef makes her. Maybe you should explain to her how the more money you spend the further from real food you eat. But enjoy that over salted preserve loaded waste you call food. I will be over here enjoying the food I know how to grow and the meat from the animals I kill, cooked perfectly to savor. And you question my desire to fight? That those in power trip over themselves to help her? Angelina, you need to know the fight…is fun. The Hunt, the process I take to end you, Fills me with Joy! That she thinks her money makes those in power trip to give her anything if a joke. Does she not realize it is those same powers that put her in my sites to begin with. Without asking, without begging they placed the picture perfect doll in my sights to fuck up and put down.

It's going to be a lot sooner than later that she realizes just who the hell is coming for her. She can buck up and be ready for a fight but it's already too late for her. Hey, maybe she can put the money to good use and beg her bullies to come after me too. The More the Merrier…

As they say.

Gwen’s voice fades back into the darkness.

Brightness easies back into view before clearing up to once again show the beautiful white peacock still meandering through the forest. The fowl makes its way into a clearing. As we watch we see motion behind the bird. In a blur it is gone. The peafowl sprints forward and then stops. An ear piercing call erupts from the beak of the bird as it lifts its plumage in full display and begins circling around. The bird starts stomping its feet, the calls from it clearly a warning trying to ward off whatever is lurking around. The camera pulls back, in the tall grass we see a dark body moving through. The camera swoops down and we see a large Civet Cat. The civet slowly prowls around hidden by the tall grass.

Without warning the civet leaps out of the tall grass, but the Peafowl hears it coming and turns to face its attacker. The Civet stops and drops low to the ground. The Fowl raises up its full plumage spread out behind it and that loud cry wailing no stop as it moves forward and tries to threaten its predator. The Civet keeps its distance as it watches the bird. The bird does not back down and rushes forward. The Civet jumps back but then instantly lowers. The Fowl unaware of what its done starts to step back. The civet suddenly leaps forward tackling the fowl to the ground. Cries of panic from the bird are heard as we see the civet tear into the side of the once beautiful bird.

The camera pulls back as we see blood pooling at the civets feet and it hold up its prey in its mouth victorious. Feathers are stranded all around the scene as the camera focuses on one blood soaked white feather as we return to darkness once again.

Gwen's voice comes from the darkness once again.

Early September,

You taught me the beauty in silence to make sure I could find, track and kill my prey. That is why I never understand why so many weak animals are loud and obnoxious in their calls. They make themselves easy to find and easy to end. Even those who know of the dangers around them and attempt to make a stand by expounding their noise and their bodies in a feeble attempt to be more than they are in hope..in the fleeting thought they won't die. It these beasts that Angelina reminds me of. I know I don’t need to tell you, but the hot air she blows makes it so easy for me.

I will be the first to admit, I normally like a challenge. The hunt, the stalking of my prey. It is what I love about the game. But here we have Angelina out here running her gums, screaming from her soap box and doing NOTHING to mask herself. Does she not understand what is lurking in the shadows. Walking in her blindspot. For all her talking, her boasting her screaming about beauty sex and money, and she will be just like every other pretty thing I aim for. Dead, pushed aside and shown to be the fluke they are. Undefeated, she yelled from her box. Until she met a real challenge, and then she fell at the Champions feet. Where she remains, on her knees trying to keep Filth in control.

I have been asked, what will I do about her “friends”? Why would I be worried about them? I see them, I know where they are. You taught me exactly what I needed to do when I felt I would be even slightly outnumbered. To think I would not account for them..Or for NAMI, if she has recovered from her injuries I even have a plan for her. I do not simply claim to be the best Hunter. Its a matter of fact. And just like everyone before Angelina, she tries to say the hunter has become the hunted. It becomes so frustrating, I heard it for months before my Injury and to hear it when I first get back, I’m over it. Angelina finds out on Odyssey that I AM NOONES PREY.

No I am back to reclaim my dominance. I am back to ascend to the top of the mountain. Angelina, my first victim, my first kill that I will drag behind me and show not just the locker room, but everyone that I am THE BITCH..THE HUNTRESS OF OWA. No one not a group of Thots, not a supernova, not Brookes, or banshees. You step to me and I will end you. My shot is always true. I claim my spot, I take my prize and once I win the Athena’s Cup. I will introduce Rebecca Filth to a hell she has never known. Sex wont save her when I slit her throat.

This is My story not. You all had a chance to make me ignore you, to leave and not look back but you just couldn’t do it. Instead we got the likes of Angelina spouting off about nothing and everything and needing to be culled. I will not rest until I take down each and every one of the women of Odyssey. Bodies will be in my wake. It starts with Angelina Magnum and it wont stop. This is the final Warning. On Odyssey the hunt begins and I will not stop until my wall is filled with the heads of my prey. The first arrow flies and it will pierce the heart of Angelina Magnum. I won’t miss. Mountain Mama will be home, to reclaim the property she never lost. My Ring..my home..MY FOREST…let the animals scatter, let them run. The Huntress is back and NOONE will survive…

No One…

Gwen’s voice fades as she begins laughing. Out of the blue her crazed face flashes on the screen as she rushes the camera before fading to black.

Jeff X, Mark Michaels, DT The Ruler and Chad Ecclestone have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos September 8th 2022, 10:21 pm by **Angelina Magnum**

Angelina Magnum

The Queen is Dead, Long Live...

You know those loner chicks in high school who talk about how they’re super unique and nothing like all the other girls? How the popular kids are evil and responsible for all the shit that happens to the people lower in the pecking order? Usually, it turns out that loner kid really is just a creepy asshole and deserved to be excluded. Gwen, sweetie, you were so excluded that you literally spend all your time in the woods now…though it’s admittedly bold of me to assume that you completed a high school education, or indeed even went. So, you got a bad injury and have spent a year feeling sorry for yourself and hunting defenceless creatures because when something actually fights back, your body gives up on you, great!

What a pathetic display, you’ve spent more time putting together your little short films than actually thinking about the ass whooping you're about to get. You see, I am NOT worried about being rich or hot, I haven’t been worried about that since…ever. How can you worry about something that you’ve already got? And unlike you and your weird visualisation techniques that appeal to hippies and slackers, I know the trophy is mine because I am physically and mentally superior. You spend your days in underground fight pits against nobodies and why? To try and cling onto the fact that you used to be somebody? Let me tell you what’s happened to Odyssey since you’ve been gone: record-breaking ratings, the main event of Final Destination, Kingdom’s Writer of the Year streak being SNAPPED by the better show, and you weren’t here for any of it. In the short time I’ve been around, I’ve generated more headlines and created more buzz than you killing a thousand animals ever could.

Now you wanna waltz back in and get a sniff of the glory, to suckle on the nectar that is forging new Goddesses such as myself. Well you’ll get so such thing, you’ll just get a reminder of just how washed you are. I “squandered” my world title opportunity, did I? If walking into your second professional wrestling match and almost winning a world title is what you call “squandered” then…well I guess you’ve never squandered anything in your life, have you? You wanna talk about history and that’s an apt word, Dulce Torres ain’t here no more and you’re gonna be out the door with her once I send you crashing out of this tournament. You don’t win fights with history, babe, you win them with will, guts, grit, intelligence. Yeah, Rebecca Filth got the better of me, holy shit, crazy, not like she’s the best wrestler in the world right now or anything. How shameful that I came up short against a world-class performer in my second match, I should be ashamed! It was such a shameful performance that she offered me her hand in friendship! I’m no third wheel, bitch, Thotyssey’s a fully-equipped SUV that’s gonna run you the FUCK DOWN if you get in our way!

You come back and start picking fights with everyone because that’s all you know how to do. Well, you’ve got a fight and it’s against everything you hate. Poor little Gwen, a face only a mother could love and a body only her daddy wanted, now you’re gonna take it out on the rest of the world. How many animals have to die before Gwen Harper can feel loved? You’re gonna wipe out an entire ecosystem before that happens from the looks of things. Thotyssey isn’t some two-bit collection of skanks hanging out on a street corner, it’s a collective of badass women who know exactly how to get what they want from life. You think me, Rebecca of Felix have EVER felt bad about radiating raw, sexual energy? I know it’s a feeling you’re unfamiliar with so you’ll have to bear with me on this - oops, did me saying “bear” get your motor running?

Thotyssey has a simple philosophy: Don’t be a zero. Am I supposed to feel bad for looking like this? Am I supposed to “check my privilege” or whatever all the triggered Twitter libs say these days? Let me tell you EXACTLY who the fuck I am. I am a woman who loves to be the centre of attention, I am a woman who was BORN for the spotlight. I don’t look like this by accident, honey. What you’re looking at is years of specific nutrition, workouts, surgeries and beauty routines to achieve the peak of womanhood. It isn’t to please anyone but myself and those who can appreciate hard work. I have worked my ass off - and it’s a fine ass, by the way - to look as good as I do and what, you think you can throw a few barbs at me and expect it to have any effect? You know Gwen, if you actually had a bit of a morning routine, ate anything other than red meat and maybe got some lip fillers, you’d look a little better than Bigfoot’s prom date, but I know you’re not going to listen to any tips I have. Women like you disgust me. Armpit hair, body odour, no class and zero femininity. Why are you so proud of being a walking skid mark?

Yeah, my face is covered in make-up so that when I’m up on that marquee, people stop and stare. When I’m on a magazine cover, it flies off the shelves. And when I’m on TV, best believe the channel doesn’t get changed. I’ve got a business to run, I’m not out in the swamps playing Robin Hood, I’m out there hustling and building an empire. Odyssey was stuck in the mud with people like you around. Now that people like me and my girls are running things, look at how quickly interest has spiked. When I signed with OWA, I did so because I wanted to push things to the next level and I’ve done a DAMN good job. Now you think you can take food off my plate? You think you can take credit for what I’ve done? You didn’t build SHIT here. You’re not one of the Four Pillars, you never made any history, all you did was brawl with a bunch of midcarders and you’re back to do just that. You really took a year away and instantly targeted the belt you’ve already held? That’s why I’m better than you, Gwen, you don’t think big, all you care about is the ceiling you’ve given yourself. That’s why you’re never getting past me in this tournament, I’m built for the big matches, for the attention, you don’t know how to handle it. You’re a “workhorse”, which is just a polite way of saying “curtain jerker”.

Your return was what…the fifth-most talked about thing at Game Over? I overshadowed everyone else on that show and I didn’t even have a match! You can talk on and on about how you’re here to to kill people, how you’re some badass huntress with a thirst for blood, we’ve heard it all before. You’ll slip on a banana skin, fuck yourself up again and we’ll be kissing that ass goodbye. Every time I step in that ring, I’m improving at a rate that hasn’t been seen since…since Rebecca Filth herself first came to OWA. She lost her first match here, didn’t exactly do her any harm, did it? I’ve risen above everyone who was pegged to be something and become a can’t-miss fixture of this place and that drives you INSANE. The popular girl once again gets all the flowers and the little loner can’t take it. I’ve got the money, the main events, the two baddest bitches on the roster watching my back and you…you’ve got a bow and arrow.

You don’t intimidate me, Gwen. I walked down The Banshee and I’m PRAYING that she goes deep into this tournament with me so I can smack some sense into her again. I’m the least experienced yet the most talked about and that’s gonna be the highlight of your little comeback run. Gwen Harper made her grand return and ran straight into Thotyssey’s battering ram, crashing out of Athena’s Cup and toiling away in obscurity while she waited out her contract, and the OWA brass debated why it’s even worth keeping her around. You should have stayed in those fight pits taking on two-dollar sluts for a handshake and a hotdog. You should have stayed in the woods where the sounds of crickets are real and not the audience having zero clue who you are. You should have learned that the new regime is rapidly evolving way past anything you’ve done here. You don’t have a leg to stand on and I’m not talking about your frail body. When you got thrown off the stage at Civil War, the trash was being thrown out but you somehow came back up through the gutter. NAMI’s done more as Goddesses Champ than you ever did, you’re just mad that she won the belt and nobody gave a fuck about you the moment you weren’t champ any more.

Go ahead, try and come at me and see what happens. Just like so many other morons here, you look at me and see a plastic princess who’s nothing but tits and ass. Well guess what, babe, I am ALL woman. This body, this face and this attitude come as a part of the package. And included is a bitch who will mess you up. I’m fucking JACKED, I LIVE in the gym, I could carry whatever carcass you hunted all the way to the butcher and do some squats on the way. I’ve got the counsel of two champions, two world beaters on my side, priceless knowledge being fed to me on a daily basis. The last time I stepped between these ropes, I outsmarted everybody, including my own teammates and walked away with my hand raised. The last time you stepped between these ropes, you got sent to the back of the unemployment line.

If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a thousand times…PUT. SOME. RESPECT. ON. MY NAME.

And that name is Angelina fucking Magnum! The head-turner, the ratings spiker, the woman who’s going to GRACIOUSLY give you ten minutes in the limelight one last time before I kick you out of the ring like the gutter trash you are. I’m not a helpless deer, I’m not a bear distracted by an easy meal, I’m a woman who has every intent of knocking your fucking head off and mounting it on MY wall for all the world to see!

You can either embrace what this place is now or you can die with all the other unevolved bottom feeders who nobody remembers, your choice. Just don’t come crying to me when the reality sets in that your shtick was NEVER good and the only reason you ever had a SHRED of credibility was because you were the best of a bad batch. Howl at that, bitch!

OWA Promos - Page 19 267306c4616224f26d0462852d4252fb

Jeff X, The Banshee, DT The Ruler, Chad Ecclestone and DGS have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos September 8th 2022, 9:51 pm by **Tarah Jay Nova**

CHAPTER TWO: WHY BE HUMBLE?
Promo Number Two

-----------------------------------X X X-----------------------------------

"There are no more barriers to cross. All I have in common with the uncontrollable and the insane, the vicious and the evil, all the mayhem I have caused and my utter indifference toward it I have now surpassed. My pain is constant and sharp, and I do not hope for a better world for anyone, in fact I want my pain to be inflicted on others. I want no one to escape, but even after admitting this there is no catharsis, my punishment continues to elude me, and I gain no deeper knowledge of myself; no new knowledge can be extracted from my telling. This confession has meant nothing."

--- Patrick Bateman; American Psycho.

-----------------------------------X X X----------------------------------

-----------------------------------X X X----------------------------------

The scene begins showing the back of The Shockcollar of Hardcore Wrestling sitting in a chair, watching an old match of her from Lethal Angels of Wrestling. It was the match April showed. Where Nova fell to The Songbird. A scuff echoed from her lips as she grabbed the remote control from the stand next to her and paused the screen. The frozen photo was of April Song having her arm raised in victory while a pitiful looking Tarah Nova is struggling to gain the strength to push herself off the mat. "Pathetic...." Tarah's eyes move away from herself before looking at the April Song. Slowly, a smile appears on the red painted lips of Nova. A small, wicked laugh followed in pursuit.

"You're right, April. You're absolutely right." Tarah stares at the frozen screen Infront of her dark eyes, "You do hold a win over my head, I never forgot about it, but you need to understand something very important... That's not me anymore. That Tarah Nova you beat at Lethal Hearts THREE was a shell of who I was. A rotten corpse that didn't know what was going to have to her mind the next day. She held herself back. Didn't dare to speak up against the world that turned their backs to her and held a blind eye to the mercy she went through. That's not me anymore, Songbird. And it never will be me again. That me? The one you faced off against that day is dead. Gone like the wind. Buried six feet under the ground with the maggots and worms. She is gone and soon will be forgotten when they all see me now. And I promise you, I am here too fuckin burn every heart out each Alpha that steps in my way. That is a fuckin promise I will keep to you. To everyone in Omega Wrestling Alliance and all the fans that come out to watch our universe wrestle. I mean business this time around. I want to fight. I want to bring blood to each and every wrestling ring I grace just because I can. And you, Songbird? You think you can fuckin stop me in my first match back to OWA? The Woman that helped build this company from the ground up? No." Tarah looks away from the screen, her smile only widens. "God no. I mean sure, you have done it once like you showed the world, but this time is going to be MUCH different."

Slowly, The Shockcollar of Hardcore Wrestling leans back again her chair as she folds her tan arms over her chest. "Ya know, what I found funny from what you said to me, Songbird? The fact of the matter that I struck a bad nerve in you. I mean... I'm not shocked. I do that for a living, I poke at anyone I want, and I speak my fuckin mind because I can. I said all this about coming to Odyssey and rebuilding it from the ground up and I guess you didn't like that so much, did you? Yeah, you came at me hard and fast, screaming at the top of your pathetic lungs about everything you have done for ODYSSEY and how you and all these changed the landscape of this division." Tarah rolls her eyes and begins to quote the Songbird. Let me be plain as I can be: "There are fifteen names in the history of the OWA Women’s World Championship. Not a fucking one of them is Tarah Nova. Mine is.

There are eight names in the history books when it comes to the OWA Goddesses Championship and once again Tarah’s name is not fucking one of them. Mine is.

You were not the reason that the OWA made it fit to bring Women’s Tag Team Championships here. All the tag teams that have appeared, even going back to the Dollhouse and the Iron Squadron days with me Diantha, Filth’s new crew….Liz and Alyssa, your alleged best friend…THEY ARE THE FUCKING REASON THOSE TITLES EXIST, NOT YOU!

YOU WERE NOT THE REASON THAT THE OPENWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP FOUN----" Tarah Snorts lordly, "Bluh, bluh, bluh... Who gives a fuckin shit, Birdbrain? I surely don't! You can spew all the accomplishments that you all have done for this division and hell, scream it from the rafters for all I care. Make sure the nosebleeds can hear your 1001 reasons of why you're better in every way, shape and form while I get ready to bash your skull in just like I did Kenny Drake's." Tarah shakes her head, "Oh and while you're telling the world all this shit makes sure you tell the world how I didn't respect you too. 'People should be a little more humble when they arrive in a locker room for the first time.' How about no? Honestly...like when the hell did you start to care what others did in the Division? That's not the April Song I know and somewhat tolerate. The one I remember gave no shits. Fought everyone and anyone without a second fuckin thought about it but you now? Just a fuckin laughingstock of who you once were. Be Humble? No, fuck all that horse shit. I'm going to walk into the Locker room like I do each and every time. With my head held up high and a smirk on my face. I don't care about making a first impression on these Alpha's, Songbird. I just want to get my hands on some fuckin necks and get out some pent-up aggression. See, you don't understand how I came back to this Company and the thing I keep seeing from you and all of your bullshit coming from your lips is that you won't understand either. I don't blame you, honestly. I came back out of the fuckin blue, beat the shit out of my best friend and told the world that I was going to make Odyssey my bitch one way or another. But between those lines there are reasons bigger than that. Bigger than you and bigger than a fuckin stupid legacy that all these old heads whine about on a daily. I didn't come back for that. I just want to fight. I just want to sink my fuckin claws into the flesh of my opponents and not think twice about it. This welcome home run I am starting against you isn't for the fans. It's not for ratings. I don't give two shits about them right now. This is all about ME. This is taking back the SIX years I fuckin lost to being toyed with and forced to be someone I wasn't. All I want to do is fuckin dominate everyone and everything I can. Take back my life and be the person I have always been but was to be fucking scared to release due to the people around me not liking that side of me...but guess what? They left me in the dust and now. I can be the dominating force. I can do what I want, when I fuckin want and right now I want to make you my fuckin bitch, Song. That's what I want to do and I'm going to do it, one way or another." The Alpha Killer takes a small breath as she leans forward in the chair, her forehead slightly touching the frozen screen. A deep sigh through her lips and a soft sound of air out her nose. Calmed now, Tarah leans back again; the side of her face being caught back the camera again.

"I am going to beat you, Songbird. I'm going to drown you in your own blood and not think a second about my actions. Winning this stupid tournament match against you is a step towards redemption for me. I am ready for everything you can throw at me. Bring it all. You want to give me a warm ODYSSEY welcome and end The Shockcollar before I get a chance to reclaim my soul? Then do it. End me. Try to break me down and beat me into the match like you did at Lethal Hearts THREE. I dare you, Song. Fuck, I'll even let you take the first fuckin shot at me too! I'm a gentleman like that... But once you do it, I'm going to break Your neck and make sure you don't sing in Odyssey again. You are nothing to me right now. I will continue to say that till it gets through your thick head. You are just practice for me until I fight against the real challenges that are laying weight for me. Simple as that and deep down, it burns you, doesn't it? To know that with my return back to the OWA wrestling ring, you are less of a threat to the likes of Rebecca Filth, Alyssa Grace, Liz Karlson, and most of the others who walk these halls. You have been forced down the food chain and soon you'll be right next to where Revy is...in the thrown away scraps. Nothing like but dust. Not even enough fight for ALPHAS Like Devi Krysis, Violet Cunningham and Daisy Thrash to have a go at you. So honestly, I think you're right about something else you said yesterday on Twitter... Maybe it is time for you to hang your boots and call it quits. You're too soft now, Songbird. You're letting everyone get under your skin that's supposed to be iron hard. You have failed as an ALPHA after Final Destination Five and to this day, it keeps you up at night. Trust me I know the looks, Song. You cannot hide the look of failure and disgust from a woman who has been in this wrestling ring since she was 16 years old. You're tired. You're pathetically over date and after this match, Song? You're going to believe it too."

"In the end, I truly cannot wait to see you fall by my hands. It fills me with childhood wonders just thinking about it. This wrestling ring was not meant for the both of us. Odyssey was meant to be a battlefield, not some Whore House and as the Shockcollar... I'm going to rebuild it all to what it was. Erase all the hell from the Division. Slaughter everyone that tries to stop me and rule my Newly Crowned NOVA EMPIRE with my wired baseball bat in hand. All of this is going to be mine one day soon, Song and beating you on this next ODYSSEY is going to bring all of this to a head. It will prove to the OWA universe that I truly do mean business and I'm going to do everything in my power to be the KILLER I once was many moons ago. Mark my words, I am here on ODYSSEY to rebuild my EMPIRE and I'm going to fight like a bat out of hell to make it fuckin happen." The Shockcollar shrugged her shoulders weakly, "But go on, fight me. Pray and gravel to your god for strength. Pull out all your rosaries and good luck charms so you can pack them in your ring gear. You are going to need all of the help you can ask them for and much more to break me down and end me, Song. You know this and honestly, I can't wait to see what you bring to our match...why? Only because I'll get to see all the I heard you brought to this match only for it to blow up in your face. That is my happiness, and I can't wait to crush your heart in my hands soon enough. So, till then... Keep that baby beating for me and try to be ready for a fight, will you? I'd hate to see all this big talk from you go to waste."

"Later, Songbird." With that, Tarah finally turns to the camera, her eyes as dark as the night sky. The light of the TV screen illuminates her face as the camera scans over it and her wicked grin before it fades out. Ending in darkness

HAIL TO THE NOVA EMPIRE

WORDS: 2000+ | TAGGED: APRIL SONG
:copyright: TARAH FN’ NOVA

Re: OWA Promos September 8th 2022, 3:27 pm by **DT The Ruler**

Why Hold Back?

(DT The Ruler is shown with reading glasses on in his Seattle, Washington office, looking at paperwork in a folder at his desk while his neck and shoulders are being massaged. On the other end of the desk was the young woman, Shannon Black, his company hired before the Clash of the Titans event, getting a late 6-month review)

DT The Ruler: Any questions before I end this review of your work so far?

Shannon Black: No sir, I understand everything you said in the report.

DT The Ruler; Good. You have been doing excellent work overall, and I need you to just keep it up for company sake. You are needed on the team to make sure everything is sorted, organized, and recorded in regards to spending with this branch.

Shannon Black: Before I leave, Sir, if I may ask: how is everything with the...Omega Wrestling Alliance going?

DT The Ruler: If I may answer: it’s mixed. I’m still OWA Outlaw Champion, as you can see (The OWA Outlaw Championship is shown on his desk in its display case), but Game Over left a pretty bad taste.

Shannon Black: Sir, if I may ask another question: why do you hold back?

DT The Ruler: If I may answer: what do you mean?

Shannon Black: Well, I just...noticed that, like, you’re not as mean as you usually are. Like yeah: you still talk circles around most of these guys, but you haven’t been trying.

DT The Ruler: Excuse me?

Shannon Black: Sir, I’m just saying that you seem to be...holding your tongue. I just...I just noticed you’re not as mean as you used to be.

DT The Ruler: Well, Shannon, you need to understand: there’s a difference between being truthful and being mean and insulting. Sure, you can Venn Diagram both terms and match up instances where they held hands, but they are distinct in definition and intent. And with myself as a Champion, I do not want to be known as a person who fought a bunch of scrubs and rookies, punching down tomato cans like Sugar Ray Robinson. I give my competition the benefit that if there is a title on the line: THEY WILL AT LEAST TRY. Fail, for sure, but they can make an effort.

Shannon Black: But if they’re terrible, I think it’s OK to just say so. I’m sorry, but I noticed....everyone likes The Ruler most when he’s mean, and I thought after Game Over; you’d be mean to those guys you’re facing on Sunday.

DT The Ruler: Shannon, I understand that people like rowdy and rambunctious speech, but I also find it important to be controlled. I could go RAWR RAWR like a dungeon dragon, but I rather stay calm and focused, especially at this time in my career. Not everyone needs to scream their way through everything, and I prefer not to as my neck still hurts from Game Over. But...I’ll give it some thought. For the time being, you are dismissed for the day, but I expect you to return to your duties tomorrow morning like normal and check on the financial report of my travels this week. Any discrepancies in regards to my trips to meetings with Stacy Abrams and Hershel Walker, I need you and the rest of the team to fix.

Shannon Black: Yes, sir.

(Shannon exited the office and the double doors were closed right behind her by security; DT The Ruler then closed her folder and sat with a thinking pose)

You know, I don’t typically consider the words of women I’m not in relationships with to weigh much. They don’t belong to me in any way, so why listen? But with Ms. Shannon, as she continues to straddle the line of being a respectable new employee and a fan of The Ruler, once in a while someone like her has words that could be considered wisdom. I feel as if you can take advice into consideration from anyone, even your worst enemies. But in this case, the business is also entertainment, and as I was reminded: people get excited at the sight of blood.

(DT The Ruler winced at a slight crack in his neck as the massage therapist continued)

I’m going to be really honest again: I’m not happy at all, not even a little. Yes, I am still OWA Outlaw Champion, a fighting champion, a willing champion, but I am not World Champion. Mr. Raivo is not a World Champion. And neither of us were given a rematch, despite not getting pinned by Mr. Michael Bishop, despite my title not changing hands when it might’ve in the eyes of those bloodthirsty viewers. I mean I still have a belt, right, so that should be satisfactory enough? No. When you’re in Professional Wrestling and you just came off being in a World Title match, satisfaction keeps you in the middle of the show, doing nothing but random Tag Team matches people will forget five minutes later, starting the show for nothing but “pride” on the table. Satisfactory keeps you off the weekly card, doing nothing but watching everyone else chase personal glory and championships. But the ironic thing is: myself and Mr. Raivo continue to be marginalized, and neither of us are satisfied with how Game Over went. But here we are, getting slighted ONCE AGAIN by these people, with Mr. Raivo not even in a match for the coming event, and then you look at myself being disrespected. I want you to look at how the card is written for Vindication, and you see a CHAMPION at the bottom of it. I want you to look at the Vindication poster and I’m nowhere to be found. I sent my secretaries to the website, and they informed me that The Ruler is barely presented, and you wonder why people tend to go batshit in order to be considered what they are worth in OWA. I’ve defended my championship three times already- more than most champions have since Final Destination, and yet I get looked at as if I DID NOTHING!

Then I look at my opponents....

I mean look at them. Disgraces to my presence, all of them. None worthy of cleaning the floor with their tongue before I walk on it, all unimportant when it’s all said and done, poor financially and in class, neither movers nor shakers of anything in society. As much as I look to demonstrate what should have happened at the PPV by steamrolling these three pieces of trash, this shit right here is EMBARRASSING!

Tell me why I should take some random egomaniac and man-whore seriously, especially a man who poses like some shitty VHS-era porn flashback, a man with a mustache that makes him look more like Ron Jeremy after Cancer treatment than like a Professional Wrestler who wants to be at the top of the mountain. His type infests not just this business but others when they don’t even deserve to be anywhere but the back of some run-down nightclub in New York City where the cat-sized rats gather. I’m sure the man fancies himself like Frank Sinatra, possibly like the Ladies Man and the Roxbury guys of Saturday Night Live fame, but what I do not fancy him as is a serious contender for ANY Championship I HOLD.

But for the rest of this, since I spoke on Mr. Tyler Kulina already, I will target Mr. David Gideon Smith...

Mr. David Gideon Smith, the irony in all of your claims is beautiful and almost believable. If I wasn’t a veteran in this business of Professional Wrestling and aware of the shenanigans of OWA as a whole, I’d actually assume you were threatening. But instead of coming off as a Man Above All, a man with purposes grander than every other Wrestler on the roster, all I heard from you, Mr. Gideon Smith, was THE USUAL. I hope you can hear me clearly because my hope is that coming into this Outlaw Championship match, you actually THINK about the absolutes you professed and how none of them will come to fruition. Mr. David Gideon Smith, you signed into an organization believing your motives are higher, that your movements are of levels humans cannot comprehend, when the truth is: more people believe I am indeed superior to them than believe you can actually do anything in regards to the madness that ensues here. And you start by being typical in saying the Outlaw Championship, MY CHAMPIONSHIP, is the lowliest of the low, calling it a menial, meritless prize. One of the reasons no one will believe you, Mr. David Gideon Smith, is because outside of posturing, you have no leg to stand on in comparison. Without any hardware around your waist or over your shoulder, without any notable victories in this organization by your hands, your words are no different than ones of giggly females who believe Astrology accurately depicts personality traits. Your hollow, self-assured- albeit wrong- belief that you will take my title falls into the same meme-level territory of Patrick Beverly believing Lebron James and Anthony Davis are following his lead.

And while I’m sure you don’t really give a damn about people believing in your verbiage, I saw you in that six-man Tag Team contest from weeks ago, and from my observations, I can see I have nothing to worry about. I defeated a team that included the Tag Team Champions in Tag Team Warfare already, and I saw that your approach to the ring is not exceptional enough, so you have to come better than that when you approach Your Superior. But more importantly, Mr. Gideon Smith, you need this win more than you’ll admit. You need to increase your value to face the other champions you may look to target. You may not feel you’re as shallow as Arthur or as dewy-eyed as Tyler, but what you are compared to even The Ruler is very POWERLESS. And I know you aren’t very powerful if you can’t even be here on your own power, Mr. Gideon Smith. Your respect is not needed, Mr. David, but when I noticed that you are not in OWA strictly for your own reasons, you show WEAKNESS, and men with little control over where they move in life tells me all I need to respect about them before the bell rings. Your Black Blade being the only thing you have actual control over will not ensure you much, and in order to make an impact even I’d care to speak on, you need more than a bunch of declarations you can’t and won’t uphold. I am no gatekeeper for this company nor desire to be, but OWA has many people believing their Main Objectives supersede everyone else’s but in the end: The Ruler can easily approach them and crush them at the one objective that hurts their ego most whenever he feels like it...

ATTEMPTING TO DEFEAT ME IN THE RING.

Mr. David Gideon Smith, I do want you to keep your words in mind about taking MY title, this “menial” title, because for you: it will be hard to explain how you entered the ring against three “simpletons” over a “meritless” prize and couldn’t secure it. What will that say about yourself when The Ruler hits you with a reality so brutal that not even you will be able to fully understand what happened? Mr. Gideon Smith, how will you be able to explain traveling all these plains, having supposedly seen all of our minds. thoughts, ambitions. goals, and wants and needs, only to realize that you can’t even contend for what you believe to be the “lowliest” of championships against a man you can’t physically nor mentally break?

Won’t matter.

But you and the others will address your Master and Ruler correctly after it’s all said and done.

(The camera faded to black)

Diantha Rosso, Scott Oasis, The Banshee, Chad Ecclestone and DGS have spoken. It’s such good shit!

{The screen lightens but all we see is darkness and from somewhere within the darkness, we hear the familiar voice of the “Grinning Demon” himself speak}

Voice: Time is a thief, but he's not subtle. He's a thug. And youth is a little old lady walking through the park with a pocketbook full of cash. You want to avoid being like youth? You want to keep time from robbing you? Hold on for dear life, boys. When time tries to snatch something from you, just grab tighter. Don't let go. That's what memory is. Not letting go.

{A moment later, Ryo steps partially out of the darkness before the camera, his dark eyes glittering ever so slightly as the rest of the darkness around him seems to ever so close, almost like it is keeping him close at hand with how he stands within it}

Ryo: And that, in reality, is the worst thing about time in your case, Brandon. Because while you assume that you have all the time in the world to come out here and cut a promo, let alone prepare for your first title match here in the Alliance, but you erroneously believe that it is on your side and that there will be nothing but time as we head into our match at Olympus.

I do not know how things were done in this "Project Honor" place...but it seems to me that if you think this is how you do things here in the Omega Wrestling Alliance, then I'm sorry to say that you are gravely mistaken.

To which this level of arrogance will cost you greatly as blow that weak heart out of your chest with the most devastating kick in all of professional wrestling....but in the end, you shall never touch this.

{The hand that Ryo kept in the darkness raises up to show the OWA Prestige championship held firmly in his left hand as he holds it up before him, much like a savage brute of medieval times holding the head of hated rival as his most glorious, yet gruesome prize}

Ryo: It may not be a world championship, Brandon, but it is *mine* and come Olympus when you come to try and take her from me, you'll find that your best attempt is never going to be good enough against someone like me and that's not an arrogance speaking, oh no my dear Brandon, that particular bit of heat is coming from the fact that I have waited and waited for you to say something, anything actually, in concern for our match to come and yet...where are you?

Perhaps you believe that silence will get you what you want or maybe you think that your desires will be fulfilled if you simply wait till the last moment when these promos are due, then cut one at the razor's edge of that last minute in dire beliefs that just because that's how things were done over in "Project Honor" that the same will be done here.

No, Brandon. This, here and now, is the closest that you will ever get to my title.

{Ryo lowers the Prestige championship back into the cloying darkness}

Ryo: You see, I expected so much more from someone like you, Brandon. I fully expected at the very least you coming out here on Alliance television and boasting about how you were going to end my time as Prestige champion before it really gets started because you were “BRANDON FUCKING HENDRIX”...or some such nonsense like that.

But instead I am met with day after day of silence, of you not bothering to even cut the same old tired promo about how you’re going to come in here and simply beat me because I’m “Ryo Sakazaki and that I’m nothing more than a joke and nothing else”...

You know, that old chestnut?

But instead I am met with a most disquieting silence that makes me wonder if you are like that puppet lady from that so so horror movie called “Dead Silence” where if you scream, the ghost kills you by ripping out your fucking *tongue*!

{Ryo’s face turns thoughtful for a few seconds}

Ryo: You know, Dead Silence was a lot better than say any of those “Saw” or “Purge” movies that’s been coming out like friggin clockwork…but I digress because if I am finding the time to put over a *HORROR MOVIE* from TWO THOUSAND AND *SEVEN*....then what does that say exactly about how much time that I have on my hands, eh?

{Ryo’s face then slips back into the serious state that it has been in}

Ryo: But wait…oh you *DID* cut a promo didn’t you, I’m sorry…I mistook all of that blah blah blah as you trying to build up your non-existent character there, Brandon.

I mean what else would you call that bit of video scum that you cut in that graveyard? Were you trying to do your version of "Things you see in a graveyard", performed by the late, great Paul Sorvino from the equally as great Repo a Genetic Opera?

{Ryo offers up a slight non-caring shrug}

Ryo: It really doesn't matter to me because throughout that entire bit of video poker you shoved onto the internet, you kept talking up a brave face without really understanding who it is exactly that you're fighting against on the tenth. Throughout that entire little fucking rant that you posted, not once did you stop, take a minute, and try to understand that the only person who understands the level of desperation to win not only a championship but *ANYTHING* in this company is the very man that you instantly believe that you're better than because of what you've gone through before?

Please, don't insult me or the fans or even the boys in the back any further than you already have by posting anything else there, Brandon.

You say that you respect me yet then you turn right around and insult my *heart*...this black and burnt thing that struggles to maintain the level of fury that I have at my disposal each and every time that I go out there to that ring and bust my fucking ass to prove why I still deserve to be here and if you think that grit alone will be enough for you to try and take my title from me, then sir you are solely mistaken because I don't care if you tried to kick Senn's face in because that's a goddamn popular past time around this promotion from what I've seen over the past couple of years of being on this roster.

No, you are the one who seems to be lacking in understanding that just like the rest of the boys from the Hollow, I *never* stop preparing for this fight or the next, I'm always in a state of preparation because there is always something new to learn, because if you ain't learning then you're dead on the fucking vine...

{Ryo then points at the camera}

Ryo: Just like your fucking chances are at beating me this weekend, Brandon.

As for that bullshit about "motherfuckers in the back feeling bad for me", motherfucker have you not seen the level of *HATE* that I get around here?

{Ryo reaches up with the hand that he was just pointing with and grabs a handful of his blonde hair and yanks on it hard}

Ryo: I mean FUCKING *SERIOUSLY*!? How fucking *blind* could you be to not notice just how many of those very same people in the back that you accuse of giving me "support because they feel sorry for me" were the same ones sticking me into one pointless feud after another or kept the Ascension Briefcase just out of my fucking grasp because they didn't want someone who was actually willing to bust his fucking *ass* for this fucking company to go for anything fucking important!!

"Winner and New" is also not the three words that I'll ever fear because that is a thing that we all have to deal with in this industry, the off chance that as a champion that you will have to lose eventually and unlike you, who is a *afraid* to *win*, I am not afraid to *lose* if it does happen because it is not about how we fall, you dumb mother fucker, it's about how *RISE*!!

{Ryo then lets go of his hair and jabs a finger once more in the direction of the camera}

Ryo: You aren't capable of doing *FUCK ALL* that will ever haunt me, Brandon, and I do love the fact that you believe that in that failed, fucked up little ticker of yours that you honestly believe that I'm going to offer up any single iota of "mercy" to you, then you really don't fucking know who the fuck that you're about to step into the ring against because my name is Ryo Sakazaki, I am the single most hated member of this roster because I fucking refuse to just give up and die, no matter what the fans in the front or boys in the back want me to do!!

I have held my fucking own against people like Scott Oasis and Arata Asakura and Stephanie Matsuda, I've been beaten down and bloodied badly by some of the biggest and baddest mother fuckers in this *industry*, but *you*...my lad...*YOU* will not stop the beating that is to come for your sorry ass for even *believing* that you are in the same league as me where it comes to the fire and the fury, Brandon.

Because this weekend, I'm going to send you back to your daughter in the perfect condition for that fucking hole that you were so proud of being around in that fucking promo attempt of your's! But you see, I won't waste the fucking piss to piss on your grave nor the spittle to spit upon it because you didn't ask for mercy nor did you offer up respect to make this a proper match...no, you wanted the fucking *demon* and I'm more than happy to oblige you by giving you *exactly* what the fuck you *WANT*!!

{Ryo then lowers his hand again, stopping to take several deep breaths as he fights to get his emotions back under control and after a few seconds he is able to do just that, the "demon" within Ryo pulling back just enough for him to smile at the camera as his head tilts forward just a little bit}

Ryo: I'm not wanting you to be afraid of me, Brandon. I want you to simply face the reality of your situation because you've already taken your eyes off of the ball the moment that you decided for some reason to make this semi-personal, Brandon. Because there is no fairytale ending for you, my friend, and this "happy ending" that you've concocted for yourself concerning our match at Olympus, that's going to end with you, the self professes "Baddest motherfucker on Olympus", being busted open and left broken and bested dead center of that very ring.

But you see, Brandon, I get it. You want somebody to blame for your loss at Game Over and I get that, I really do. I mean you're trying to cast *me* as the original sinner. Well Brandon, I spoke to God this morning, and he said that he doesn't like you and that means that Fate, its fucking *SELF*, is not on your side this turn around because you decided to try and keep up with this particular Demon, you thought that by trying to take MY *GRIN*...makes you the better wrestler in this case.

And for all your talk about this “man” that I’ll be getting at Olympus who will accomplish all of these great things…from the fear that I see your eyes during that promo, Brandon, I see what you’re afraid to admit to yourself.

But I know the truth.

{Ryo's face slowly turns into a half-snarl/half-grin as his dark eyes reflect the pure *malice* in his voice and very being}

Ryo: I am simply getting the man who *failed*, an egocentric little boy who has yet to understand that this is one demon that he cannot overcome.

{From out of the shadows Ryo once again brings out the Prestige championship that he holds aloft}

Ryo: I bring you broken dreams, Brandon. And at Olympus, I will make one especially…just…for…*you*.

{Ryo continues his dark snarl/smile as he pulls himself back into the darkness as the screen fades to black}

DT The Ruler, Chad Ecclestone and DGS have spoken. It’s such good shit!

"My Time" September 8th 2022, 8:17 am by **'Don' Hendrix**

“Lack of something to feel important about is almost the greatest tragedy a man may have

Defeated… once again. Man he really got to stop dedicating matches to people. But of course, that's not even the worst thing to happen to Brandon. His mental health took a deep, deep fall recently, to the point he had to send his daughter to stay with his aunt till his head got better. He's watched Ryo's promo on Brandon, how Brandon was told to run away from Ryo and not show up at Olympus. All this brings us to a graveyard, filled with the deceased resting in the ground for all of entirety, and soon enough, the man sitting on top of a gravestone can join them: Brandon Hendrix. The gravestone isn't an empty one, it has a name… his name on it. Brandon sits on the gravestone to his grave as he sits there, looking at the scenery around him.

""Run… heh…… I'll be honest Ryo, if I was to run, I might as well run into this grave. I've never run from a challenge in my life and if I was to run now then I'd pray my heart stops beating so I can be laid to rest in this hole and buried to never wander this earth again.

What's funny to me is people will fully treat me like a Project Honor boy, when this was the company I joined first. I was competing here before I even stepped foot there. The only reason I left here and stayed there for nine to ten months was because I didn't fit here. People use this narrative that I left because I was offered better or whatever else, but I'll take it to my deathbed the truth, not what everyone wants to believe. I wasn't good enough to be here, so I went to Project Honor after being poached over there to deal with stupid ass people who can't run a fucking company to save there life so don't you fucking call me a Project Honor boy. Before all that, I've spent years on the Independent Scene, fighting for toxic ass people while you were cozying up here in OWA. I realize what you need to do in order to keep that championship around your waist Ryo, but do you realize the level of desperation I will be in to win that championship? It's almost funny because everyone says the same thing when they win a championship, I've done it too. I told everyone what I would do to hold onto that title, and just like the people I told, I'm ready too, and I'm ready for whatever Hell you want to send me to."

Brandon chuckles a bit as he runs his hand through his hair, gently placing his hand then on top of the tombstone as he sticks his legs out for a second to stretch before speaking.

""I respect you Ryo Sakazaki. I do, because I respect people with the skills that it takes in order to become Champion, and that you are sir. I'd be an idiot to brush off your skills inside this ring. But with all that skill, all that ability you contain in your body does not match the grit I have running in my heart. It does not match the venom that runs through my veins. None of that matches with Brandon Hendrix in a desperate scenario.

And sir, I'm no hero. I do what's best, but I ain't no run of the mill babyface. While I want to kick Senn's face in, that's not to save OWA from him, that was never my goal. My intentions of kicking Senn and you in the face is what is wrapped around y'alls waist. And I'm not a hero to a lot of the fans as I hear them with their "Fuck You Brandon!" chants, or their disgusting remarks to me in public with my little girl there to encounter it. Ryo, I'm not a hero, and that's bad news for you. Because I will do ANYTHING it'll take to make sure you stay down for the three count. I will tie you up in the ropes and repeatedly kick your skull in over and over and over again if I have to in order for your shoulders to remain planted on that mat during the count. After what happened at Game Over, I don't need people telling me "oh you were my MVP of that match!" NO! I'M SICK OF BEING THE FAVOURITE IN THE LOSS! And I'm sick of the Frontline reject that even fucking Blacklist wouldn't accept that only gotten the slightest of support was because you got motherfuckers in the back feeling bad for you tell me I ain't gonna do shit."

Brandon stands up from the tombstone, running his hand on the top granite before bringing both hands though his hair.

"I want you to spend how ever long as you need to prepare for the end of your title reign as it just started. I want you to prepare for the three words that will haunt you for the rest of your life. It's not going to be "Die Ryo Die", or even "Brandon Fucking Hendrix". Now the three words that will haunt you is:

Winner
And
New

That will haunt you as it'll be heard when we go one on one and when I pin you to the mat, your life will crumble around as you hear "your winner and neeeeewwwwww Omega Alliance Wrestling Prestige Champion! BRANDON HENDRIX!" It'll be heard all over the world, from Japan to Russia. From Mexico to Canada. From Africa to Korea. From Saudi Arabia to Istanbul Turkey. And at the end of it all, the boys will all be eating good. What can I say about my group Ryo is we’re more ghosts than people, and it's a fact. Elsewhere, people treat us as nonexistent and try to bury us for their bullshit bias ways. Here? We're throat slashing, bullets to domes, stomping skulls in killers that rule the land of OWA. I was the missing piece of the puzzle at Game Over from a clean sweep, and I let them down the first time. And I'm going to fucking kill myself trying to right that wrong."

Brandon licks his upper lip slightly before a devilish grin appears on his face. He backs up slowly, standing on top of where the hole of his grave is digged up.

"This company will move on easily after you lose. Your short time in the spotlight is over. Your short time gaining roses and any love you believe you deserve is over Ryo Sakazaki. And as you think I'd beg for mercy, you never fucking studied me. I'd spit in your face and ask you to fucking try to end me before I'd ever beg for mercy.. And as I mutilate your corpse, rendering you to the afterlife in order to take that title off you, I want you to imagine something. I want you to imagine what would happen if you won. Your beliefs of winning, standing over me with your title in one hand, and my heart in the other, imagine it. Unfortunately, this isn't no fairytale ending, Ryo. The Grinning Demon losing his grin, forced to walk off back to Sleepy Hollows with no title, no showcase of your talent, no anything. Afterwards, OWA will have no choice but to drop your dyslexic ass from anywhere near my title. Ryo……"

Brandon looks down at the ground before kneeling down, grabbing a handful of dirt from the ground, then stands ups, holding his hand up.

""I will be there at Olympus. You don't scare me. Not even fucking God scares me, and by the time I'm done with you, Project Honor wouldn't even want you. So hold onto your championship for as long as you can, because come September 10th, 2022 at Olympus Night Of Champions, you're not getting the Brandon Hendrix that took his eye off the ball and got pinned by Silver Kazama. You're not getting the Brandon Hendrix that failed to win the Icarus Championship. You're not getting the Brandon Hendrix that backstage tried to fail the moment I came back by labeling me "Legacy Of Project Honor" or an outsider when I belong here more than most. Nah, You're getting the Baddest Motherfucker On Olympus. You're getting the [b]BASED GOD. You're getting Main Event. You're getting the MAN and that man is going to rip your throat out and become the new

Omega
Alliance
Wrestling
Prestige
Champion

I'll see you at Olympus Ryo Sakazaki, be prepared to suffer a fate worse than death."[/b]

DT The Ruler, marielacorriveau and DGS have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos September 8th 2022, 7:56 am by **Rebecca Brookes**

❝ UNITED IN GRIEF. ❞
vs Skylar Arceneaux (Athena’s Cup First Round)⠀//⠀ODYSSEY S5, E5.⠀//⠀#001

I’VE BEEN GOING THROUGH SOMETHING
FOUR HUNDRED AND TWENTY-EIGHT DAYS
I’VE BEEN GOING THRO—

Ashley Walker: Rebecca Brookes JUST gets back inside and oh...oh I think I’m gonna be sick…

(There is an audible gasp throughout the crowd as Rebecca Brookes staggers to her feet with blood pouring out of a cut on her eye.)

Gia Cervantes: Oh fuck me! There’s blood GUSHING out of that eye! I don’t think either woman even realizes! It must have been caused by that elbow shot! Rebecca hammers Hana with more elbows but they’re heavily laboured, Irish whip into the rope...Rebecca drops for a body drop but Hana stops and kicks her right in the face!

(The camera zooms in on Hana Nakajima’s face as she notices all of the blood gushing from Rebecca’s eye.)

—

Gia Cervantes: Elle Halen’s gonna have to call this! There’s no way this can continue! Hana gets the mount and keeps on hammering down the punches! She is relentless! Rebecca Brookes is done- WAIT! NO! REBECCA GRABS THE NECK! DARK MOON! THE DARK MOON IS LOCKED IN! THE BAR ARM SLEEPER! HANA NAKAJIMA’S FACE IS ONE OF PANIC! THE BLOODY VISAGE OF REBECCA BROOKES IS CHOKING THE LIFE OUT OF HER MORTAL ENEMY! IF THIS HOLD IS IN ANY LONGER, HANA’S GONNA GO TO SLEEP!

Ashley Walker: BUT THE BLOOD! THERE’S TOO MUCH BLOOD! THERE ISN’T ANY FRICTION! HANA MANAGES TO SLIP HER HEAD OUT OF THE HOLD AND HEADBUTTS THE EYE OF REBECCA BROOKES! AND NOW SHE’S GOT THE CRUCIFIX MOUNT! REBECCA’S ARMS ARE PINNED TO THE FLOOR AND HANA IS REPEATEDLY ELBOWING THE EYE! SHE’S NOT STOPPING! ELBOW AFTER ELBOW AFTER ELBOW!

—

(The crowd boo as Elle Halen pulls Hana Nakajima off of the battered and bloodied Rebecca Brookes. Rebecca is lying motionless as EMTs rush to the ring and try to stop the bleeding from her eye. Hana Nakajima raises her hands and smiles.)

Rebecca Sawyer: Ladies and gentlemen, Odyssey senior official Elle Halen has determined that due to a severe eye laceration, Rebecca Brookes is unable to continue. Therefore, your winner of this match due to a referee stoppage, and advancing to the semi-finals of the Athena’s Cup tournament...HANA NAJAAAAJIIIMMAAAA!!!

(The boos only get louder as Hana climbs to the middle rope and raises her arms, celebrating as though she’s won the entire tournament itself. ‘Queen for Queen’ by Motionless in White kicks in but it barely drowns out the ire of the crowd.)

—I’VE BEEN GOING THROUGH SOMETHING
BE AFRAID

—

JULY 10TH, 2021
CHARLOTTE, NORTH CAROLINA

This war that she’s been through– it’s unlike anything that she had ever been a part of.

Vulnerability isn’t something that she’s used to feeling– but when she does feel it, the pain that is brought onto her is somewhat uncontrolling, it’s draining of everything she feels as if she’s fought for throughout her whole life. The violence was bound to become life-altering between herself and Hana, it was a given considering how the two seemed to have been close friends with one another before turning into sworn enemies. But that never mattered right now, she just wanted to stand up for herself. All she could think about was trying to get back onto her own two feet, that’s all that she wanted to do– she couldn’t stand being seen as vulnerable. Rebecca couldn’t stand to see herself becoming the fallen hero, the hero that couldn’t save anyone, and as she crawled out of the ring and rolled out– she placed her feet down onto the floor below, however, the blood wasn’t done dripping from where the cut right above her eye was.

It was continuously gushing as she leaned along the apron, staring down at the plain white canvas being covered with the crimson red of her own blood, and as she stared down at her own blood– it was like she was staring at her own reflection, she stared at a part of herself that hasn’t been exposed in quite some time, and for good reason, it’s a moment that she doesn’t even seem to speak about at all. Medical staff came rushing down to the ringside area to help Rebecca get to the back and to get herself cleaned up, every fan watching the aftermath unfold right in front of their very eyes are speechless, they’re morbidly shocked to their core. This wasn’t the same Rebecca Brookes that went through everyone on the roster at cruising speed trying to prove that she was cut out to being the best of the best– no, this was different, a different kind of Rebecca Brookes and one that was set out to remain for as long as it takes to recover from a moment like this.

Rebecca continued to push the medical staff away as they tried to help her—she wanted to walk all on her own, but the blood loss was something that became weakening to her, making her unable to stand on her own two feet or even walk in a straight line without stumbling or falling over her own two feet. Again, she was helpless, she was vulnerable, she was weak— feelings that she never ever wanted to experience for quite some time and feelings that she came to hate as time went on.

This was a night that Rebecca would soon never forget.

—

SEPTEMBER 9TH, 2022
SEOUL, SOUTH KOREA

“Four hundred and twenty-seven days.”

That’s how long it has been ever since Rebecca Brookes had competed in her first-ever Athena’s Cup Tournament and she remembered every single moment from it, she hadn’t forgotten that eventful night where she was at her lowest, her most vulnerable, and it’s been eating away at her ever since. For those four hundred and twenty-seven days, she’s become a somewhat different woman than how she was seen back then– something snapped in her after that violent assault and she never took anything lightly. Her focus was never there, her focus was elsewhere, trying to not fall back onto those same mistakes, and yet, she always did. She always found herself becoming a self-saboteur to herself.

And it’s how she felt heading into this weekend. Rebecca stood in the exact same spot that she poured blood down, her hands placed upon the ring apron as she just stared down at that same spot, vividly remembering a moment where she could see her own reflection within her blood, like it was staring right back at her. A more dark and twisted side of her own self.

A deep breath is soon taken before she could speak.

“History created a version of me that I wasn’t happy with.”

She softly spoke, leaning against the ring apron, a deadpan expression resting along her face as she sighed, reminding herself of that night in particular.

“A lot has happened—and changed—ever since that night where I let my guard down in the Athena’s Cup last year and became a victim, not a defeated opponent, but a victim of what became of Hana Nakajima. I was slowly becoming someone that I just wasn’t and I didn’t seem to like how I was not able to control myself. When I took the break, the hiatus after Clash of The Titans, I slowly began to finally find my own feet on the ground. I realized, once I had come back, that I was outmatched in terms of everything. The ring rust was one thing but I slipped for one second, let my guard down, and everything came crashing down in my own point of view.”

She paused for a second.

“I’ve spent my time trying to find a way to bounce back, with as much effort as I could’ve possibly put into what’s next for me, and to find myself in the same situation as I was four hundred and twenty-seven days ago? I realize that life has given me a second chance to allow myself to not let guards be taken down, not let my own vulnerability be taken control of by others, and to allow myself to break free from that mindset that I just can’t seem to slip free from. I’m aware of the many names that are in this tournament as it stands right now, there’s many big names already vying for a chance to make it or break it in the Athena’s Cup this year.

The problem, however, is that I cannot allow – nor stand – for anyone to take this from me.

An opportunity to be given a chance to face Skylar Arceneaux is something I’ve been dying to have ever since she arrived to Odyssey some time last year– although, she seemed more preoccupied by the fact that she was fighting off names like Azurine Vebbins and Devi Krysis, also teaming with Nakita DuBov, along her initial journey before she suddenly vanished into thin air. Though, it seemed like she came back out of nowhere – much like how she disappeared – and wanted to take control of everything that’s here. Even, somehow, bringing in Tarah Nova which is… quite impressive for her own track record.

I do hope you’re seeing the picture painted here, Skylar, because what you might see as your greatest feats? Means nothing compared to anything that anyone has proven and done here on Odyssey— you showed to be something, but you managed to accomplish nothing, and continued to stand that path as you walked through hell and back to get here. Whilst some could’ve been impressed with how hot you seemed to have been out of the gates the first time, I’m just impressed that you seemingly chose to come back after all this time to try and reinvent yourself. Seems like that’s the theme for this year’s Athena’s Cup, huh.

To reinvent yourself.”

Rebecca stopped for a moment, turning her whole body around to finally face the camera.

“I’m sure that inside of your mind, Skylar, you had this vision to make the return statement that you so desperately wanted to have, to prove that you’re not a joke like you seemed to have been in your initial run— however, I only come to this Athena’s Cup tournament to make examples out of others that step in my way. You’ve been able to capture your own moment when you came back and you were able to make Tarah Nova return– bravo to you on being the special person to fit that role, but your bravado ends right there because I’m not looking to fail this opportunity to capture the Athena’s Cup – let alone to even exit out of the first round – so anything that you’ve envisioned for yourself in the future? Up in smoke, every last bit of it.

I am not aiming to overthrow what complex you seem to stand upon, or sit upon the shoulders of, but I am aiming to quite simply put you in your place and make you be shown what it means to be nothing more than a nobody, something that many should should’ve – if not had already – seen from the beginning. The Athena’s Cup isn’t going to be yours for the taking, Skylar. You do not define where you will place, I am what defines where you stand—and here, in my world, you’re nothing more than a stone along a path. Something to walk on– to step over, if you will, and that’s something I aim to show everyone.

So it is spoken.”

Fade to black.

—

The Banshee, marielacorriveau, Chad Ecclestone and DGS have spoken. It’s such good shit!

DAISY CHAIN [KINGDOM 2.1] September 7th 2022, 11:56 pm by **DGS**

09.05.2022
INCHEON METROPOLITAN CITY, SOUTH KOREA
[REDACTED]

David lay atop the sheets in his hotel room, one hand tucked behind his head, the other listlessly doomscrolling his new phone's myriad newsfeeds. The only light came from the bedside lamp, casting everything in dim yellow hues: the room itself was immaculately kept, appearing almost untouched despite him having been there a full three days. The only visible signs of his occupancy were a spartan arrangement of luggage in one corner -- an open carry-on at the base of a desk chair, clothes for the next day laid out neatly atop it -- and his toothbrush and toothpaste arranged side-by-side on an otherwise-spotless bathroom vanity.

For his part, David had yet to dress for bed, had yet to remove his shirt or shoes, had yet to allow the roots of sleep passage into the cracks and crevices of his mind.

Perhaps he knew, on some innate level or another, that sleep would not be his to claim this night. Perhaps experience, myriad and macabre, had taught him to expect and prepare for the rough road by starlight rather than the path paved and sunny.

Perhaps he was just a good guesser.

In any event, he was proven right at three minutes past midnight.

David blinked. Set his phone down beside him. Blinked again, then sat up, scanning the room. Something had changed, an unseen but palpable shift that he couldn't quite quantify. He made to stand, to swing his legs over the edge of the bed and plant his feet on the floor, but found that he couldn't; the attempt was sluggish, his limbs and core no longer working in tandem, and in the end he just sort of flopped over onto his side, no closer to the edge of the bed than he'd been to start.

The change deepened, blooming into a feeling of wrongness, of disconnection. David felt his senses fraying, their purchase on the material world weakening: the feel of the sheets beneath him became vague, distant, like something he'd never experienced himself but had only ever heard about secondhand; the sounds of Incheon's nightlife outside devolved into a blur of white noise; even the interior of the hotel room started to melt before his eyes, objects and colors and the lines that divided and distinguished blurring and running together.

"Wha... " he mumbled incoherently, just barely managing to roll over onto his back.

What's happening to me?

you are more now

David sucked in a deep breath -- even that much had become difficult -- as memory triggered, the words of an entreaty he'd received long ago unraveling before his mind's eye.

you have been exalted

plucked from mortality and cast interminably upward

the baryonic shackles into which you were born are long-destroyed

the set you now wear self-imposed

The ceiling began to swim, a thousand microhues running together in a swirling maelstrom of hasturic golds and yellows. David made to bring a hand to his eyes, to block it out, but the limb would not respond. He had no hands. No arms. No legs or feet.

there is power in these betwixt-spaces

truth that cannot be seen or reached from the corporeal cliffs above

you must leap

There was no room. No bed. No window. No lamp.

you must dive

Only the light, dim and growing dimmer.

you must fall

And fall he did, out of self and space and thought and time.

Darkness.

+
+ + +
+ + + + +
+ + +
+

...

...

... Arthur...

... Donovan...

... Tyler...

... can you hear me? See me? Understand me?

I hope so. These words are for you, and you alone. Long and far have they traveled -- across lightless and soundless plains, shooting the gaps between quark and photon -- all so that they might find you here, at the bottom of the black chasm between hemispheres of your brain. I've neither the time nor the patience for cameras, or microphones, or scripts, or the sort of empty, farcical posturing that has so thoroughly wormed its way into this hallowed craft we ply.

Once, perhaps. Like you. But no longer.

Thus do I approach you like this, and...

And...

...

... and I'm getting the distinct impression that you don't understand. I'm sensing skepticism. Doubt. Maybe a bit of fear, though it'll be a cold day in hell before any of you cop to it. That's all right, though; I was the same way, first time I found myself on the receiving end. It's jarring -- hearing someone else in your head, speaking to you in a voice that both is and isn't yours, almost like they're using your brain to think. If you're anything like I was, your first instinct is probably that you're hallucinating, or that you're dreaming, or that you've taken one hit or pull or toke too many... but rest assured, gentlemen, that this is no illusion. I am no illusion.

I am David Gideon Smith, and I am real in ways you will live out the rest of your lives and die without ever fully understanding.

...

But enough of the abstract. Let's talk tangibles. Let's talk titles.

The only reason I'm deigning to speak to you three at all is because at Kingdom: Vindication: Week One (or however the fuck it's stylized), the four of us are set to square up with Donovan's OWA Outlaw Championship on the line. And Don, there's... well. There's no real nice way to put this: I'll be taking that title from you. Not because I want it -- I am, as you so inelegantly put it, here on a different mission, in pursuit of a different set of objectives. Not because I need it -- if I'm being honest, I can't even recall the last time I challenged for a prize so menial, so meritless. It predates our opponents' professional debuts, certainly; could very well predate yours, too.

But I digress: I'll be taking your title from you, Donovan, not because of want or need, but because doing so is an inevitable, invariable outcome of defeating you.

And make no mistake, I will be defeating you. All of you.

That is the reason I'm here, gentlemen.

To win.

oH, dAViD, I hear you saying. tHAt AIn'T anYthiNG sPeciAL! wE'rE aLL HEre tO wIn!

And to that simple sentiment, gentlemen, I'm afraid I must confess...

I don't think you get it.

I've seen your minds. Your thoughts, your ambitions. Your goals, and wants, and needs.

The sum total of it all makes me want to retch, and yet here I am about to itemize it. I suppose that says more about me than it does about any of you... but again, I digress.

Ready?

...

Arthur Lucideus. Vainglorious ineptitude incarnate. It's been said time and again that a chain is only as strong as its weakest link, and if we're to take that sentiment as gospel then you, Arthur, may very well be the weakest link I've ever been made to share a chain with. Our mutual Kingdom debut told me everything I could ever want or need to know about you: a hapless gloryhound, beset by flimsy material desires. You're here to win, sure, but only because winning, in your mind, represents the best and surest pathway to money. To fame. To the affections of the fairer sex, be they physical or otherwise.

These hollow pursuits are nothing new, of course. You'll have little trouble finding the like-minded no matter where you go in the wrestling world, here in the OWA included. People the world over look at this sport -- my sport -- as a meal ticket: gilded in championship gold, glittering in the glow of spotlights and flashbulbs, positively thrumming with the cheers and roars of untold legions of fans.

Sounds nice, doesn't it? You depthless fucking dreg.

...

I wish I had nicer things to say about you, Tyler. Truly, I do. But the simple fact of the matter is that you are, in fine and in sum, every bit as far out of your depth as Arthur. The driving force behind your presence here may be a sight nobler -- I'm no stranger to the circumstances you hail from, believe you me -- but it is nonetheless predicated on a cold and insidious lie. You may be here to win, but only for the things you believe winning will lead to: a better life for you and yours. Some misguided sense of manhood, or perhaps closure. This fantastical idea you have of a connection with a man whose presence you've never known, yet yearn for all the same.

This is not the way, Tyler. Take heart and take heed: you will not find what you seek in a wrestling ring. Not now, not ever. The coiled road between those ropes is a pathway to despair, madness, and far, far worse... for all but a select and fleeting few. And as I dwell here, looking you in the backs of your eyes, I can say it with no small measure of certainty: you are not among their number.

...

But I'll bet you think you are... isn't that right, Donovan?

Yes, that's right, I'm using the birth name. I've not an ounce of respect for the gimmicks, the fucking caricatures, that so many of the circus clowns plaguing this sport choose to hide behind. You want to claim the title of Master, of Ruler, while stagnating in possession of not only the lowliest championship on Kingdom, but one of the least prestigious in the entirety of the OWA? Don't make me laugh. You're not even the only one doing the bit -- Bishop, Senn, Long, Asakura... am I forgetting anyone? Eh, probably. Doesn't matter.

The point, Don, is that no one's buying it. Myself least of all. Know why?

Because you're no different than the others.

To you, like them, victory is naught but means to an end, a stepping stone to -- in your mind -- bigger and better things. The accumulation of wealth; respect you feel you've earned, that you feel you're owed, but haven't received; glory and prestige and renown, in the annals of a tainted sport where such things will only ever ring hollow. These are the ideals you dedicate yourself to; the principles you predicate yourself upon.

They are also the reasons I'm going to take your title this week, and why neither you nor Tyler nor Arthur are going to be able to stop me.

Do you understand yet, boys? Have I not made it crystal-fucking-clear?

No?

...

Fine. One more try, then.

VICTORY, YOU SIMPLETONS.

OF ITSELF, BY ITSELF, FOR ITSELF.

That is all there is, all there will ever be. You can dissect my words, speculate on and mock my reasons for being here until you're blue in the face, but at the end of it all the truth remains unimpeachable: I am not here for money, or for glory, or to sate my ego or mend my wounded pride or carve my name into hallowed halls I already own the fucking deed to, and come Kingdom you three had better pray to whoever you call god that you can say the same. Because if that bell rings and all you have for me is this -- if you ascend those steps, pass through those ropes, and dare to stand before me with such weak resolve -- then there will be nothing for me to save. Nothing for me to spare. I will do what I do best, what I've done best since before any of you ever laced up a pair of boots.

Don't get it twisted, and don't be deceived by the fact that the Frontline couldn't force me out of first gear.

I am David Gideon Smith. The Black Blade, the Allslayer, muttering to you from the dark behind your own eyes.

And unless you three are able to clutch the fuck up and do something about it, I'm going to walk out of Kingdom: Vindication: Week One: The Vindicating wearing the OWA Outlaw Championship around my waist and dragging a daisy chain of your severed heads behind me.

Diantha Rosso, Scott Oasis, DT The Ruler, PAZ, marielacorriveau and Chad Ecclestone have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos September 7th 2022, 2:41 pm by **"Killer Bee"**

Colorado Springs, Colorado

OWA Promos - Page 19 DowntownCOSprings-native-hero-v2

April wasn’t expecting company. Her home was virtually spotless after weeks of compulsive cleaning and even though she wasn’t planning to go anywhere she was dressed like she was: black jeans, boots, a leather jacket and a red tank top that she was fond of. By now the bottle of Jack Daniels she had been drinking out of most of the previous evening and early morning was about a fourth of the way gone. She studied the bottle and the glass she was pouring it into with a strange, emotionless curiosity. Once she had finally finished pouring it she heard a knock on the door. She didn’t remember anyone saying they were coming over, but she wasn’t doing anything else.

“It’s open. Come in.”

Carlos Rosso was the last person she expected to see walking into her house, but there he was. April offered up a slight wave of the hand as Carlos came in and sat on the couch with her. Without even greeting him she slid the bottle over to him.

“No thanks. I gave it up.”

“....Don’t you still use cocaine?”

“Not really.”

April scoffed as she studied her glass for a moment.

“I managed to drink myself sober. A miracle of the highest order, don’t ya think?”

April downed the glass with one shot, setting it down on a nearby table.

“What are you doing here, C?”

“Well. I just wanted to talk to you a bit, see how you were feeling.”

“......Don’t you have a new job?”

“Yeah. Oasis asked me to go into another one of his crazy ventures. BOB Wrestling. Made me GM and all that.”

“Congrats. You’re not here on a recruiting visit are you? I’m not sure I fit the young and hot mold that’s hip for a developmental brand.”

“Nah. I’m not here for any of that. I’m here because I wanted to talk to you. Been hearing some rumors about how you’ve been cooped up here for the past couple of weeks and I don’t like that. You see, there’s something called the Athena’s Cup tournament that you’re about to get another crack at. Hell, it may be your last crack. Oh, that tournament has people like your girl Hana in it, The Banshee, and a few other names that I probably don’t have to remind you of. And another thing….You’re going to be wrestling goddamn TARAH NOVA in the FIRST ROUND.”

April seems unmoved by everything Carlos is saying, staring blankly ahead as he gives her a chance to respond but gets nothing but silence.

“Oh, and just in case your brain is still foggy from the alcohol…all this happens pretty fucking soon. And you’re nowhere near ready. Physically, you’re fine but up there in your brain and in your heart you’re not right and I understand. I understand you were trying to save Hana and you couldn’t. Life is about choices and she made hers and has to deal with whatever comes. I know you’re still smarting from losing that Championship against Filth, even if you weren’t involved in the decision. I’ve lost titles and everyone who has been in this sport has lost one if they held it. Not too many people go out perfectly. I know you’re hurt but don’t fucking lay down for Tarah! Don’t you get it? She wants to hurt you, humiliate you, retire you, just to send a message. Do. Not. Fucking. Lie. Down. For. Her.”

April’s eyes suddenly have a few tears in them. Eyes that seemed empty earlier are suddenly brimming with emotion.

“I didn’t come here to preach to you. I just wanted you to understand what you’re going up against. You’re one of the first students I ever had. And everyone who has come since from Emmy to Sena to MAELSTROM, to Camille, even Erica. They all look up to you. Don’t let them down. Don’t let your contemporaries down. Don’t let me down. Don’t let Tarah down. Most importantly…don’t fucking let yourself down.”

Carlos gets up and reaches into his suit pocket and casually throws a DVD onto April’s lap.

“What’s this?”

“A present. Something for you to remember who you are. Now stop whining and feeling sorry for yourself and get ready to fight.”

The Title of the DVD? LAW- Lethal Hearts II.

You know something? In my time I’ve seen a lot of people with Messiah complexes come and go on Odyssey. Stephanie Matsuda, Eris, The Dollhouse, Diantha Rosso. All of them promise change, something better. They will save your show, your roster, your company! They’ll make everything better. But the reality is that pretty much everyone of them, to some degree, is nothing more than a self-indulgent asshat who only wants change when it means that they are on top of the wrestling world.

Tarah, I want to know something: When the hell did you turn into one of those assholes?

It’s obvious that you have other feelings about what people thought of you before you stepped away, but let me tell you what I thought of you: you were one of the best wrestlers I’ve ever gotten a chance to know. You’re one of the most skilled, the most resilient and most brutal people who have ever stepped foot in between these ropes. I always considered it an honor to face you. People around the world loved you. I loved you. You got nothing but the utmost in respect from any and everyone on your way out the door. How you can twist this around as people hating you is dumb as hell to me, but we had Donald Trump as President so normal logic doesn’t seem to apply in this world anymore. We get a lot of “Alternative Facts” these days and you seem to enjoy playing around in them.

I’ve never called myself a threat to anything ever since I’ve been here. All I really wanted when I decided to come back for one more season of OWA was to help my friend Hana. But apparently that’s not going to happen. She is slowly but surely losing her mind and there’s nothing I can do about that. I didn’t even want to be in this tournament, honestly. But I’m here. And I definitely didn’t want to be paired up with you, someone who I considered a good friend but that’s just the way my cards were stacked.

But there was something that you said that pissed me off to no end. Not that I used to be helpless. In some ways you’re right about that. I was helpless when it came to my struggles after coming home from Afghanistan. But I eventually figured it out. It’s not that you said I let you down, because I did let you and everyone else down when I lost the title to Filth. That hurt me and I know so many people, like you probably were, were hoping that either myself or Stephanie could win. But….it’s the way that you dismissed the brand itself. Like it’s just here for you to roll over, to conquer like you’re some fucking colonizer from the 1600s.

Let me be plain as I can be: There are fifteen names in the history of the OWA Women’s World Championship. Not a fucking one of them is Tarah Nova. Mine is.

There are eight names in the history books when it comes to the OWA Goddesses Championship and once again Tarah’s name is not fucking one of them. Mine is.

You were not the reason that the OWA made it fit to bring Women’s Tag Team Championships here. All the tag teams that have appeared, even going back to the Dollhouse and the Iron Squadron days with me Diantha, Filth’s new crew….Liz and Alyssa, your alleged best friend…THEY ARE THE FUCKING REASON THOSE TITLES EXIST, NOT YOU!

YOU WERE NOT THE REASON THAT THE OPENWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP FOUND ITS HOME HERE!

YOU ARE NOT THE REASON THAT ODYSSEY IS WHAT IT IS OR GROWN HOW IT IS TODAY! YOU DON'T LIKE REBECCA!? YOU DON’T LIKE MAGNUM? YOU DON’T LIKE ANY OF THESE OTHER GIRLS WHO HAVE WORKED THEIR ASSES OFF LIKE NAMI AND GWEN HARPER AND THE BANSHEE AND ALYSSA AND DIANTHA? PEOPLE WHO HAVE BEEN HERE FROM THE BEGINNING AND WORKED THEIR ASSES OFF WHEN NOBODY THOUGHT WE WOULD LAST, LIKE WE WOULD BE SOME SHORT TERM THING LIKE EAW’S EMPIRE. YOU THINK YOU CAN JUST COME BACK HERE AND SHIT ON ALL OF OUR WORK!?

GO. FUCK. YOUR. SELF.

We have spent time building something special here for years, and just because you’re bored in retirement suffering from Empty Nest Syndrome or whatever the fuck you want to come back here and call the shots? It doesn’t work like that and you know it. Oh, by the way. There was something else that stood out to me. Maybe all those hardcore matches and deathmatches you have kinda fucked up your memory, but you have some nerve to talk about what was going to happen if you came back to LAW to try to wrestle me for the Lethal Angels Championship. And you know why I say that? Unlike YOU, someone here remembers the last time April Song and Tarah Nova wrestled in the same ring together!

Yeah, you look different now. That stupid Karen haircut and you’ve gotten quite the case of weight gain, especially in the chest. Was it stress eating from watching other people build a brand that you couldn’t attach yourself to? It was supposed to be Once In A Lifetime. You remember how that match ended right? THREE NORTHERN LIGHTS BOMBS. BRAVE BIRD.

One.

Two.

Three.

And that was that. You lost. You saw how tenacious I was in a friendly fight, and now you want to come back to OWA with a fucking savior complex, come to Odyssey where you have done NOTHING and pretend that we’re all supposed to think the universe revolves around your ass?

I don’t fucking think so. You know a lot of these girls who have been here may just consider you a legend, someone they don’t know and have only seen on their television screens. They see you and know the reputation and they’re scared or at the very minimum flustered. That’s not gonna work with me sweetheart. I’ve known you for years. I knew you before you and Nasir even got hitched. I knew you when we wept and cried over the tragedy of losing mutual friends and I knew you when we celebrated our milestones and achievements. You’re not an untouchable legend to me, sweetheart.

You’re a human being, like the rest of us.

And just like all the rest, like the Banshee and Aria Jaxon and Azumi Goto and Stephanie Matsuda: you can be hurt. You bleed like us. You sweat like us. And you can get dropped on your fucking head just like us.

I’ve done it before and I’ll do it again.

You think I’m just some animal for you to hunt, some statistic to spout off for your next promo? I’m not. You want to come here and show that you can learn some new tricks? Great. I’m going to show you some of my OLD tricks. You want trophies? I have several on offer for you: the scars that I’m going to leave on your body. The memories rekindled of all the damage I can do to your knees. And a subtle reminder that even though you’re a legend and someone I have a lot of respect for…if you piss me off, I’m more than willing to flip the switch and go back to being the Old April…the one you do NOT want to see, the one that NO ONE wants to see in this tournament.

I’m gonna turn the Shock Collar off on Odyssey and this time it’s gonna be a PERMANENT OUTAGE.

The Banshee, Rebecca Filth, DT The Ruler, Krysis, Felix Hartley and marielacorriveau have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos September 7th 2022, 2:47 am by **PAZ**

Validation

“One….”

He had it. He had it. For the third time tonight, Rich Gatsby was about to lose the Icarus Championship. This scramble was every bit as chaotic as advertised. With powerhouses and big boys like Brandon Hendrix, De’Marion, and Bob Osterland, along with the quicker cruiserweights like El Landerson and Silver Kazama, trying to survive the Icarus Championship Scramble was not going to be easy.

There were seconds left, but all it took was three pounds of the mat for Rich Gatsby to lose everything - once again.

He came into the match with a game plan: beat the others and make them beat him before the final bell rings. Bob just so happened to be in Gatsby’s way, so Bob needed to get dropped on his head with the Gatsplex. Rich nearly tore a muscle trying to hoist big Bob’s bitch ass up… but he did it. For the first time in his OWA career, he was a champion. The next time around, De’Marion had the title, which meant De’Marion needed to get de’shit pounced out of him. Another big man that needed to get dropped on his head. And with minutes to spare, Gatsby thought he needed to put away Hendrix to secure the victory, but it was Silver Kazama who he had to worry about.

He tried to steal the championship away from Big GAT. This newcomer, trying to make a splash in his return to professional wrestling, only problem was that it was in Rich’s waters. Kazama thought he “had it won, but he underestimated the two-time interim Icarus Champion. Gatsplex. Murdah Bomb. Pin fall. Make that three-time.

Enter the Mexican.

“Two…”

If you had told Rich Gatsby that he was going to lose this match to El Landerson, he would’ve looked you in the eye and laughed his ass off. The way Fifty laughed his ass off as he drove away in The Entourage. But lo and behold, Rich stared at the lights as the lil’ Mexican motherfucker held on to Rich’s leg with all his lil’ Mexican strength and used all his lil’ Mexican weight to cover him. His eyes bugged the fuck out. He could barely breathe. The way Fifty could barely breathe as he hung upside down at the SuperBowl this year.

“Thr-”

But that’s not how the story ended.

As much as El Landerson tried, Rich Gatsby simply used his brute strength to kick out. And for the first time - officially - in his OWA career, Rich Gatsby was finally a champion. He sat up and looked at the five dejected men around the ring. He nodded at Brandon Hendrix and winked at El Landerson. As the ref gave him the Icarus Title, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief. Validation. Something he felt he needed as part of the OWA roster. The losses in big matches were piling up, but this win helped change the momentum of Rich’s OWA career.

He was finally a champion. And with the championship comes the challengers. All of which The Juggernaut was ready for.

- - - - - - - - - -

There’s always a line on Evergreen Avenue. The main attraction on this street is a small hole-in-the-wall restaurant known for its enormous portions and delicious Mexican cuisine. Visitors from far away along with locals bravely waited an hour in unbearable Southern California heat just to have a taste of that world-famous burrito.

“This shit ain’t easy, man…”

Rich sat at a table outside of El Tepayac on a sunny day in Los Angeles, wearing a red muscle tank top and black shorts. In front of him was an all-beef burrito. Normally, a man like Gat would stay away from this type of food. His physique required a lot of work. He chiseled away every day, lifting weights and keeping a strict diet.

But today, he just felt like eating a bomb-ass burrito.

“I’ve been down this road before. Almost everywhere I go, I snatch crowns. Almost everywhere I go, I become a champion. ALPHA Wrestling Triple Crown Champion. Strong Style Wrestling Warlord Champion. And now? Omega Wrestling Alliance’s Olympus Icarus Champion. Fam, I am on a different level than y’all,” Gatsby said with a smirk. He cut into his burrito, as he continues. “I told y’all that the Game was barely gettin’ started at Game Over. I went in wit’ every weapon in my arsenal. I brought my Gatsplexes, my Murdah Bombs, my SDLBs. I brought the muh’fuckin’ ruckus ‘n’ it got me the Icarus Championship!”

Right now would’ve been a good time to raise his title in the air, but being in the middle of Los Angeles with that amount of gold while eating a burrito would probably have been a bad idea.

“This Icarus Championship, y’all must’ve just thought this shit ain’t mean nothin’, huh? Leavin’ this title off of the pay-per-view ‘n’ on the pre-show is some bullshit move. Y’all put some respect on the fuckin’ title I hold, naw’m sayin’? Shit’s important to me; it means more to me than it ever did to muh’fuckas like Noah Reigner ‘n’ Darkane ‘n’ James Diamond who vacated this title to move on to better things. My guy, when I’m holdin’ this title, it’s fuckin’ THE TITLE. I don’t give a fuck about Immortals or keeping the Prestige! Nah, homie. Big Gat with the strap means that the Icarus Championship is the most important title in Olympus!” Gatsby claimed with conviction. “This ain’t me callin’ out Jacob Senn or Ryo Sakazaki. I ain’t gotta do all that, see. What I’m sayin’ is that the Icarus Championship ain’t finna be vacated by Big Gat. Nah, I ain’t droppin’ this title cuz this title needs someone like me to uphold the reputation that this title deserves. If y’all ain’t know ‘bout Big Gat, I ain’t the type a’ homie who fights his ass off to win a championship only to drop it when the grass green elsewhere. Nah, fuck that. Muh’fuckas gotta know that the Icarus Championship is the title of Olympus. And I intend to prove that each ‘n’ every time I go out there to defend it against whoever y’all put against me. Best believe Rich Gatsby finna throw bombs wit’ any muh’fucka’ in the ring wit’ me ‘n’ you damn sure best believe that I’m going out there to have the match of the fuckin’ night - every fuckin’ night!”

Rich Gatsby was and always will be a fighting champion. He learned the importance of being a champion, and the necessity to fulfill the obligations of a champion. If the champion were booked in a match, no matter what the situation, you have to be ready - need to be ready - to defend that title at all costs. You fight as if your life depended on it, simple as that.

“I know there are people out there who wait for the perfect opportunity to fight you. I remember fighting Graham Baker himself in a Cage of Deathmatch for a title, only to lose that title days later after Graham beat the shit out of me and kicked my jaw off with glass shards in my fuckin’ mouth,” Gatsby poked his tongue on the side of his cheek, where a scar from his deadly battle with The Aviator remained. “I remember serenading the streets of LA after becoming the undisputed champion, only to have a mentor and a friend betray me, stab me in the back, and take that same undisputed championship away from me. Those loses taught me about what it meant bein’ a champion. Those loses made me understand just how red the target on my fuckin’ back is. I know y’all gunnin’ for me. I know you thought you was about to win this Icarus Championship, Silver Kazama, but what you didn’t know, homie, was the people you was in the ring wit’. You ain’t know nothin’ ‘bout how Brandon Hendrix… how dude had to fight with all his heart to get to where he at today. You ain’t know about how Bob Osterlund promised his family that he’d bring home the title in my possession. You ain’t know nothin’ ‘bout El fuckin’ Landerson ‘n’ his sneaky lil’ ass,” Gatsby shook his head before he took a quick bite of his burrito. He still shuddered at the thought of losing to a man who weighed less than his right leg. “But I know a lil’ ‘bout ‘chu, Kazama. I know you are a ring veteran - someone who’s been doin’ this all over the world for years. I know that after much trial and tribulations, you won your first World Title almost ten years after you debuted. And I know you’ve come back to professional wrestling because you missed it… and that’s when you signed with OWA.”

“Lemme tell you about me, Kazama.”

“I came to professional wrestling the same way you returned. I went to a wrestling match ‘n’ watched the beauty of brutality in person. Y’see, I was security for the homie Shotgun on his world tour, ‘n’ Shotgun loved this wrestling shit. Would talk about it constantly for days on end. He took my ass to a show in Japan ‘n’, my man, I was fuckin’ hooked!” Gatsby tapped his forearm with two fingers, “Inject that shit in my veins, bruh! So I set off trainin’ in shitty lucha rings in Los Angeles till I got to go to Japan ‘n’ train in that strong style shit,” Gatsby explained, taking a moment to collect his thoughts. “Just like y0u, Kazama. I was bit by the bug ‘n’ I wanted more. But y’see, my guy, that’s where the similarity stops. While you was fuckin’ around in the indies your first three years. I went on to become a Triple Crown Champion, winning my first World title within a year of my fuckin’ debut, homie! Don’t get it twisted, these losses I had in OWA were against the best OWA had to offer. Graham Baker ‘n’ I go way back. Noah Reighner was the fuckin’ Immortal Champion at the time who was on fire ‘n’ I brought him to the fuckin’ limit. And Elijah Hampton? Bro, that dude is a real one who deserves another shot at Senn for that championship, but that ain’t my battle to fight.What I’m sayin’, Kazama, is that you ain’t fightin’ no rook. You ain’t fightin’ a dude who ain’t got his shit together,”

Gatsby scoffed. He knew that not everyone knew of him. People in this industry come from different circles. If seeing him in action at Game Over wasn’t enough, Gatsby wanted to make it clear of just who Kazama was stepping in the ring with.

“Don’t get it twisted, homie. I got nothin’ but respect for you. You almost had me at Game Over when you kicked my head ‘n’ pinned Brandon Hendrix in those last few minutes. You was in that ring the entire match, killin’ it. It was like you never left, bruh!” Gatsby’s excitement dwindled. He interlocked his fingers and stared directly into the camera. “But Silver Kazama, when you get in that ring wit’ Big GAT? You best believe I ain’t just some fuckin’ chump ‘n’ you damn well best believe I ain’t finna slip at all like I did at Game Over. Nah, homie. I’m the fuckin’ Icarus Champion. And I ain’t walkin’ into Turk Telecom Arena to lose that fuckin’ strap to a dude who ain’t even been back more than ten minutes! Turkey finna find out exactly what the Icarus Championship means to me, just like you will, Kazama. Be ready for a war, my guy. Ain’t nobody finna be in that ring but you ‘n’ me. ”

“Try as you might, I ain’t ready to give that title up. And as much as they wanna push this title off to the pre-show and the mid-card, you ‘n’ I both know exactly what this title means. Silver Kazama…”

Diantha Rosso, DT The Ruler, Felix Hartley, Chad Ecclestone and DGS have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos September 7th 2022, 2:32 am by **DampshawIIIఒ**

The windows of the Dampshaw Estate are cracked open. It is a hot and muggy night. August is high Summer in England, after all. There’s a hum in the air. It’s a summer sound -- that kind of droning, like an organ -- like someone playing an electric organ. It's the sound of the heat haze.

There's no breeze blowing through the trees outside, so it's stifling inside the estate as well. The three-story building is silent except for the buzzing sounds of flies and mosquitoes. And the occasional distant bark of some dog. A large fountain at the centre of the garden has stopped flowing and is just filled with water droplets from its carved stone nymph's breasts.

Reginald sits on the windowsill looking at the dying garden below, drinking his third glass of scotch while watching the lights of the city reflecting off of the clouds above him. He then throws his empty tumbler out the window, onto the grassy lawn next to the fountain and watches it shatter into pieces. Though he and JD Damon won at Game Over, the psychological effects of the Mushroom Mayhem match are still affecting him. He has barely slept since the PPV when he returned to the mansion after winning the match. That was 10 days ago. Reginald takes yet another swig of scotch. The alcohol seems to make things more real in his head...and less clear.

Reginald looks back through the open window and sees that a few stars have already begun shining brightly overhead. He knows he should probably get some sleep soon. He tries closing his eyes but is interrupted by the things he sees when his eyes are shut. After only a few moments of trying to sleep, Reginald shoots out of bed, unable to stay still. His heart is racing like it's about to explode from his chest. It feels as if someone just turned on all of the lights inside his body at once. And now they're burning brighter than ever before. He walks into an empty room, with only an old camcorder on a tripod. He turns it on, sits down in a chair and begins speaking.

"There aren't many people who know what really happened at Game Over...or rather, what didn't happen at Game Over. I was at my most vulnerable then and the only person there was J.D...he had to help me." Reginald pauses for a moment, remembering how JD was able to calm him down after the match ended and bring him back to reality.

Reginald takes another swig from the bottle of scotch on his desk and continues: "But that's over now. We won. We beat Stark and Kyle, even amongst all of those hallucinations and madness. I was so delirious that I even felt remorse at one time for JDs attacks on Kyle. I was truly out of my mind.”

Reginald looks around at the walls of the Dampshaw Estate and notices some pictures he hasn't seen in a while. He picks up one photograph in particular which shows himself and JD with their arms draped over each other's shoulders backstage years ago in CWF.

“I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t a little nostalgic teaming with you again, JD.” Reginald says as he places the picture down onto the table next to the bottle of scotch. “But nostalgia is in the realm of fools. That was the way of the old Reginald. The one that’s locked away for good. Our team up, while nice, is over now. Us teaming together was a matter of convenience. We both got what we wanted and now at Vindication, we have a World Championship opportunity.”

Reginald stands up from his chair and begins walking towards the windows of his estate. He looks out through the broken panes of glass and sees the moon shining brightly above him. A few stars are already visible too...

“In the eternity of years I’ve been roaming around this planet, I’ve seen millions of people die, never to be seen again. After about the 2000th, you really get numb to it all.” Reginald continues. "I remember seeing you fall, Michael, we all did . I may not have been at the Season 5 Kickoff Show physically, but I witnessed it. What Arata Asakura did to you was...unspeakable, wasn't it? But what did I tell you all about Arata? The second he took that Spartan Championship from me and I followed him all the way to Wrestleworld, I told him and I told you all that I infected him and my poison would slowly but surely start to change him. No one believed me. No one listened to me. They all said it was just more of my insane ramblings. But here we are over a year later and...was I wrong? Did anything I say about him not come true? I told you all that I was the evil lurking inside Arata and he finally embraced that. It feels strange to say, but I'm proud of him."

Reginald then looks back at his empty bottle of scotch and picks up the photograph of himself with JD again. He begins tearing it into little pieces which flutter down onto the ground below.

"Now Michael. I don't know how you came back from the dead and frankly, I don't really care how it happened. I just know that you are at the top of the mountain. You are our proud champion. But here's the thing, Michael. You probably think you know what you're getting into when you step into the ring with me. You've been in matches with me before, right? No, no , no." Reginald says while shaking his head as if to clear it of any thoughts or images. "How many times do I have to say this before I make this clear? That was the pathetic, cowardly shell of a man Reginald. No wonder you beat him. No wonder anyone beat him! He was a disgusting worm. You are looking into the eyes of the endless, the ageless, the boundless Time Lizard."

Reginald begins to laugh loudly and laughs so hard he has to sit on his hands to stop them from trembling.

"The only reason I came back to OWA was for one thing, and that was to become World Champion. The New Dawn will reign supreme after all this time. So much time locked away in that blasted cage, having to watch that worm defile the Dampshaw and The New Dawn's name. I don't want the championship for the money, or the fame, but because a champion garners respect. Respect garners notoriety and notoriety garners followers."

Reginald continues talking as he fidgets in his chair. "Neither you nor JD are going to stop me this time. Not after what I went through in the jungle. Not after what I saw during Game Over. The clarion call can be heard from thousands of miles away. The sky is cracking open and the dawn...the dawn is breaking. The beauty and the terror...it's all coming. When I raise that OWA World Championship over my head at Vindication, all of that time locked away..suffering...always asleep but unable to dream. Always seeing but unable to scream....it'll all be worth it. JD....Michael...You both have to fall so I can rise."

Reginald looks down towards his empty tumbler of scotch on the desk. He then picks up another bottle of liquor which contains only an inch of amber liquid. Reginald drinks from this new bottle until it's gone, just like he did with the last one.

Re: OWA Promos September 7th 2022, 12:43 am by **KEKOA**

The camera feed slowly fades in, showing the interior of the magnificent house known as “Elite Manor.” Within the dining area of the house, we see a large dinner table surrounded by many chairs. At the very far end of the table sits The Rogue Wolf himself, sitting in an enormous chair. His elbows sit on the table firmly with his head in his hands. His long, dark hair is pulled back in a bun as he stares down at the wooden floor below him. He slowly lifts up his head, his brown eyes are encircled with deep, dark rings around them, he obviously hasn’t been sleeping much, either that or something has been keeping him awake at night.

“I won.”

“I fucking won!”

His words echo throughout the dining room of his large house. His face lights up with glee.

“I did exactly what I set out to do. Destroy both Kyle and Stark. Two men who have been nothing but a thorn in my side for months now - FOR MONTHS. And I did it. I finally put an end to the two. Mushroom Mayhem was… a trip… to say the absolute least. I’m not really sure what the fuck that was. This is coming from a guy who has been to a different dimension not once, but twice. I would rather go to war with an Elder God and Abholos any day of the week than have to go to the dark depths of where I went at Game Over. Fucking sketchy, if you ask me. I mean did you see… did you see what I did?! I ripped a man’s heart out of his chest. His heart was in my hand. His beating heart was in my grasp. That’s something that people only dream about. Dream?! What am I saying?! No, no. People don’t dream about that shit. Not normal people anyways. That’s something I have only witnessed while watching Nightmare on Elm Street. That’s the kind of thing that will mess with a man’s head, you know? That’s something… that’s… well, it’s something. It’s definitely something.”

Damon slumps down in the chair, as he relives what transpired at Game Over. Damon’s eyes grow wide as replays the entire encounter with Kyle and Stark through his head. It seems like minutes go by, but it was only seconds, before he violently shakes his head to snap out of it.

“I did what I had to do to prove to every single fucking person in the locker room just who J.D. Damon truly is. I’m not a fluke. I’m not someone’s lap dog. I’m not someone who just stands in the shadow of others, despite everything that has gone on in the past. I am a warrior. A motherfucking monster. I was once one of the most feared men in the wrestling world, and the result of Game Over should prove just that. However, there’s someone who just doesn’t see it that way. There is one individual in particular who just doesn’t get it. Michael Bishop. Michael fucking Bishop. Our current reigning and defending OWA World Champion. A man who I have gone to war with… and against. A man who I have watched very closely for years now. A man who I have watched very closely rise up through the ranks of this industry. A man who absolutely deserves every single thing that he has accomplished. A man who… still doubts me. Michael Bishop is a man who I helped -”

Damon gets out of his chair violently as it flings back behind him against a chain cabinet, breaking a few things inside of it.

“I FUCKING HELPED YOU MICHAEL AND YOU KNOW IT!”

Damon slams his fists down on the table as he stares into the camera with wide eyes.

“I helped you, Michael. Whether you want to believe it or not, I helped you. I helped to get you to where you are today. You want to claim that you didn’t hold me back? You want to say that you never once held me back? Give me a break, Bishop! You are just as delusional as the rest of The Frontline. It seems to me that you have been hanging around Jeff and Sabertooth a little too much… and it obviously shows. Inconsistent? You want to call me inconsistent? I’m not quite sure what is currently going through your head, Bishop, but if my calculations are correct, then my current run with this company has been two years. Inconsistent? Bitch, I have been one of the more consistent people on this roster as of late. You want to talk about inconsistencies? That word is what defines Reginald Dampshaw. If you look in the Webster Dictionary under the word “inconsistent” you will see a big smiling photo of Reginald Dampshaw. So maybe you should get some of your facts straight and call that son of a bitch inconsistent. Perhaps you have taken one too many shots to the head to actually remember.”

“Or maybe you are dealing with the early stages of dementia. You never know… It could happen.”

“The fact that I have handed many opportunities and have not been able to capitalize on any of them is irrelevant. Last summer when I was given an opportunity to challenge Jeff for the OWA World Championship… I nearly had the match won. I know it. You know it. Hell, Jeff even knows it. I had the World title within my grasp, Bishop. I had the goddamn match won! I was so close I could taste it. I could taste the victory. It was within my grasp, Bishop. IT WAS WITHIN MY GRASP! But because I didn’t win the match, does that truly make me a failure? Hell no. I gave Jeff a hell of a battle. It just wasn’t the right time, that’s all. Sure, okay, bring up the fact that I have been given two different opportunities to win the World Tag Team Championship, but hey - losing both of those matches was not my fault. Maybe, just maybe, if OWA management actually gave me a half decent tag team partner that I would have ended the reign of Jeff and Chris and they wouldn’t currently be the longest reigning tag team champions in this company’s history. Unfortunately, not everyone can be Scott Oasis’ golden bitch like you. It seems to me like you have that spot already filled. So congratulations on that.”

“You know… I’m not doubting you, Bishop. I’m not doubting you for one second. I know what you are capable of. I know that you are a fighter. A fighting champion, just like you said. But I am also someone who never - NEVER - backs down from a fight. I don’t give a shit who it is. I will never, ever back down from a fight. Will I get my head kicked in? Most likely. I’m not denying that. Will I get my ass kicked from pillar to post? That’s a fucking certain. Will I walk out as the new OWA World Champion? Considering my track record, that you obviously enjoy talking about… probably not. There’s not much I can promise you heading into this match. However, the one thing that I know damn well I can promise you is that I am going to give you one hell of a fight. You’re looking for a fight right, Michael? Then it’s a fight that you will get. My blood may stain the canvas of the ring. My body may be broken and bruised when everything is all said and done, but the one thing I will make sure to leave you with is the image of me not giving up. Even with my last gasping breath… I will show to you that I am not lesser than you, Michael. If anything at all - ANYTHING AT ALL - I will prove to you that I am your equal and deserve to be fighting for that world title. I may not walk out of Kingdom this weekend as the new world champion, but my time will come. And I will love nothing more than to be the motherfucker that knocks you off your high horse.”

Damon slumps back into his chair, as he stares blankly into the camera.

“You know, now that I think about it… you were better off dead.”

Diantha Rosso and Scott Oasis have spoken. It’s such good shit!

CHAPTER ONE:
RETURN OF THE SCHOCKCOLLAR
Promo Number One

-----------------------------------X X X-----------------------------------

"There are no more barriers to cross. All I have in common with the uncontrollable and the insane, the vicious and the evil, all the mayhem I have caused and my utter indifference toward it I have now surpassed. My pain is constant and sharp, and I do not hope for a better world for anyone, in fact I want my pain to be inflicted on others. I want no one to escape, but even after admitting this there is no catharsis, my punishment continues to elude me, and I gain no deeper knowledge of myself; no new knowledge can be extracted from my telling. This confession has meant nothing."

--- Patrick Bateman; American Psycho.

-----------------------------------X X X----------------------------------

The camera fades in, showing a small dark room with nothing but a backwards metal chair in the center of it and a single light beaming down on it. The sound of a clock echoes throughout the room. Loud and slow. Like a calming heartbeat. Slowly thought, footsteps enter the room and from the shadows the Shockcollar appears. She gracefully moves towards the metal chair, straddling it to rest her arms on the back of the chair. A dark smile widens on her painted red lips as her eyes slowly racks up towards the Lense. Finally, her eyes meet the camera; The Shockcollar leans forward. "It's...It's been a long time since I stepped into the OWA wrestling ring. I stepped away back in 2020 and I felt like I did everything that I could possibly do in OWA. I was the first Woman to have held the OMEGA HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION. I held the Tag Team championship and the OWA TV to make myself the first ever Triple Crown in this business. I climbed mountains no one else could climb. I ruined 25 careers within fifteen years of standing inside all rings. I have battled and I have fought for everything I believed in and at the end of it all, I felt accomplished. I made myself into the ICONIC Wrestler I was meant to be and for that.. I felt like I was fine to settle down and live my life away from the ring but than life took a turn for the worse and fucked me over. I bled so much for so many things. For people who I thought cared about me, only to be thrown aside for a new model. Outcasted like trash. Treated that I meant nothing and for a while? I believed them. I believed all the people who told me that they loved me that I was nothing more than a waste of space. Worthless. Pathetic. I settled to feel this way for a long time...I kept those thoughts in my head but then, I snapped out of it. I climbed out of the whole of dread and I fought back against the mental abuse I took for years. I glared all of those fuckers in the face and showed them that I'm not worthless. I'm not just trash on the side of the road. I'm the fuckin SHOCKCOLLAR OF HARDCORE WRESTLING. THE BAT SWINING SLAYER. THE BEST FUCKIN WOMAN ALIVE and no one can take that the fuck away from me." Tarah Nova looks deeply into the camera before shaking her head. "I guess you can say that's why I returned home. I want to strip away all the things' people thought of me and held against me and be myself. Be the TARAH NOVA I was many years ago. For years I was forced to be someone I wasn't. A dusty trophy, forced to sit back and watch as others got to show what they were worth. I watched. I waited until I couldn't take it anymore and here I am. Back home where I belong.... Even under the events that caused it."

"Now... It is no secret that Alyssa Grace and I are best friends. She has been my wrestling wife for a very long time. A trainer for my beloved son, Oliver and the person I went to the most when my world decided to crumble under my feet. So, making an impact like the one at GAME OVER was a must. I showed the world that even the closest of loved ones to me are not safe from the hell I am going to release on the Odyssey Division. And it's all starting with you... April Song."

Tarah's signature smirk appeared on her lips as she eyes the camera before her, "it has been a very long time, hasn't it, Songbird? When was the last time we shared a ring together? Three years? Four? Time flies when you're having fun, I honestly don't remember but what I do remember is the way I made you crumble at my fuckin feet. You, Songbird, was nothing more than a weak, pathetic chickadee back in the day. Couldn't fly without help. Couldn't do anything but eat the pin when the win was needed the most. You were worthless to this Division but then you flew away with your tail feathers between your legs. You went to LAW and became champion there. Congratulations on that. I knew it was hard for you to do but you did it. You won but do you want to the funny thing about that LAW run of yours towards the end of the company? You were supposed to fall by my hands before the LAW company closed. See, that was supposed to be my shining moment of return. Not this. Not what happened at GAME OVER but I guess everything happens for a reason and you got saved by the closing bell." Tarah shakes her head slowly, "But now there isn't any closing bell to save you from me, Songbird. No closing of a Company. No group of friends. Nothing, zip. Not-ah. And oh, how I have been waiting to dance with you inside of the wrestling ring again but this time it's not a friendly fight, no. I'm going to run through you like a freight train at extra speed. This isn't just about returning to the wrestling ring for me, Song. I'm not here for the fans or to make a difference. I'm here to fucking destroyed everyone and everything that stands in my way and make Odyssey into THE NOVA EMPIRE. I have stood aside and taken shots for years. Smiled through all this bullshit I have had to deal with watching. Seeing people running women's wrestling into the ground. I am sick. I am disgusted. And after all this shit that I have been forced to go through, I am ready to fight again and if that means dragging you to hell; then so fuckin be it, Song....but honestly? You are no threat to me and what I have planned for this Division. Sure, you were at the Champion for a while here and congratulations on that accomplishment as well but what happened when it came to the big main event match? You slipped up. You failed. You let all the old heads down when you took a beating from Rebecca Filth. She's an amazing woman, don't get me wrong but April...You spoke such a big bad game but of course, like normal. You always trip at the finish line. I watched it all. The rise and fall of Song. And on my Night back in OWA. My first night ever on ODYSSEY....I'm going to ruin you, Song. There won't be any type of redemption story for you right now or ever. Not now with me standing on the battlefield. I'm ready to bring blood and Hardcore to Odyssey and you will be my first victim back in the wrestling ring. Number 26 on the list of ruined careers and honestly, I would be honored to have the wings of the great April Song hanging off my walls with the rest of my trophies.”

“But in the end, this isn’t about you at all, Song. You are just a steppingstone on my way of showing the world that I haven't missed a beat. That this rust on my bones does not exist. No concussions, bruised body parts, broken bones or Shattered heart has kept me from doing what I do fuckin' best....and that's out wrestle everyone like only the BEST WOMAN ALIVE can. And come Odyssey, I'm going to show a whole new generation that this old dog can still learn new tricks and is forever willing to bite the jugular to get the job done. That is what I did for fifteen years, and I will continue to do so; showing the world just why I am the HARDCORE DARLING Of OWA. No one has stepped on my level. Not even close and I've been itching to spill some blood in this brand for a very long time. I mean, that's why I am the Shockcollar. I always get the job done. Good, bad and ugly. I do what I say I will do and Song, I promise you that I'm going to rip you apart on Odyssey like I never left. Those three years away? Poof, never fuckin happened and soon you will see that I am still really for the arsenal of moves you bring to the wrestling ring.... but none of it is going to save you from me. You know it. I know it and soon the whole arena in Seoul, South Korea will know it as they watch me beat the unholy hell out of you without breaking a fucking sweat.” Tarah chuckles to herself as she stands from the steel chair before shoving it away. A loud bang echoed throughout the room as the steel met the cement flooring. "I mean, why would I break a sweat fighting you? You're nothing compared to me. Sure, that's a bit cocky to say right now but deep down, we all know the truth and soon enough the whole world will know it too. See, I'm back to fight and raise hell. No more Miss Nice-Nova. No more MADAM MOORE. Fuck that shit. This time... it's The ALPHA KILLER and April, you are going to be the prime example that I am here to ruin each and every fucking one of you cunts."

"One by one. You all will fall down... and you can believe that.” With that, Tarah flashes one more smirk towards the camera before reaching up for the string from the hanging light overhead. With a small pull of it, the light clicked off, ending the scene by total darkness.

HAIL TO THE NOVA EMPIRE

WORDS: 1599 | TAGGED: APRIL SONG
:copyright: TARAH FN’ NOVA

Diary of The Appalachian Huntress September 6th 2022, 4:23 am by **Gwen Harper**

Odyssey Promo 1
Angelina Magnum vs. Gwen Harper
Athena’s Cup 1st Round

Return to Form

A wounded cry fills the darkness. Slowly the darkness lifts to reveal a fox, its fur a brilliant white but matted down on its shoulder but streaks of blood. The poor creature hobbles forward and leaps at a small frog, which easily hops away from its attacker. The impact from the jump is devastating for the fox as it cries out in pain once more and its front legs give out as blood oozes from its open wound. Dusk is looming, and it is clear the wounded fox has not eaten in days. Through sheer will alone the fox gets back to its paws. Struggling just to walk as it sets off once more in search of that longing meal. There in the distance it spots its mark. A small field mouse ears deep in an apple that has fallen from a nearby tree. Through its pain the fox lowers itself into a prowl. Limping but sneaking up on its oblivious prey.

Slowly the wounded fox tracks down on the small mouse. Making sure to move slowly so as not to startle its prey. It is just inches from its prize when suddenly the mouse’s head emerges from the hollowed apple. It turns seeing the fox and freezes from fear. Finally the fox will eat. It lunges forward, the mouse turns to run. Abruptly there is a gust of noise, cries of pain and shrieks of anguish. A splash of blood hits the camera that has been sent rolling. Finally it comes to rest and in the distance, we see a limp white fox hanging from the talons of a Horned Owl as it flies away. As the scene starts to fade we see the small mouse walk into the frame sniffing the camera. Soon it all turns black.

From the Darkness, we hear the familiar voice of Gwen Harper.

Late August,

You always made sure to warn me of possibilities, this time was no different. The injury I sustained at Civil War made me an easy target. No matter how hard, or how skilled I was, I showed weakness and it cost me. You know everything I went through. The Doctors were not sure I could even return. I had resigned myself that the hunt was over. A lame duck that should be put down like a useless beast. But no, that did not happen, you would not let that happen would you? Instead I rehabbed, I worked and clawed and bleed and sweat to make my way back. And while I did, while I had to sit back and watch, what the fuck happened? OWA became filled with hollow, cheap prey.

It isn’t enough to see the likes of NAMI, who won the Goddesses title, only to cake walk to half assed victories week after week. I know you saw it, how she was never able to win on her own merit, yet as the reign goes on she touts herself as one of the BEST champions to hold that title. The title I made relevant when I went to WAR with Dulce Torres, the title that now whimpers in the night longing to be held. Nurtured by someone much more deserving. I had assumed that would be me, but only time will tell. And I know you know that it was not just NAMI, No while I was gone an influx of would be, and try-hards did all they could to make a name for themselves.

I don’t need to tell you who these people are be them placeholder world champions, or the underlings who lick her boots. As I sat back and watched and waited and plotted, all I knew was one thing. OWA filled my sites with more prey, more targets to take down and more trophies to claim. But I am not returning to just return. No I am done being nice Gwen, Being willing to fight and win or fight and lose. I come back for one reason only. To Fucking KILL. No matter who is put before me, friend or foe, slut whore, skank. If they cross my sites, they will leave in a body bag. And I hope they all realize, I don’t have to win..to kill.

Gwen’s voice fades into the darkness.

Suddenly we are in a dimly lit hallway. The sounds of stomps and cheers are softly echoing in the hall and getting louder. The camera follows a pair of hunting boots down the hall. The noise from a raucous crowd fills the hall as the figure stops at a door. It opens to reveal a fenced in hallway leading to a cage. People pound and shake the fence yelling and screaming at the figure as more of the crowd turns to see and boos roar out. Slowly the camera pans around to show us Gwen Harper walking into a fighters pit. From the other side a roar is heard as a vivacious woman walks in. Her top stops just under the nipples of her perfect rack. A Thong bikini bottom leaves little to the imagination. We hear an announcer sound off her name as the current champion. Gwen smirks, unannounced, and somewhere a bell rings…

The two women begin to throw down. The tall beauty is quick, peppering Gwen with quick jabs. Gwen growls rushing in only to be judo tossed onto her back. The Woman turns and poses for the rowdy men in the crowd but Gwen Kips up behind her. The Woman turns and walks right into Gwen, screaming at her. Telling her how ugly she is, how broken, and trashy. It only took a second, Gwen leaned her head back and snapped it forward. We hear a sickening crunch and a garbled wail exit the woman's mouth as she crumples to the ground. Suddenly the crowd is silent. Sobbing from the woman as Gwen slowly stands over top of her. The beauty claws up at her trying to get to her knees. Gwen Wraps her legs around the woman's head and quickly spins to her right. Another sickening crack echoes in the silent hall as the people watch their champion die. Gwen reaches down and smears the blood of the woman across her face and cries out. The room erupts in cheers for its new champion. Gwen turns and heads back into the hallway as the crowd returns to the frenzy it was in.

The camera slowly fades to black.In the darkness Gwen’s voice returns.

Early September,

After everything that went down in the lead up to and during Game Over, I thought my path forward was fairly clear. You always told me though to be ready for anything. It appears the game I am hunting is bigger than I realized. NAMI will simply have to wait. No instead I embark on a new hunt. The Athena’s Cup. I felt the world shiver when my name was announced for it. I am already the deadliest woman in OWA, and to have in my hand a golden arrow to take down who I want, when I want. I can only imagine your excitement as you read this. But I hear not everyone is excited. I guess that is to be expected. I can only assume Angelina Magnum is one of those less excited folk.

I bet people think in my time away I would not know who she is. But that, that is not true. I watched her scream, and run and hide to her lucky finish in the BOB games. I watched as she used what could have been a career making moment, and squandered it. But not only did she NOT beat Rebecca Filth, No I watched week after week while she got humiliated, humbled, and out classed by just a bigger slut. And to what end you may ask? Surely you have seen Game Over by now, she ALIGNED with her. I hope Angelina understands that after I leave her for dead in the middle of MY ring, I won’t need her to come lick my boots to get by, she can crawl back into the gutter with Filth and Felix.

She doesn’t even know what’s coming for her. I'm sure she is worried about the others in this tournament, names we have all heard. But she isn’t worried about me. That is her mistake. Oh, she is riding high as the dirty thirds of her little gang, making no attempt to evade or hide. It just makes her an easier target. Not that she was ever going to be hard to hunt. But while she sits back and counts the dollars, I'm counting the seconds, the ticks on the wheel until I have the shot I need. She needs to know that her friends don’t scare me, and if they feel the need to step into MY shot, they will go down just like her. I hope she understands that Victory will not be enough. No, I will make that 20 pounds of makeup face of her’s bleed.

You know, but she doesn’t. She doesn’t understand that while she imagines what it's like to win the Athena's cup, I will be living the victory and moving on to the next round. Her reality? If the medics hit the ring soon enough…living..maybe. She should be worried about who I am. I know you remember, clearly she needs to. One of only three women in OWA history to repeat as a champion. Gwen Harper is on the hunt. OWA is my hunting ground. Angelina crossed the line the second she stepped into an OWA ring. She clearly missed the posted signs. I take no pity on trespassers.

I wish I could make her see that her priorities are all wrong. She is worried about being rich, she is worried about being sexy, she is worried about who will do what for her. She is also worried about what my intentions are. Am I gunning for NAMI, am I gunning for the Goddesses Title, Am I just trying to be relevant? You know as well as I do who I am gunning for. The Match states Angelina Magnum against Gwen Fucking Harper. What she needs to know is I AM HUNTING HER! My sites are set, MY end game is clear. I WANT ANGELINA’S HEAD MOUNTED AND STUFFED. Slack Jawed and run ragged as a trophy on my wall. And when, not if, It is never IF. When I leave her corpse in that ring. I will find my next target. I will hunt it down, and I will end it. But for now, the only person I see, the only game worth my time is Angelina Magnum.

Eight long months I battled to get back in silence. Eight long months I watched as Odyssey became over run with nothing more than my Prey. I start to cull the herd on Odyssey. Too long have I gone without a kill. Mountain Mama returns home, Angelina Magnum is hunted down and eliminated. She should run, she should hide, but no matter, when the dust clears, I will claim my prize. The Appalachian Huntress is back, Angelina, is my first kill, my warning to everyone on the roster. My Aim, My shot is to take them all..And, well you know what that means, but Maybe someone should remind Angelina for me. No, Remind the world When I shoot…She will learn..

I don’t miss.

Gwen’s voice fades out once more. Suddenly a harrowing howl rips through the feed as the crazed visage of Gwen flashes multiple times on the screen before fading to black.

Diantha Rosso, Jeff X, DT The Ruler, marielacorriveau, Chad Ecclestone and DGS have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos September 5th 2022, 10:34 pm by **Angelina Magnum**

Angelina Magnum

Gwen Harper Showers Less than Nate Cage

Angelina stands on top of a bear rug that is situated in the middle of what appears to be a trophy room. The wall is adorned with the heads of elk, deer, wolves, and even a tiger.

Angelina: So…the hunter becomes the hunted.

As Magnum purses her lips, she looks directly at the camera and holds up a glass bottle.

Angelina: Predator, by Gucci.

Director: Aaaaand that’s a wrap!

A bell rings as Angelina exits the trophy room, which it turns out is just a set for a commercial. She sits in her make-up chair as various assistants try to help her, but she simply waves them away.

Angelina: Well, Gwen, I never thought I’d say this, but you DO actually serve a purpose. I mean, SOMEONE has to go out and kill all those creatures for my commercial and I truly appreciate it. Anything that makes me look hotter is a thing worth doing, and when this new fragrance is flying off the shelves because of my presence in its campaign, just know that hunters all over the world have my gratitude for choosing a terrible life so mine can be great.

Seriously, why are you even back, Gwen? Look at how much better Odyssey’s been since you left. The brand closed Final Destination, the women running the show are fiercer, smarter and hotter than all who came before them. The Thotyssey Era has officially begun and there’s no place for old timers in it. I might have butted heads with Rebecca and Felix on the road to Game Over, but my endgame was always the same, and I ALWAYS get what I want. I knew what I brought to the table and now look at me, a demon slayer and the partner of two dominant, inspiring champions. All the women who doubted me, who said I was just a hot piece of ass can’t say SHIT now! I looked the Banshee in the eyes and I knocked her fucking head off. She thought we were FRIENDS?! She thought she had an ally? Pft! Odyssey officials might have forced me to team up with the odious cunt, but I had my sights set on the pinnacle of the business, not its sideshow freaks. That’s the pile you belong in. Seriously, demons, huntresses, vampires, witches, what’s become of this place? Here I was in the process of clearing out the scraps and then YOU decided you were sick of smelling like bear piss and made your “grand” return.

I haven’t been here long, but I’ve already learned that the best way to deal with undesirables is to hit them really fucking hard. Am I supposed to be intimidated because you shot a bear from a mile away with an arrow? Ha! You don’t have a bow in the ring, hun, and you don’t have the benefit of distance. But what you do have is a year away from competition, a year sitting around in bushes, covered in shit and skinning whatever vermin you can get your unwashed hands on. You need a makeover and an ass kicking and I can give you at least one of those things. I’m a solid hand with the make-up brush, but I’ll need my very best artist to save your septic tank chic visage from going nuclear and causing the health inspector to shut the show down. Unfortunately, she’s booked up until November and we haven’t got time to wait. But it’s okay! What I CAN do is make you understand that there’s no place for you here any more. You may be a former Goddesses Champion, but you are looking at the NEW Goddess. I am a woman of such beauty, such sheer physical perfection - I’m only getting better every single day - that the brand is evolving to accommodate me. I’ve already fought for world titles, closed out pay-per-views and shocked the world. THE single greatest wrestler in this company, Rebecca Filth, has welcomed me into her ranks, even though we were trying to kill each other not too long ago. The model and actress who didn’t take this business seriously made herself known. I’ve got the backing of the best, what do you have? You’ve got a run that was in the past and a return that’s already fizzled out. Imagine YOU winning the Athena’s Cup…wait, I’m guessing imagination isn’t your strong suit. You see, imagination is when you use your brain - stick with me on this one - to conjure up ideas of things that may or may not happen. And when I try and do this in regards to you beating me and going on to win this whole tournament…HA! Oh wow, that IS funny!

Rebecca would END you. She would rip you in half where you stood and she wouldn’t need a gun or some cheap trap to do it. Felix? Felix would make you wish you’d stayed in the forest, fornicating with the local wildlife with the beating she’d put you through. And me? Well, just look at me. Look at how perfectly proportioned my face and body are, gaze upon the magnificence and realise that there is nothing you can do to tarnish it. Oh, people have made their threats and tried to talk down to me as a talentless bimbo who’s in over her head and yet, here I stand. I am unpinned, unsubmitted, I’ve main evented more shows than I haven’t and I am one third of OWA’s hottest group. What the fuck have you got? You might have had potential back in the day, but potential isn’t worth a damn thing if it isn’t followed up on. What happened to you, Gwen? Did you miss all your furry friends? Did the constant travelling in cars and sleeping in hotels just not feel natural to you? I don’t even want to know what you’ve been up to for the last year because I think I can paint an accurate picture of it in my head.

But now you’re back and what, you’re gunning for the Goddesses Title? For NAMI? For Josie? Funny how so many of the women in this tournament are all chasing different things and think they have a chance of making it to the victory line. I have one goal, one focus, and that is is to spread the message of Thotyssey for all to hear. We have the platform, the clout and now the numbers to back up everything we’ve said. Rebecca Filth, unbeaten for over a year, her only loss to the alleged GOAT of Odyssey - though let’s be honest with ourselves, Rebecca has long since surpassed that overrated has-been Natalie Cage - the Unified World Champion, the juggernaut of this business leading the charge. Felix Hartley, a woman who came into this company at the same time I did and boy, has she maximised those minutes. The Openweight Champ, a woman who turns heads everywhere she goes, who commands the room with her presence, who has put on nothing but bangers since getting here, fending off the fiercest competition. And then there’s Angelina Magnum, the most impressive rookie this company is ever going to see. I have had three pro wrestling matches in my life and I’m already rubbing shoulders with champions, main eventing shows, making headlines. Everywhere I go I am a STAR and OWA is no different. I was thrust into the spotlight because everyone with a brain knows that that’s where I belong. Filth and Felix knew this, they saw the fire in me, the work ethic that has allowed me to rise to the top of everything I’ve ever attempted in my life. Every day I’m getting better, learning from the most talented, toughest women on the planet, learning how to kick the SHIT out of people like you.

Why should I care about Gwen fucking Harper coming back? Or Tarah Nova? Or how pissed The Banshee is at me? Fuck them, fuck Hana Nakajima, fuck Rebecca Brookes, fuck April Song, and fuck Skylar Arceneaux. This tournament bracket is nothing but pick-me bitches, ugly chicks and old hags trying to get one last little run because they were bored of whatever meaningless shit they had going on. Odyssey needs real stars, real women, real champions. That cup might as well already have my name engraved on it, and when it’s in my possession, Thotyssey will have all the cards, baby! Belts, trophies, fame, fortune and a legacy that will be talked about for years to come. When you’re lying on your back, looking up at those lights and thinking to yourself, “Shit, I could be fucking a moose right now”, I’ll be celebrating with my sisters, one step closer to yet another accolade on what is an already impressive list. Everyone in this tournament will write me off because I haven’t had ten thousand indie matches, because I haven’t “earned it”, you can take everything you’ve “earned” and shove it up your fox trap. I took the unbreakable Rebecca Filth to her limit, I pushed her and Felix so fucking far that they had no choice but to PUT SOME FUCKING RESPECT ON MY NAME.

AND YOU KNOW WHY? BECAUSE MY NAME IS ANGELINA FUCKING MAGNUM. THE MAIN ATTRACTION! THE IDOL! THE NEW GODDESS! THE WOMAN WHO HAS CONSISTENTLY PROVED THE HATERS WRONG AND YOU? YOU’RE JUST A MID-ASS BITCH FROM YESTERYEAR WHO’LL BE GONE AGAIN BEFORE THE SEASON’S OVER, BECAUSE YOU JUST DON’T HAVE WHAT IT TAKES TO HANG WITH THE BEST.

THOTYSSEY IS WHAT’S BEST FOR BUSINESS, AND THIS BUSINESS WATCHES US. YOU KILL FOR YOUR FURS, I BUY MINE BECAUSE I’M FUCKING RICH. YOU HUNT FOR YOUR FOOD, MY PERSONAL CHEF PREPARES MINE BECAUSE I’M FUCKING RICH. YOU HAVE TO FIGHT FOR YOUR SPOT, THE ONES WHO CALL THE SHOTS FALL OVER THEMSELVES TO GIVE ME MINE BECAUSE…

…you get the idea.

Michael Bishop, Diantha Rosso, Jeff X, The Banshee, DT The Ruler, Felix Hartley, marielacorriveau and Chad Ecclestone have spoken. It’s such good shit!

{The screen fades in and we find ourselves oddly enough in the Bibille restaurant, located in scenic downtown Sleepy Hollow, New York. Where we find none other than Jacob Striker himself sitting at a table and enjoying a nice lunch after a hard weekend of work and also sitting at the table, looking rather amused with herself, is the oft mentioned but rarely seen younger sibling of Jacob in Cassandra Striker}

Cassie: Really, we just got back from doing shit overseas and the first thing that you want to grab is Korean?!

Jacob: This place serves up some pretty hefty food after a serious workout, sis. Maybe you should try it?

{Cassie arches an eyebrow at her older brother}

Cassie: You mean try wrestling or a heavy workout, brother of mine?

Jacob: The workout might help you to attract more boys that way.

Cassie: OH HO!!! So says the future married man!! And where, pray tell, is my darling future sister in law by the way, hmm?

{Jake finishes up a bite and chuckles}

Jacob: She is currently prepping for her next match for the alliance later this week, that's why I'm staying close to town before I fly out to Incheon later in the week for my match on Kingdom.

Cassie: That's good to hear, I bet Serenity is happy that she's got such a loyal man nestled firmly in her right pocket, eh?

But on a more serious note, big brother, who do you have to fight in Incheon?

{Cassie watches as her brother's expression grows a little bit more serious as he puts his fork down}

Jacob: Theodor Pavel.

{Cassie's own expression drops}

Cassie: Well...shit.

Jacob: Yeah, talk about ghosts of Christmas Recent huh?

Cassie: No shit. Do any of them realize that Mister Morgan crossed a line without him knowing it? I mean lines of communication between Mister Jaywalker and Morgan were kinda…well, screwy due to all that stuff Joe Smith was starting about then, right?

Jacob: To be honest, I don’t know…all that I do know is that I hope that Pavel doesn’t try to keep that crazy ass promise that he made that day or things might get really ugly real fast.

{Cassie gets a thoughtful expression on her face for a moment before she turns it on her brother}

Cassie: Do you want me to reach out to Robbie or the others, ya know? See if they can possibly show up and back you if you feel like you need it?

{Jake looks over at his baby sister for a long moment and sees the honest concern in her eyes for him and he smiles}

Jacob: Nah, I don’t think Pavel will be like Erick Saint John or Vincent Lyons Junior and go all Broadway on me, Cassandra. Besides, if anything it should make the match much more interesting…I mean think about it, two of the biggest strikers on the entire Omega Wrestling Alliance roster going at it. It’d be just like when dad was over there back in ninety six!

{At hearing that, Cassie gives Jake a long look before saying anything at which point Jake’s face takes on a confused expression}

Jacob: What?! What’s that look for??

Cassie: You ain’t dad and from what I remember from what mom told us, didn’t he spend like six months in rehab after…

Jacob: You are so a *killjoy* sometimes, sister of mine.

{The screen then fades to black as the siblings go back to their meal}
=========================================================
{The screen lights up and we find ourselves looking at a black chair somewhere in a richly appointed office before a figure sits down in the chair, revealing itself a moment later to be none other than the "Cronenberg of Clotheslines" himself-Jacob Striker. And the man is *not* smiling}

Jacob: Well, I guess it's time for someone to put their money where their mouth is, huh?

{Jacob reaches out of the camera's view and we hear a pop before Jake takes a pull from a can of 7UP before he leans back in his chair and continues}

Jacob: Flash back several months to one of the more...heated...moments between myself and Banch Morgan. Banch, for reasons unknown, uses a name on international television that he wasn’t aware was kind of a…personal thing…due to a breakdown in communication between the Wrestleworld front office and that of the Dominion brand, so when Banch saw my reaction to that name and the two of us were in the middle of a heated feud at the time, a line was crossed…and things were said.

Other people got involved, more things were said, and one of them just happened to be you, Pavel.

Now, neither one of us is the same person that we were then, are we Pavel?

But you see Pavel, where Banch and I have come to an understanding and he saw that the Jacob Striker that he was dealing with in those early days was an enraged, directionless monster trying to keep contained within the skin of the man that he wanted to be and he took the mother of all chances by putting the Territorial championship on me over in Wrestleworld and I’ve proven myself worthy of him putting his faith and trust into me time and time again, I’ve even made in-roads by showing Myojin that the man he met back in Wrestleworld wasn’t really the man that *I* am truly because with the help of my own dark angel, I was able to quell that sadistic beast and once again became focused on the one thing that I do extremely well in that ring;

Wrestle.

{Jake’s lips twitches ever so slightly into a smile for the briefest of seconds as he then leans forward in his chair}

Jacob: So the question becomes, Pavel, are you still wishing to try and end my career like you claimed that you would do those many months ago or are you willing to go the distance with me in what people are already calling a “Match of the Year” for the OWA, even though it hasn’t happened yet.

Are you willing to go to war with me for the sake of the *SPORT* of Professional Wrestling, to step into the ring with no gimmicks…no hidden clauses…no weapons or anything of the sort…just you and me and every single ounce of genetically bred talent that we possess.

Or…am I going to get the other guy? The one focused on a promise made out of anger? The Pavel who is more focused on hurting me, trying to end my career…the man who allowed one of my best friends in the entire *world* to simply fall into darkness and disgrace while *that* Pavel celebrated his victories while still calling Ryo his “friend”?

Because if I get *that* Pavel, then I can promise you that while the match will still be a match of the year contender…it will also be the biggest bloodbath that you’ve ever beheld because either way, the *fans* will get the match that they desire and to me, that matters more than revenge most nights.

*Most* nights….

{Suddenly all of the seriousness disappears from Jake’s expression as he leans back in his chair, suddenly adopting a more thoughtful posture in his chair as he regards the camera while speaking in a much more, “casual” tone}

Jacob: But you know what, fuck it. Before our match on Kingdom this week, Pavel, I’m going to be the bigger man and before the match begins, I’m going to shake your hand because that’s what professionals who respect that ring do and do you know what else, I’m going to go ahead and say this but congratulations Mister Theodor. I mean, who knows? Maybe right now really is your time or maybe not.

I mean you’ve been on an incredible hot streak since making your debut here in the Omega Wrestling Alliance and it’s only a matter of time before one of the biggest titles lands right there at your feet…perhaps you’ll beat Arata or Jeff or Aizen or somebody and then you can call yourself a real world’s champion.

{Jake’s face slowly slips into that signature wolfish grin of his as he leans just ever so slightly forward, the grin not really reaching the corners of those ice blue eyes of his while his tone remains ever so casual}

Jacob: However, I want you to take this moment and think about it, feel it, savor it, because in reality, at any given moment, I can pop my arm through the back of your head and all of your achievements will mean absolutely nothing.

Despite everything that you’ve seen me do in that very *ring*, Pavel, is nothing compared to the reality of what I can do because at Kingdom, you are stepping into the ring whose focus isn’t some far off championship shot or any kind of vendetta or any of that usual shit but instead his focus is purely the fight *itself* and I take great pride in that choice because it helps to free me of any arrogance in my preparations because it allows me to focus solely on *you* and nothing else but *you*.

You see, your biggest problem isn’t the fact that you’ve set for yourself an epic goal of becoming the OWA World Heavyweight Champion by the end of the year, no...I actually applaud the fact that you've set yourself to that kind of goal with that kind of time limit because that shows us all the level of sheer dedication that you've set yourself to and I fully endorse your desires to do that.

No, your biggest problem is that you naturally assume that in the course of your indomitable march towards that goal…is that you’re going to step upon my dreams and my desires here in the Omega Wrestling Alliance to do just that, you are quite possibly looking right past me and to your future for that is how set upon your goal that you are…but like I just said previously, Pavel, I’m not focused on the future…my *GOALS* are set in the here and now and one of them, to prove myself to those faithful fans who put in all of their hard earned monies to see us fight week in and week out, who buy our merch and suffer through one promo after another in order to get to the pure, unadulterated violent delight of watching us put each other through immeasurable suffering for their own sick and twisted enjoyment, *THAT*...I can do it right here and now…*THAT*, needs me not to focus on the future but on the here and now to which at this week’s Kingdom, when you and I take this…war of words and transition it into a war of physical intensity…is how I’m going to prove why I am one of the most accomplished technical wrestlers that this sport has ever seen and why I am called the “true workhorse” of any promotion that I am apart of, Pavel.

I have learned from my past mistakes, Pavel. I have watched the matches that happened during that dark time in my career that everyone has seen and I’ve learned from those mistakes as well. Sometimes I’ll admit that the lessons take a little bit longer to get through this oh so thick skull of mine…but they do get through nonetheless.

But out of all the things that I spoke here today for you to hopefully understand, the one thing above all else that I dearly hope that you take away from this is that I am taking none of this personal and nor should you, because in the end I’m hoping that the two of us can have a truly gentlemen’s contest and then you and I can go with the rest of the boys and grab ourselves a couple of solid pints and toast to our respective futures in this industry.

Here’s to hoping to a match of the decade, Pavel. Be seeing you soon, kid.

{The screen fades to black}

DT The Ruler and DGS have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Olympus promo #1 September 5th 2022, 1:46 pm by **Mark Michaels**

( The scene opens outside the front porch of a small single family home. It’s here we find Sammy Michaels aka Sy sitting on the couch, his attention locked onto his iPhone, not even wavering for a moment as his brother Joe aka Gyp calls for him by name. Gyp calls out for Sy several times before stepping outside to find his brother.)

Gyp: Bro, I’ve been calling for you for the last 10 minutes, where you been?

Sy: Man I’m not looking away from Dodger’s game. Three more outs and we got enough money to make out Labor Day barbecue look like a party at the playboy mansion.

Gyp: My dude you can watch baseball anytime, we got slightly more important matters to discuss.

Sy: What could possibly be more important than me making not money grow?

Gyp: Well how about the fact that our cousin is working for that white devil Remington Prescott? Like have you heard from him this last week?

Sy: No, I tried calling but all I got was a voicemail with that bitch Karen on the recording.

Gyp: Same here. That man got our kin working day and night, driving him to the bone, and you worried about fifty dollars you cheep bastard.

Sy: Hey I got a lot more than fifty on this one. Like I said before playboy mansion. This will be the part to end all parties.

Gyp: Sammy, you’re not seeing the big picture here. With Mark having to be an indentured servant, we the only ones representing the sania. We the only members of the bloodline representing our culture. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?

Sy: Hmm… just being honest, I still think the money is more important.

Gyp: if that’s how you feel than Think of all the money we’ll get when we become the new Undisputed Tag Team Champions. The stacks have to be huge. You know Scott Oasis wouldn’t want to risk his champions skipping town because of a pay dispute.

( Sy raises an eyebrow at his brother’s words.)

Sy: How much you think we talking?

Gyp: I’m not 100 percent sure, but look at what Mark would make. He won a couple championships sure, but they weren’t undisputed championships were they? No they weren’t, and he is rolling in dough. So if you and me win these tag belts, we gotta make one hell of a bag, you feel me?

Sy: So you’re saying that this could be playboy mansion money?

Gyp: Bro I’m saying if we play this right, this could be 2 playboy mansions.

( Sy raises his head as images of Heath Ledger’s version of the Joker sitting on top of a gigantic pile of cash flash through his mind. His concern no longer about one meager baseball game, but which of his wildest wishes he might want to fulfill first.)

Sy: Okay, you got my full attention. Let’s go get those belts.

Gyp: Hang on little bro, first we gotta handle some business. See they want us to prove that we can be champions. More than that, that we are the only pair of brothers who are worthy of becoming undisputed Tag Team champions, and to do that, we got to whoop us some white boys.

Sy: What two white boy? Who we gotta beat bro? Tell me because Ain’t nobody gets in the way of me and my paper.

Gyp: Check this, we got to beat a Couple of boys call themselves wolves.

Sy: Wovles? Like with the ears and teeth? These mother fuckers must have smoked a pack and a half of that stark green. You remember, that shit that made us forget forget all that AP Math for a week.

Gyp: I took AP math? Whatever, the point is all we gotta do is roll up on these two mother fuckers, beat their asses, and we’ll be on our way to making the kind of bank that great grandpa Michaels came to America on the boat for.

Sy: You really think it’ll be as easy as just rolling up on a couple fools? Like aren’t they supposed to be some hot shit if they’re fighting for a chance to become champions too?

Gyp: it ain’t even like that with them. They trained sure, but they’re only here because their uncle slipped some middle managing fuck some cash. From what I heard about these two, they’re nothing more than a couple of YouTube celebrities who act tough behind a keyboard, and have their heads so far up their asses they don’t even realize they’re just a couple of pussies. They’re the kind of silver spoon licking sons of bitches that fucked over cousin Mark. A couple of lazy freeloaders living off their daddy’s money. So I see them as a pair of traffic cones on the road to the big bucks.

Sy: You sure about that? They are trying to do this wrestling thing, and they seem like they trying to do it legit.

Gyp: Bro, we Romani, since when do we play Someone else’s game? If they want to trade holds and wrestle, we’re gonna make them scrap in a Street fight. If they want to throw their little kicks, we gonna show them how we used to do it in the street. When that bell rings we gonna be throwing hands like your birthday a few years ago. You remember? That time we were in the club, and we had to beat on that asshole who started calling you a dirty gypsy. Man I’m telling you, if we do what we always do whenever shit went down and we had to whoop somebody’s ass, then we can take those Wolf boys no problem. Just as long as take this shit seriously, we got this one in the bag.

Sy: Fine, I’ll “take this seriously” even though we facing just another pair of white privilege pricks. A couple of boys who had all the time In The world to get famous on YouTube because they got handed everything. Two dudes who never had to hold down a job, or hustle every day just to pay rent. A couple of soft mother fuckers who got where they are right now because their uncle pulled a bunch of strings and cashed in a few favors to make sure his nephews never had to lift a finger to get to the top, I’ll take them seriously.

Gyp: That’s what I want to hear! Man we are gonna show them just what it means to have to hustle for your daily bread. We gonna show them how we survived by working harder, and being smarter than any of the marks we used to fleece every single day. And make no mistake about it, these two are nothing more than a couple of marks because They been handed everything on a silver platter, including their fucking contracts, yet they act all proud of themselves, and brag about their contracts that they didn’t earn. You take away their last name from them they ain’t shit, you take away our last name and we still know how to not just survive, but thrive in the worst of times. We made it our own way from the very bottom of life, to damn near sitting on top of the world.

Sy: that’s right, that’s right. Them Wolf boys ain’t never had to go without. They don’t know what it is to work your ass off everyday. They don’t know how to go a day without mommy and daddy packing. Their lunch, and wiping their asses. They can do TikTok dances, and one chip challenges all day if they want, but when it comes to fighting a man to put food on his table, these boys are minnows trying to swim with sharks. We hustlers through and through, and when there’s a dollar to be made, we go out and fucking make it! And when we run into a brick wall, we find a way over, under, or around it come hell or High water.

Gyp: you feeling the hype? cause you look like you feeling the hype.

Sy: Oh fuck yeah I’m feeling hyped. We about to make the wolf pack trending. They gonna be hashtag dominated. Or hashtag whooped. These boys are in for a quick night, because we gonna get that 1,2,3 like 1,2,3. We winning this match, then we going on and winning those undisputed tag team championships.

( As the words pass through Sy’s mouth, his phone grabs both his, and his brother’s attention.)

Sportscaster: AND THAT’S THE BALL GAME!

Sy: Oh shit, Bro I just hit. I gotta call my bookie.

Gyp: You telling him to cash you out so you can throw that party?

Sy: What? No. I got call and tell him to parley all the money I just won, and put it on us beating the Wolf boys on Olympus, because it’s a sure thing.

Gyp: Hell yeah baby brother, let’s do it.

( The twins high five before heading inside, today was a good omen of bigger and better things to come.)

DT The Ruler and marielacorriveau have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos September 5th 2022, 12:53 pm by **Chad Ecclestone**

SEASON FIVE - EPISODE FIVE
GUEST HOST

The screen shows several exterior shots of Manhattan and 30 Rockefeller Plaza, before transitioning to the interior of NBC Studio 6B with a capacity crowd eagerly awaiting the beginning of the show. The Roots perform the intro music to the Tonight Show, as announcer Steve Higgins’ voice is heard over the studio’s speakers.

“From 30 Rockefeller Plaza here in New York City, it’s The Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon! And now, here’s your guest host… CHAAAAAD ECCLESTOOOOONNNNEEEEE!”

The curtains part, revealing Chad in all his glory, impeccably dressed and groomed as though he were attending one of his high-class movie premieres. The Hollywood megastar steps forward, one hand raised in the air as he cheerfully waves at the assembled audience members. Taking a brief moment to bask in the adulation of the crowd, Chad flashes his award-winning smile at the camera and steps towards the front of the set.

“Wow. What a warm welcome!” he says, bleached teeth shining bright under the stage lights, “Happy to be here, and I’m honored that I was Jimmy Fallon’s first choice to step in and guest-host the show, while he recovers from a nasty case of Monkeypox. I told him going to those San Francisco bathhouses while on vacation was a bad idea, but he didn’t listen.”

The audience laughs.

“Yeah, me and Jimmy go back a ways, ever since we both realized we hated that dumb, red-haired Irish prick Conan O’Brien. But enough about that loser, he’s not worth my time, so let’s talk about something slightly more interesting. Anybody here watch Game Over on the weekend?”

Several members of the crowd vocally respond in the affirmative, while others clap in response.

“I’m sorry to hear that. I hope you were able to get your money back, at least?”

The crowd laughs at Chad’s petty joke, as he winks and points at the camera.

“No, no, I’m kidding, of course. Sure, the show might have been lacking a performance from a star of my caliber, but it wasn’t all bad, right? Alright, maybe it was boring, terrible and completely lacking any real showmanship, but it sure as hell could’ve been a lot worse, couldn’t it? Look on the bright side, at least nobody was wished to death by an angry Asian man this time, and no commentators were executed by the Saudi Arabian government. Compared to the usual OWA show, I think that qualifies as a resounding success!”

“All jokes aside, I did take the time to watch most of the show backstage after my little run-in with the Frontline’s junior member Theo Pavel… and let me tell you, as soon as I woke up I flushed my entire Ambien prescription down the drain, because there’s no sedative that can compare with actually trying to sit through an Omega Wrestling Pay-Per-View! Next time that insomnia hits, I’ll just fire up the DVR, queue up the replay, and I’ll be out like a light in minutes.”

“Hey, at least Oasis and Drake had the decency to book the only match people would be interested in at the start of Night One, where Michael Bishop continued the Frontline’s disturbing trend of viciously assaulting minorities. And he’s supposed to be the good guy? Insanity. Speaking of that, who saw the Tag Team Championship match? Golden Dawn really can’t catch a break, huh? These are the antagonists that Jeff, Chris, Mikey and Theo constantly brag about ‘saving the world’ from? Really? They’re so mediocre that I’m sure we could’ve called some Mall Security to deal with Arata’s xenophobic thugs, instead of wasting a PPV match on them!”

“I’ve got to hand it to Arata, though. You might not like his methods, but he’s carrying on the proud tradition of Japanese Nationalists by taking constant Ls, and maintaining their unbroken losing streak that dates back to the bombing of Hiroshima in 1945.”

There’s a loud, low ‘ooooooooooooh’ from the crowd as Chad verbally buries the entire nation of Japan so deep that they will never recover as a people.

“And history was made during the main event Immortal Championship match, when Jacob Senn shattered the previous record for ‘longest villainous monologue delivered in a wrestling ring’. For a megalomaniacal psychopath, that man sure does have an awfully comforting voice, am I right? After he finally retires from wrestling, he could have a lucrative future running an ASMR YouTube channel!”

“Over on the pink brand, the Power of Incredible Violence… damn, that’s a mouthful, isn’t it? Anyway, Alyssa Grace and Liz Karlson won their, what is it now, sixth tag team championship? Pretty sure if they melted those down for scrap metal, they’d be worth more than the amount of dimes they’ve ever drawn in the business. Speaking of Odyssey, I just found out that the combined OnlyFans monthly earnings of Rebecca, Angelina and Felix is actually more than the total profit OWA made last month. Crazy, isn’t it? Of course, now that I’m a shoe-in for the next PPV, I’m sure I’ll be able to turn this company’s fortunes around and finally start expanding the fanbase beyond the usual degenerates and poor people who actually watch that slop.”

Rather than applaud or chuckle, the audience sits in uncomfortable silence as Chad lets them know exactly what he thinks of the fans. For his part, he doesn’t seem to be bothered by his mask slipping, and he seamlessly moves onto the next part of the monologue. He never stops smiling, in a way that is so disturbingly earnest it almost crosses over into unsettling.

“We’ve got a great show lined up for you this evening. We’ll be having Andrew Tate in the studio to discuss the unconstitutional and un-American assault on his right to free speech, and the musical sensation Blackpink’s own Jennie Kim will also be joining us to discuss her fame, her fans, and our upcoming erotic romantic comedy ‘Seoul of the City’, set to begin filming in early 2023. I’ve even managed to pull some strings with the Texas Department of Criminal Justice — they’re fans of my work — and have secured the temporary release of Los Angeles hip-hop artist 03 Greedo, who will be joining us to perform his hit song ‘Grapevine’ with YG!”

The crowd goes absolutely nuts at this surprise revelation. Chad Ecclestone once again makes dreams come true for every fan of real art. He waits for them to settle down a bit before carrying on.

“Before we move on with the regularly scheduled program, I did have a few things I wanted to say. You see, everyone, OWA management has apparently realized the error of their ways in not booking me to appear at Game Over. I can only assume the buyrates were predictably abysmal once people saw that I wouldn’t be there to carry the rest of their subpar talent, and it seems that they need me back to bump ratings for the next episode of Kingdom. If I were a petty man, I’d have told them they made their bed by leaving me off the card, and left the brand to fail completely in my absence… but what it comes down to is this: I’m an entertainer, and the people call out in desperation for me to brighten their viewing experience and save them from the colorless, heatless, pointless drudgery that has fallen over the entire Kingdom brand, Who am I to ignore my legions of fans, or to forget about my grand crusade against the sport itself, and those who make their living in the business of human misery?”

“So, I agreed. And boy, did you see the meathead they’ve booked me against? Drives a Camaro, has a mustache that would put Freddie Mercury to shame, and perhaps worst of all… he comes out to a Megadeth song! Can someone call this Dick fellow up and tell him to get the hell out of the 1980’s before he ends up rocking a Flock of Seagulls haircut and doing an MC Hammer dance to the ring? Seriously!”

Chad pauses as the crowd laughs again, grinning as he surveys the studio audience like a lord surveying his kingdom. They’re eating out of the palm of his hand, and he’s clearly loving it.

“What’s next, he starts using ‘For Whom the Bell Tolls’ by Metallica as an entrance song? He’d better watch out, or Michael Bishop is going to challenge him for the title of King Boomer in OWA. Really, though, as much as I like to joke around with you fine people, this man Dick Slaughter is the perfect example of everything I stand opposed to. He’s nothing more than a walking, talking monument to toxic masculinity. A relic of an era best left in the past, where men were nothing more than testosterone-fuelled apes! And he thinks he has a chance against me, a real man of wealth and taste? A man who respects women, as I so clearly do? A man who fights for everything right and good in this topsy-turvy, screwed up world? A man who makes more money by 8am every morning than he will in his entire career?”

He scoffs at the mere thought that Dick could possibly serve as anything more than a minor roadblock in his righteous crusade for justice and, above all, ratings.

“Perish the thought, viewers! After all, don’t forget that he couldn’t even get the job done against Sena in the Dark Kingdom tournament, when there was an actual prize on the line! He dropped the ball like he was playing for the Lakers! But me? I probably don’t need to remind you all that I beat not only Sena, but Jet Li in the same match! I saved not only the life of Kim Jong Un that night, but I salvaged the ratings for an otherwise forgettable episode of Kingdom. And what thanks do I get? Left off the card for Game Over, of course. But I’m not here to air grievances, and I promise you we’ll get the actual show started in just a moment.”

Before that, though, Chad lifts an index finger in the air as if to show that he has one last point to make.

“Who does Dick P. Slaughter think he is? What fantasy world does this man live in, where he thinks he has a chance against a pillar of Hollywood and OWA like me? And in a Box Office Brawl, no less? Just take a look at my track record, damnit! I’ve beaten men like Keanu Reeves, Ryan Reynolds, and Tom Hanks when they dared to go head-to-head with me on opening weekend! Every time some lesser star steps up to challenge one of my films, they get destroyed by my star power and proven ability to sell tickets… and Dick thinks he’ll be the one to break that streak?”

Chuckling to himself, Chad shakes his head as he points at the camera, speaking directly to Slaughter… if he even owns a television set to watch the show, that is.

“Not a chance in heck, buddy. You’ll be just another victim for the Box Office Titan that is I, Chad Ecclestone. You’re nothing but a Dolph Lundgren or Lou Ferrigno, and I’m more like an Arnold or a Sly Stallone. Better than you in every conceivable way. You’ve got the looks, sure, probably helped along by some human growth hormones… but you don’t have the brains… you don’t have the panache… and you sure as hell don’t have an ounce of charisma in your puffed-up body, big guy!”

Shrugging his shoulders, Chad wraps up his rant as he goes back to addressing the crowd.

“Anyway, as I’ve said, we’ve got a fantastic lineup tonight, but first a word from our sponsors!”

The house band plays into a commercial break, as Chad moves to sit behind the desk in preparation for the first guest of the evening.

Scott Oasis, The Banshee, DT The Ruler, Felix Hartley, marielacorriveau and DGS have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos September 4th 2022, 9:33 pm by **Daisy Thrash**

It’s always the same scene. Felix hits the Daddy Issues. Goes for the cover. Then the world slows to a crawl. Her legs feel like they’re made of cement. Every fiber of her body screams out at once. “Go! You gotta get there!” She runs, adrenaline pushing her every step of the way. She’s inches away. But it’s not enough. She doesn’t make it. The bell rings. Her body deflates.

I have to be faster!

Faster!

FASTER!

Daisy’s eyes snap open and she picks up her phone off the bedside table. 5:00 AM. She shuts the alarm off and swings her legs off the side of the bed. A huff of frustration escapes her lips. It was that damn dream again. Only this dream wasn’t entirely made up. She pops off the bed for a quick stop in the bathroom. After splashing some cold water on her face, she gets changed into workout clothes and ties up her hair. She puts in her AirPods and grabs her jump rope. She quickly gets to work, feeling the push of her heart rate as it gradually speeds up. In her mind’s eye, images start to spring up. NAMI holding her Goddesses Championship high. Rebecca Filth standing over the Banshee’s bloodied body, her Women’s Championship aloft. Felix Hartley with her arms wrapped around two titles. Her arms start to spin faster. She concentrates on the music, hoping it will drown out Rebecca Sawyer’s voice ringing in her head.

“AND STIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIILL!”

*******

I am alone.

There is no one congratulating me after a big win. There is no one placing a hand on my shoulder, asking me if I feel ok. It’s like being the weird kid in the lunchroom all over again. No one sits with you. No one even pays attention. It’s enough to drive someone to the brink of despair. To make them give up. But I’m not just someone. I’m Daisy Thrash and Daisy Thrash will never give up, even when things look their bleakest. Where others only see death, I see opportunity. I won’t deny it, I’m back down on the bottom and the spotlight is no longer on me. Now is the time to discover what I am in the dark. The true self comes out when no one is watching. With this newfound freedom, I can do whatever I want. I could be utterly selfish. I could tear through everyone with unrelenting fire, not caring who got burnt. Thing is, I tried that. It didn’t work out. I know in the deepest depths of my heart and soul that that’s not the kind of person I am. I’m one of those people who has to scrap for every last inch I can get. I will latch onto the tiniest glimmer of hope. That’s what got me through wrestling school all those years ago. That’s what got me to the big leagues in the first place. That’s what pried me out of the hospital bed despite doctors saying my career was over. If, no, when I march myself back up the mountain, no one will be able to deny that I have earned it! It won’t matter if you’re an Odyssey journeywoman or you’re just sticking your head back out of the gopher hole. None of them will be able to tell me no. And it all starts with you, Tomomi Shinozaki.

I’ll keep it straight with you. The only reason you are on the bottom right now is because you are new. I saw you rocking your debut match. Now I know to watch out for those killer feet! I can certainly respect what you are about. You want to make up for the mistakes of your past. You’re not looking for an easy ride. It’s funny, things could have gone so much differently for you. You could have become one of those stuck-up, arrogant types that believe the world should bow down before them. You could have coasted off of reputation alone. But I believe your initial failure was a blessing in disguise. You now know the value of effort and struggle. If more people around here had your mindset, this would be a far better place to work. It takes a strong character to admit that you are still learning. I’m a forever learner myself. Lucky for you, I also know enough to make a good teacher. There’s not a lot I haven’t seen. I’ve been all over the world and I’ve tangled with all kinds of wrestlers. That includes Japanese wrestlers. I know that the Japanese style has its differences from the American way, but I’ve still got plenty of tricks up my sleeve. Right now you’re in the perfect position to advance your skill. Unfortunately, the best position you could be in is also one of the worst. I have plenty to prove both to my fans and to myself. I don’t have much else to lose. So that means you have no other choice but to get struck down. I have no personal beef with you, you’re merely standing in my way. You may be riding high from your victory, but things won’t be going your way this time around. Because I’m not Ruri. I don’t take my job for granted. I’m always aware that my next match could be my last. I have no trouble speaking up for myself, despite all those that have tried to permanently shut my mouth. My loss at Game Over sparked a fire. The thought of jumping right back into the ring? Well, you might as well be pouring kerosene all over it. You think your will can match mine? You think your determination can beat mine out? I can guarantee you’ve never experienced anything like a hard-nosed, single-minded Daisy Thrash. She hits harder, moves smarter, and doesn’t give the slightest space for you to slip away. This lesson is one you’ll learn the hard way.

Unstoppable force, meet immovable object.

Michael Bishop, Jeff X, The Banshee, Felix Hartley, marielacorriveau and DGS have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos September 3rd 2022, 7:02 pm by **DarkCircle**

{The screen lightens up and we find ourselves looking at the man himself, Ryo Sakazaki, sitting on a bench somewhere fresh from his match at Game Over with his newest prize in the Prestige Championship held spread open in his bloodied grasp, his face an expressionless mask as the sweat drips from his blonde bangs before he raises his eyes to look at the camera}

Ryo: I am not the same man who came into the Omega Wrestling Alliance, there are times that I wish that I still was because I miss how that Ryo Sakazaki had the confidence of the gods of old..but then again, this sport does have a tendency to chew up your dreams and spit out greater nightmares.

{Ryo smiles ever so slightly for a second before it is gone again}

Ryo: What I don't think people understand about how you look at things here on Olympus is that for every Michael Bishop or Lazarus Arjen or even Remington Ivory Prescott who sits high above as their own Zeus...there always must be a *Hades* to sit in the darkness below, waiting to remind all that in the darkest pits of the Hells that we all make, there is a King of Hell waiting for that one chance to ascend.

{Ryo then looks down at his Prestige championship}

Ryo: And ascend I have, but a Hades I shall remain because I tried to take the Icarus championship to new heights...only to get burned by a worthless bastard.

But Hades…I can deal with being the Hades of this brand, after all…that’s what you all kept doing to me like the Hades of myth, as you allowed the so called “Worthy” to sit in the light high atop your little mountain, the rest of you made me dwell in the darkness within your mountain, to claim in the end, what you all know is rightfully mine;

And that being *everything* that you all hold so dear…

But I won't get burned twice in one year, my dear friends, oh no...I plan on remaining the Prestige champion for quite sometime...and thus, we come to my first opponent in you..Brandon Hendrix.

I must admit, I know next to nothing about this "Project Honor" group that seems to be showing up here in the Omega Wrestling Alliance nor do I really care because that is neither here nor there, now is it, little Brandon? I see you sitting there in the light, thumping your chest bravely as you lay down claim after claim that your heart will not be the thing that destroys your chances at laying claim to yet another championship...but tell me, Brandon, is your heart truly in the right place to fail you when you realize the levels of darkness that I'm willing to go in order to keep you from my championship because if you think what I went through to *win* this strap is anything like what I'll fucking do to *keep* it, then you are vastly mistaken because I am more than willing to drag my carcass across the salt flats of Utah, through boulder sized shards of red hot glass just to make it to this very point, so what makes you think that I won't put you through that same exact level of pain and suffering to prove to the world that you sir, you're not ready for this.

{Ryo then flips his head up, sweat flying from his blonde locks as he slings his championship over his right shoulder}

Ryo: Now Brandon, I want you to fully understand that I have nothing but the utmost respect for what you can do in that ring because if you don’t respect the talents of your opponent, then you run the risk of being like little Remy, Titan, or even that snot nose Noah Krieger kid…but for as much as I respect your skills, Brandon, yours cannot even begin to touch mine because while you might have that killer instinct needed to make it this far, to beat me you’ll need something else…something much more visceral and savage, as you must have something to ravage and blacken your soul at which point you’ll be able to reach deep down into the bottomless pits of your very being to allow you to bring forth a certain kind of monster that enables you to push yourself not only harder and faster, but also with a certain type of sadistic glee that you can’t fake.

But here is where the simple facts of the matter lay open to you in that this is not a route that you can go because you simply lack the morale fortitude to go this route, because you lack the ability to dispense the purest and most destructive anguish upon your opponents…you are too much of the fucking hero to change “opponent” to “victim”...and that is why in those final moments of our match right when you believe falsely that you have this match won and you’re about to lay your hands on your very first Omega Wrestling Alliance title, that you turn around and suddenly your head is caved-the FUCK-*IN* by a round from the Genki Cannon and right before you and turn around to not to figure out what just the fuck happened, but to simply clear your vision-you’re spun around and then dropped by one of the most vicious DDTs in the history of this company and you’ll just be the first in a very long line of mother fuckers that I’ll be stacking up like cordwood in order to prove that this title win wasn’t just a fluke, but the savage reality that is to come!!

{Ryo’s fingers then tighten his grasp upon the Prestige championship as his eyes narrow even harder as he gazes at the camera with a dark intent}

Ryo: So I want you to spend these next few days in full preparation for the battle to come, Brandon. Because you might be Brandan FUCKING Hendrix and you might be able to draw your courage to fight even harder and faster from that…you will fall before the sheer driving force that I get each and every time that I see or hear those three…little…words. Words that are still being said all across those smart mark boards around the internet and behind me by certain people of our own locker room here in Omega.

I’ve heard it as far away as Japan, Oasis was practically screaming it into my face as he forced crimson rivers to flow down it only a few short months ago, Brandon.

Three little words that drives me even further into a kind of madness upon which I shall bury your first and *only* attempt at my Omega Wrestling Alliance Prestige championship live from Istanbul, *NOT* Constantinople….

Die
Ryo
*Die*

{Ryo then reaches up with his left hand to grab a handful of blonde hair and yanks on it for just a moment before he calmly releases it and smiles almost serenely at the camera}

Ryo: There is a certain kind of comfort in madness, Brandon. Something reassuring and freeing about not really caring or giving a shit about…well, *anything* really…and this, *this* is what I was driven to here in this company. So while this company can shower me with all of the love and respect that it wants from now on, it can give me championship after championship…it just won’t matter because in the end, I will never forget nor forgive those first few months of what those fans and our co-workers kept chanting since it never stops ringing in my ears, Brandon.

And soon, it will be ringing in your ears as well…as loud as a church choir and as clear as the rain upon the streets of your hometown in the dead of night.

I was never shown mercy, Brandon, and come Olympus…as you try to use me as your steppin stone…you’ll be begging for it from me to which I will simply smile, as I am smiling now as a matter of fact, and I will say simply “no”.

Right before I kick you off of the side of the mountain and back down to the valley of shadows below, where people like you belong.

{Ryo’s smile gets even bigger and more serene}

Ryo: Is…this what Arata felt before he fell from Heaven? Pushed and pushed through the walls of madness, everybody questioning his own sanity and desires until finally….he snapped and formed the Golden Dawn?

I’d have to ask him one day, but first things first…

{Ryo slowly allows his head to roll down and to the right, the smile remaining on his face but the look in his do not reflect the serenity that is etched upon his lips-instead they reflect something darker, much more sinister}

Ryo: Brandon, don’t come to Olympus…just *run*.

Go back to Project Honor or wherever from hence you came, because if you show at Olympus, I’ll take your heart…

{The smile remains as Ryo’s voice drops from the serenity filled one to a tone that would make most serial killers proud}

Ryo:...right after I kick it the fuck out of your *chest*.

Bee seeing you, Brandon….but hopefully not.

{The screen fades to black}

DT The Ruler and marielacorriveau have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos September 3rd 2022, 3:24 am by **The Banshee**

ODYSSEY PROMO ONE

Keeping Things in Context...

The camera opens up inside Yongma Land, an abandoned amusement park that is located within the Jungnang District of Seoul, South Korea. The camera is focused on a broken-down carousel, where The Banshee sits atop a broken carousel horse, as mist appears to spill out from underneath the carousel. The Banshee looks very angry, and doesn’t waste time speaking right as the camera zooms in.

Now I’ll get to my Athena’s Cup opponent in a moment, but the women of Thotyssey need a quick lesson in learning just WHO THE FUCK I AM… I AM THE GODDAMN BANSHEE! I DO NOT FORGIVE… AND I ESPECIALLY DO NOT FORGET!!!

Angelina Magnum, before you falsely credit yourself that you had everyone fooled… Just know that there hasn’t been a moment that I’ve ever liked or trusted you… but you really fucked yourself when you decided to join your gutter-skank sisters in costing me the OWA Undisputed Women’s Championship…

Did you really think that there wouldn’t be any fucking consequences?

You better fucking PRAY that you die in this tournament... because if there’s an extra bonus to competing for the Athena’s Cup… it’ll be the chance to demolish your hopes of winning… as well as the opportunity to destroy your silicone body and break your empty soul…

Angelina... I’m going to strap your fucking body to a tree... before shoving a chainsaw up your halibut hole!

Felix Hartley, your interference was fully expected… By shoving your tits in The Banshee’s business, you may have helped to preserve Rebecca Filth’s reign a bit longer… but as you sorority sluts will soon learn yourselves... my attention is not something you want...

Congratulations, Felix… you GOT my attention… the first of MANY regrets you’ll suffer for…

Finally, to you, Rebecca Filth… hold your championship belt just a little bit closer… because you and I both know the truth:

The Banshee was the better woman that night… The Banshee had you pinned for the three…

When you finally realized that you couldn't even slow down the Queen of the Monsters… let alone defeat me… you summoned your gonorrhea galpal Felix, that pitiful, cocksucking tramp… but even she wasn’t enough…

So you then literally pulled a wrench from out your ass, because you already had it ready… didn’t you?

It's because you already knew that you had no chance in hell to overpower The Banshee without some divine assistance… which came in the form of Angelina Magnum, who still needed the wrench to blast me hard enough for you to steal victory… in other words, it took all THREE of you skanks to stop me... is this the real "limit" of Thotyssey's power?

But context doesn’t matter in championship matches… that’s what you believe, Filth... because it’s a familiar narrative that fits your delusional perception of reality… Wanna know the sad part, Rebecca?

You are clearly talented enough to be a formidable wrestler… but not confident enough to stand on your own two feet…

However, for all your premature ejaculation over “Thotyssey” as some type of pornstar warriors juggernaut, there’s one mistake that you three colossal cunts made at Game Over…

You didn’t finish The Banshee off when you had the chance… now it’s going to come back to fucking haunt all of you…

I’m going to give you bitches a fucking war that you won’t believe… the one I warned you would come if you fucking screwed me out of my fucking title… you cunts are going to be put through more pain than your dirty minds can possibly imagine… and not the erotic, feel-good-type-of-pain, either… I’m going to punch holes in your fucking skulls so hard that your brain matter squirts out your ears… while your bowels shoot out your ass… then I'm gonna fucking suffocate you sluts with your own large intestines, so you can smell just how full of shit you whores really are before you die!

If there’s one disappointment about destroying Thotyssey … it’s that I’ll only get to do it ONE TIME… but I promise this to The Horde:

The Banshee will destroy Thotyssey before the end of Banshee-Ween...

The Queen of the Monsters is coming for the OWA Undisputed Women’s Championship… a title that, by all rights, should already be mine! If I have to... I'll break the bone of every bitch on the Odyssey roster... just to force Thotyssey to face me again! Now back to the 2022 Athena’s Cup…

How fitting is it that this first round matchup features the last two standing in the 2021 Athena’s Cup… Hana Nakajima, I’d almost forgotten you even existed... as did the fans... despite you winning it last year… over me, no less…

But, oh no… it’s that same word that can illuminate perception, allowing everyone to see through bullshit:

Context.

You see Hana, I’m guessing that you’re going to run your mouth about The Banshee losing at Game Over, or how I've yet to win a championship of any kind… or you may bring up beating me last year, your most credible victory in your laughable career…

But that’s just it, though, Hana…

Hana Nakajima has never defeated The Banshee.

Forget what the fucking record books show… It wasn’t YOU, Hana, that barely stopped me last year…

It was your boyfriend’s demonic spirit… It was HAVOC that allowed you to steal my victory last year…

It’s HAVOC that I WANT IN THE RING!

Hana Nakajima is just a sad, pathetic little girl that LITERALLY sucked her way into a legitimate wrestling league… You then spent the better part of your career being insanely jealous over the success of others, even those that considered you a sister at one point… However, I can’t fault your jealousy, little one…

I’d be jealous too... if I was the least-talented woman on Odyssey… which is exactly what you are...

Is that what led to your deal with the devil? Did Havoc promise you the world? How was your thirty seconds in your undeserved spotlight?

These questions are obviously rhetoric, because you clearly were gullible enough to believe the words of a demon… the same demon that left you hanging when you truly needed him, too!

You can claim that you technically “won” the OWA Omega Heavyweight Championship without Havoc when you cashed in the Athena’s Cup during Alyssa’s match with Devi at Clash of the Titans 2022… but guess what happened next?

Alyssa Grace BRUTALIZED YOU at Final Destination IV… enroute to winning back the title from you that same night… But wasn’t there "someone" missing from your corner that evening?

Did Alyssa really put the fear of God into a demon... using only a steel chair? The evidence is certainly overwhelming…

And what have you really done since Final Destination IV? I’m sure you only travel with the company so that Christopher has his personal pet concubine ready to sexually service him at a moment’s notice… but as for me... I headlined another Odyssey PPV main event, while you just whined on Twitter about nothing.

Let’s face it, honey… you’re not the draw you think you are… but The Banshee… There is arguably no Alpha more popular with the fans right now… there is no force currently stronger than The Horde, no matter what the sluts of Thotyssey believe…

Hana, I don’t think you have the ability to inspire fear or intimidation in your opponents… hell, I couldn’t see you scaring a fucking infant, even if Tom Savini did your fucking makeup!

You miserable, pathetic circus midget… you’re a better fit dancing on poles then fighting in rings… If there’s one victory I’ll give to you, it’s that losing to you was very humiliating for me…

But then I remember again… context… that funny little word which holds so much power over those who cower from the facts…

If you want any chance to defeat me this time, don’t wait for the inevitable moment when you realize that “all is lost,” when defeat is only a few seconds away…

In fact, you shouldn’t even bother coming to the ring at all… because it’s not Hana Nakajima that I want in that ring… You're just not a real challenge without Havoc… Anytime I want… whenever the mood strikes me….

WHAM! (snaps fingers) Your ass belongs to The Banshee, just like that!

Havoc may have helped you steal the 2021 Athena’s Cup… but 2022 is a whole new year, and I’ve been waiting just as long for this fucking moment… so don’t you fucking dare rob me of it…

It truthfully doesn’t matter who my opponents are in this year’s Athena’s Cup, because the end result is simply gonna be this:

The Banshee will be the 2022 Athena’s Cup winner… consider it a fucking promise… just like my promise to make Hana endure levels of pain that would make the Cenobites from Hellraiser cum themselves!

Hana, I’m going to violate you so fucking violently… you’re gonna wish you fucking died while your whore mother was still squeezing you out her loose cunt roast beef lips!

A key difference between me and you is the ability to bounce back… letting go of my ego, even after a humiliating defeat, is proof that I’ve grown and matured over the last year… but you, Hana…

When you start to see the first signs of adversity… you crumble faster than a teetering house of cards…

While you likely dream of one day being the top woman on the roster, the truth is you don’t move the needle… AT ALL… in fact, a balloon full of piss would make a bigger splash than anything you’ve ever done in your dismal and paltry career! Don’t you see, Hana? No amount of editing could fix the massive failure your biography is… its proof that your mother should’ve just swallowed instead…

It’s really unfortunate for you that Thotyssey failed to take me out… because they just set you up for some lethal agony… This year, the Athena’s Cup belongs to The Banshee, and it starts with erasing the bad taste of last year’s finals loss... by massacring the same bitch partly responsible for it… Hana Nakajima…

Since I’ve already used “context” to illuminate the hidden truths beneath your embellishments, allow me to put The Banshee’s determination to win the OWA Undisputed Women’s Championship into the proper “context” so that even your dumbass can grasp the impending doom you’re facing on Odyssey…

The Banshee is very… very… angry, overflowing with rage, hatred, and fury… Getting screwed out of championships really pisses me off, and I’ve owe you and Havoc from last year! I’m so determined to get my hands on championship gold… I’m prepared to do absolutely anything… ANYTHING!

I’m going to viciously abuse my opponents… and even myself, as well… just for the chance to jack the title from Thotyssey… in fact, I’d absolutely ravage, dismember, and mutilate MY OWN FUCKING BODY JUST TO WIN THE 2022 ATHENA’S CUP!

How’s that for fucking context, Hana?

Unlike the last time we met… you no longer have a trump card to play, having exposed your hand last year when you… very COINCIDENTLY… found actual success, despite never actually fucking achieving it yourself… At this point, why don’t you just officially change your name to Havoc? After all…

You’re nothing without Havoc…

As mentioned earlier, Havoc represents your best chance at victory, but currently, there’s no guarantee that I’ll even see the bastard this time… that would be VERY DISAPPOINTING, Hana… Because it’s not you that I want to destroy… you’ve pretty much destroyed yourself when you forged that unholy alliance to begin with…

I WANT TO SEND HAVOC BACK TO HELL MYSELF!!!

Whatever rituals you have to perform… whatever spells you have to speak… whatever animals you have to sacrifice on an altar… just make sure that Havoc can come out to play… otherwise, I’ll continue inflicting punishment onto your tiny, feeble cumrag-of-a-body, regardless of how long the match goes on…

If I have to physically beat Havoc out of you, I fucking will…

The thought of destroying Havoc… and his pet bitch Hana Nakajima… just turns me on SO FUCKING MUCH! At Odyssey, I’m going to kick-off Banshee-Ween 2022 by avenging last year’s Athena’s Cup failure… when I physically peel the flesh from Hana's bones, just to see if the bitch even has any fucking guts…

Remember… it’s Havoc I want… don’t disappoint me, bitch...

Michael Bishop, Diantha Rosso, Jeff X, 'Don' Hendrix, DT The Ruler, Krysis, Felix Hartley and have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos September 2nd 2022, 2:34 am by **DT The Ruler**

It Didn’t Happen

It was right there....

...right in front of me....

The opportunity to add another ingredient to my status as a great, to my status as the best wrestler on the Kingdom Brand and in all of OWA, and to my status as a Legend in this business.

And it didn’t happen.

It was already frustrating enough to be present in front of that disillusioned Seoul crowd, bloody and battered, physically broken in that four-way match of the Mad Faces, having to not just try and obtain that Brass Ring that eluded Yours Truly since his return, but hold onto the very Championship Belt I’ve been adding respect back to by just having it on my person. And after all that violence, all the crashes through tables, the blunt force trauma all participants experienced, either Mr. Raivo but preferably myself should have that belt.

And it didn’t happen.

(The camera goes from a black screen and fades in to show DT The Ruler sitting in a chair with his back turned, holding a telephone in hand and speaking to one of his Chief Advisors while his head was being attended to by a nursing aide)

DT The Ruler: How is he? ... ... ... Well, Mr. Raivo has the next edition of Kingdom off from action, so he should be able to recover better. Make sure he is attended to by the best medics you can get. I’m not leaving for a few days, and even then I have to travel to the States once more before heading back on the Tour. ... ... ... Well of course he’s going to be stubborn after what happened at the Pay Per View; he’s running on anger to this moment. But make sure he gets attended to; he’d be idiotic to just run around after what happened at that show. Take care of him.

(DT The Ruler hung up the phone and looked forward while sitting in his chair at the balcony of a different private home he owned in an undisclosed part of Asia; with a somber expression, he looked at the brightly lit setting from the distance with his hands folded in his lap as he was attended to)

I know what you’re thinking. I’m sure none of you give a damn about how I feel about what transpired at that Pay-Per-View. As long as you got to witness human suffering on both an elite and grimly creative level- especially to those greater than you’ll ever be- it satisfies your insatiable and noticeably primitive thirst for violence. But all I can think about as I’m being attended to was it being there. My opportunity, my shining moment of greatness, that Legendary status: all there for the taking. And as I was moments away from being Double Champion, from becoming a success story for all of Kingdom to have no choice but to behold: the goal was taken away. The people witnessing my battle for that goal rejected their Master and Ruler. Those people did not want to witness excellence. They didn’t want an exemplary competitor and man of class as champion; they just wanted blood and a Hallmark moment at the end.

And in the end, it didn’t happen.

But let’s go back to being real.

No one wants to hear that sappy shit. Nobody wants to hear an expression of *F E E L I N G S* that way, especially from a grown-ass man like myself, once who has experienced worse in his career and overcame dire circumstances more than once. Save it for the Sports Psychologists or random pillow talk or whatever. I understand what this environment encourages: you take your brutality and dodge the mysticism and the unusual, win or lose, and you find ways to brush it off so you can continue on the path towards your goal. Even if The Ruler were to have both championships, it’s been established that every member of the roster would find some way to vomit out words of disparity to feel superior anyways, so you just do what needs to be done. But I am pretty pissed off about Game Over. Mr. Raivo is even more pissed off about Game Over. And that Fatal Four Way should not have gone down like that, regardless of that lowly henchman, Mr. Jack Daito, sticking his nose where it didn’t belong and laying the pipe to Mr. Myojin.

....So at Kingdom...

For this very Championship I own, this Championship I “retained”, I will show everyone how it should have happened, how it should’ve gone, and when the time comes: how it WILL be. So, The Ruler laid out an open challenge after the dust settled at Game Over, and at the edition of Kingdom, instead of facing two degenerates and one Mr. Raivo, I will face three degenerates instead. These three degenerates- whether they ended up raising their hand in the classroom or were called upon by Kenny and Friends- will be taught a very valuable lesson by Yours Truly. The first one, one Mr. David Gideon Smith, seems very trapped in his own world, his own mission, and his own random objectives, what seems to not be connected to anything about becoming elite in this business. Then you look at Mr. Arthur Lucideus, who.... also seems very trapped in his own world, his own mission, and his own random objectives. Déjà vu, it feels like, quickly glancing at both of these men, and with that quick glance, it’s no wonder they were placed on a team together for a Tag Team contest. Of course, I won’t write them off as carbon copies as of yet; my secretaries will do their due diligence making notes on them, but surface-level is not telling me much.

But despite them and what I may say eventually, I want to focus a little more on the third participant.

Mr. Tyler Kulina, I’m sure some of you have heard of him, maybe have seen him in a contest, but I’m not focusing on that boy because he’s any more of a threat than the others. But I want to focus on something I caught. Walls do have ears, and I did manage to hear something Mr. Kulina said to one Mr. Alejandro De Leon...

(DT The Ruler was given a random phone by one of his maids, and he searched for recording on it, and then played it on speaker)

“Alejandro de Leon should be able to relate with me. We both know how it feels to lose in front of thousands of Chinese people. The only difference is Leon failed to capture the Outlaw Championship. A belt that could be won by anyone at any time, but yet Leon failed to capture it within the boundaries of normal singles competition. I don't know much about my opponent, but I know myself. I know that I would've fought harder to win that Outlaw title. I know that the dog in me has a bigger bite than the claws that reside on Alejandro's hands. This isn't so much a diss but rather a declaration-"

(DT The Ruler then cut the message off, placed down the phone on the ground, and turned it upside down)

While some may say Mr. Tyler Kulina is not worth mentioning, dismissing him as gutter trash, one of those one-and-dones that may get pushed into the bargain bin of “I-don’t-know-yous” a lot of members of the roster may have him in, truth be told: I keep alert of every man and woman this company has walking through it. Ascension to the Heavens proved reason enough to do so, as The Ruler should be ready for whatever competitor is to step between those ropes and needs to be hit with realism. I did get to witness that boy get brutalized by that sloppy atrocity, TITAN, and as hilarious as their Dark Kingdom Tournament match could be seen as, I saw some potential to be entertaining beyond mindless spectacle. I mean with his scrawny build and struggle in life up to this point, he has to have some potential to go through that ordeal and walk it off into the next one. I will note, also, for Mr. Kulina that despite the fact that this Outlaw Championship in my hands can be fought for at any time anywhere, he should ask around and realize that running up on The Ruler for the Outlaw Championship is one of the stupidest ideas and a good way to gets hospitalized. That 24/7 rule does indeed exist, and I’ve openly challenged anyone already to step up and try to become a champion over myself.

But they know better.

But this is it. Along with the others, Mr. Tyler Kulina has a big chance, in his case to live by those words he said to one Mr. De Leon, a man I weakened pretty badly mentally before breaking him physically, to the point that Mr. Tyler Kulina was granted pretty much a free win when they crossed paths. He should thank The Ruler later for making that easy. But for him, pertaining to Mr. Kulina: he needs to come to Kingdom prepared for a match that’s not within the boundaries of normal singles competition, just like I’ve had to experience for the last three Pay-Per-Views, a match where despite being hurt at Game Over: I am very amped up to demonstrate what should have occurred in Seoul. He needs to prepare for a match where I am VERY MAD. And Mr. Tyler Kulina needs to come correct- even though the results will remain the same- because when that bell rings: the hungry lion that is The Ruler of Men does not play around with his food, as much as I love occasionally seeing my opponents struggle to make me flinch. As Mr. Tyler Kulina has witnessed, my temperament is not something to test without some effort involved, and even then, it won’t go well. And with this expression, I expect determination on a desperate level from Mr. Kulina. Like myself, Mr. Kulina comes from the very bottom of the totem pole, the lowest rung of the Capitalistic ladder of modern life, so for the time being, I will safely assume The Ruler will cross a young man willing to give his all for very Championship I carry. He better keep that promise to make the most of this opportunity, as all a man has a majority of the time is his word, and I take words very seriously.

But in the end, his Master and Ruler will keep the Outlaw Championship and bring it to the back to be shined by his secretary.

(The camera faded to black as a masseuse approached where he was sitting and began massaging around his neck)

Michael Bishop, Alyssa Grace, The Banshee, Felix Hartley, marielacorriveau and Chad Ecclestone have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Kingdom 1 September 2nd 2022, 1:43 am by **Dick P. Slaughter**

THE RIVER COUNTRY QUEST: THE SECRET OF MYSTERY MOUNTAIN

( the scene opens on a woodland forest area. The typical peace and quiet is broken by the sound of a 1966 Camaro roaring full throttle past the trees as it’s pursued by A gang of thugs following on ATVs. Inside the all American muscle car sits DICK P. SLAUGHTER U.S.M.C., and his assistant Ellena Lovegood riding shotgun.)

Ellena: I cannot believe I keep getting dragged into this kind of bullshit! I’ve quit better jobs than this!

DPS: C’mon when’s the last time you got to see the wide open spaces of nature like this?

( As Dick finishes speaking One of the goons creeps up along side the passenger side, but Dick Swerves hard into him sending The Goon head on towards a low hanging tree branch. The goon lands hard on the ground after the tree sends him tumbling through the air with a clothesline.)

DPS: He’s gonna feel that one tomorrow.

CRACK!

( suddenly the Driver side window shatters as another of the thugs smashes it open with the butt end of his Glock 9 millimeter.)

DPS: TAKE THE WHEEL!

( Ellena does as she’s asked while Slaughter tries to wrestles the gun away from his purser. The Goon fires several shots which ring loudly before A notable cracking noise signals that Slaughter broke his attacker’s arm. The thug screams in agony as Dick yanks him by the arm off the ATV, and sends his head bouncing off the car door. Dick Simrks as he watches the second thug roll in pain in the side view mirror.)

DPS: Now that’s what I call a close up.

Ellena: Was that a shot at the guy you’re gonna wrestle this week? I mean don’t you think we have more pressing issues right now?!

DPS: you mean Chad EWhogivesafuck? If I wanted to take a shit at him I’d say that I would call him a good for nothing, pretty boy, cunt, but I wouldn’t want to offend anyone who considered themselves a good for nothing cunt by comparing them to Chad Ecclestone. So no I didn’t try to take a shit at him just now.

( Slaughter and Lovegood are jostled as the last of the ATVs aggressively bumps the Camaro’s rear end.)

DPS: These guys are starting to piss me off. Hang on!

( Dick slams on the brakes. The last of the goons is sent flying through the air a short distance, and finds himself clinging on to the roof of Slaughter’s Camaro for dear life. Dick puts the pedal to the metal and speeds off through the rough and rugged terrain. As he does, another engine can be heard revving in the distance. Through the tree line bursts an armored 4x4 pickup truck. Dick takes the Glock he was able to wrestle away in hand, and unloads whatever was left in the magazine at the pick up. Sparks fly from every one of the full metal jackets that clang off the truck’s armor, but the pick up continues on unhindered. Slaughter tries to keep his distance from the fast approaching 4 by 4 his gaze only breaking away for a moment when sees a knife come down through the roof just inches away from both his and Elena’s heads respectively.

Slaughter begins to swerve left and right,stopping the thug on the roof from making any progress further into the cabin, and keeping him holding on to anything that will keep him from becoming road kill.)

DPS: Son of a bitch is dug in like a flea on my dog, and twice as much of a pain I. The ass. Now there’s one you can say is a knock against our boy Chad.

( Slaughter keeps pushing his car as fast as it will go as his pursuers try to stay on him. A hand holding a .357 magnum emerges out of the Armored Pick up’s passenger side window.)

BAM BAM BAM!

( Three Bullets whiz by Just missing Slaughter’s head. Straight ahead in the distance Dick finds a way out, and he decides to take it.)

Ellena: DICK DID YOU NOT SEE THAT SIGN THAT SAYS THE BRIDGE IS OUT?!

DPS: If you have any other ideas on how to lose these assholes I’m all ears.

( Slaughter heads straight for a collapsed rope bridge, the 4x4 doesn’t wavier in its hot pursuit.)

DPS: Grab on to that lever over your head.

( Ellena grabs the long, chrome handle that sits in the corner of the roof. Dick does the same on his side of the car as The engine on the Camaro nearly tops out just before the launching off the last patch of land.)

DPS: NOW!

( Slaughter and Lovegood pull down on their respective levers which sheds the convertible roof from the body of the car, who along the knife wielding goon, fly back and smack across the armored pick up’s windshield.)

Ellena: I CANNOT BELIEVE I FLEW HALFWAY AROUND THE WORLD TO GET CAUGHT UP IN YOUR FUCKING MACHO NONSENSE!!!

(The Camaro lands with a thud, it’s back wheels just making it to the other side of the ravine. The same cannot be said of the armored pick up, which crashes into the face of the cliff before falling into the rushing waters below.)

Ellena: You’re not gonna be happy till you give me a heart attack one day aren’t you?

DPS: It’s not my fault they were chasing us. besides, at least you won’t die of boredom, which is more than anyone who ever watched a Chad Ecclestone movie can say.

Ellena: I’ve never seen any of his work so I couldn’t say.

DPS: I doubt that anyone who hasn’t smoked a bag of crack and dug through the bargain bin at circle K has seen one of this fucker’s movies.

Ellena: Really? you would think with that attitude of his, he would have actually done something of note. I mean the only thing I know him from is getting punked out by Theodor Pavel, and that was just last week.

DPS: I read somewhere that It’s usually the Hollywood flops that act like assholes to the people around them, and Chad just went ahead and confirmed that fact. You just gotta marvel at how the man acts like both a dick and a pussy at the same time. Few men I know can pull off that feat, but Chad does it with ease. I wonder if this pretentious cuck can even name one of his own films? Or quote one memorable line of dialogue he had? Hell I bet he couldn’t give me three reasons why a casting director should choose him over a nutless chimpanzee for his next role.

Ellena: If he can’t then it sure seems like he has a stick lodged firmly up his ass.

DPS: Yeah, and I got the branch cutter standing by the ready. Because when I lock horns with Chad, there ain’t no script, and it sure as hell ain’t no make believe. Ecclestone better get ready, because when I’m coming to brawl, even the lady selling tickets at the front door better be ready to move as fast as her feet can carry her. From the box office to the the parking lot, There’s nowhere to run, and nowhere for Chad to hide from this atom bomb I call a right hook to the jaw. That outta knock the prickness out of that Chad, and if it doesn’t I got a size 13 boot just waiting to punt his head into the fifth row.

Ellena: You sound a little more pissed than usual, is something wrong? I mean besides the fact that we nearly died just now.

DPS: I’m a reasonable guy, but there’s a few things in this world that makes a man, a man. The chief among those is Respect. So When a man has no respect for anyone, or anything, then from where I’m sitting that man just handed you an open invitation to beat the smug out of him. When a punk belittles everyone around him, then it’s only right that someone stand toe to toe with him and put him in his proper place. And so that what I’ll be doing when Kingdom rolls around. I am gonna hit him so hard he’s gonna thing the entire arena is spinning. I’m gonna rattle his bones every time I smack him upside the head. It’s my pleasure to be bringing the boom, and taking Chad on the express train to pain town. And when I’m done bashing his mouth into mush, they won’t tell the difference between Chad’s face and his ass. Ecclestone is gonna wish he brought his stunt double for this match, because Chad can’t match the fire power in my fists. hell I’d be surprised if pretty boy could actually throw a punch. I hope Chad doesn’t plan to do more than stand around in a puddle of his own piss, because whatever flimsy, feeble, strike that fuck could muster won’t do him any favors.

I’m the toughest bastard this side of an overcooked steak at a budget buffet. I’ve got a jaw of iron, and balls of steel. And when there’s no rules, that’s just perfect for me. I’m your worst nightmare you scum sucking little shit. There’s nothing I like better than a few things crashing down, a few things blowing up, and a shit ton of action. I’ll be fighting full throttle with my pedal to the floor till the sun comes up. So that Chad better be ready because I’m coming soon it show him why they call me the Boomslayer. This September, Ecclestone is gonna find out first hand that when it comes to action, excitement, thrills, chills, and finding the right guy who’ll get the job done. There’s only one name that matters, and it’s Dick P. Slaughter!

( With that we see a final shot of Slaughter’s Camaro driving off into the distance where his next thrilling adventure is surely awaiting him.)

DICK P. SLAUGHTER WILL RETURN IN THE LEGEND OF BANG BANG BART.

Alyssa Grace, The Banshee, marielacorriveau and Chad Ecclestone have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos September 1st 2022, 8:46 am by **Michael Bishop**

Vindication; Noun - The act of casting blame onto someone within suspicion, whether reasonable or unreasonable.

Or- The act of clearing your name once and for all.

The author of the Art of War, Sun Tzu once said: Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. For the test of one’s character is who they are at their lowest, when you’re out of options and when desperation is clawing at your door daring you to take the easy way out. And the test of your allies comes when you are at your highest and bitter jealousy is calling their name. Friendships have broken down, others have drawn the line and it fazes me not. I’ve always been a master of compartmentalization, separating yourself from those you stand across. After 20 years I’ve learned true loyalty is a rarity in this sport and it goes on hiatus between those bells.

This sport is cruel, only one motherfucker gets to stand atop the pyramid and my pathway here has been a nonstop extermination of everyone who stood in my way. Friend or foe, and every contender Kenny Drake deems worthy, enemy, ally, or traitor. Because if season 4 saw the path to heaven burned down, season 5 sees a road to hell paved with the opponents of Michael Bishop. This isn’t a check in the box, 4 month reign motherfuckers- New title, new knee, new era. And by the end of the the winter there will be one King standing and it’s gonna be the man who liberated this title from monotony and maliciousness, walking out of Game Over, through Boiling Point, Hardcore Havoc, into 2023- but all of that begins with a little bit of Vindication. I wasted no time in taking this fight, dried blood still on my knuckles as I signed that dotted line. I’m ready for any man, anytime, anyplace.

So, let’s get this shit started.

And who better to start with than the Former Kingdom General Manager, Reginald Dampshaw. Let me tell you all about the real Reggie; Former Spartan’s Champion, who held the belt hostage with no defenses before Arata Asakura of all people used him as a launchpad for mediocre shogun success. Former Tag Team Champion who got dethroned by fuckin’ Team Starburst of all people. The man who, when he had Kingdom’s finest cornered late last year, decided to make a statement by carving up some of my students because he just couldn’t win a fight, because he was equal to no one, and lesser than everyone. Yeah, ‘thought I forgot about that, didn’t you? Cunt.

Don’t get it fuckin twisted, Reggie, some of the newer meat wandering these halls might not know who you are but I do. A man who has been on the wrong side of history, the start of someone else’s success story, and time after time again on the wrong end of a kick to the head, a punch to the face, hell- the last time you fought for a World Title, Carlos Rosso dragged your ass to the mat and beat you. He rearranged your face, in 5 minutes, after a weekend of cocaine. And me? I beat the fucking bricks off of him on a pre-taped match: Two times in a row. Come to think of it we faced off not too long ago, didn’t we Reggie? And you want to know what happened- go ahead, tell the class, tell the world, better yet I will: I fucking demolished you at every single thing it means to be a professional wrestler, a fighter, and a man.

You had no answer, you didn’t even have an excuse because while some may treat you like a legend, all I see is a man who just won’t hit the gas pedal when it matters, and when he does, there wasn’t much in the tank to begin with. Some see Mushroom Mayhem as a contender worthy win, I don’t. All I see is a journeyman who’s on a nostalgia run, when there’s nothing to be nostalgic about. You can’t be washed if you never were and let’s be honestly Reginald, you were never even close. You needed henchman to carry you the 500 miles to your opportunities, and you always failed to get the job done every single fucking time, even when it was borderline force-fed to you. I’m not scared of the time Lizard, your rampant Schizophrenic rage personified, and I’m even less scared of you: The physical, walking embodiment of a man still trying to figure out who the fuck he is. When you never were, aren’t, and as long as I hold this world championship you never will be.

The violence Reginald claims to be pioneer to is nothing more than a bootleg shit of the violence I am author to. When we lock horns, you break first. When we lock eyes, you blink first. History has shown that I bled you, I beat you, and your momentum is always living off of borrowed time because like everyone else: You’re on my territory, on my payroll. And while the regime is no longer fear of god, fear of lightning: You are now living under gunpoint of Michael Bishop. You will show up, you will fight and whether it is 5 seconds or 5 hours I will take my time and vindicate myself of any doubt that I am worthy to hold this championship. Because the OWA brass thinks you are worthy of a shot at this, and who am I to blame them, to deny them. Come one, come all; whether it is one contender, two, three, or 39- I have made a monopoly of demonstrating how no matter how high you think the odds are stacked in your favor; you are locked in here with me. The most lethal man on earth, and the most violent motherfucker here, and a fighting champion with ruthless efficiency coursing through my veins.

So let me be straight with you, JD. JD Damon. Ryan James Damon: I didn’t hold you back for a single moment. I didn’t need to. You came back into OWA after a history of spotty performances, an inconsistent motherfucker who couldn’t stay around long enough to make an impact, but did stay around enough for people to ask: What the fuck is the point? And when you did- you shocked the world by beating Arata Asakura. You walked into Great War the Spartans champion. And afterwards? You dropped the fuckin ball, again and again. Your biggest enemy was yourself, it was always yourself: In the heart of your run, one that brought prestige back to the Spartans title, you got flatlined by me. The Outlaw Division was in its infancy and I was it's trailblazer, and I built that belt’s name off singles classics and full metal wars, including a champion vs champion bout that saw you spiked on your skull. Hell you could even say I laid the groundwork for Aria Jaxon; who beat you, was one step ahead, took your belt for her grandslam and ran off into the sunset. And when you tried to get it back in the Dark Kingdom Tournament? Azumi Goto beat your ass and you never made it out of the first round. Then Jeff decided to give you a gimme title shot, only for you to fall and eat the fuckin pavement on that one.

Do you see the fucking pattern here?

You got handed a number one contenders match and you got eliminated first. You got slotted for the clash of the Titans and got tossed out within ten minutes. Hell they even gifted you a tag team championship opportunity, gifted- given. I could go on all goddamn day because your career has been nothing but being on someone else’s highlight reel. When it came to rising to the challenge, you dropped straight into bedrock as JD fuckin Damon always does. And you want to blame me? Motherfucker I did nothing but have your back. We’ve both found ourselves in hard times, the only difference is I spat on my hands and carved my opportunities into existence. Your inability to grind it out, put on the work, learn from your mistakes because you thought a sob story about a dead friend was gonna carry you 1,000 miles.

My dominance is not an excuse for your mediocrity. That is all on you. You abandoned my family, insulted me while I was deceased and now you expect me to feel sorry for you? Fuck off. Jeff might have back in Tokyo but that’s because he’s a born leader, and deep down he’s a good person. Deep down? I’m not. You know it first hand as time after time, both of you do, I have squeezed the life out of you and my lasting memory haunts every single fuckin’ moment of yours like a never ending Knightmare.

Tell me what did Game Over show? That I am willing to take on three of the top contenders at once, because I am the hungriest world champion in the company? That I can clock in at top speeds, stop on a dime, and have the greatest ring awareness of the division? That even in the eleventh hour, my strength is above all, my endurance is bar none, and even with meat skewers in my scalp, I still kicked out of a maneuver the upper half of the roster wouldn’t have been able to. I stole the whole damn weekend in the opening match, you two got a drug-addled victory that bought you ten minutes of fame that has reached its end, and will expire like your career will upon contact with me. As it has, historically, and as it will, prophetically.

And so I wash my hands of what comes next, because they will soon be dripping of your blood. Once upon a time, we were brothers in arms. After Vindication? You’ll be nothing more than a casualty. I respect ability, and I acknowledge a challenge, this championship’s lineage is built off of high octane carnage and if you want to taint it with your self obsessed war for validation? I will put you in the fuckin’ ground. See you in hell, brother.

You see boys I sympathize with you because deep underneath all of that pity, greed, and moral indignity is a dream: Two men who have been slugging it out in midcard valley looking to finally cash their chips and become world champion, the only difference is… the third man in the ring with them is fast tracking his way to becoming the most dominant OWAC in this company’s history by stacking every fucking person I come across, two, three, four at a time and racking up accolade, after record, after statement, after highlight that will be forever etched into history. We all had a dream, the only difference is I was the only one out of us three to put in the work, I was the only one to see it through, and I was the only one with the testicular fortitude to get shit done.

Bo…. Who’s the first Kingdom Clash of the Titans winner to successfully cash their chips in at Final Destination in over four years?

“Michael Bishop”.

Who’s the first OWAC to not only defend their belt in a fatal four way, but walk out looking like the most dominant 25% of it, 100% of the match?

“Michael Bishop”.

And who is the man who has laid the foundation for the most dominant run with this title in over half a decade, willingly on a collision course with every single worthy competitor, to break the reign record, and walk into 2023 and Final Destination 5?

“Michael fucking Bishop”.

That is a guarantee, a spoiler, and a promise stamped, approved, and to be hand delivered via every strike, every kick, and every decisive finish heading into this winter, this season, and into Vindication.

See you soon

Scott Oasis, KEKOA, Alyssa Grace, The Banshee, 'Don' Hendrix, DT The Ruler, Felix Hartley and have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos August 29th 2022, 9:55 pm by **Violet Cunningham**

(Character Development)

Here are your winners…AND NEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEWWWWWWWWW OWA Women’s World Tag Team Champions…ALYSSA GRACE AND ELIZABETH KARLSON…THE POWER OF INCREDIBBBBBLLLLLLEEEEE VIIIIIIIOOOOOOLEEEENNNCCCEEEE!!!!

The ring of the bell. The sound of the crowd. The blinding lights. The promise. Of glory. Of immortality. Of making history.

The match played again. And again. And again. Faster. Faster still, until it was a blur, the noise increasing to an incredible din, and as it reaches its crescendo—

Everything goes silent, and dark.

You Died.

Violet Cunningham sat cross legged, but not like a regular person. Most people obey gravity, Violet did not. She was sitting upside down, on the ceiling, but her hair and clothes remained immaculate, as though her own center of gravity had changed to match her orientation.

Her thoughts brought her to the final bosses. It had happened again. She’d lost the chance to gain another title because of the shortcomings of another. But it was her fault as well, she should have done more.

Fought harder. Trained better.

She was getting sick of this, all these words she spoke being empty. Lies. Meaningless.

Marie entered the room and looked up at her partner sympathetically. They’d both given it their all, but had fallen short, and it had hit the vampire harder than either of them expected it to.

Violet wasn’t depressed. She was a touch disappointed, but more than anything she was just tired. Tired of falling short, especially when she and her partner didn’t eat a pin or tap out. They could have won were it not for that irritating third team. Marie had a pinfall and a submission, both successful. But she wasn’t legal.

Marie sat on a chair below Violet, raising her eyebrows. She didn’t say anything, she didn’t have to. This happens sometimes. When Violet wanted silence, when she was upset and wanted to think, she’d sit on the ceiling. It was odd, but sort of cute as well.

This wasn’t the end. It’s not often you beat the final boss on the first try, but the point is to come back and try again until you defeat your opponent.

They were protagonists, on a journey. And what’s a good story without a comeback arc?

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

FAR AWAY [CHARACTER DEV 001] August 28th 2022, 4:35 pm by **DGS**

07.19.2022
PHILADELPHIA, PA
[REDACTED]

"Soon?" David Smith asked.

"Soon," Adya Chandrasekhar answered.

They'd been driving for over two hours -- going in circles, if David was any judge. The standoff outside OWA Headquarters had left him with more questions than answers. Instead of being any sort of forthright about her intentions or motivations, Adya had bid him follow her, and while a part of him was very interested in how the Black Blade would fare against a spatially optimized sniper cell, David had ultimately complied.

She'd led him out of the office park, to where a black Escalade without plates idled just inside the mouth of an alleyway. He'd briefly glimpsed a police barricade down the street, confirming his suspicions: whatever organization Adya was a part of, it wielded enough influence to clear civilian traffic, both on-foot and vehicular, from an area measuring several city blocks.

A collective, in other words, best not trifled with.

Nevertheless, David had, at Adya's request, gotten in the Escalade's middle seat. The black bag that was promptly (albeit roughly) slipped over his head? The snubnose .38 that pressed itself to the base of his skull? These things were a simple matter of course.

Three others had entered the vehicle -- one to his left, another to his right, and Adya in the passenger seat -- and they were off.

That was two hours ago. Now, with a gun still pressed to his C1 vertebra, David found himself growing bored.

"Look," he said, voice muffled by the bag. "I get the need to cover tracks. But this thing's fuel light just came on, so unless the plan is to gas up with a, uh... hostage in the car, I think it's probably safe to, y'know. Get where we're going."

"Wait," a voice he didn't recognize, male and reedy, protested from the driver's seat. "How'd he know -- "

"Same way he knew we had nine guns on him," Adya cut him off from the passenger's seat. "And where all nine of those guns were."

David sensed movement in the ensuing silence, the others in the car shifting uncomfortably in their seats.

"... no way," the man seated to his right said. "It's a trick of some kind."

"Nope," David said flatly, uninterested in coddling denial.

"Yeah?" A moment passed and then the voice came again, this time right in his ear. "Prove it."

David took a breath, slow and deep, and considered the challenge. "The one behind me's sick," he murmured.

Several seconds passed, the air in the Escalade growing heavier with each. Then, from the backseat: "... me?" She sounded young, mid-twenties at the very most. She also sounded like she didn't know.

David nodded. "You."

"You can see that she's sick?" the guy to his left asked. There was nary a trace of skepticism on his voice, only curiosity.

"Not... " David trailed off. "Not exactly."

The guy to his left started to vocalize a follow-up question, but the girl in the backseat beat him to the punch. "Sick how? Like, I'm coming down with a cold or something? Covid?"

David shook his head. "No. At least, I don't think so."

"What, then?" The question came out small. Afraid.

"Something's... wrong," David said after a time. "Inside you, deep. I... " He swallowed hard. "I can smell it."

The firm pressure of the gun at his neck lessened, then vanished, and the final fifteen minutes of the drive passed in utter, oppressive silence. It was only after the Escalade turned down another alley -- David could feel it, a subtle change where the rubber met the road -- that it finally slowed to a stop. Four doors opened in unison, and a heavy hand fell on David's shoulder.

"Out."

Wordlessly he complied, offering no protest as he was guided across to a heavy metal door whose hinges screamed at his and his custodians' approach. He was ushered into a dark, cramped, musty space; through a door and down a flight of stairs; to the end of a long, dimly lit corridor, and across another threshold before he was roughly spun around and forced down into a lone folding chair.

The bag was yanked away, and a distressed groan escaped him as a sudden, piercing light assailed his eyes. "Fuckin'... "

Seconds ticked by, and as his eyes began to adjust, David first found himself face-to-face with Adya, who'd pulled up a chair of her own and now sat reverse upon it, arms folded across the backrest, eyeing him with curious, guarded intent. As his surroundings came further into focus, David spied others: they were in a vast, barren basement-space, all cement floors and mortar walls, with a single naked bulb as the lone source of light. He and Adya sat alone beneath it, but he counted four others in the gloom beyond; one of them, a woman whose blonde hair coiled back into a tight braid, sat at a small table, upon which rested a tripod-mounted WKW Wilk anti-materiel rifle. Based on the angles involved -- she was seated behind and slightly to the right of Adya -- David guessed that a round fired from the weapon would take him in the left eye.

"I imagine you have questions for us," Adya said.

David tried not to glance at the gun and failed. "Maybe a few."

"Hm." A chuckle, accompanied by a small, strained smile. "Fair enough. I propose a one-to-one exchange: I answer one of yours, you answer one of mine. Deal?"

David glanced at each of the other four. The blonde was inscrutable behind the Wilk's scope, but the others -- a pale, powerfully built man with a beard, a heavyset bespectacled man, and a slender woman with dark hair and darker eyes -- all seemed to be hovering between anticipation and dread, as if the gun eventually going off was a given.

"... deal," he said, refocusing on Adya, the intrigue he'd felt back at the office park returning in force.

"Excellent." Adya shifted in her seat. "Please, you first."

"All right." David leaned forward in his seat. "Who are you?"

Adya nodded, her apparent expectation met. "Of course. You and I have already been introduced, but."

She turned, looking over her shoulder first at the woman on the gun, then at the remaining three in turn. "This is Jennifer Oppenheimer. That's William Tolman, Joseph Shannon, and Maya Bekenstein. There are others, of course, but they are... otherwise-occupied, for the moment."

At this Adya faced forward again, eyeing David. "But I imagine you want more than names. Correct?"

David said nothing.

"Hm. Right." Adya re-centered in her seat. "We belong -- we belonged -- to an agency known as EISAC." *

David blinked. "And that means... ?"

"Extrinsic Identification, Surveillance, and Control," the man Adya had identified as Tolman said, stepping away from his position against the far wall. David did a double-take at his voice, thick as it was with a heavy Kiwi accent.

"That's enough for one answer, I think," Tolman continued, moving forward to stand next to Adya and placing a hand on her shoulder. "Mind if I take first ask, love?"

"I -- um... " Adya's face told the story: they'd come into this with a script, an action plan of some kind, and whatever Tolman was up to didn't constitute playing along.

"Perfect." Tolman turned to David, a toothy grin spreading across his face as he crossed the distance between them. "Now tell me... ring rat."

David saw the punch coming but made no effort to stop it. Tolman's fist landed flush, knuckle-to-cheekbone; to his credit, the blow spun David a full ninety degrees, sidesaddling him in his chair.

"BILLY!"

"NO!"

"Jesus FUCKING -- "

The punch was one thing. He'd taken plenty of those and worse. But then, amidst the sudden cacophony of gasps and admonitions, he heard Tolman's voice in his ear: "How's it feel to catch a real hand, eh?"

David surged out of his seat, going nose-to-nose with the man. Tolman's eyes were wide, showing too much of the whites, and his smile had bloomed into a full-blown rictus, all teeth and gums, like a dog getting ready to fight. "Aww," he mocked, "what's the matter? Didn't like that? Why dontcha go on and do somethin' about it, then. Pull out that fancy knife of yours, yeah?"

"Billy, stop." Suddenly Adya was there, forcing herself in between them. David took a step back after a moment and then it was her and Tolman, who refused to either budge or tear his eyes from David's own. For his part, David wasn't sure what to make of it; he couldn't recall ever having met the guy before, much less doing anything to inspire such animosity.

And yet for all that, this William Tolman was as ready to go as he'd ever seen anyone. Anything.

"Billy," Adya implored him. "This isn't happening, okay? We are not doing this now, we're not -- Billy, listen to me." She took his face in her hands, slowly but forcibly bringing his eyes to hers.

"... Addy," Billy said, and in that moment David could hear it: the strain in his voice, born of an old, heinous hurt. "I... "

"She wouldn't want this," Adya said softly. "None of them would."

In the following moments Tolman's face ran a gamut of emotions, many of which David knew quite well, before settling into a cold, resigned countenance. Without another word he took a step back from Adya, turned, and retreated back to his place against the wall by the door. Once there, however, his eyes returned to David, who saw and noted in them the same anger he'd felt through the man's fist, fettered only for the moment.

"... right," Adya sighed wearily, turning back to David. "I... I'm sorry about that. Now -- "

"I'm gonna go," David said.

Adya blinked, not immediately comprehending. David noted similar reactions in the other four -- even Oppenheimer tilted her head away from the scope of her rifle to regard him oddly.

"W-what?" Adya stuttered.

"Yeah. All this," David gestured vaguely with a hand, "is great. Lot of drama, lot of intrigue, real primetime-quality stuff. Unfortunately, I don't have time to help Karl Urban over there work through whatever shit he's got going on, so I, uh. I think I'm just gonna head out."

Now they understood; if David averaged out what he was reading in each of their faces, he supposed the net result would be something like stupefaction. Supposing also that then was as good a time as any, he made for the door, stepping past Adya.

"Wait -- "

What happened next happened fast, and very nearly all at once.

Adya turned with him, making to grab him by the shoulder, to stop him. Why David took greater offense to this than Tolman slugging him, he couldn't say; nevertheless, he rounded on her, snatching her wrist out of the air and pulling her in close to him. In that same split-second he sensed motion from all four of the others, chief among them Jennifer Oppenheimer, who had finally seen enough and who had, finally, pulled the trigger.

The WKW Wilk -- an anti-materiel rifle, designed to blow holes in tanks -- thundered in the confined space. David saw the muzzle flash in Adya's eyes, illuminating the shock and horror and panic in them... but only out of his periphery, because he'd already begun to turn. His arm came up, over, and down, fingers closing, and the already-fired .50 BMG round did what all things do upon meeting the Black Blade.

In the dim light of a dying bulb, its filament reduced to a flickering ember, David affixed Oppenheimer with an unblinking stare: first through the rifle's scope, and then directly in the eye as she moved her head away from the gun, taking her quivering hands off of its frame and trigger. The weapon's discharge should've been deafening in such a confined space -- more than sufficient to rupture their eardrums -- but it hadn't the chance, disappearing into the Blade's godless warbling hum.

David's voice suffered no such diminishing. "Do not do that again."

Oppenheimer nodded, utterly incapable of doing anything more.

"And you." David rounded once more on Adya, who was borderline-walleyed with fear. "I am done playing along with this farce. Understand? No more games, no more riddles, no more fucking posturing. You're going to tell me who you are, what you know, and what you want with me, now."

"I-I-I... okay," Adya stammered breathlessly. She tried to pull her arm away, but David's grip held fast. "Fine. Just... okay."

She settled for closing her eyes and taking a deep, quivering breath to steady herself, and David had no choice but to give her credit -- the act slowed her racing heart considerably. Adya then opened her eyes, looking David dead in his own. "We know the rumors are true, that you served as a wetworker for the Yakuza. We haven't been able to nail down your actual body count, but our best estimates place it somewhere between sixty and seventy."

Silence descended in wake of the accusation, David regarding Adya in the flickering corpse-light. He could sense the others, as well -- Oppenheimer remained stupefied, so much so that she hadn't spared the Wilk so much as another glance; Tolman stood paralyzed, torn between the desire to rip David's throat out with his teeth and the knowledge that he'd die trying; Shannon's heart rate was actually worrying; and Bekenstein was wound so tight it was a wonder she hadn't snapped.

"Hundred and two, actually," David said. "But the final thirty-six have a bit of an asterisk next to them, so your intel is solid."

He opened his hands, releasing his grip on Adya's wrist and returning the Blade from whence it came. All at once the tension in the room lightened: the sound faded, the light returned, and all five of his quote-unquote captors relaxed... somewhat.

"Keep going," David urged as Adya took a step back from him, rubbing absently at her wrist.

"We knew you'd go back to wrestling," she said. "You always do. That's why we steered you toward the OWA, and -- "

"Wait." David raised a hand, stopping her. "You steered me toward OWA? Why? How?"

At this, Adya's eyes jumped to her compatriots. The look that passed between them, the weight of it, told David they were at last cleaving closer to the heart of the matter.

"The how's the easy part," Adya admitted. "Once we determined you were looking to jump back in, that you were shopping around, it was a just a matter of nudging you in the right direction. That was mostly Joe."

David followed her eyes as she looked over to Shannon, and the man visibly struggled not to wilt under their combined gaze.

"It... I mean, it was nothing," he said meekly, and David recognized his voice as that of the driver that had brought them to this place. "I just had to... y'know, take over your targeted-ad profile, flood it with OWA content. Cards, results, third-party analysis, social media hits... "

David stared at him for a long moment, then down at the floor for a longer one. All of that... tracked, actually. He was, by his own admission, not exactly net-savvy, but even he'd noticed an unusual proliferation of the Omega Wrestling Alliance in his feed recently. He'd attributed it in the moment to the brand growing in general; the notion that someone was hacking him, herding him toward the company, hadn't once crossed his mind.

"All right," he said slowly, bringing his gaze back to Adya and folding his arms over his chest. "What about the why?"

It was here that Adya's gaze finally dropped, and David sensed another palpable change in the mood of the room.

"Mister Smith... David. I don't... I don't know where you've been for the last two years," she said softly. "Frankly, it's a conversation I can't wait to have. But the world's changed while you've been away. It's gotten darker. The things that are coming out of the woodwork -- gods and monsters, angels and demons, things mankind just isn't equipped to deal with -- they've always been there, to an extent. We wouldn't have so many stories about them, otherwise. But it's getting worse. These forces, these extrinsic entities... there are more of them now, and they're getting bolder."

She looked up, capturing David's gaze once more.

"Lives are being lost," she continued. "The world over, innocent people are dying at the hands of powers they cannot comprehend or resist, all while less-than-innocent people continue tampering, continue making it worse."

"Less than... ?" David was beginning to understand. A nameless dread slithered into the pit of his stomach and coiled there, hissing.

"Doomsday cults," Adya said, "elevating abominations to godhood. Men and women of science, tampering with forces better left alone. And... "

She trailed off, hesitating. "... and the Omega Wrestling Alliance."

There it was.

"No." David shook his head. "You've gotta be fucking kidding -- "

"I'm not!" Adya cried, pathos bleeding freely into her words now. "You know I'm not, you've seen it! Those people have the whole world fooled, thinking it's all just a show, just an act, but it's real, all of it! They're... " Her voice caught, and she had to take a moment, swallowing hard.

"They're slaughtering each other in there," she said, voice dipping into darkness. "And they're calling on gods and demons to help them do it. They're breaking down dimensional walls, gallivanting through time, dying and resurrecting just to die again, and they're doing it all with complete and utter impunity. Cults can be disbanded, labs can be raided, but the OWA?"

Adya tossed her hands helplessly. "We can't fucking touch them. Nobody can. They have millions of eyes on them every day of every week, and Scott Oasis has so much money flowing in that anyone with the power to do anything about it doesn't want to. For fuck's sake, they have entire governments in their pocket. So... yeah."

She shrugged, suddenly looking tired. Drained. "That's it. That's -- "

"Where I come in," David finished.

Adya stopped short, arching a skeptical eyebrow at him.

"You need someone on the inside," he elaborated, making no attempt to hide the bitter note in his voice. "A wrestler, preferably one whose arm you can twist, and I fit that bill to a tee."

"I -- " Adya shot a glance over at Shannon, who had naught to offer her but a shrug. "Essentially, yes. I mentioned keeping the feds off your back; signing with the OWA accomplishes that. By any objective metric, half their current roster ought to be in jail, and half of those ought to be buried beneath one... yet free they walk, every last one of them."

Most men would've missed the way William Tolman's lip curled into a snarl at that last bit, but David Gideon Smith wasn't most men.

"We've done all we can to keep you out of custody so far," Adya continued, "but if there's a better, more permanent shield than that OWA contract in your pocket, I've yet to come across it."

David nodded slowly, considering her words. "And in exchange, you want me to... ?"

"Do whatever it is you do," she said simply. "Get in there and mix it up. Disrupt, destabilize. Learn what you can, stop what you can. And... maybe lend us your services in a more concrete capacity, should the situation call for it."

A great sigh escaped him. He wasn't sure what he'd expected upon his return, but this... this wasn't it. Not by a longer shot than he ever could've conceived.

"And what makes you think I'm your guy?" he asked, all but resigned to it. "Why me?"

The five members of EISAC* shared another glance, this one a sight less scrutable.

"That Black Blade of yours," Adya said contemplatively. "It's an artefact of... some renown. Tell me, David -- where does one disappear to for two years, that they might come back in possession of such a weapon?"

Images flashed before his mind's eye, unbidden.

meteors coming down, cracking the shell of Atmathos like an egg

green fire spreading across the skies of Duhne'Viir, as a thousand knights of the Swarm marched the regolith below

the filaments Bright and Dark, detasselling before his very eyes

Muhlata and Nehasa's dying screams, harmonizing, even in the void

Akasha's face, flesh half-flensed, the Sidereal's final words echoing in his ears

you are a dead thing, carved by a dead power into the shape of the dead

death has become all of you, and all of you death

all you will ever do is kill

"Someplace far away," David said softly. "Very, very far away."

*Author's Note: Pronounced "Isaac".

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

Re: OWA Promos August 27th 2022, 3:59 am by **Bob Osterlund**

DADvice #5

‘Fake it, until you make it’

Little Bobby O- I mean Bobert Spiderman Osterlund. Esquire- has been taking his role as Daddy’s agent very seriously.

We’re up at 7am. Daddy’s doing some light cardio on the treadmill and, partner, I reckon my hammy jammies are not feeling very Yeehaw thank you very much. But the boy comes over, he’s already in his little sharkskin suit with the huge horn rim tortoise shell glasses on, and he’s got all the swagger and ill-intentions of a little Lew Osserman. Do the kids these days still know who I’m talking about when Daddy says picture Hollywood Talent Agent Lew Osserman? I don’t believe so. Well now it’s been 5 whole minutes, Daddy’s calves are burning up hotter than the Carolina Reaper, and I’m already dating myself - but that’s A-OK because self-love is almost as important as a Daddy’s love for his kids.

And the little Bobert Spiderman Osserman struts over and he starts yellin’ encouragement:

“LET’S GO, DADDEH! WHO’S THE DADDEH? YOU IS THE DADDEH, THAT’S WHO!!”

That gives me the strength to wrap up another couple of miles. Well we did that fasted, so right about now my vision is blinking in and out like it’s trying to calibrate a drunk microscope. Little Bobert Spiderman leads me to the kitchen where Little Lady Tiffany has already finished her toast. Sweet Janet serves Daddy up a Breakfast of Champions: Oatmeal, a cup of yoghurt, 5 fried eggs, and some french toast slathered in high-protein peanut butter, bananas and nuts. Bobby has toast. Tiffany sleeps through breakfast. And Sweet Janet subsists seemingly on passion and sunbeams alone. I take pride in putting food on the table, but sometimes it feels like Daddy’s big round booty is the only one that eats.

After breakfast, it’s back to the gym. Little Bobert Spiderman counts Daddy’s reps as he does barbell squats. Like the very first time, this morning, I’m feeling good. Feeling Strong. But Bobby loses interest after 2 minutes and wanders off to watch Paw Patrol for the next 40 minutes. Well, at least he lasted 3 minutes longer than usual, or thereabouts. Daddy got him a tablet for the road from the little extra cash we got for challenging Prescott for the Prestige Championship. He’s somehow figured out how to mirror his tablet onto every device in the hotel. Daddy half expects that at Game Over “Daddy Cool” will not hit, but instead my music will be provided by Nickelodeon Jr. I count the hours, and prepare myself for just that possibility.

After Daddy’s work out, it’s off to the bathroom because I’m a stinky stinky boy. Picture the morning routine from American Psycho, except nothing at all like that. Just your average Middle-aged man with a dad bod taking a cold shower because his sweat glands are screaming too hot to breathe. Once I’m out, and before Daddy is even back into his pants, Bobby Lew Osterlund is already coaching me through my game plan for how to get over each of my opponents at Game Over. It reminds me of Batman’s list of contingency plans for if any of the Justice League ever went rogue, except it’s the Golden Age version, so every plan’s a Looney Tunes bit that could only be thought up from the imagination of a mad mad wild child. Here, let Daddy read you the list:

“SILVER KAZAMBA: Wear gold. Be more shiny. Gold is numbah 1. Silver is numbah 2.”

Good Reasoning. Sound Logic.

“L. ANDERSON: Call James Die-mond. Say Bobert Spiderman will pay him a million dollars to come take a fake title to Game Over. And then L. Anderson will beat him up.”

I don’t reckon we can afford this one. But it has real Lew Osserman vibes all over it. If Daddy just had the credit rating to take out a loan, it might just work.

“BRANDON: Have some cheese, because I like cheese and everyone likes cheese. Then put cheese under a cage but don’t eat the cheese, so Brandon will take the cheese and Bobert Spiderman will catch him in the cage. Because Everyone likes cheese.”

It’s flawless. This is why he’s the brains of the operation.

“RICHY BATGY: Hide a walrus unda the ring. Frow Richy out and shout ‘Walrus Come Out’ so the walrus will come and scare him with its big teeth because Richy has smaller teeth than a walrus.”

This might just be my favourite, but then again…

“D APOTOFPEE MARYON: Fart.”

It’s simple but, I mean… I’m not sure that it would not work.

Little Bobby Spiderman really believes he’s helping Daddy out with all this wisdom. But do you mommas and poppas out there want to know the secret? What you don’t understand is that it really is helping in a way that people without kids of their own just don’t know. Not because I’m planning on packing my pockets with Monterrey Jack to catch me a Brandon Hendrix for the mantelpiece. But because rather than being philosophical about his chances and just trying to get back home in one piece. Daddy-O feels a whole lot better living in this wacky world as depicted by Little Bobby-O in macaroni and finger paint. Where any Daddy can be a superhero in some ridiculous children’s comic where every challenge is a hokey banana slip away from being solved.

Truth is, I envy the kid. He puts on his suit and he isn’t just playing pretend. His whole manner changes. I start to wonder what on God’s green earth has happened to my son because he isn’t Little Bobby anymore, he’s Bobert Spiderman Osterlund. Esquire, with all the power and authority that entails. It’s like watching Clarke Kent morph into Superman by changing into Lex Luthor’s business suit. And it inspires me so that when I walk down to the ring at Game Over, I won’t be Bob Osterlund, I’ll be Daddy-O the man with every chance, every intention, every right to be crowned Oh-Double Yer- Ay Icarus Champion

Am I still in touch with reality? Daddy sure hopes not. In the real world, every waking hour of it, I am reminded that very very few people seriously see Daddy-O Osterlund as the next Oh-Double Yer-AY Icarus Champion. Another joke about the daddy body. Another condescending backhanded compliment from someone I’d otherwise respect, Like Silver Kazama, telling me they could root for me, but not tonight, it doesn’t belong to Fatty Ol’ Daddy-O. And what hurts me more is that I’ve seen the polls, mommas and poppas. Rich Gatsby. Brian Hendrix. It’s no surprise you’d pick em. I mean, just look at ‘em. Anybody and their gran momma who doesn’t follow wrasslin’ could pluck either of these two out of a magazine and tell you that the guy walks out with the belt.

It’s unreasonable for Daddy to assume that with five other athletes out there, that I’m gonna walk out of Game Over with anything other than a losing record and a major concussion. Some of these boys got a lot more going for them on paper. But, you know, this isn’t the Dungeons and Dragons and we don’t fight our battles on paper. I came to Olympus with the simple wish to show my boy that any man with two hands stands a fighting chance. Maybe that isn’t realistic of me. But even if we both love us some cheddar, Daddy ain’t no realist like The Brandon Hendrix. Because being realistic about your chances ain’t got nobody nowhere nohow.

But I’ve said it before, I’m not the only deranged, sleep-deprived dreamer out here. When Daddy-O steps into fantasy land in that ring, he’s not the only one with deluded visions of himself as the hero. Whether it’s Brandon Hendrix or Rich Gatsby thinking their already ready to hang with the very tippy top of this business, or hot stuff, Bahama Mama DE’MARION playing whatever role Jessie B dreamt up for him, or Silver Kazama with the script he’s been writing for himself for three long years or more, OR EVEN El Landerson on Planet Luchador where earthly physics do not apply, we are living the same dream, Daddy. So believe me when I say this, I am talking not as yer Daddy, but as a brother because we are all in the same boat out here. Nothing to show, everything to prove. Lost at sea with only the sweet sleepless dream of the shore to guide us.

Now these dreams are coming together. The Multiverses collide at Game Over like Web 3.0 and the fever dream of the blockchain metaverse. But a place in the history books is non-fungible. We can’t share it 6 ways. So I’m gonna be up front with what I’m gonna do and I hope you dream daddies are gonna do the same. Bob ‘Daddy-O’ Osterlund is going to make like his kid and act like there’s nothing he can’t do. Because if Little Bobby transform so fully into a sports agent without a working knowledge of contract law, then who is anyone to say that Daddy-O ain’t the Baddest Daddy in the Oh-Double Yer-Ay? Because just like playing doctor with a primary colored plastic stethoscope is the first step towards a medical degree, and playing catch in the park with dear ol’ daddy is what fills a little athlete with dreams of the super bowl… Sometimes, Sometimes pipe dreams do come true. Even if you’ve kept yourself up a long time without sleep waiting for it.

Daddy says: you fake it until you make it in this world. And if yer don’t make it straight away, then just pretend like Landerson that it didn’t happen and keep going. Because - and this is not just for my fellow athletes at Game Over, but for all the mommas and poppas out there burning both sides of the wick, and all the little Timmies and Charlies and Bethanies and Darlies who think that playing make believe is a lot more fun than doing homework - All of yer. All of yer should remember that whatever kind reality it is that you are struggling against, it doesn’t matter even a quarter as much as the reality you make for yourself that comes after. Take it from yer Daddy, Bob Osterlund. Just weeks ago I was let go by the steel mill, but even that kind of steel-hard reality ain’t half as tough as a man who holds fast to his dreams. Now I’m fighting for my second title shot in front of all the mommas and poppas of the world.

Daddy-O ain’t just a dreamer. He’s living the dream. So if you know what’s good for ya, don’t you dare sleep on it. WOOOOOOOOOOOOO YEAH DADDY-OOOOOOOH

Re: OWA Promos August 27th 2022, 3:55 am by **Corey Matthis**

I’ve reached a crossroads in my career. There’s two paths that I can take and to tell you the truth, I don’t know where either of them lead. I don’t know what the correct decision is. All I do know is that my career has not gone how I intended it too. Even despite getting back into the win column by taking out big Brutus two weeks ago, that’s hardly anything to be proud of. Especially considering where I come from and what was expected of me. I was the ace of OWT. The most dominant champion in the brand’s history. I was hand selected by the big boss himself, Scott Oasis, and fully expected to take that run in the developmental territory and use it to propel myself to even bigger things on the main roster. It looked as if it was going to fulfill every expectation that was placed upon me. But things didn’t work out that way, did they? I lost that championship that I valued so much to Ryo fucking Sakazaki of all people. And since then, it’s just been one disappointment after another. Denied entry into the Clash. Left off the card for the season debut. And when I thought I would have my redemption story on the grandest stage of them all…well…needless to say it didn’t work out. I had my fingertips on the gold…inches away from pulling it down and reclaiming my prize….but it wasn’t meant to be. Instead I had to watch James Diamond, a man twice my age with half my athleticism, claim the championship that I coveted so much. In that moment, I quickly realized that I wasn’t in OWT anymore. The things that once came so easy to me…they’re going to be much harder to attain here. And as I watch those around me succeed to new heights here on Olympus…I begin to find myself questioning if I have what it takes to be the person that I was projected to be.

But it doesn’t mean that I will stop trying. I wasn’t raised to quit. I’ve never quit on anything a day in my life. Shit hasn’t worked out so far. I’m man enough to admit that. I can own my losses, get up off the ground, dust myself off, and move onto the next one. Losses might be setbacks. They might be painful reminders that you’re not yet where you want to be. But they’re also lessons. Each failure is a lesson learned. Each moment of feeling like I’m not good enough is motivation to push forward and ensure that I’ll never feel that way again. And trust me when I tell you that I don’t want to feel that sting of loss EVER again. It makes me sick to my stomach. I’ll never in my life be able to grow as accustomed to it as certain members of the roster have over the years. I’m not built like that. I’m not built like them. I don’t do anything to half-ass it. I do it to be great at it. Greatness is the only option that I will ever be able to accept for myself. Anything less is a failure. And up until now, that’s largely what my career has been…one Icarus Championship reign aside.

But at Game Over, I have the opportunity to turn things around. I have a chance to erase every downfall and setback that I’ve suffered and instantly propel myself into the Immortal Heavyweight Championship picture. A picture that I’ve seen myself in every single time I’ve closed eyes since I first signed my developmental contract with this company. I have the chance to get there now…the question is…do I get there on my own…or do I do what I said I wouldn’t do again and follow in the footsteps of another.

I’m no stranger to such things. I’ve used the help of others to benefit my own career in the past. That much is well documented. Scott Oasis…Graham Baker…I gladly accepted my place under them in the hopes that it would lead to success for me…and while it had its perks, for the most part, I can see now that I was just a naive rookie, unable to realize that I was only being used for their own gain. And when I finally wisened up and refused to bend the knee to Baker, I was discarded like yesterday’s garbage. Beaten and bloodied and left to wallow in irrelevancy for the rest of my time here on Olympus, up to this point. I swore at that point that I would do this on my own. I swore I didn’t need anyone but myself and my own work ethic, athleticism, and drive to succeed. But at some point I have to face facts and be honest with myself…it hasn’t worked out. I stand here now…with no titles…lucky to even find myself with screen time on any given Olympus…so maybe…maybe I do go back to the well…maybe I turn to the man who defeated me at Final Destination…

James Diamond is not a man I morally agree with. His mindset on life as well as this business is not one that I agree with. But the fruits of his labor are hard to argue with. He took the Icarus title nearly as quickly as I did and he did on the biggest stage that there is in this industry. Hell, he beat me to do it. As much as I hate to admit it, he’s clearly learned some shit over his years in this business. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to learn from him. Hell at this point I have to do something…I have to throw some kind of hail mary out there and hope to find a way to turn this around.

Or maybe I’m just setting myself up for more disappointment. After all, he’s smart. I’ll give him that. But maybe he’s not using that intelligence to teach me…maybe he’s just using it to take advantage of me. To further his own career before casting me aside like Graham Baker did. Maybe he’s absolutely no different than anyone else and I should continue to keep my guard up, knowing that everyone in this company only has their own best interests at heart and doesn’t give a damn about anyone else. Maybe I should just keep my head down, keep grinding, and keep putting my all into this with the belief that hard work will eventually pay off. After all…that’s what they tell you when you’re a kid, right? If you want something bad enough, just work for it. Trying to take the easy way hasn’t worked out for me in the past, so why would it now? Why would aligning with James Diamond be any different? I have serious doubts about him, his intentions, or how he could benefit me at all. But still…it’s an offer I have to at least consider.

I don’t know which path to take. All I know is that for now, I must try and compartmentalize that decision in the back of my mind for now because I have much bigger things on my plate. An opportunity at the Immortal Heavyweight Championship hangs in the balance. And if I claim it for myself, I will prove that I don’t need Diamond at all. Or then again…maybe I’ll need him more than ever for what would undoubtedly be the biggest contest of my career. Again…I don’t know what the right call is. But I do know that none of it matters if I don’t get there first. So that decision can wait until after Game Over. After I’ve earned a shot at the top prize on Friday nights. But as I’ve learned in my time here, nothing is going to come easy. Just to GET to the big title fight against either Hampton or Senn…I have to get past two of the best in the business to get there. One I’m very familiar with at this point and another I have only watched from afar for years.

Nobi…I’d be a fool not to recognize what you bring to this match. You’ve reached a rarified status that few have ever dared to achieve in this business. A true crossover star reaching incredible heights both in and out of the ring. Your popularity is unmatched and has been since the very moment that you arrived here on Olympus. Granted, your time in OWA hasn’t exactly been filled with glory. You yourself will admit as such. But you can chalk that up to poor timing or bad luck, because your successes elsewhere have already solidified you as a legendary figure amongst the locker room. As a multiple time world champion, you might be the favorite to win this bout and go on to challenge for the one title that has eluded you your entire career. It would be a feel-good moment for sure. Hell, I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t be pulling for you should you manage to go onto face either Senn or Hampton. But you’re not the only one who has wants and desires, Nobi. For as hungry as you may be to finally taste that OWA World Championship victory…my guy, I am fucking STARVING to just taste ANY victory. Any MEANINGFUL victory anyways. Not just some bullshit win against some giant imbecile that nobody will ever remember even existed in two months. I’m talking a win that fucking matters. On the big stage of Game Over with the bright lights shining down and a golden opportunity hanging in the balance against a bitter rival as well a certified legend. I need this Nobi. I need it more than anything in the world. You don’t. You might want it. But you don’t NEED it. Your legacy is established. You could retire today, walk away from the ring, and focus full-time on your acting career and your standing in this industry would be secure. You’d one day get that call to come back to OWA for your Hall of Fame induction ceremony and everyone would sing your praises as the icon of this business that you are. But me? If I were to walk away now, Nobi, I would be known as is the guy that couldn’t manage to make it at football OR wrestling. I wouldn’t even know where to go. I’d probably wind up spending the rest of my life drowning myself in alcohol and prescription medication just to numb the pain of just how disappointing my once promising life was. What I’m trying to get at here, is that this means more to me than you will ever know. And I won’t let the respect that I have for you, or your desire to check that one last item off your bucket list stop me from doing what I have to do. I will fight, scratch, claw, and display every bit of the resilience and determination that you have for an entire career in order to put you in the dirt and bury you into that canvas if I have to. And I won’t think twice about it. I can’t afford to. Not now. Because I refuse to be the extra in the movie that is OWA. I WILL be the lead actor…or die trying. And if I have to knock you out of that role to take it…then that’s exactly what I’m going to do. So bring your best. Be the White Knight…be the Italian Stallion…be anybody you want to be. It doesn’t matter. I will bury you all the same.

But Nobi isn’t my only competition, is it? I also find myself once again squaring off with Drago Santiago. I’m not going to lie to you, Drago. We’ve been at this long enough to know each other pretty well, so I’m not going to bore you with the same old lame duck insults that we continuously toss around, back and forth at one another like a god damn volleyball. No. There’s no need for that. You already know how I feel about you. I don’t like you. You don’t like me. That’s well documented. We’ve spent months now beating the living hell out of one another with neither of us really proving to be much better than the other. Maybe that’s why James Diamond is interested in us both. Because he sees the things that we’ve done to one another. He’s seen me fill your mouth with blood with one kick to the jaw. He’s heard my screams of agony as you’ve nearly ripped my limbs from my body. He wants to use that to his advantage and I can’t say that I blame him. Hell, I’m the one that’s been in the ring with you. I’m the one that’s butted heads with you seemingly every week since the moment we both entered that locker room. I know what you’re capable of. Hell, he does too. He beat us both at Final Destination whether we like to admit it or not. But still…this isn’t about James. Not yet anyway…although I expect that decision will have to come for the both of us sooner rather than later. Instead, this is about us settling these differences once and for all…with much more than just the Icarus Championship hanging in the balance. You know what’s on the line. You know what this title shot could do for either of our careers. It could change it forever. Winning the Immortal Heavyweight Championship would put either of our names in the record books forever and, no matter what happens from there, our careers could only be looked at as a giant success. There’s a very small fraternity of people to have held world championship gold in the OWA and I very much would like to add my name to that vaunted group. The fact that I’ll get to beat you one more time en route to it is just an added perk. Because whatever the future holds Drago…whether we wind up aligned with Diamond in the end or not…that changes nothing about how I feel about you. Pure and utter disdain. I’m sick of the smug look on your face and the arrogant sound of your voice when you spew out naive proclamations. I’m sick of you constantly bringing up that you tapped me out every time you get a chance even though…once again…it was a LADDER MATCH SO IT DIDN’T FUCKING MATTER! But most of all I’m just sick of you always just being…there. I walk down the hallway…you’re there. I head to catering…you’re there. I go take a piss…you’re there. I look for my name on the card…you’re fucking there too. Why…WHY ARE YOU ALWAYS THERE?! What is it going to take for me to break away from this never ending cycle of dealing with Drago Santiago again and again and a-fucking-gain?! Have I really been so utterly disappointing in my Olympus tenure that I am just destined to slum it on the undercard with Drago for all eternity? Is this some kind of cruel karma for things I did while foolishly serving under Graham Baker? I can’t answer that. Hell the only answer I have for you at all is the answer to the question ‘who is going to beat the shit out of Drago Santiago one more time at Game Over en route to winning the Immortal Heavyweight Championship?’ Hell the answer to that is simple…the same one that always beats Drago. Me. Cause whether you like to admit it or not Drago, I’m better than you. Even with all my setbacks and failures…I STILL manage to stay just one notch above you on the totem people. I STILL manage to get the best of you every single time we’ve ever interacted. Flaunt that tap out in my face all you want. Go ahead and tell me that I wouldn’t have one without the B.O.B. Because none of that shit matters. All that matters is what the record books say….’Corey Matthis defeats Drago Santiago’. And at Game Over, Drago, history is bound to repeat itself once more.”

I know both of you are motivated. I know both of you are talented. And I know both of you are dangerous.

But I don’t care.

I’m tired of feeling weak. I’m tired of feeling helpless. I’m tired of feeling like a fucking loser.

And this hefty choice hanging in the balance could drastically change all of that.

The only question is…what do I choose? Which path do I take?

But I suppose at the end of the day…the path doesn’t matter. All that really matters is the destination.

And both paths that I can choose to walk down all lead to the same place…

Immortality.

VaeVictisBD and Rebecca Filth have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos August 27th 2022, 3:45 am by **Nobi**

I’m going to be a broken machine record right now by saying that I’m eagerly waiting for GameOver. Obviously because I care about my match. I care about my opponents. I care about my fans. I care about this opportunity. I care about being the number one contender for the OWA Immortal Heavyweight Champion. I care about being the next OWA Immortal Heavyweight Champion.

All I care about right now, is this moment.

Ever since day one, I’ve been working towards achieving this goal and this is still a long road to get what I want. Hell, I might take a step back at GameOver and work towards it from the beginning again. After all, I didn’t see this opportunity coming at all. Thanks to Alex Carter for this. I was and still am aiming to be the OWA Tag Team Champions with Nate Cage actually.

But I can do it too while I’m the OWA Immortal Heavyweight Champion…and while also already being the Wrestleworld European and SSW Heritage Champion. Maybe Nobi Four Belts are coming on everyone’s way this year?

That is for a greater goal. I have to focus on GameOver. My sights right now are on Correy Matthis and Drago Santiago. Both of them. The always talented in-ring performers ever since day one. Two guys that actually were elevating The OWA Icarus Championship as a very hot commodity. Don’t get me wrong, the Icarus Championship was, is, and will always be a prestigious Championships just like every other OWA belts but both Corey Matthis and Drago Santiago just took it to another level. That’s how impressive they are.

Corey Matthis is still on the younger side and Drago Santiago has a lot of experience but both of them are shining bright like diamonds. They have natural talents, instinct, and brains for everything they have achieved in the past and what they will achieve in the future. No matter what style they have, they are wrestling machines…no, they are the machines. Everything they do, they seem to make it easy. Win or lose aside, they know what they’re doing.

And on the other hand, there is me. I don’t mind saying that I don’t possess as much talent as they do because that is the truth.

But do I feel ashamed of it? In a way, yes. Every single day, I always try to find time alone to reflect on what am I doing right and what am I doing wrong. I think overthinking is what people tend to do intentionally or not but let me get into a piece of it. Obviously I MIGHT be doing something right, at least in Alex Carter’s eyes as he named me as a potential contender for the OWA Immortal Heavyweight Championship but what am I doing wrong? Why am I not a former OWA World Champion yet? What should I do to make things right? Why can I achieve the highest goals in every company I’m in but OWA? Some of them are even actually here in OWA or at least former OWA wrestlers. I beat Stark to win the SSW Puroresu World Heavyweight Championship and the first title that I won. I beat a former OWA TV Champion and OWA Spartan Champion in Layne Kurobane to win the Wrestleworld European Champion. I didn’t beat Nasir Moore. I didn’t beat Bull Connors. I didn’t beat Tarah Nova. Three performers that I challenged for an OWA World Championship opportunity and I failed to beat them.

And yet, they are not here anymore. Why is that? Do they feel satisfied? Maybe, but then I also look at the people like Arata Asakura, Christopher Sabertooth, and Jeff X just to name a few that are still here despite they are already former OWA World Championships. They must share the same enthusiasm as I do because they are still here just like I am.

But who am I to speak like this? I don’t classify myself as them in the OWA circle only at least as I’m not a former OWA World Champion.

So let me get back what I’m doing wrong. I failed to get to the level I expected. That’s what it is. Nothing more, nothing less.

But I’m not going to lie. I still want to win this. I still want to beat both Corey Matthis and Drago Santiago. I still want to tell either Jacob Senn or Elijah Hampton to say “Hello, I’m your number one contender”. I’m working hard to achieve it and I’m working harder to do it. I’m ready to waste every single sweat and blood to win at GameOver. Every single wrestler dropped a sweat. Sometimes every single one of them drops their blood.

I’m ready to do a lot more than that.

Maybe I’m broken and all both Corey Matthis and Drago Santiago have to do is finish me off.

But even if that is the case, they aren’t the first and they certainly won’t be the last to want to try to finish me off. How many people have claimed they want to finish off Nobi? Countless of them and all of them have failed. Made me tapped-out? A few of them have done it, including Drago Santiago. Knocked me out? A few of them have done it too. Finish me off? Well, I’m still here as I’m talking right now.

I’m not going to lie. Every moment I wake up as we’re getting closer to GameOver, I always look forward to what both Drago Santiago and Correy Matthis have to say. Are they giving up or they get something to say. I admire it that they’re not going to give up and they’re fighting for this chance.

Of course, I don’t think both of them want to lose this chance and not to mention, they also have a beef to settle. Both Corey Matthis and Drago Santiago are going to tear each-others apart. And I’d like to think that they won’t forget about me too. They don’t. As a matter of fact, they can’t. Drago Santiago has spoken about me, twice even. I appreciate the spirits because I warned both of them to not bother talking at all and yet, Drago Santiago chose the same route as me to talk twice. I actually expected that from him.

So don’t get me wrong, Drago Santiago. Actually, yes, I still see you as the same man you were 2 years ago.

You’re still the very same man that made me tapped-out like a bitch I was and still am.

The very same man that is actually giving me a slice of a doubt if I can win this match or not. The very same man that is ready to take everything by storm. The very same man that has truckloads of potential…and somehow could have wasted them all like I did. That’s kind of…sad…but yes, I’m sure you’re in the right mindset right now, Drago.

In my mind, I have no doubt that you can beat either Senn or Hampton. But I still need this.

I appreciate it that you think I’m not below you just because you made me tapped-out because you actually could have. Hell, you have every right for it but you chose not to.

I don’t have a choice. I just simply can’t underestimate you. Big mistake if I do.

And you’re exactly right, beside my STF, I don’t have much of submission knowledges so that goes without a saying that, no, I never heard about fall drilling or any other Judo moves…which is once again, this is the very same advantage you had over me when you made me tapped-out. You know a lot of submission moves and you applied it to me to be able to say “I quit. I tapped-out”.

But let me show you another appreciation when I say, I do like what you said: The only person that is responsible for your own safety is yourself.

And there we go, I’m still here. I’m still healthy enough to fight for another day. To fight at GameOver. To fight to be the number one contender for the OWA Immortal Heavyweight Championship.

Of course I’m not the only one that is ready for it. Corey Matthis must be ready for it. As you obviously are, Drago Santiago.

I don’t see you as the King of Nothing. I think I already said this. Maybe it’s because of the tough upbringing you had in The Motor City but you have taken advantage of it and it turned you into The Machine you are.

But , let me ask you this: are you sure you will never walk away from OWA?

I get it. You actually kinda explained it to me why. You left for Project Honor. That is fine and by the way, yes, I’m proud to be the Wrestleworld European Champion as well as to be the SSW Heritage Champion too. Competitions are everywhere. Jason Long? I pinned him once at Wrestleworld King of the World. Ozymandias? I eliminated him from Clash of Champions 2021 where everyone had a hard time to do something to him while I was able to throw him out of the ring. Out of those three names, maybe Havoc…or Christopher Sabertooth that can say he has beaten me.

Well, the point is, you called them as the big boys which yes they are, but win or lose, I certainly can hang with them. 2 out of 3 names you mentioned, I could say I have a victory over them.

And that’s why I’m still in OWA right now, right?

Maybe it is my fault for not joining Project Honor and yes, I don’t blame you for it. But let me say this. If you leave Wrestleworld for OWA right away or even SSW, I can actually say the same to you that you can follow me to SSW to meet the other big boys too. You could see me as the SSW Puroresu World Heavyweight Champion but you didn’t and I understand that. That is fine. You’ll see me as the OWA Immortal Heavyweight Champion soon.

That’s why you don’t have to be sad anymore, Drago. You and Corey Matthis are tough challenges but I want to prove that I can improve anything I’m lacking.

I always feel like I lacked something and that was why I accepted Bad Boy Know’s invitation to join him and Maggall. Maybe they saw something I didn’t see. Maybe their missions were too extreme, indeed but both of them never did anything to African-Americans actually. It was always to the Whites and to some extent The Italians, but never to the African-Americans. That is something you missed, Drago.

Another thing you missed is that they actually kicked me out. I didn’t leave Bad Boy Know and Maggall. They poisoned me and actually tried to burn me. Thanks to Nate Cage. He saved me. Otherwise, I’m not talking right now. You wouldn’t even talk to me and recorded 2 videos talking about me.

And another thing you missed out, Drago, that you didn’t answer when was the last time I got pinned or tapped-out. That is probably the improvement I have made going on for this match. It’s been a long time since I got knocked out and tapped-out, so you do have a point Drago. I can’t change the past and I certainly will see you as the very same man that made me tapped-out 2 years ago, but I also have something to be proud of going on for this match.

You asked me why I am the way I am despite you already knowing the answer. I’m the way I am because I just refused to never leave anything and keep going for a fight. I don’t have a problem with you personally, Drago, hell I respect you a lot, but this time around, I’m going to be the one that wins in our encounter.

Now Correy Matthis, I don’t have a problem with you either. I have said what I said why I respect you and admire what you’re capable of. You decided to be silent and that is something I can respect. As the old saying goes “silence is golden” isn’t it? You want to prove it and I welcome you for it.

You always have the killer instinct that you have to make statements in the ring that you’re not someone to be messed with. You’re someone that has to be taken care of before you go even further to make chaos. You’re The Clean Sweep after all. You’re living on your moniker.

Maybe that is why you want to keep this game talk clean too. You want to be less guilty by not throwing words at all. Not even one.

I will say good luck and I hope you can do what you need to do but just like what I said to Drago, I can’t let you win this match that easily, Corey. We all are getting this opportunity and I’m trying to be the one that makes the most of it. Therefore, do your best, push me and Drago Santiago harder than your usual. Hell, your usual is always great enough, so try to win this match just like I will do. Just like Drago will.

With everything I’ve said, we’re going closer to the GameOver and I’m ready to be over…to overcome the odds. I want to win this and I’m going to do everything I can. I’m bringing my A-Game, hell, even my B-Game and C-Game. I’m bringing everything I can to win this match to become the number contender for the OWA Immortal Heavyweight Champion.

DT The Ruler has spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos August 26th 2022, 9:22 pm by **Lazarus Arjen**

[Date Unknown. Believed to be the week of Olympus: War and Thunder]

“If it’s not Elijah Hampton, it will be Darkane.” The voice belonging to Alex Carter was heard when the audio feed kicked in.

The duo of the Immortal Champion, Jacob Senn and the Olympus GM, Alex Carter, walked into the empty parking lot. Purposely staying long behind to be the last ones to exit, they talked strategy on how to take out the men who would potentially stand across from them, to challenge their authority and power. The Immortal Champion, the Goetial King and the Olympus GM, the Kingpin both walk a few feet ahead from Lazarus Arjen; the King of Rats, the God Killer. He had his hands tucked into the pockets of his sweater that he wore, despite it being ‘hot as Satan’s balls’ Carter told him earlier. The hood was over his head which was lowered, watching his boots hitting the pavement with each step that he took.

“He’s coming for you, not for just the title, but for history. We gotta’ get under his skin, you know? Knock him off his game.” Carter said as they came to a stop next to a blacked out SUV the trio rode in.

“Lazarus already has.” Senn’s voice cut through the air which caused Laz’s head to lift. His eyes focused on the champion, who directed his gaze to ‘the Depraved’. Senn, usually devoid of any hint of emotion - wore a devilish smirk across his face, enjoying the shade of pale that Darkane turned when he saw Lazarus for the first time in years.

“Yeah, Laz stopped ol’ Darkane dead in his tracks. But we need something more. Something that fucks with whatever brain he has left.” Carter replied, racking his brain on this.

Senn’s eyes drifted back to Carter. “During our time in the Dynasty, he let it slip that he has a sister…”

“Perfect. We need to find that bitch.” Carter was intrigued. He knew that this could be yet another thing to make Darkane unravel.

There was another moment of silence. Senn and Carter dug through their brains for a solution to this new pending issue; a manhunt. Neither of them knew where to start. But he did.

“I know where to find her.” Lazarus’ cold, emotionless voice cut through the night air. Senn’s former smirk grew into a wicked grin. Carter nodded his head, pointing at Lazarus.

“Bet. Let us know, I’ll have someone go…” Carter said before opening the door he stood in front of. Senn did the same, but Lazarus remained unmoved.

“No. I got this.”

Carter and Senn stopped in their tracks and looked back at him…

----------

“You’re awake. I was beginning to worry…”

Blink.

Your eyes hurt. Your head hurts - really hurts. You attempt to move your arm to rub your sore, throbbing head - only to find that your arms are bound. Once that realization hits you, you thrash your upper body, kick your legs - also bound by duct tape. It was at this time that panic began to set in. You try to let out a scream for help, only for a muffled, incoherent mess of noises to come out; nothing that closely resembles the scream you attempted.

You begin to realize it was useless, so you resort to the next thing you know to do; look around and see if you recognize anything. You’re in what looked to be like an old warehouse. Probably ground floor as it’s all open concept. Whatever machinery or what have you, has been stripped away leaving just a cement floor, cement walls, and cement pillars spaced about seven / eight feet apart to stabilize the structure. Broken glass and old garbage litter the floor. The few windows you notice are caked over in a layer of grime and dirt. But there was nothing you recognized and nothing you could see that could help you…

And that was when you saw him. A figure from your past. Someone you hadn’t spoken to, hadn’t heard from, or even thought about in years. Even though it’s been time, there’s mannerisms you pick up on. The way he effortlessly, quietly moved around - explains how he snuck up on you in the first place. The way he carried himself with an intimidating confidence in his step. The way his eyes were so focused, always laser focused fire balls of anger and rage - it was something that always made you uneasy.

It was Lazarus Arjen. He still wore the same beat up military boots. He still had the same, stringy dirty blonde hair and still had that septum piercing. In one hand he gripped the handle of an old rusted Ka-Bar military knife. How he would come into possession of this weapon was anyone’s guess. He had his hand holding the knife turned inward, the tip of the blade pressed into the palm of his free hand - gently twisting it as he almost floated along the floor toward you.

“Try to relax, Cassie. You know me well enough to know that if I wanted to kill you, I would have done so; yet, here you are. Alive. I wouldn’t have gone through the trouble of all of this, if there wasn’t a purpose.” Lazarus said, a smug sense of accomplishment about him as he crept closer to you. You try your restraints again, hoping something’s changed in the minute or two since you thrashed about previously - but nothing has. He has a sick smile on his face as he watches.

“I know you, Cassie. I know exactly how dangerous you can be, and that is why I’ve had to take the necessary steps to make sure you don’t get free. I know you, just as I know your brother. Yes, this is about him - and you can thank him for this predicament you’re in, when you see him. If you see him, I should say. We both know how notorious he is for abandoning people - abandoning us - right?” He shook his head just after he squatted down in front of you, the knife in his hand becoming a focal point for you now.

“And that is what this is about. All of those years ago, when he left you - myself - Jack and all of the others for dead in New Orleans, when he decided to - quote-unquote ‘better his life’ - he left us to derail the rival gangs, the loan sharks that were owed, the dealers that were looking to settle. Your brother left town with a target on his head, and when he up and vanished - that target was shifted to us. We lost friends. We lost brothers, sisters - and your brother has essentially washed his hands of the situation. He never cared for us, only used us. He never cared for anyone other than himself, despite all of the bullshit he spewed every night at the abandoned school. And that is why I’m here. That is why you’re here, Cassie. To remind him that sometimes there’s just some things you can’t walk or run away from.” He said, never once taking his eyes off of your’s. Oddly, his voice was calm; not threatening as it normally was.

“I carved my way through New Orleans, through all of Europe, through Japan - leaving a literal trail of blood all the way to your brother’s front door that I booted open at Final Destination. Does he think I’m joking around? After what happened in New Orleans, I’m here for his fucking head. The fact that you’re not as well, baffles me. Same with Jack. But that’s a decision you and him both have made; my decision is to make him fucking suffer for his actions. Every action has a consequence, right?” You watch a twisted grin stretch across his face as he’s turned the knife upside down, spinning the tip of the blade on the cement floor - the buttend of the handle in his palm.

“But simply arriving in OWA wasn’t enough to get under your brother’s skin. I knew it would take something extreme to rattle his cage. That’s where you come into play. To be honest, I’m surprised he actually showed any emotion about you, considering the relationship you two have. Whatever facade, whatever tough-guy image that your brother had before - it’s gone now. The loner, the ice cold twisted psychopath ‘Darkane’ can actually feel something for someone. Time has made this man bitter. Time has made this man weak. And you can relish in the fact that your existence is what exposed that to the world. Cassie Styx, the catalyst for ‘Darkane’s’ downfall. That is - if he decides to show.” You watched him. His eyes that were once focused on the twisting blade, the tip growing more dull as it spun - grinded against the cement floor; slowly rose as he uttered those last words. Those blue eyes locked directly on you…

“I’ve seen his videos, Cassie. Your brother is far too busy playing in the sewers like we did so many years ago. Does he think he’s accomplishing something? Maybe he’s trying to conjure up the old mindset that he used to have, where everything was for the taking - literally and metaphorically. Either we find it abandoned, just as he did myself and the rest of the Undercity - or we forcefully remove it from its owner. Maybe he’s trying to get back into the frame of mind where it’s kill or be killed? Maybe it’s good for him to do that; he’s gotten too comfortable at the top of this industry where no one truly poses a threat to him. There’s no one to challenge for his throne, and it’s made ‘Darkane’ complacent. But while he’s off playing in sewers, shoveling piss and shit; I have you here. And while your purpose was just to lure ‘Darkane’ back into the depths of hell where he once ruled; we both know I am a man of my word. If your brother can’t find his way out of the sewers and arrive in Seoul?” There was a momentary pause. You look at Lazarus who’s now stopped grinding the knife on the cement floor, pointing it directly at you …

“I will fucking kill you.” And there it was; that change in his tone. The shift to that familiar, threatening, spine chilling tone. You trash again, not out of fear - but to try and lunge toward him. You attempt to say something, probably a threat or snarky reply that you and your brother are quite fond of doing - but the duct tape around your mouth muffles that threat into just noise. Noise that Lazarus finds amusing, smiling - even laughing at.

“When I said your brother was complacent; lazy, even - I meant it. He knows, I know, you know - there was no one in the OWA or even this industry that could match him in terms of depravity, in terms of perversion, in terms of wickedness. Until now. The horrors that I’m responsible for in Europe, in New Orleans, in Japan - that was all just a warm up. My foot had yet to even hit the pedal. Now that I’m here? Now that I have the entire world watching me - waiting to see the ‘Darkane’ of old rise from the grave where he’s become a literal worm, feeding off of the plethora of rotting corpses that this company has given him to feast on on a silver platter - I’m going to demonstrate a level of evil that has yet to be touched in OWA. ‘Darkane’s most atrocious acts will pail in comparison. Aizen’s death will look like child’s play. I’m going to slaughter this entire roster, and I’m starting with your dear brother. And you’re going to watch. Oh, yes. I want you to witness the fucking mess that I leave, body parts and blood stretching through the entire city; and it’s all because your brother was to much of a fucking PUSSY to deal with the enemies he made. The sins, the crimes that I’ve committed in order to stay alive after he deserted us; they will be absolved when I wash them away with your brother’s blood.” You watched him stand again. The blade end of the knife that was once pointed at you, lowered as his wrist went limp. He turned only half way, his killer gaze finally off of you.

“He’s made excuses as to why he left. He’s made me out to be the reason; young Lazarus who he offered to help, to mentor, to protect and to bring with him -- I was the problem. Not his addictions, not his own ego, not his twisted idea of ‘helping’ us - which was really just a cover for us to do his bidding and dirty work. [REDACTED] was - is - so self-absorbed that he doesn’t understand that he used us, there’s no other way to describe it. He threw me out on the streets to steal from rival gangs; territory, drugs, money - all to return to him. I saw nothing from that, but I took the risks. He threw you out, threw Jack out, in front of police - in front of angry mobs, so he can get away and slink back into the sewers where he can play around with shit and piss. I heard him say that I was his achilles heel; that’s amusing. The great, the deadly, the dangerous ‘Darkane’ admitting he has a weakness. How things have turned since just months ago.” He said, his gaze remained focused on the distance. You look in that direction to see nothing of any significant meaning or value there; just a drab, gray concrete wall.

“Just months ago, your dear brother was the most feared person in this company - and perhaps in this industry. Just months ago, ‘Darkane’ was fucking untouchable. And now - now - he’s reduced to another man. Broken down, decrepit old man who has just admitted to the world that I was his weakness. If he thought I was a ‘weakness’ then, he’s in for a rough ride - should he even show up. Everything that ‘Darkane’ is known for, I exceed. Brutality, anger, hatred, tolerance for pain, blood lust. ‘Darkane’ was once considered a monster, one that couldn’t be stopped by anyone in this company or industry - but you, nor the OWA have seen anything yet. I’m the man - the monster - that ‘Darkane’ should have been from the start. There’s always been one person that could stop your brother, there’s always been one person that could kill your brother; me. And he knows that; that is why he left me in New Orleans. He knew, sooner or later, I would outgrow him and slit his throat - bleed him out in the middle of Bourbon street. He knew that sooner or later, everything he put together would fall under my rule and he would be an outcast, just as he found all of us to be. He thinks if he comes up with excuses, that it will mask the truth and he can twist the narrative to fit his delusion; but we know the truth. And the truth is - it was always meant to be by my hand that ‘Darkane’ met his end.” Your focus returned to him while he spoke. He never once removed his gaze, though. It wasn’t until he finished speaking that he began to move again - walking toward the wall and he grabbed a steel chair that he must have brought with him. It’s very out of place; no rust, no dust, no scratches or dents. He unfolded the chair after slipping the knife into his belt and placed it on the ground, dragging it behind him as he returned to you. Positioning the chair directly in front of you, he sat down and leaned forward. His elbows on his knees, his eyes back on yours.

“If he has the balls to show, that is exactly what is going to happen; he will finally meet his grim, violent end. Graham Baker couldn’t do it. Jacob Senn couldn’t do it. Noah Reigner couldn’t do it. It’s always been my task, it’s always been my fucking job - and mark my words, I will be the one to put his ass in the fucking ground. His, or yours it makes no difference to me. Either way, there’s going to be a gruesome homicide in Seoul; you better hope for your sake he comes to your rescue…” By now he’s removed the knife from his belt, and he leans back in the chair. His back against the backrest now, and he looks … relaxed. The ‘calm before the storm’ that would be a brutal, bloody fight should it come to that. You try to mouth off again, thrashing your legs. He just shakes his head and brings up a leg to fold on top of the other, once more digging the blade tip of the knife underneath his finger nails.

Waiting…

VaeVictisBD, Darkane, Rebecca Filth and Felix Hartley have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos August 26th 2022, 6:19 pm by **Bob Osterlund**

DADvice #4

‘Only those who dare to fail greatly, can achieve greatly’

(Even in a polka dot singlet and an American flag sweatband around his scalp, Bob Osterlund looks all-business as he enters the interview room. He sits down alongside what appears to be his new manager, a diminutive fellow in a sharp pinstripe suit and comically large horn rim glasses, who climbs up and stands on the chair, still dwarfed by the sitting Daddy-O.)

Interviewer: Mr Osterlund, thanks for making the ti-

Bobby Osterlund: YA WIIIIIIILL NOT TALK TO MAH KWAI-ANT ‘FORE I SAY SO!

Interviewer: Oh! I’m sorry, Bobby. Can I-

Bobby Osterlund: THAT’S BOBERT TO YAH! BOBERT SPIDERMAN OSTERLUND ES-PIRE!

Interviewer: Ugh ok. So that’s… Robert.

Bobert Spiderman Osterlund Es-Pire: BOBERT!

Interviewer: Bobert. Ugh. Spiderman. Osterlund… Esquire?

Bobert Spiderman Osterlund Es-Pire: AH SAYED WAT AH SAYED!

Bob Osterlund: Now, now, Bobby. Daddy’s ready to talk now, so why don’t you just put yer ear pods in an watch Paw Patrol on Daddy’s phone.

Bobert Spiderman Osterlund Es-Pire: OK DADDEH! JUST SHOUT IF YA NEED ME TO BEAT THEM UP L-LIKE SPIDERMAN!

Bob Osterlund: Beat ‘em up? Son, I’m the fighter… You know what? Forget it. We pick our battles here. Mr. Interviewer, proceed with your questions, if you wiiiilll.

Interviewer: Right, Bob. Well I think the first question is obvious. Tell us about your new associate.

Bob Osterlund: Oh, Bobert? Me and him go way back. I think I known the kid, well, all his life. After falling short against RIP and with another title bout coming so soon around the corner, me and Janet, we decided it was time to be more… professional in my preparations.

Interviewer: Professional?

Bob Osterlund: Right, well the thing they don’t tell ya is that it might be a singles’ title that Daddy’s fighting for but wrestling is really a team sport at the heart of it. Coaches, sparring partners, sports psychologists, even all the mommas and poppas back home leaving kind messages on the facebook. To keep firing on all cylinders you need a good pit crew. And if they are as motivated or more than you, Daddy, then all the better. That’s why Daddy-O is thrilled to announce his working relationship with the esteemed sports agent, Bobert Spiderman. As thrilled as a 6 year old who caught momma kissing Santa Claus on Christmas Eve, because while there’s no gift like the present, Daddy knows this means there’ll be a lot more presents waiting under the tree in the near future.

Interviewer: Oh for sure. I can’t see a hard-balling agent like Bobert ever letting you walk away with a bad deal. He’s sure got some… presence.

Bob Osterlund: Boy, you’re telling me. He inherited Daddy’s confidence and Janet’s innate ability to breathe fire. If Little Bobby ever follows his Daddy into a wrestling ring then he’s gonna cause problems for somebody, but for now I’m just happy that he’s out here raising hell on my team.

Interviewer: Given the new professionalization of Team Osterlund, do you think professional expertise played a part in Remington Ivory Prescott still being OWA Prestige Champion? Did Team Osterlund’s grassroots, unprofessional approach just not match up to the Prescott Machine?

Bob Osterlund: Now listen here, don’t you go putting words like that in my mouth or the moment I’ve washed it out with soap, Daddy’s gonna have a mean kind of problem with ya. So you better change that topic quicker than Speedy Gonzales on a jet plane before I put an end to this interview, right here, right now.

Interviewer: Mr. Osterlund, I… I’m sorr-

Bobert Spiderman Osterlund Es-Pire: WAT HE SAY, DADDEH? I’LL BEAT HIM UP FOR YA! POW!!!

Bob Osterlund: Daddy doesn’t need your help, son. Just keep watching those cartoons. Daddy and this fine gentleman are gonna talk through our problems like respectable men.

Interviewer: Bob, that came out wrong. I-

Bob Osterlund: Mr. don’t keep talking unless you brought a shovel for the hole yer diggin’. Now, I don’t want to get into fisticuffs over a few inconsiderate words, I’m saving it all for Game Over. But I was you to listen well and understand when I say this. In Daddy-O’s corner were Sweet Janet, Bobert Spiderman. Esquire and the Little Lady Tiffany. It’ll be a cold day in the heart of The Sun before Daddy suffers a bad word about his family that gives him so much support, so much POWER to take this giant leap into the unknown and step out into that ring knowing that the millions and billions of mommas and poppas and little Charlie Brown are gonna see him hurt, embarrassed, out of his element, sometimes at his most dadliest best.

So when you question whether these beautiful souls are the kind of professional help that Daddy-O needs to succeed… Well, first of all I would never accuse Mr. Remington Ivory Prescott and his people of ever conducting their sordid business in a professional manner. And secondly, Daddy may not be a mutt, but my hair is molting out and I know a dog whistle when I hear one.

Interviewer: I didn’t mean-

Bob Osterlund: Oh, I know what you meant, son. And it never was a lick about professionalism. Nine tenths of this OH-DOUBLE YER-AY locker room got a potty mouth so filthy it’ll clog your pipes. My Janet’s more organized than the PA in charge of organizing Mary Kondo’s schedule. She’s run this fat booty through It’s paces, I’ll tell ya. But it ain’t never been about Hard Work, or doing ya best, or going about things the right way. This wrasslin’ business came out of the Carnival, but the Carnival ain’t never left wrasslin’. And I guess that makes Bob Osterlund and Family the freak show, dunt it? Come one! Come all! Look at the fat, bearded lady, Bob Osterlund. Marvel at the World Famous contortionist, Janet, bending herself over backwards to try and keep her family’s dreams alive. They don’t belong with the rest in the Big Tent. That’s what you meant, didn’t ya? Because when the whole Wrasslin’ world is a carnival, then the common man stands out, just not in the way that makes it on the big show. Is that what you meant?

Interviewer: I’m not trying to take anything away from what you and you family have achieved, Bob. But you have to admit-

Bob Osterlund: Here’s a little free Dadvice for ya: nothing you say before the “but” ever counts for a lick of anything. I get it. I really do. In a business full of megalomaniacs, pornographic actresses, and time-travelling kooks… how long can a simple family man last? The answer to that question is we really don’t know. We’re just taking it one day at a time. Everything is new. We don’t know how anything works. Daddy’s learning the ropes as he goes along. That’s all true. But if you’re counting the days until this fish out of water decides to flop back into the sea and disappear, well that just makes me more determined to keep you counting.

As for why Remington Ivory Prescott is still the Oh-Double Yer-Ay Prestige Champion. No, it’s not the people around me. No, it’s not the lack of professional preparation. No, I’m NOT gonna make excuses about RIP’s goon getting involved. The problem is right here in front of ya. It’s name is Daddy-O, Bob Osterlund and when REmington Ivory Prescott pulled out that check book, something weak inside me considered it just a little too long.

Interviewer: Bob, do you regret not taking the money?

Bob Osterlund: They really teach you boys how to go for the jugular, huh? To answer your question, do I regret my decision that night? No. What I regret is taking so long just to make it. When RIP held out that 250 thousand dollars, I admit it, I thought about it. We ain’t never had that kind of money before. I could put the kids through college. But I knew it was tainted. If I took that check then how could I raise Little Bobby and Little Lady Tiffany to have respect for their Daddy, or respect for themselves. The opportunity was right there in front of me and I didn’t know what to do with it. That’s experience, I guess. RIP’s been playing the game longer, he knows what’s up. But it’s an experience learned now. Daddy won’t make the same mistake all over again. Anyway, what’s 250,000 dollars? If Daddy had taken that money, he wouldn’t have been able to show his face again to be right here about to challenge for another title, the Icarus Championship, on the B-e-a-utiful kickoff show to Game Over.

Interviewer: That’s what we’re here for. You sound very chirpy to be on the kickoff show.

Bob Osterlund: Well, why wouldn’t I be?

Interviewer: Many people, including at least one of your opponents in Rich Gatsby, have communicated their distaste that a title match has been left on the kickoff show. Reasons stretching from lowering the prestige of the title, to simply being too low profile for someone with serious title contentions.

Bob Osterlund: Oh Daddy ain’t sweatin’ the small stuff like that. I got bigger things to worry my pretty little head about like the five, FIVE other men I have to beat to the belt. Anyway, if Daddy-O walks out with the gold then I don’t know if he’ll ever be put on a pre show or left off a Pay Per View again. These are the things that dreams are made of. Considering where I was just weeks ago, I ain’t got no right to complain.

Interview: Got it. So what does worry you, Bob?

Bob Osterlund: Things very far removed from six sweaty men in tights hugging each other between the ropes. I’m worried about college admissions, Little Lady Tiffany coming up to the age where she might get interested in boys, what kind of world we’re leaving for our kids. But I know that ain’t even close to the kind of answer you want to hear. You want me to get up on my soapbox and do ya job for ya by promoting the event, hyping up the other fighters, or better yet - tellin’ everybody why Daddy-O’s the baddest daddy in wrasslin’ while dragging each of these boys through the mud. Well I’m a people pleaser, and Daddy’s not here to tease ya, so let’s get right to it.

If there is one thing that is keeping Daddy up at night when thinking about these other 5 men, it’s not the abs. Daddy’s 6-pack is just as fine, we just have trouble finding it sometimes. No. It ain’t about how cut their bellies are, it’s how HUNGRY they are. Before the Prestige title bout, I told Prescott what I thought about his silk sheets. There’s something about em that has you sleeping a little bit better but dreaming a little bit worse. I think I was right on the button when I said that because Daddy-O came a whole lot closer to picking Remington Ivory Prescott’s pocket than anybody gave me a chance of being. But now I’m going down the list and it’s occurring to me that none of these gentlemen are sleeping very well. But you heard them this week, they ain’t got no difficulties dreaming well.

Silver Kazama’s been gone from the business for 3 years. Gone for good reason if you listen to him. But he’s back from the great beyond to haunt us like a spooky spooky ghost because of unfinished business and an itch that just cannot be scratched outside of that ring. You just have to look at the big black dustbin bags under his eyes to know that he hasn’t had a good night’s sleep in three years, and for three years he’s been dreaming about this very moment, fighting again for a championship.

Now Silver spooks me out, but El Landerson is like a man possessed for real. Daddy might have pinned him ONE! TWO! THANK YOU! THREE DIDDLY! In my debut match, but Landy ain’t the kind of guy to take no for an answer. It doesn’t matter how many times he gets knocked down, he just gets right back up and throws down the gauntlet at James Diamond, or a Remington Ivory Prescott, or anyone who has a belt, or once had a belt, or may have a belt. Sometimes he’s completely stark raving detached from reality in his pursuit of a title, any title. But when I hear some small little people sneering about how delusional Landerson is, I can’t help but shake my head. That little Señor has more perseverance than the whole rest of the locker room put together. If he was 6’4 he’d be running the place. But at 24 fluid ounces of Baja Blast, I’m just glad I got the muscle on him.

Then you have Brandon Hendrix. He’s going to hate me saying this but I feel real sorry for this kid. 6’6. Good-Looking. Mr Marketability. Gave even Mark Michaels more of a scare than me when I saw Spooky Kazama and Possessed Landerson coming. You see an athlete like that and I think you have to have him pegged for something truly great. I personally think it’s only a matter of time. But that hasn’t materialized yet. Brandon Hendrix might be the complete physical package that gets the ladies swooning and gets their husbands irate. But this kid’s head ain’t swiveled on straight. He was here before. He left empty handed and don’t get me twisted now, there ain’t no shame in that. But when he called himself a realist, I knew he’s feeling the walls closing in. This title match is his get out of jail free card but he still needs to play itright. This could make him, or break him. All I know is Daddy wants to see Hendrix get over his hump, but not half as much as I want to bring that belt back home to little Bobby.

Now I guess Daddy can address Rich Gatsby and Richer Gatsby together… You know, I couldn’t resist. I heard Rich make the joke and it’s about the only thing I heard this week that made me chuckle so I’m stealing it faster than the Icarus Championship. It’s a sad state of affairs that everybody’s going into this so tense. But that’s the mood in the room. Truth is, these two are about as similar as chalk and cheesits.

Rich has an ego. Well deserved, maybe. I saw him sweet shuffle with Graham Baker and Noah Reigner. But that personality is more sour than a curdled milk and lime smoothie. Maybe he thinks that’s what confidence looks like. It doesn’t work that way, I switched off and changed the channel to put on Bobby’s cartoons halfway through. I kinda had too, you know. The boy was in the room and he ain’t old enough to be exposed to that kind of language. Little tip, Rich. I know you’re getting impatient, getting frustrated, getting sour by the hour. But if you want to be heard by the parent and child demographic that makes up most casual fans, you’ll have to tone down the language because ya not doing yourself any favors. But you do you.

Interviewer: And De’Marion?

Bob Osterlund: Doesn’t exist.

Interviewer: Excuse me?

Bob Osterlund: It’s not him.

Interviewer: I don’t think I understand…

Bob Osterlund: Look, we buried Prince back in what? 2016? We haven’t seen nothing about this kid yet and already everything we’ve seen feels wrong. Curated like some uncanny valley, optical illusion exhibition at the MOMA. The artist formerly known as Jessie B is taking a bow, and there’s a big Bahama Mamas logo slapped on him like Cambell’s Soup Can. Everyone else I got a sense of who they are, what they are fighting for, but De’Marion? Never seen him. Only what Jessie B wants you to see and he keeps the rest on a short leash. But when the bells ring, the leash comes off. Some dogs fight and some dogs cower. Maybe here’s just here to sniff my big ol’ booty. But nobody knows, least of all him, if De’Marion is going to live up to the image they painted. No mistake, he’s got as much to prove as any of us.

Interviewer: Who walks out Icarus Champion?

Bob Osterlund: Daddy-O Course

Interviewer: Sure?

Bob Osterlund: Nope. At Game Over, six men enter that ring, the only things in common being many sleepless nights and many big beautiful waking dreams. 5 Daddies are going home hungry. While one Big Daddy eats. The odds are against us all. But I think the one who wins has to be the guy who recognizes that the odds are why we’re here. If you’re tired of losing, tired of failure, tired of feeling like you’re not going anywhere then you should just walk out of that door and keep walking. Because only those who dare to fail greatly can achieve greatly. When RIP held out his checkbook, I thought for a split second about cutting my losses and cashing out, and that’s why I lost the big prize. But I’m lucky. Bobert Spiderman pushes me on to be a better daddy. To, like a child, not care about looking ridiculous in his oversized Lew Osserman glasses, to not be embarrassed about falling face first in the mud. They say a Daddy teaches his kids, but I’m sure I’ve learned a lot more from mine. Because I dared to fail against RIP I am able to be here for another opportunity for failure. Will I win? Daddy wouldn’t be surprised. But even if I failed, I’d just make my order to go and pick up another chance to fail again, and maybe that time Daddy falls upwards. That’s how careers are made.

DT The Ruler and Chad Ecclestone have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Tanabe's Revolution August 26th 2022, 4:45 pm by **Bringeroflight**

OWA Promos - Page 19 Tumblr_mpn6wbYgBn1qf2huro1_500

BLACK BLADE / TANABE'S REVOLUTION

—----

“Cuz I am whatever you say I am, If I wasn’t then why would I say I am

In the paper, the news everyday I am

I don’t know, it’s just the way I am”

/////\\\\\/////\\\\\/////\\\\\

What does it mean to live in a world where they’re right?

I know I play this game, and I play it well. If you only see me when an announcer introduces me, you’d think the only time I look at TV is when the Red Wings are playin. I’m not gonna hold you; maybe too much attention has been spent looking at how Beef Stew, Killian, and Bagley are looking this year. That teal uniform is clean, and it’d look amazing on my Pistons in the playoffs. But I digress. If you check all of your faves who been around the block for a while, you’ll see people who know better than to live in an echo chamber. I ain’t a redbone from the six, Detroit’s close but I ain’t into the idea that I get surrounded by so many yes men that I keep making the same god damn album because no one’s willing to show me ways to improve. Committing to the Danish Gambit, I’ve been surrounding myself with people who know things I know fuck all about. Getting too comfortable to being uncomfortable, but that’s growth.

But that’s only half of the equation.

Finally, finally getting over the disdain for hearing shit from my opposition, because my biggest fear ain’t some wild, outlandish shit said by some clown doing their best to embarrass me. My biggest fears are the grains of truth potentially hidden in their words, holding secrets that I’m not ready to face.

Wowsers. Today, we rip the bandaid off.

If everything my opponents say of me is right then… yeesh. Nobi doesn’t think much of me for the crime of… leaving one federation two years ago to join another federation?? Clearly, losing one match with three participants years ago is a predictor of now, because 3=3! Are these the deranged inner workings of a mind so damaged by protein shakes that he’s a coyote on peyote?

Yes.

Yet, I can live with it. There’s grains of truth here. More than once, I’ve taken my ball and gone home. Can’t be assed to answer questions being asked about actions two years ago. I ain’t the same person.

Shit, you could’ve asked me back then, but the only time we came face to face, you needed all the kings horses and all the kings men to put your gigantic fucking bicep back together again.

Seriously, after I beat you, I used your armband as a jump rope. Why are you the way you are? I see clothing for slim, skinny, athletic, straight - who is making clothes for the upside down triangle community?

Anyways. If you want answers, you should’ve asked the old me. You could’ve followed me to Project Honor. Can’t say the experience left a great taste in my mouth, and I used to chug Malort, for reference. But I was there, Jason Long was there, Havoc was there, Ozymandias was there… all of the top talents from wrestleworld met with the top talents in ALPHA and the top talents in OWA and duked it out on the twitter timelines, in the ring, in the parking lot, in ghost towns, anywhere and everywhere.

You’re busy, so I don’t blame you for missing out. Congrats on that European championship by the by, if I were you, I’d be PROUD to be considered the champion of what was left of the division when all the big boys decided they didn’t belong on the playground. If you are right, and I am a quitter, and I am a coward, and I am a snake, and I am everything outside of my Christian name…

I can live with that.

Wrestleworld wasn't my first rodeo.

I was called all of these things the first time I beat you.

I’m okay being called all of these things the second time I do it, chucklefuck.

Corey Matthis.

We never really have a lot of nice things to say about one another. Before, it was Drago the hasbeen, Drago is washed, one flop, two flop, red flop, blue flop. Two tries for the Icarus championship, two misses. In those big matches with the title on the line, I’ve gotten it done before, but OWA ain’t exactly Kansas. Since losing the belt and eating many a shit-sandwich yourself, you haven't thrown barbs with the same viciousness. Why?

It’s almost like any insult about failing to meet expectations, disappointing fans, and not living up to the hype would be a blade that cuts both ways.

Anywhomst. If you are right about me, and I cannot get it done in title matches, and I cannot rise to the occasion when the pressure is on the line, then you know what?

I can deal. The stakes are high, but this ain’t the Elite four. This is another Sunday. Lights go up, entrance music hits, I’m surrounded by the best talent in the world, and I do what Drago does. You think I’m riddled with self-doubt? True or not, I understand how my actions led you to grasp at this thread. Worrying about how I represent my discipline, worrying about how I present myself to the fans, and worrying about making my approach the correct one, with results as a secondary prize?

Insane. No, you dicks, insane in a way different than what you already think about me. But I’m not letting ego and pride paralyze me anymore. You ever hear all that rahrah about ‘a weight’s been lifted from my shoulders?’ Well I can firmly attest that it’s real. I feel light, I feel limber, and more importantly, I feel ready to tear some bodies apart.

You flat-footed fucks wouldn’t understand what I mean by this.

In the world these two weave, it ain’t hard to understand why the tone going into Game Over feels so… Bitter? Pessimistic? According to Nobi, Matthis and I are going to go to war, and he’s just the bridesmaid, not the bride. Drago Santiago can read Matthis like a pop-up book. This is his redemption. He’s going to win because he’s facing two losers. Yeah, he’s putting up triple singles on the boards, but no way he can lose to two guys who are this bad, amirite?

In the most deep and most sincere way I can express this, I am saddened to know neither of you can share in my joy, excitement, and bloodlust.

You both are preparing to face lesser talents.

I AM GOING TO MEET TWO MEN I THINK CAN MOVE MOUNTAINS AND CHANGE MAPS, AND I AM GOING TO RISE TO A LEVEL HIGHER THAN IVE EVER BEEN TO MEET THEM THERE.

To me, facing talent that makes me climb to new highs is.. Is… it’s Lil Wayne lighting a blunt before his verse. It’s Pharrell’s four count start. It’s my signature, it’s how I got here. I didn’t come to OWA, OWA came to me, because some scrawny white boy from Bum Fuck Egypt climbed, and climbed, and climbed. Needless to say, I’m really with the shits.

You two come off as so disingenuous and flat-footed heading into this, and why wouldn’t you be? Who cares if you beat two losers? The fans don’t care - the press doesn’t care - I certainly don’t care - so why the hell would you? All that negativity? Hard pass. My name is Bennett, and I ain’t in it.

However. This juxtaposition gives you only enough rope to hang yourself.

What happens if either of those losers beat you? What does that make you?

Fear breeds desperation, but growth requires confidence. The first step to losing the battle is to make the war not between yourself and your opponent, but yourself and your fear of what it’d mean to lose to said opponent. Nobi’s sitting eagerly, waiting for Drago’s massive ego to lead him to make a mistake. Matthis waits with bated breath for the pressure and self-doubt to get to Drago.

I enter this match fully understanding that you both are hungry, you’re angry, and you’re vicious. Neither of you are going to make a single mistake. You two are amazing, besties, but I am soaring to another level. During the Clash, I ate a Six-Nine, a View of the Lights, a Disaster Kick, a spear, a low blow, and I still went an hour, got three eliminations, and put on a highlight reel. I damn near lasted longer than the Color Purple. Still unpinned, still unsubmitted, and that’s not for a lack of anyone from the gaggle of chucklefucks daring to try it.

2.56.

Don’t get the significance? Let me run that back. 2.56. Ask Rich, he knows. No, it’s not his GPA. In our triple threat match, I yeeted and deleted the big man, and at his size, it wasn’t exactly hail mary. Didn’t matter though. 2.56. Ask Ryo. No, not the measurements written next to his name near the ruler on the bathroom wall. In one second, Rich was closing in on him. In 2.56 seconds, Drago Santiago sent fire through his limb by hyperextending his joint, and shattering the medial structures of his elbow. This man comes with a sixty minute warranty in any match he’s in, but can win it in the time it takes for a pin, minus a half second to change the filter in my vape pen. And if you think that time only applies to my armbar, then bring an ice box to the ring. If it’s kept on ice, a finger can be reattached - that should apply to limbs too, right?

You two have to survive an HOUR with me to get me to stay down. In that hour, I'll take you out of your comfort zones. Let's see if Nobi's technical chops match his strength. Let's see how fast and brutal Corey is after 30 minutes of my boot, his gut. In order for me to win, all I need is for one of you to blink.

The only person who loves fighting as much as me, he could fight for sixty minutes straight and keep going? Mark Michaels, and right now he’s going twelve rounds with a ventilator at some hospital, the unvaccinated fuck. You got your love from the sport from the same place I did, it’s unfortunate you get your medical advice from Aaron Rodgers.

Needless to say, I can live in a world where I am what you two say I am. I can beat you in that world. I promise you two couldn't say the same.

/////\\\\\/////\\\\\/////\\\\\

“Of all of the fighters in OWA, Drago’s probably the most tight-lipped, attention-repulsed person in a long time. Press, interviews, and even podcasts, he’s not having any of it, but the person most qualified to put his actions into context is probably the person he credits to his success, so I’m hoping I can come to you for comment if he won’t. So far, mum’s been the word on this pressure to align himself with the likes of James Diamond and Rich Gatsby. For most people, standing next to two titans would be a blessing, so what does Drago see that we don’t?”

Semion Silchenko, coach of Drago Santiago, actually gets a chuckle out of that one. Stepping outside of the locker room of Drago Santiago was a mistake. Shrouding oneself in mystery and being too focused and intentional with time to care about the politics, are often two sides of the same coin. Had he stayed up, Hugh Jass wouldn’t have him on the hostile end of a microphone, but you can take a kid out of the streets, but you can’t take the street out of the kid. Semion needed a fresh of breath air. Drago Santiago needed pork rinds. Admitting himself to his fate, the wise elder strokes his chin, and with his forever firm, hardened tone, responds.

“You’re right. Most people would make a beeline to stand in the shadows of those who stand insanely tall, but Drago Santiago isn’t most people.”

In the most matter-of-fact tone one can muster, Hugh interjects.

“It’s been thought before that Olympus isn’t a battleground you can navigate alone. The BOB was vicious but… Alex Carter, Jacob Senn, and Project SMYLE seem like they’ll take this company to new places, whether we like it or not.”

“Yes, cultish zealots are definitely a change in tempo. The Big Oasis Brand, the Big Baker Brand, whichever and whomever it was, might prioritize themselves and their needs because piloting the plane gave them the power to do so without consequence. I’d strongly prefer that to the two men who currently pilot the plane who believe they’ll ascend to the heavens by smashing it into the ground.”

“So facing an insurmountable opponent before even getting the chance to step into a ring with him, why not take as many extra hands as he can get?”

In the corner of a face that seems incapable of happiness… is something resembling a smile.

“First and foremost, you know what Drago does to hands.”

The glare between Semion and a nervous Hugh serves to suddenly remind Hugh on who trained the person who is never offered an invite to close a deal with a handshake.

“Secondly, have you familiarized yourself with the ashi-garami?”

Hugh scratches his head.

“Ashy… what?”

“No. We’re not talking about Rich Gatsby, it’s Ashi, not ashy. The Ashi-garami is one of the early techniques in Kodokan Judo. A style founded on strangles and locks changed in a fundamental way in the audience of the Emperor Taishō. In 1899, in a contest between two masters, Tanabe and Hirooka, after a throw, Tanabe applied the end all, be all. Ashi-garami, the leglock, and submitted his opponent. Practitioners quickly responded by banning this move, it’s ability to bring fights to a succinct end made it ‘uninterested in physical education’. It was deemed an unfit tool. For a one-hundred year curse, this move seemed like it’d go the way of the dodo bird. Leglocks became a thing you didn’t really do in Judo. There wasn’t a rhyme or reason for it. You just didn’t. So, naturally, you can guess what happened.”

“What’s that?”

“Someone did. As mixed martial arts allowed styles to clash, moves banned in one discipline were suddenly fair game. One judo practitioner realized the seamless transition between throws and leg submissions, and was a man possessed. Others saw the success, and assimilated to the bell curve. Tanabe’s legacy isn’t the leglock, but the willingness to expand outside of the box of what an xyz is supposed to be. Boxes are meant to contain. Breaking them is Tanabe's Revolution.”

Deadpan. Pause as the gears in Hugh’s head begin to spin, but despite the machine working, no candy comes out.

“How does this relate to Drago’s actions as of late? What’s this have to do with his beef with Corey Matthis reaching an entire new level of vitriol? He’s led stables in the past, what’s this have to do with his disgust of them now?”

“After being reminded of his humble origins, Nathaniel’s finally beginning to understand Tanabe’s Revolution. This industry is built on false dichotomies. If it wins, it’s good. If it loses, it’s bad. Honing in on one craft made him a master of his work, but an electrician, a carpenter, and a civil engineer see the same building entirely differently, because their tools and education determine how they understand the world. I’d say his biggest downfall is turning into his biggest strength. Two decades, world championships on three continents, and the furthest he’d allow his knowledge of his opponent’s style to expand would be learning how to counter their techniques. He set himself in a box, because it was comfortable there. Whatever James Diamond wants of him, whatever Rich Gatsby sees he could use of him, could never compare to what the Macabre Massacre sees he can become. Stepping outside of one box to be trapped into one even more confining? Seems unlikely.”

“Well, with such high stakes on the line, is this reeeeeally the time to take a new approach?”

“One sugar cube, two generous dashes of bitters, a light drizzle of soda water, smash, add ice cubes, enhance with whiskey to the rim, stir, and a maraschino cherry if you’re feeling fancy. These are the ingredients of an Old Fashioned. Nothing new, nothing innovative, but good. Corey Matthis, Nobi…. These two are absolute monsters in their own right. Nobi is a household name in multiple countries. He’s lacking any proper submission skill, but it doesn’t matter. Opponents of his see how powerful this Samson is with his full braids of hair, and they immediately lose the willpower to fight back. Corey’s got everything you want in a fighter - reaction time, counter striking genius, high, unrelenting pace - but both of these men fight as though they’re reading ingredients off a recipe. As of late, their matches look like shopping lists. Superkick, Curb Stomp, Lightning Strikes. Suplex, 5KS, AA. Their recipes are of the highest caliber.”

Yet, the hand raised and half-shrug as one student successfully sticks the hip toss doesn’t lend itself a lot of grace for their approach.

“But that’s the ropes braiding around their neck. Skill, without passion, is just checking boxes. Repetition breeds success - but it can also cause someone to stagnate, to hide into their comfort zone, and to cut themselves at the knee before they ever run at their highest speed. They’ve forgotten what Drago is remembering - we are mixed martial artists. Creation, change, and innovation are the name of the game. BJJ used to be a game changer, with how amazed everyone was to see boxers, wrestlers, and all out sons of bitches, get made to slap the mat. Now, BJJ is the fighting equivalent of a high school diploma. A wrestling background became an advantage. Kickboxing shined for a second. The moment something changes the game, the extraordinary becomes the default.”

“Which definitely is a massive challenge.”

“A challenge that makes the game worth participating in! In this industry, surrounded by cultish zealots, demons, mobsters, lions, tigers, and bears, oh my! The landscape is always changing. You don’t get this far by planting your feet in the ground and letting yourself weather. You are either running ahead to the mountaintops, or falling behind and buried underneath the sands of time. There is no standing still.”

/////\\\\\/////\\\\\/////\\\\\

Felix Hartley has spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos August 26th 2022, 2:02 pm by **SKazama**

- - - - - - - - - -

’Hubris has always been man’s greatest enemy. They believe themselves to be in control. In the end, they succumb to their true nature. After all, they’re just animals, wretched beasts even, designed for slaughter.’

- - - - - - - - - -

- - - - - - - - - -

On The Road Again

- - - - - - - - - -

- - - - - - - - - -

”Are you sure about this, babe? It’s not like we’re hurting for money. We’ve invested well over the years. We could jus–”

The worried tone of Jenifer, wife to Matthew Kazama, floats smoothly between the walls of their New Orleans home. A low chuckle interrupts her, followed by the sound of a light kiss being placed on her lips.

”It’s not about the money, darling, it never has been. You know that. I imagine I wouldn’t be so fortunate to have you with me if I was that materialistic.”

The small, five foot tall woman wrinkles her nose at the thought of that version of her husband. Shaking her head to dispel the thought, she lets a sigh escape her lips.

”I suppose you’re right. I just worry. Professional Wrestling has taken a lot from us…from our family. I don’t want it to take what’s left.”

A low hum comes from Matthew’s lips as he places a few sets of casual clothes into a suitcase. He turns around and wraps his arms around his wife, pulling her into his chest. His hand gently strokes through her hair until it rubs a small circle along her spine.

”Trust me, sweetheart, I have everything under control. There’s just something that doesn’t sit right with me. You know…with how I left things.”

He feels her sigh into his chest. Leaning down, he places a kiss on the top of her head before walking over to their closet. He pulls out his ring gear from its place on the right side of the walk-in closet before he turns back towards the suitcase on the bed.

”Just…tell me you’re not going back only to fight him again.”

Kazama stops mid-stride as his eyebrow raises towards his wife.

”Is that what you’re worried about? Me fighting David again?”

He watches her shrug her shoulders with a half shake of her head.

”I just remember what happened last time…what it brings out in both of you. I’m not the only one worried, you know.”

”I didn’t realize the two of you were still in touch.”

The name went unsaid. There was only one link left unnamed. She shrugs her shoulders again.

”You were out of the country, and after you mentioned signing…I watched the show to see what could have put you over the edge. I know you’ve been thinking about it for months, but…”

He places his gear in his suitcase before walking over to her. He lowers himself slightly to her level, one of his hands tucking under her chin to have her gently face him. A small reassuring smile spreads across his face.

”I promise it’s not just for that. Is he part of the reason? I can’t lie. He is. There’s something…”

”Different. You said as much when you got home. But this…”

Her fingers reach up to touch his chest and shoulder, outlining the black ink on his skin. He shivers slightly at her touch.

”This is what worries me.”

He swallows a bit harder now, nodding his head.

”It worries me too, but I have it under control. It won’t have control ever again.”

Another kiss, this time on the tip of her nose, before he rises to his full length.

”Besides, I’ll have my hands quite full without him in the mix. A title match as a debut is nothing to take lightly, even on the pre-show.”

”They certainly don’t pull any punches, do they?”

”What do you mean, love?”

”They’re just…so angry.”

A loud bark of laughter comes out of his mouth as he looks over to his wife once more. He shakes his head with a huge grin.

”They are, aren’t they? I admit, I find myself a little…disappointed in it, to be honest.”

”How so?”

He closes his suitcase before he pulls it off the bed and sets it on the floor. A soft sigh escapes his lips as he sits on the edge of the bed facing her.

”It’s just…the same old song and dance. You’d think that after this long away people would come up with more thrilling things to say to me. Unfortunately it’s all the same, and it’s boring. When the most creative thing is someone wanting to get…’down and dirty with the fit ones,’ well.”

Jenifer’s eyes widen slightly as she almost spits out a sip of water she just took.

”Someone said that?!”

He laughs at her reaction, running a hand through his hair while nodding his head.

”In the most un-ironic way possible, and it was quite hilarious. I’m unsure if I should be flattered at the innuendo, or insulted that they think I’ll break quickly. The others though? It’s the usual bravado of intensity and macho nonsense.”

A playful grin spreads across her face as she twirls a strand of her hair with her finger.

”Nonsense? I dunno. I seem to recall really enjoying when you got all macho on television back in the day.”

His eyebrow quirks as he reaches for her. His arms slip around her waist as he pulls her to the foot of the bed.

”Oh, is that so?”

She bites her lips at him while nodding her head.

”Uh-huh.”

”Cheeky minx.”

They laugh together as he pulls her down onto the bed, rolling so he’s on top of her.

- - - - - - - - - -

- - - - - - - - - -

It’s The Same Song And Dance

- - - - - - - - - -

- - - - - - - - - -

”Seventeen years. That’s how long I’ve been honing my craft. For over six thousand days professional wrestling has been a part of my life. Sure, I’ve woven my way in and out of the scene over the years, but if you think for one minute that I stopped training like a mad man…well, that’s your own mistake. It’s a mistake that I’m happy to let you make. You, the ones who think that three years away from the ring can reduce an entire body of work to ash and brimstone. No, you don’t think that’s true. You hope beyond all hope that it is.”

The scene fades into the OWA locker room in the Seoul Olympic Stadium. A low, humorless chuckle comes from the throat of Silver Kazama as the camera pans up to his face. He’s dressed in his ring gear, with his trademark jacket draped across his shoulders, leaving his chest and abdomen exposed. Faintly, near the edge of his jacket, a bit of blank ink is seen, the rest covered by the leather material.

”I step away for three years…three…years, and this is where we are? I admit, I find myself disappointed. I thought we’d be past this needless drabble and dramatics, that we’d let our actions speak louder than our words, but alas. Well, allow me the pleasure of responding in kind. You see, while I prefer to let the wrestling do the talking, I am perfectly capable of holding my own in a verbal joust. So, let’s start with the man who, frankly, made me chuckle…De’marion.”

Kazama’s hands rise slowly from his sides. He holds them both out in front of him and claps slowly once…twice…three times before shaking his head with a grin.

”I must say - and I do hope I’ve said your name correctly - that I couldn’t help but chuckle when I came across a certain video online earlier in the week. I honestly wasn’t sure if I should be flattered or insulted. On one hand, I’m flattered that you are wanting to go a few rounds with a well seasoned talent such as myself. On the other hand, my friend, I’m afraid I’m a bit insulted that you think you’ll be able to break me so easily. A well oiled machine like this doesn’t make it as long as I have without having a bit of…durability to me. You, on the other hand, will break at the first hint of trouble, won’t you?”

He shakes his head, a disappointed sigh comes from him as he folds his arms across his chest.

”I’ve seen your type come and go over the years. Which sport was it for you? Football? Basketball? Synchronized Water Dancing? Or are you just another failed bodybuilder or actor that can’t stand the bright lights not being on them? Tell me, how will you react when a stiff kick breaks your nose? What will you do when you land wrong, or have another man pop your shoulder out of socket? I’ve seen you, versions of you, far and wide, and you’re all the same. You don’t love this. You don’t bleed for this, but I do. I have. I’ve felt my body give out, and break, and I’ve pushed it further. I’ve stared into the blackness of oblivion and forced light into that darkness, and I’ve certainly outwrestled a narcissistic pretty boy who wants to play pro wrestler for a weekend.”

Kazama begins to pace around the locker room, specifically near where his bags were stored.

”Which brings us to Bob Osterlund, doesn’t it? By all accounts, a family man who is truly happy to be a part of this business. I’ve been there, wide-eyed and bushy tailed, ready to take this industry by storm. Unfortunately, Bob, your road to success and heroism is going to have to be set aside for a couple weeks. It’s not like I have anything against you, Bob. I mean, hell, I could even find myself rooting for you in all of this. Your personality is quite…infectious. A positive outlook on everything, and at the end of the day, you’re going to spin this in a way that propels you even further on your journey…without a victory, and without the Icarus Championship.”

Kazama’s pacing continues for a moment before his body stills. Taking a breath, he turns his eyes to the camera with a bit of a grin.

”Rich Gatsby. Allow me to return the respect you initially showed me. I did some research on you, my friend. A former bodyguard turned pro wrestler, but unlike De’marion here, who is in it for the spotlight…that’s not you, is it? No, if it was, you wouldn’t have trained in Japan. You’d have found the nearest celebrity wrestler to pseudo train you, get a few paychecks, and be on your way. No…the bug bit you good, didn’t it? You fucking love this, and you want to be as successful as your fighting spirit and athletic ability will allow you, don’t you? I can relate, very deeply. My oldest brother, the man who trained me, was born and raised in Japan. He trained in their martial arts, and then in their wrestling dojos.”

Tapping a finger on his chin, he tilts his head slightly to the side as his eyebrow quirks slightly.

”But you thought you’d be further by now, didn’t you? You’re frustrated. You’re frustrated at management. You’re frustrated with your opponents, but in reality, there’s really only one person you should be frustrated with. You should be frustrated with yourself. You set a bar, and you’re beneath it. You let your bitterness and anger boil, spew nonsense, frustrated and disappointed at your own shortcomings. Let me tell you something no one else in this match is going to tell you this week. It’s okay. It’s okay to feel that, because I certainly have. Use it. Use it as a fuel to keep that fire burning. Use it so the next time you face someone like Reigner or Hampton. Use it to break your previous limits, and show me. Show me THAT Guy. Show me the Juggernaut. Show me the fighting spirit of Rich Gatsby. You show me that, and I will show you why I am a former World Champion. I will show you why men larger and stronger than you stayed away from me. I will show you what it’s like to have someone take your best shot, and then lift a shoulder up, demanding you to give more. What will you do, Juggernaut, when you realize that your fighting spirit is a small flame to the inferno that’s standing across from you? I wonder.”

Kazama’s eyes narrow, his shoulders square, and a hard edge aligns his features as he stares at the camera.

”And then there’s you…Brandon. Brandon Fucking Hendrix. Let’s start with something simple for you. Kazama. Not Kazmea. Not Kazamea. Kazama. Now that we’ve gotten the basics out of the way…You, my friend, are no different than any other mediocre act that’s failed to see what stands before them. Congratulations, Brandon, you know how to do a basic search on the internet. You’re right. I haven’t wrestled in three years, but guess what, that’s only going to make you hate yourself that much more when I beat you. I mean, after all, you’ve made plenty of assertions about me, haven’t you? You look at my accomplishments, my legacy, and what? You consider them lesser? It’s so…boring.”

He runs a hand through his hair, groaning in annoyance while remembering Hendrix’s words.

”What is it with the stereotypical wrestler, and the stereotypical wrestling company, calling every other accomplishment pissant or meaningless? It’s so lazy, because I’ve done my research on you as well, Brandon. I’ve seen the Steel Cage Heavy Metal Championship victory. I’ve seen the Tag Team Championship victory, and you know what? Good for you. I’m glad you’ve seen success somewhere, but unlike me, you’ve only held gold in one company, haven’t you? Now, let’s not take that away from you, I’d hate to take away your shine, but let’s be honest. You see a guy like me, someone who has tested success in some form or fashion in every company he’s ever held a long tenure in, and it pisses you off. It pisses you off because, despite your bravado and your arrogant speeches, when you get between those ropes, you can’t get the job done. So, like Gatsby, you take your self-hatred and self-loathing out on those around you. Congratulations, you can talk a lot of shit. You know the difference between me and you? I’ve got the skins on the wall to back up what I say.”

The pacing resumes, the heat of the moment causes his eyes to light with fire and passion.

”You want to know if I’m nervous? Take it from an ‘old man,’ that’s done this six times longer than you have. The day you don’t get the jitters, those butterflies in your stomach, before your music hits…walk away. That itch that feels like you took three scoops of pre-workout. The tingle that crawls just under the surface of your skin when you can hear the crowd and the buzzing of the speakers. The adrenaline that makes you feel alive when you push through that curtain. That’s what I’m nervous and anxious to feel again. I’m an addict, Brandon. I’m an addict to the rush of this shit.”

A laugh comes from Silver as he shakes his head back and forth.

”It is fitting that we are fighting for the Icarus Championship, isn’t it? How I’m chasing this high, that might as well be the sun, and these wings of mine have seen some miles on them. Seventeen years is a long time to be flying around the sun, but here we are, tempting fate one more time. None of you are Helios, gentlemen. None of you possess the power to melt these wings. For the last three years I’ve lived inside my own personal labyrinth of complacency and delusion. When we step in that ring together, I refuse to fall from the sky. I refuse to plunge into the sea of failure and regret. No, I’ll make it to my own little island, my paradise, the Icarus Championship.”

Kazama runs both hands through his hair, a playful grin spreading across his face.

”Is this the part where I mention some cheesy line about how it’s ‘Game Over’ this weekend, or some obscure Arcade reference? Maybe I should make a preemptive challenge to a new potential opponent just in case I lose this match! No…no that doesn’t seem right either. Hm.”

He taps his finger on his chin in faux thought before he chuckles to himself and shakes his head.

”Not my style, to be honest. Allow me to sum this up nicely for you. This match isn’t just about the Icarus Championship for me. It’s about righting a wrong. It’s about returning to the industry I’ve loved for my entire life. It’s for me giving all these amazing fans the hard work and dedication they’ve grown to know and expect from me. It’s about proving each and every single doubter wrong. And, if I’m being honest, it’s about showing myself that even when you fall off the horse, you have to get your ass back up and keep on riding. I can think of no better way to cement all of this by defeating five other men and ending my night with the Icarus Championship held high over my head. I’ll see you all there. It’s going to be one hell of a ride.”

- - - - - - - - - -

END

- - - - - - - - - -

Chad Ecclestone has spoken. It’s such good shit!

"Penny for a Tale" (Game Over #2) August 26th 2022, 12:52 pm by the-natural

{We fade into an old abandoned high school somewhere in the world, its partially torn apart and ruined trash filled hallways echo with the faint sounds of times past before we finally find ourselves in one classroom in particular which is where we find none other than the “Grinning Demon” himself in Ryo Sakazaki, sitting on an old teacher’s desk and thoughtfully regarding the large meat fork from his prior promo}

Ryo: I wish that I could honestly say that I was surprised, I wish that I could honestly look into that very camera right there in front of me and say that you cut a very impressive promo that cut me to the quick, Remy….but then I’d be exactly like you, something that I cannot abide nor respect…which means I cannot be anything like you;

A liar.

{Ryo tilts his head ever so slightly to look at the camera in a rather lazily manner, almost like he’d rather do anything else but address such a lowly creature}

Ryo: I mean really, Remy, did you have to go down the entire trope list for little rich bastards from TV Tropes or did you just go and rewatch all of the past episodes of the Simpsons with Mister Burns in them to make sure that you got that whole slimy, arrogant bastard shit down pat, buddy boy, because seriously I honestly expected something better from you, something other than that bunch of bullshit that you just spewed out that you called a “promo”.

First off, I have already addressed my track record here in the Omega Wrestling Alliance and that is nothing new there and yet you made it sound like it was something completely and utterly new…but who hasn’t had an off time in their career or just simply had a bad run of things…I know that I have and instead of wallowing in that misery and crying like a little bitch at the loss of things, I’ve chosen to let it wash over me, to cleanse me in roaring rivers of righteous fury as I watch everything that should have been *mine* all of this time go to those completely unworthy of it…I use that fury to help guide me further down the road of where I *will* be going as opposed to anything else.

Furthermore you make it sound like the Icarus championship is the only one that I’ve ever held or has nobody told you about me also being the Strong Style Wrestling United States Heavyweight champion?

{Ryo’s lips quake into the ghost of a very disturbing smile}

Ryo: In order to win that particular belt, I had to have a very physical war against the Indominus Rex of Professional Wrestling known as Scott MOTHER FUCKING *OASIS*, dear little Remy. I went toe to toe with one of the most powerful of physical specimens and was torn apart by him across the span of several minutes, I was broken and bloodied….and *YET* I was unbowed as I took the best that he had to throw at me again and again and *AGAIN* yet only for me to kick out every single time until I hit that that final move from out of nowhere that knocked his fucking block off and allowed me to walk out of that arena in Japan with my new title held high!

I also defeated my own former trainer and an Omega Wrestling Alliance Hall of Famer in Stephanie Matsuda, the “Queen of Fighters”, in a very bloody war in order to prove my worth and I beat her as well, my very face shredded and covered in a torrential downpour of my own blood which she had done rather gleefully….but I was still able to win because I pushed myself to be harder and more brutal than either one of them.

So the question for you there, Remy, is if I could defeat these two greats at the height of their best days….then what makes you think that I can’t beat *you* on an off-day?

What makes you believe that you are so superior that you’re *better* than the mother fucking INDOMENIOUS REX that is Scott Oasis? I never claimed to be better than him, a bigger bastard maybe….but never better than because even with as crazy as I am, even *I* don't want that particular death mark on my back!

But let’s stop talking about the violence for a moment and allow me to ask you a question, something serious here;

You know that old saying about the only difference between a Hero and a Villain is perspective, where does the perspective go when both of the people in the story are the villian...huh, Remy?

The truth is that you can only see from the perspective of your wallet and how much you think that buying the victory or ensuring that you’ve paid for the right bodyguard or in your case “insurance policy” will net you the end result that you feel that you should have.

Me, on the other hand, I see things from the perspective of somebody who has been in the trenches of this company for *years* and who has time and time again been overlooked because for whatever the fuck reason or another, but I still go out there and I put in one epic match after another and I fight and fight and fight and fight until the very breath is *gone* from my lungs and is replaced with nothing but the hottest fire and *THEN* I fight even more because that’s how I was raised to do things, Remy, I was raised that everything you fucking do in life, everything that you fucking *earn* is through the hard work and effort that you put into thing and while yes, I have lost more than my fair share of matches due to the way of thinking, not one…not a singular fucking *ONE* of my past opponents can doubt what I can do in that ring and while they might hate my fucking guts for it, they fucking give me the credit that the devil is due!!

{Ryo then jabs a finger in an easterly direction with a serious look on his face}

Ryo: Even fucking Arata Asakura, for as much as he god-damned *HATES* my very existence, he himself will not deny what I can do in that ring and each time he has taken what he views as my “disrespect” with that snide look on his face, he cannot deny to what levels I will do to get the job fucking done in that very ring and Remy, at Game Over, you your fucking self, you will fucking learn exactly *EXACTLY* to what levels and *DEPTHS* that I will go to in order to take that Omega Wrestling Alliance Prestige championship out of those dirty, grubby, fucking little fingers of yours's and hold that strap high with these steely, blood soaked ones of *MINE*!!!

{Ryo then lowers his arm and slowly his head tilts to the right, his gaze never leaving the camera as his expression grows even harder, his eyes even darker with a fury that none cannot really believe nor acknowledge}

Ryo: But let us now speak upon the things of your promo, Remy, so that I can allow you to understand the truth of your oh so failed misconceptions as to how our match will go at Game Over, shall we?

First off, I won't lie...you are the worst people that humanity has spawned since the creation of both capitalism and communism. *You*, Remy, are the kind of person that Arata Asakura created the Golden Dawn to wipe out of existence.

Not, Christopher Sabertooth or Jeff X...but *you*!

And that is because you are the greedy little American bitch and while yes, its taken me two years to win my first championship here in the Omega Wrestling Alliance, at least I’ve proven myself to be something more than a one hit fucking wonder…and yes, that is *exactly* what the fuck you are, Remy, because unlike me, you have no intention on growing past an arrogant, rich boy of a fucking *MARK* and to make matters worse for yourself, you’re perfectly fine with being a *MARK* and that’s all on you, Remy.

Oh and yes, I do look forward to beating your smug ass into a nice and bright bloody fucking pulp with your Gucci "Bag of Fucks" there, me boyo!!

As for my nickname, lemme tell you something, Bruv, I actually earned that fucking thing and at least it's a hella more respectable than being known as a "Killer of a promotion" in the long fucking run there, shit for brains.

{Ryo's expression grows even darker as he tilts his head forward, his dark eyes peering out from beneath his blonde-dyed bangs}

Ryo: As for you little bullshit about disrespecting my family name, Piss-Scott, then maybe you should understand that this so called "reign of terror" as you called it will only end when *I* say it does and not because of some little rich boy who's about to get his fucking head not only stomped-the *FUCK*-in but also lit the *FUCK* on fire if I have the chance and don't think that I won't do it because buddy boy, not only will I do it but I will be enjoying every fucking single second of it!!

In the end, Remy, I can tell with each and every single word that you spoke throughout that entire pile of horse shit that you seemingly thought could be called a "promo", not once did you say or mean anything which in the end shows me that you *DON'T* want it and that you *NEVER* will either because you are facing the improbability of ice skating up-*fucking*-hill because you walking out of that arena on your own two feet with your fucking skull intact, now that will be the *miracle* upon which you speak, but my *VICTORY* over you is a sure as shit guartenteed thing because just like every other match that I am in, I'm going to be putting in the same insane work ethic that I do every other match that I'm in and if it means that I have to drag my broken and bleeding body over red-hot jagged chunks of glass just to put you the FUCK *DOWN* for that three count and walk out of Game Over as the new Omega Wrestling Alliance Prestige Champion, then you can bet your bottom fucking dollar that's what I'm going to do because you lack the sheer force of WILL needed to not only put me down for that three count, but you also lack the damn BALLS to get the job done as well!!

{Ryo's head then snaps up and that twisted smile of his blossoms into full force as he does so, staring hard into the camera with a fully lethal intent}

Ryo: In the end, Remy, is that I am not the one doing the lying in our little war of words before Game Over. In fact you are doing nothing more than proving everything that I said in my first promo about you correct with each and every single word that you say with every single breath that you exhale, that’s the long and the short of it in reality and there’s not a damned thing that you can say or do that will prove anything otherwise.

But at Game Over, you might get that one lucky shot in that takes me down and out, I will give you that because I am not invincible….pissed off to no-measurable end yes, but invincible no…but understand that all of this determination, that is because you are not like me, a man of focus...of commitment, which is something you know very little about. I used to be a man who knew what he wanted and had the commitment to go about and get it done and reap the rewards...but then I kept running into those whose sheer will to their commitment was greater than mine and I can accept that.

But then came the others, those who's "commitment" had no focus, no real desire behind it...and that's when they became lazy, full of the same kind of bullshit that you sit there and kept spewing throughout that entire promo of yours's, Remy. But at Game Over, when I lay your body flat the fuck out after I take that worthless little lump of shit that sits about your shoulders that you call a "head"...I'm going to use you to lay the foundation of what I will be doing from here on and into the future.

I'm going to pave the road of my future victories with the bones of your goat-herding *ass*, Remy. And I know that you'll hear that last part and wonder what I mean by that since you don't herd goats...

{Ryo's "smile" grows even larger}

Ryo: But you see, Remy, you will be doing just that because after I tear you apart at Game Over....that's what you'll be reduced to.

A Goat Herder.

Because you'll be faced with the mind-shattering reality that is all you're really good at by pay per view's end and for all this bragging about how "great" you supposedly are...that will just be a some little memory of a whiny little bitch who couldn't back what his ass kept shitting out.

I’m sorry if my vulgarities bother you, Remy, but you are facing a grow man at Game Over…which means for you to grow up and grow a pair, otherwise you can stay the fuck home and just *hand* me my championship because in the end either way, that’s how this is all going to end.

{The smile then slowly and surely drops from Ryo’s face}

Ryo: That is the reality of all this, something that you’re afraid of seeing happen because you can’t believe that it’ll happen to you in just a few short days from now, Remy.

Your “insurance policy”...versus who I’ve got watching my back at the pay per view because the OWA neglected to give him a spot and he is oh so ready to hurt someone for it….so if you wish to endanger someone for your own sick little amusement, then go right ahead.

*HE* won’t mind in the slightest.

But Remy, I will be walking out as the new champion…and there is not a damned thing that you can do about it to stop me.

It will be a battle of money versus sheer fucking will…and Remy?

You can take that to the fucking bank, no doubt…bruv.

So get whatever you feel like you need for our match, go swim in your money pool a few dozen times before it all disappears because at Game Over, you’re *DONE*.

And there is nothing that you can do to stop it.

Cheers, bruv.

{The screen then fades to black on Ryo’s twisted smile}

Die The Hero/Become The Villain August 26th 2022, 11:47 am by **'Don' Hendrix**

'You either die a hero or live long enough to see yourself become the villain…'

"Oh Richy boy, you're very mistaken in calling me "Richer Gatsby". Strong? Sure, I consider myself psychically strong, but privileged? I don't know about that one big homie. If I was privileged, I'd be in the Main Event facing Jacob Senn right now. No, I'm stuck on the pre-show fighting for the vacated Icarus Championship against you curtain jerkers. If I had privilege, I'd be a multi time Heavyweight Champion of getting their way like Arata, not a man who only had one world championship opportunity in two years of wrestling. You call me privileged, but you got pushed with a rocket up your ass to the main event for the Immortal Heavyweight Championship against the then champion Noah Reigner, and you lost. And you wonder why you fell down to pre-shows? Hell, Reigner lost his title, fucked off with his PAWG of a wife and left you fighting Bob Osterland in the dark matches after the shows. Yeah you're really that damn good, huh? So damn good at wrestling in front of forty people when the thousand already left home. What's the difference between me and you? I'm restarting my career in OWA while yours is reaching its unsatisfying halt. A halt… kinda like your SSW career. You know, the place that they spent the time on you, trying to make you their guy, only for the experiment to end. And they give you shot after shot believing one day the chance they took worked, but they'll be more disappointed than your own extra privileged ass will be.

Silver Kazmea, what the fuck was that? Bro came to OWA and didn't even have the balls to name drop any of us, or even mention anything of us. 'I maybe a little rusty at this', thanks Captain Obvious. Makes me wonder if you were really that good as you said you were. Maybe you're going to ride this bike, but that front wheel is going to pop off and send you crashing off the cliff. Would do all of us a favor and save us from the overrated, overhyped but underperformed shit we were given. You talked about giving ten years of your life for this like it means anything to me. You talked about scratching and clawing but none of us seen or care for it. You ever heard of "if a tree falls and nobody is around, does it make a sound?"? If a man throws around his career, but no one he's telling seen it, does it happen? One thing I will say, I'm glad you told your son that you're going to miss things, because we know how quickly your OWA career is going to end right after it just started. You truly fucked up big time homie. Our first encounter, you had the balls to laugh me in the face, and I took that personally. Now I'm going to send you to your early grave like I was a fucking Xanax tablet, you fucking snub. I pray that you don't even make it home to your son because I want to put an end to your pathetic, waste of a existence. I want him to go to your wake, the tears flowing down his cheek and I want him to fucking hate me for what I've done to you and your family. You're not the fucking hero here dawg. You're another dude brought in to test my fucking patience. You're a fucking dude that was brought in to fucking lose every match, but put on a good showing. That's all you're worth to me and this company. They will fill your head, making you believe that you're top shit, that you're so fucking good, like they do with everyone else. What's the difference between us is I'm an in ring genius, while you should have been an aborted fetus. I'm a world wide respected wrestler, you're Mr. Leave It To Beaver. Man fuck you, fuck your family, fuck your family, fuck everything close or even acknowledges you. Hell, the only reason you're in this match is because you went to management, rubbed the correct shoulders, and kissed the right set of ass, otherwise you wouldn't of even be in this match to begin with, as you really don't deserve it.

DEMARION, what the fuck? Man just threatened to poke my bum and say it's nothing? Pause, rewind, and delete. I wish your parents could do the same thing with your life as well. Tell me, you have a reputation for breaking a man down, but the only thing breaking down is your reputation. I heard everything you said and it made me almost want to kill myself, again.

.... This is it, huh? At one point, I had everything going for me. Mr. Popular, main events and title opportunities, was in the biggest stable of the time with my two best friends. I was on top of the world once upon a time, but the sick and twisted reality is that when you think everyone is your friend, the snakes appear from the grass and strike. My "friends" turned their backs on me, leaving me in a ditch like I was a lifeless body, while I was screaming for their help. Those people pushing me to the main events decided just to stop putting me on the card, despite my silentious pleads. And I've been ran out of that company, despite the fight I had to stay. This all nearly killed my dream of being a professional wrestler. I never thought that I would get that fire back….. until I found a life, new companies, and new chances. I get that chance here with the Icarus Championship. Seriously… what more do I have to do to be taken seriously? I've tried my entire career, actually no, my entire life trying to be taken seriously in everything I do. When I was in middle school and tried out for the basketball team, I had players and coaches tell me I couldn't do it, and that I would be a joke. Football, I was told I would be a joke on the field. Professional Wrestling, management made me to look like a joke. And I'll be damned to let it continue. I'll be damned to my rotting heart if I let this go on. This match was put so Silver Kazmea or Rich Gatsby can "continue showing their dominance against anyone but jobbers" because nobody expects me to win! Everywhere I look, it's "Oh Brandon Hendrix on the card! Can't wait to see him look good in defeat!". And I'll be DAMNED if I didn't come back from nearly DYING OVER AND OVER AGAIN TO THE SPORT THAT I FUCKING LOVE AND CHERISH THE MOST WHILE BLOOD SUCKING LEECHES LIKE YOU ARE HANDED EVERYTHING YOU OVERRATED BITCH! I'LL BE DAMNED IF I BUST MY ASS EVERY GODAMN DAY OF THE YEAR TRYING TO PERFECT MYSELF! PERFECT MY CRAFT! TO MAKE A NAME FOR MYSELF! TO DO WHATEVER IT TAKES SO THAT WAY WHENEVER I DIE, THAT THERE WILL BE KIDS, TEENAGERS, AND ADULTS THAT SEE WHAT I'M DOING AND BE INSPIRED TO FIGHT WHEN EVERYONE SAYS YOU WON'T WIN! I'LL BE DAMNED IF THESE FUCKERS TRIES TO TAKE MY SPOT IN OWA THAT I SPENT YEARS OF MY LIFE BUSTING MY ASS TO REACH IN PROFESSIONAL WRESTLING!!!

..... How fucking dare all of you? I thought I left the world of favoritism in a professional wrestling company, but this? This is the same case as before. People sending 'GOATs' to me to make them look good because they're expected to beat me. Because "I suck". Because "all you do is lose the big matches". All that hatred towards me use to make me want to quit my dreams of being a professional wrestler. Why would someone suffer the tortures of everyday criticism because he losses more matches then he wins? Because he hasn't won a title? Because he isn't in with the boys like most others? Because he isn't ass kissing bosses like some? Why do I inject myself to the poison that's killing my career at this moment in time? Because I know that I Can Do It. I don't need that the clowns I'm facing who couldn't reach a good diss on me tell me I can't. I don't need that punk bitch General Manager telling me I can't. I don't need the fraudulent Messiah of a Immortal Heavyweight Champion telling me I can't. Because I KNOW I CAN! I KNOW I CAN BEAT SILVER, BOB, LANDERSON, DEMARION, AND GATSBY! I KNOW I CAN SECURE THAT ICARUS CHAMPIONSHIP AND BECOME THE BEST FUCKING ICARUS CHAMPION IN HISTORY! You better pray that someone, something, or GOD HIMSELF COMES RUNNING DOWN TO AID YOU IN OUR MATCH BECAUSE I SWEAR ON EVERYTHING I LOVE YOU'LL NEED A FUCKING ARMY TO PUT ME DOWN! I AM KICKING YOUR ASS BOYS! I'M KICK YOUR SKULLS IN BOYS! I'M WINNING THIS CHAMPIONSHIP AND GOING ON TO RISE UP TO BECOME ONE OF- NAH FUCK BROTHERS, THE GREATEST OF ALL TIME! This isn't the resurgence of Rich Gatsby, the resurgence of Silver Kazmea, Bob Osterland, El Landerson, or DEMARION.No no! This is the resurgence of Brandon… FUCKING…. HENDRIX!

Bring your a A game boys, because I fuck will."

One Final Message Goodbye

Things have been rough for Brandon for half of the year. He's just wanted to do good for his friends, his family, his peers, everyone that meant the world to Brandon. But when the world doesn't love you back, does the fight feel worth it anymore? When the world hits you at once, does it feel like it was drawn up, designed to make sure you did. Brandon was prepared to accept his fate with this Icarus Championship match at Game Over. He could be walking into the opportunity to make his daughter proud, his entire family, dead or alive proud. Or this could be another chance for Brandon to screw everything up. For Brandon to right the wrongs, or to continue the wrong the rights. To cleanse his spirits, or to be dragged to hell with another foot in the grave. It's at his home in San Antonio,.Texas where up the stairs, he can hear his daughter giggling, running around in her room. Brandon is in the living room, staring down at his cellphone, his number pushed down on the number for his mother, who previously passed away. He knew he wasn't going to get a answer, but he hit call on his phone and heard the phone ringing before it goes to voice mail. "Hello this is Margot Roberts. Please leave your name and number so I can call you back. Bye bye." Brandon sniffles for a second before speaking. "Hey ma…. It's Anthony. I hope you and dad are… okay. Last time I did this, I lost, but um.. this one is for you guys. I plan of coming to yours, dad's, and Angelo's grave, bringing my daughter… and that Icarus Championship for you three. I want you guys to be proud of me… the main reason I need to win this title…. I will win… or I will die trying ma. After Game Over, your son will rest that title on your grave, so it'll be like you holding it, which was the goal since I started…. I know I ain't the perfect son… or even the perfect human to others… I never deserved the life I got… I don't. But I will make sure I earn the right to end this life on the right terms. I love you ma…. Thank you for being the first person to keep me motivated, now I have to prove to my new motivation that her father is absolutely worth it all. See you soon ma. Love you." Brandon hangs up the phone before bring jumped on by his daughter, Raelynn. She giggles as she is on his back, which is getting a chuckle out of him. He reaches behind him and grabs her and brings her to his lap. His smile slowly fades before looking down at Raelynn. "Listen baby girl… you're going to stay with your aunt for a bit. I know you don't want to, but I need you to, okay? Your dad has something….. very important to do and I need to make sure that in case, you will have someone to take care of you. I… I know that I wasn't there for most of your life so far, and I'm sorry baby girl, I am. If I had known, I would of been there since day one. And no matter what the doctors say or whatever is the case, I will make sure I'm there till you're able to be on your own and even after that. I'm fighting for you princess, and I will scream that for the world to hear everyday for everyone to hear. When your dad goes to work, he will come back home and bring you the gift I've been saying since I will give you since i came into your life: a trophy from dad's work. I promise you that your dad will be the man who wakes up with a smile on his face once again. I promise you… I will. I love you Raelynn." She sits up and leans forward, giving Brandon a hug. He hugs her back gently, and let's out a sigh. At Game Over, it can really be game over. Brandon needs the Icarus Championship to be around his waist. He needs to be announced as the champion, he doesn't want it like the others, he needs it. His family needs it, his parents need it. It's up to Brandon to deliver now. He has to….

Or it may never happen period.

SKazama has spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos August 26th 2022, 2:06 am by **PAZ**

Rich Gatsby woke up to a bladder full of piss, a throbbing headache, and the quiet sounds of K-Pop playing in the other room.

He sat up and looked around, avoiding the crease of light emanating through the crack in the blinds. Clothes on the floor. A lacy bra next to his pants. He heard movement in the other room, but first the bathroom. He ran water through his hands and splashed it on his face. He looked around and noticed the makeup accessories on the bathroom counter.

This wasn’t his hotel room.

He quickly put on his pants and slowly opened the door. He found his shirt, it was on the woman he met last night. He remembered going out with Bishop and a few others, but didn’t remember leaving them at any point, or pretty much anything at all. He looked at the pretty lady wearing his shirt and nothing much else and wished he remembered at least some of it.

“You’re up.” She spoke English. Of course, she did. That was the second thing that caught Rich’s attention when they met at the bar. She smiled at him as if there was some sort of familiarity between them. “How’d you sleep?”

Rich smiled back. “Great.” He tried to remember her name. Leanne? Lina? “My head feels like it was hit by a truck, to be honest.”

Rich took a seat on the sofa, unsure what to say next. She walked past him, running her hands on his bare shoulders as she grabbed a cup and poured coffee into it for him. “This should help.” She took a seat next to him, her legs touching his. She put her arm around him and laid her head on his chest. “I had fun last night.”

She smelled of perfume from the night before. He remembered complimenting her on it - how it made her blush. Bits and pieces came back to him, but it was all just too hazy. The fun he had last night was fun… last night. Right now, he needed an out. A way to leave without offending her and her hospitality. He took a sip of the coffee as he tried to plan his exit.

“Me too, baby girl. I appreciate you giving up your home like this. I know I take up a lot of space.”

“No problem at all. You just seemed so peaceful.”

He couldn’t think of a way to make this transition easy. Things were going great, but this wasn’t supposed to be forever. Just one night. He couldn’t bear to break the news to Leanne or Lena or Lauren that this wasn’t gonna be anything serious. She was a girl from Canada teaching English to children in Korea. He was a professional wrestler who didn’t have the time to commit to anything but professional wrestling.

“You… you don’t have to go,” she said as if reading his mind. “I know you felt a connection.” He wasn’t sure he did. “Like I said, I had a lot of fun last night. Can’t you stay for a little longer?”

This was his life. Wrestling wasn’t his first love, but it definitely is his current. He got his taste at what it truly meant to be a professional wrestler when he won the Prospect Cup in ALPHA Wrestling just two weeks into his career. The joy and adulation from the crowd was something he never felt before. He was a natural and despite coming up short against Kai Stevens, he got the bug. Like an addict in desperate need of a fix, he wanted to keep that adrenaline going.

Everything else took a seat in the back. This was the world he wanted. Not the complacent, boring life on the corner of Crenshaw and Manchester. He needed that action. He needed to feel alive.

“Nah, Queen.” He knew it was going to hurt her, but he knew this couldn't be. “I’m a travelin’ man. I’m here for a couple of days then I’m off to New Orleans. Then I’m off to Knoxville right after. Then back to LA. It’s a crazy life ‘n’ right now I can’t… I can’t ask for what you’re wanting. This is my life. I go out, beat some muh’fucka’s ass, pack up, go somehwere else to beat another muh’fucka’s ass. Wash, rinse, repeat. Real talk, I had fun last night, but you ‘n’ I? Baby girl, we can’t be in a relationship.”

Rich looked into Lisa’s eyes. The eyes that begged him to stay when all he really wanted to do was go. It caught Rich off-guard when she scooted herself away from him and laughed. “Rich, who said anything about a relationship? We barely met a few hours ago. Besides, long distance relationships never work out.” She patted him on the shoulder and walked towards the bedroom. She removed the shirt she was wearing, revealing the first thing he noticed about her last night. “I’ll even give you your shirt back,” she said provocatively.

Guess he’s staying after all.
------------

OWA Promos - Page 19 9a49d3eeaed0c0d1ed4f3468c4106210

“I’m built different. It’s as simple as that.”

The prerecorded taping opens somewhere in Seoul, where the nightlife is bustling with lights and the energy of the people walking around. In the middle stands RICH GATSBY, standing there with a purple Bathing Ape t-shirt, black jeans, and a pair of Jordan 5s with the royal purple colorway. Always dressed to impress, not only did he stick out fashionably, but the six-foot five big man was an imposing physical force surrounded by smaller Asian men and women who gave him his space as he addressed the camera.

“I’ve noticed a lot of things around OWA and it’s just… it ain’t something I’m used to. I get the need for it. I understand the necessity of it all. Trust me, I do. But y’all can’t tell me… y’all can’t tell me that all these fans turn on their tablets, their phones, whatever the fuck and they just sit there for hours upon hours, watchin’ these muh’fuckas wax poetic about their opponents ‘n’ shit? Like… yo,” Gatsby raises his hands in confusion. Yes, he’s aware of his hypocrisy. “ I dunno, y’all see Big GAT on television, whether it's ALPHA, or Death Graps, or Yamashi Pro, or here in the OWA. Y’all ain’t comin’ here to watch me fuckin’ talk shit about dudes. Y’all came here cuz I bring the fuckin’ ruckus in that ring. I go in ‘n’ bash on dudes. You point the way ‘n’ I fuckin’ go. I hit hard. I throw muh’fuckas on they heads. I bust skulls. I get my money ‘n’ I peace the fuck out,” Gatsby holds up two fingers. “Y’all wanna here me talk? The fuck is there to talk about?! Fam, I know why I’m here. Y’all know exactly what I’ma do to every single man in the ring wit’ me come the kickoff show. There ain’t no reason for me to tell y’all what I’ma do.”

“But yo, if this what y’all want, I’ma give it to you. Cuz I’m a man of the people. Y’all pay me to do this shit, then by all fuckin’ means, y’know?”

“I’ve already told y’all how I feel about bein’ on the kickoff. It’s a sign of disrespect. It’s a sign that y’all don’t think I can take the ball ‘n’ run with it. Y’all wanna give Ryo Sakazaki pay-per-view money. Y’all wanna give Corey Matthis ‘n’ Noah Kreiger some fuckin’ pay-per-view money. A’ight then. That’s what’s up,” Rich was treading a thin line here with his comments, but there was literally nothing for him to lose. “What y’all forgot about was that Big GAT ain’ the type of man who just mails it in. Big GAT ain’t the type of man who just rest on his laurels. I’ve said it once ‘n’ I’ll say it again: I’ve earned my fuckin’ spot. Y’all wanna put me in the kickoff? That’s y’all’s prerogative. Y’all ain’t got love for GAT? That’s on y’all. End of the day, I get paid no matter where I’m put ‘n’ I get the chance to wreck some muh’fuckas in the process. Y’all decided to put me in the ring against five other dudes who have absolutely NO IDEA what’s finna happen to ‘em at Game Over. Guys like El Landerson!? Y’all must’ve forgotten who the fuck I am!! We out here, baby! I come from Cali, my guy, I know a lil’ somethin’ ‘bout that Lucha shit ‘n’ trust me, El Landerson. I don’t look the part but I promise you I can keep up wit’chu pinche pendjo! No mames, guey! Ain’t nothin’ I ain’t seen before, Landerson. Just like I’ve seen dozens of Brandon Hendrixes in my day. Brandon, you ain’t no different from El Landerson, or Osterlund, or De’Marion. Same thing that’s happen to any muh’fucka that stands across from me, finna happen to you, homie.”

“Y’all… we. are NOT. the SAME.”

“I’m out of my comfort zone, I’ll admit that. I’ve known one thing for many years ‘n’ I’ve been successful in that one place. And despite there bein’ some bitch-made muh’fuckas who can’t put respect on my OG company, I promise you this. I’ve faced the best of the best from around the world in that company and I’ve learned how to handle big pressure situations. You put me in the ring in the middle of SoFi Stadium in front of hundreds of thousands of fans in the biggest match of the year ‘n’ I ain’t never wilted. I ain’t never shy away from the spotlight! Y’all tryna prove, what, that Big GAT ain’t that dude? Fuck that shit, I AM THAT MAN! And at Game Over, y’all finna just remember that. When I put down your fan favorites ‘n’ most hated. When I drop Silver Kazama on his head and I pounce the fuck out of Bob Osterlund, y’all are gonna remember the hype I had when I came to this company at the beginning of the year.”

“That title? That Icarus Championship? I guarantee I ain’t fuckin’ falterin’. I ain’t afraid of the pressure. I thrive on it, homie. Give me all the fuckin’ spotlight. That target on my back finna be a lot bigger once I win the Icarus ‘n’ I’m ready for it. I see y’all thinkin’ I ain’t got it like that no more but fuck that, I’ma take it back to the old Gat - that hungry muh’fucka wit’ everything to lose. That desperate muh’fucka who wanted nothing more than to prove himself,” Gatbsy shoved his finger into his chest. “Let these next few nights be a warning shot to the rest of Olympus. I am a man of my word. I treat this business wit’ the most utmost respect because this business gave me everything I got so far. I can’t speak for others on the roster, but when I put that belt around my waist you best believe I hold that title with honor. Don’t matter who I face ‘n’ where I face ‘em, but as long as I hold that Icarus Championship, I will defend it with pride ‘n’ integrity. I will treat it way better than James Diamond ever did….”

“Because I’m the Juggernaut, bitch.”

“Allow me to reintroduce myself, the name is GAT.”

------------

“You still don’t have to go.”

She lay there with her head on his chest. He stared at the ceiling. He ran his hand through her hair, hoping she didn’t really expect a response.

“Call time is what? 2:30?”

Gatsby chuckled. He didn’t remember telling her about when she had to be in the building. Maybe he told her last night, but he wasn't sure. Wait. He didn’t. He sat up and looked at her.

“How’d you know?”

“You’d probably have to get there earlier since you’re on the kickoff show and all. I read that Brandon Hendrix was pissed he was left off the V-Pro card and-”

“Hol’up, hol’up, hol’up…. You tellin’ me you a fan?”

She scoffed. “I wouldn’t call myself a fan anymore, honestly. Not after… you know.” She gave Rich a look. “You know, Rich… I wasn’t able to get tickets for tonight.”

“The fuck!? Nah, queen, we ain’t doin’ this.”

“Rich, what are you talking about? I thought we had a connection?”

“Girl, whatever connection we had ain’t there no more!” Gatsby quickly got off her bed and found his shirt. He wasn’t sure what to think. There was a look on her face that wasn’t there before. A look of greed. As if she is expected to get something back from Gatsby in return. Like it was owed to her. “Yo, once again, I appreciate y’alls hospitality ‘n’ shit, but uh… Yeah I gotta go.”

“Do I get my tickets at will call?”

“Uh… sure.” He didn’t know her name.

“Wait… Rich… Rich!”

Gatsby put his boots on and hustled out the door. He was frustrated, but he wasn’t sure why. She didn’t deserve it, he knew that for sure. But it just seemed like there was always something people needed from him. There was never an honest friendship for Rich, especially in professional wrestling, even when he was all the way in South Korea. He inhaled the humid air as he walked down the street, trying to figure out his way back to the hotel.

He never should’ve gone out in the first place.

You give someone a few inches and they expect a mile.

Felix Hartley, Enter Name Herekyle and Chad Ecclestone have spoken. It’s such good shit!

The Show is Over August 26th 2022, 1:19 am by **El Landerson**

[The scene shows Landerson and Angie in Aaliyah Landerson was in the backstage area discuss about something while Hugh Jess steps into the mix to stop them]

Hugh Jess: I'm standing out here with the one in only El Landerson and his Wife Angie in Daughter Aaliyah Landerson.

(OWA universe cheers The Landerson family in the back area)

Bit Luchador|Landerson: thanks for having us here Hugh.

OWA Promos - Page 19 Rey-Mysterio-explica-el-secreto-de-su-caida-en-Money-In-The-Bank

Hugh Jess: Landerson. at Olympus Game over or Go home you where ambushed by Ryo SAKAZAKI!. and then you lost to The Wizard. on Olympus Game over or Go home in your match and that's why you'll be competing for an OWA Icarus Championship when you be facing Bob Osterlund, and DeMarion Rich Gatsby Silver Kazema in Brandon Hendrix. at Game over on OWA care to explain Mr Landerson.

{Angie and Aaliyah Landerson is rubbing there father's shoulders in the hallway arena]

Bit Luchador|Landerson: when I got attacked by Ryo SAKAZAKI!. He was jealous that I was getting myself a shot for the OWA Icarus Championship in not him and when he power bomb me on top of the barricade I could barley move and went ahead got into the Olympus ring and fight The Wizard. and I came up short in my match with The Wizard but he won the match over me if I wasn't in pain I could've won the match but I didn't if it wasn't for Ryo SAKAZAKI! to hit me with that Power bomb on the barricade on Olympus Game over or Go home event but enough of Ryo. though I'll deal with him some other time and right now I have to focus on this kickoff match when I enter the Game over ring with DeMarion, Bob Osterlund and Rich Gatsby. including Silver Kazema and Brandon Hendrix. those men actually think that one of them can leave out of Game over and become the new OWA Icarus Champion will they all wrong ever since I came here to OWA I was the first Lucha to earn myself an opportunity for an Icarus Championship at Final Destination but instead I ended up failing the match when James Diamond done became the OWA Icarus Champion and now he's not the Icarus Champion anymore because it's vacated and when I win this Kickoff match then I will be yours truly the new Icarus Champion at Game over PPV on OWA.

Hugh Jess: and what if you can't win the match at Game over.

Bit Luchador|Landerson: like I said if i can't win the Icarus Championship then I mind as well just challenge for someone else for the OWA heavyweight Championship and that person is Jacob Senn. so Jacob I've your number amigo and if you and I want to throw down we can at the next live event of Olympus for your OWA Immortal Heavyweight Championship in the biggest Main event on OWA.

Hugh Jess: Aaliyah. does your father have what it takes to be the next OWA Icarus Champion at Game over.

Princess of 619|Aaliyah Landerson: my father has the right to be the new Icarus Champion and when he steps foot inside of that Game over ring he will bring that Icarus Championship home with his rightfully family in that includes me and my mother will be backstage watching our beloved father beat the living hell outta all five men in the Kickoff match at Game Over on OWA.

Hugh Jess: in what about you Angie. you think your husband Landerson. can leave out as the new Icarus Champion at Game Over.

Angie Landerson: my Husband is diffidently gonna walk out of Game over and become the new Icarus Champion and fight Jacob Senn for his Immortal Heavyweight Championship at Olympus Main event on OWA.

Hugh Jess: Landerson. your Wife and Daughter both agreed that you should walk out as the new Icarus Champion at game Over and the other hand your Angie. was saying that you should Main event on Olympus for Jacob Senn's OWA Immortal Heavyweight Championship after your kickoff match at Game over on OWA.

Bit Luchador|Landerson: my princess Aaliyah and Angie. are both correct I should leave out of Game over and be the new Icarus Champion and Main event at Olympus for Jacob Senn's Immortal heavyweight Championship after I win this kickoff match at Game Over with g=five men on OWA.

Hugh Jess: can you even defeat all five men this Saturday and Sunday.

Bit Luchador|:Landerosn: only hows the kickoff match gonna turn out cause I need this win more than anyone that's on the Olympus roster and when I become the new Icarus Champion Jacob Senn I'm coming after your OWA Immortal Heavyweight Championship in the Main event of Olympus on OWA.

Bit Luchador|Landerson: De Marion Osterlund in Kazema and Hendrix in Gatsby I'll be seeing you five gentlemen this Saturday at Game Over for the Vacant Icarus Championship on OWA.

(The Landerson family signs out when Hugh Jess continues talking)

Hugh Jess: thanks for the support Landerson. and good luck on Saturday.

Hugh Jess: we hope that Landerson. can win his first Icarus Champion when he enters his kickoff match to see who gets to leave out of Game over as the new Icarus Champion at OWA.

[Camera fades when Landerson and Angie in Aaliyah heads straight back to there father locker room before the kickoff match begins this Sunday]

Michael Bishop and Enter Name Herekyle have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos August 25th 2022, 11:59 pm by **Stark**

Underestimated Rin, really? You are the daughter of Arata Asakura, one of the men who was once considered one of the greatest Japanese wrestlers of all time before he flushed his own reputation down the drain, but still - you are his daughter. And you thought you were underestimated? If anything, all we seemed to hear about back then is how you would be taking over Odyssey in the same way that he did when he first came to OWA. Instead, you shit the bed. You didn't put effort into your development. You said it yourself. You debuted with a win over Dulce Torres, those were your words! You clearly had some level of skill even on debut. Are you going to say it was a fluke now? Are you going to downplay your OWN achievement, the one damn thing you have going for you - just to try to garner sympathy? What is it you're after here, Rin, I don't get it anymore. I'm not sure if you're just straight up stupid, or if you have some dirty plan cooking here with these crocodile tears, these fake cries for help, and this bullshit offer of inviting me to the Golden Dawn in exchange for you laying down for me.

That's not how I want to keep my Goddesses Championship. I want to beat you, I NEED to beat you. Josie Grey is a problem for you to worry about after Game Over, not right now. Right now the only woman you need to focus on is ME. I think you're a parasite because you ARE a parasite. You've latched yourself onto Llorona and now you've set your sights on me, trying to siphon what I have created for myself, and take it as your own. I won't allow it. That's why I won't show you any of the respect you claim you deserve. You can keep crying about not getting the same level of love or respect from me or the fans. You're not going to get it. You don't deserve it/ You haven't done a single thing to earn it. You are a detestable creature. You can call me a mentally handicapped gaijin if you want, but the only thing you're going to be calling me after Game Over is the CHAMPION. What am I ignorant about, exactly? Or are you just calling me ignorant because I can see right through you and your bullshit. Keep lying to us Rin, keep lying to yourself, and eventually your deluded brain will start to see it as the truth.

No, Rin, actually, I didn't know what an oiran was exactly. It's merely a word I heard my parents throw around when I was a child referring to the kinds of women they didn't want me to be like. Sorry if I didn't know the definition of oiran, but considering how deep your knowledge of prostitution goes, I think you're just proving my point of what I thought about you to begin with. Not that I'd shame you for doing what you had to do to survive, but there's no way in hell I'd let someone like you talk down to me, knowing that. Don't get me wrong - I don't hate women who get by using their bodies, but I don't have to respect it. I could've just as easily done the same with myself when I had nothing to my name, no home to go to, nowhere to sleep but the streets, and when I used every single yen I'd find on the side of the road to buy cocaine. I would barely even eat food. Still, when it came time to pick myself up, I didn't turn to the other half of a man's bed, I chose to honor myself and evolve from a survivor to a fighter, and now a warrior, a champion. I'm proud of how far I've come. If you're so fascinated by the status and supposed prestige of being an oiran, maybe you should go back and be one. Apparently Bad Boy Know is hiring, right? He must not have gotten his dick sucked since I've left the Bad Boy Collective, according to you. Sounds like there's a job opening for you once I send you packing at Game Over.

You're right that no one gets to decide your worth. I don't say that you need to agree with my assessment of you. You wouldn't be the first woman I've run into who's too delusional and too far up their own ass to see the truth. It's that I hated being a ring girl, Rin. Of course I wanted more for myself. As an idol, I was a STAR. It's my own fault that I succumbed to my demons, my insecurities, and fell on drugs. There's no one I blame for that other than myself. When all my fans, my friends, and my family turned against me - outcasted me, exiled me, left me to die on the streets, I had my feelings of anger and resentment and bitterness. I'm still a human too, Rin. At one point, I felt exactly how you feel now about me, seeing me as a successful and honorable champion. But you know what changed? I grew up. I took responsibility. I stopped feeling sorry for myself. I stopped making excuses. It took me YEARS but ultimately I did it. Eijiro Takahashi of JET gave me a chance. But at the end of the day, it was me and me alone who brought myself to the point I am now. When you stop feeling jealous of me, and start accepting that you're a failure, that you need to change who you are and how you operate… then maybe you can come close to shining as bright as the Golden Goddess does.

Until then…

I have a record to break. I will step up to the plate at Game Over and cement my legacy as the greatest Goddess Champion of all time. You'll hear the cheers of the crowd as I defeat you. You'll see your whole world come crashing down. You'll hear MY music play, you'll hear the announcer say "AND STILL!", and you'll see me walking out with the Goddesses Championship..

Because simply put. I am better than you. And you will never be as good as me. Remember what I told you from the very start.

You.
Are.
WORTHLESS.

Jeff X, Lazarus Arjen and Enter Name Herekyle have spoken. It’s such good shit!

on paper // game over oo3 August 25th 2022, 11:39 pm by **Rebecca Filth**

“You wanna talk about paper? On paper, you should have this match in the fucking bag.

You’re bigger than me. You’re stronger than me. You have more experience than me. You have an MMA background. And most importantly, you have supernatural powers. And while you say that you won’t need them to beat me, they’re still at your disposal. And when a monster is desperate, it wouldn’t surprise me if you used everything in your arsenal to get what you want the most. On paper, this is the Banshee’s match to lose.

So when you try to regurgitate my own threats about embarrassing you, it falls flat. A tiny bitch like me with barely any experience under her belt who doesn’t even care should lose to a supernatural freak who is driven. I mean, who would expect any less? If I lose, I wouldn’t be embarrassed. It should be expected. It wouldn’t take away from my amazing undefeated streak. It wouldn’t take away from the fact that I made history at Final Destination in more ways than one. It wouldn't take away from the fact that I am the inaugural Undisputed Women's Champion.

On paper, when I look at you, you should have reached the top long before me. On paper you should have destroyed the entire roster the second The Banshee took over. You should already have gold galore. You should have women cowering. But that’s all you are, a paper competitor. It’s why I call you an illusion. It’s why I call your face paint and your spooky vibes a facade. Because on paper, this match should be yours. On paper you should have my number.

On paper, I shouldn’t even be the Undisputed Women’s World Champion. On paper every woman who has stepped to me should have taken me down and ended my undefeated streak. But I don’t give a fuck what this match looks like on paper. I don’t give a fuck about perception and expectations and odds. I walked into this business and I turned it upside down. I took that paper and I ripped it to shreds every time I stepped between the ropes. I set it ablaze when I won the Clash. Because you have all sold the story that desire and wants and needs are what push you to succeed. You have sold the story about being the absolute best wrestlers in the world.

And I don’t care about any of that shit. This isn’t my dream job. I don’t care to be known as the best wrestler in the world. Baby, I’m the worst in the world. And that’s the funny part. I’m awful. I barely care. And somehow here I stand, holding everything you’ve ever wanted in the world. I changed the definition of what success looked like. I changed the idea of what gets you to the top. I changed the fucking game.

So call me a paper champion, Banshee. Because I don’t care what it says on paper. I live in a world of flesh and blood. And when we’re in that ring, sweating and grunting and rubbing up against each other, you’ll realize that paper doesn't mean shit. You’ll realize that everything you thought about me; it's meaningless. Because in real life, I am nothing like I am on paper.

The way you talk about me? The way you try to impersonate me? It’s clear you think I’m nothing more than a slutty little whore. Nothing more than sex appeal and a tight ass. And if you think that is everything that sets me apart? Oh Banshee, you are in for a rude fucking awakening at Game Over. Like everyone before me you have underestimated me, lied on my good name and proven that you do not understand the woman who will take you to your fucking limit. I am more than just a whore. I am more than just the woman standing between you and a piece of gold, a piece of history. If you can’t see that, you’ve already lost.

Yet you have the gall to cut me down while you build up Jonetta Stone?! Now who's the one being disingenuous? You thought me bragging about beating you in the Clash was some big own? Like me thinking you suck means that beating you didn’t mean something? Do you understand optics, Banshee? I may not buy into your monster facade. But the world does. The horde does. And knocking you over the top rope, it meant something to them. Knocking Jonetta Stone, even past her prime, over the top rope, meant something.

And yes, I said PAST. HER. PRIME. The exact thing you said to her the week of Final Destination. You told her that her expiration date had long passed. And that she didn’t offer much, “even in her prime”. Now who is changing the story? You want to build Jonetta up to make yourself look stronger. She was like you, she had an illusion of superiority. People blindly believed she was dominant because she sold it to you all. And no one questioned it. Jonetta was brazen to cash in her cup for a Final Destination triple threat and to win it like that. But her championship run? Sure, it lasted a long time. But longevity isn’t everything. She defended her title THREE times against two different women - Revy and Cloud. The end. Once she was placed into the Promethean Chamber she didn’t even make it to the final three. And then she fell apart without her belt and put you under her spell.

She may have been dominant on an Odyssey that existed before Rebecca Filth. But her reign compared to mine? I’ve almost done what she’s done in under 100 days of my reign. If you think about it, Alyssa was my first defense. I unified the belts. And then I went on to defend my belt yet again against Angelina Magnum in the iconic bra and panties match. I’ve already defended my belt against TWO women, like her. And once I overcome you at Game Over, that will make THREE defenses. So by your own standards, I am on par to be one of the most dominant champions in OWA history. But I’m not here for the Jonetta reign. I’m looking bigger than that. You know me. I love to make history. I love to shove it in everyone’s face that I have done what NO ONE could before. And I see Cage’s record and I want it.

She said it herself. She passed the torch to me and since our match on Odyssey, I have set the brand on fucking fire. And I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I’m not done yet. And the main event scene today? It’s nothing like the main event scene you’ve been a part of for the last year. Season 5 is the Filthy season and Thotyssey is in full swing. The competition has leveled up. Look around, Banshee. The girls you're used to seeing in the main event? I’ve cast them aside. And you’re next.

I don’t care how much experience you have facing “main event level talent.” I mean I’m not sure I’d be bragging about losing to high calibre athletes for the last year. But that’s just me. You’ve never faced someone like me. You’ve never faced a woman like me who takes the odds and shatters them every time she steps into the ring.

Do you truly think you got this match because the horde got too loud? Because the office had finally decided that they saw you? Oh my sweet, sad little monster. How delirious you are. No one saw you. No one sees you. Llorona just saw that you weren’t going to stop until you got what you wanted. And that was me. So she gave it to you. And while you think it was a gift. You think it validated everything that you believe about yourself. You’re too fucking stupid to realize that this is your punishment. Llorona knows what I am capable of. She knows that I am the one bringing the eyes and the ratings to Odyssey. My live sex celebration and my bra and panties match were ONCE IN A LIFETIME MOMENTS. They shattered all expectations that the office had for ratings. No one missed those moments. And while you may have interjected and ruined them, no one even noticed you. No one tuned in for you. You were never even advertised and no one fucking cared.

Because it is all about me, baby! Llorona knows it. The front office knows it. And they know that with a record like yours, the odds of doing the IMPOSSIBLE are fucking slim. Bring your horde. Bring your voodoo magic. It won’t be enough. Maybe I’ll bring a steel chair and see if a demon and a monster react to 65 chair shots the same way. You saw what happened to Hana at Final Destination. But the difference is that Alyssa has a heart. A soul. She’s not empty inside. Me? I wouldn’t stop when you begged. I won’t stop when your skull is bleeding at my feet. I will keep going until I win. Because I want the world to witness the downfall of the Banshee at my slutty little hands.

You talk a lot about humiliation on my end. But I’m not the one that has built myself up to be a monster. I’m not the one who may be on her last championship opportunity. I mean if you lose ANOTHER one what will you do? How will you explain away a loss to a lowly whore? How will the horde get behind you when I stand tall above your broken body? When your power is no match for my cunning? When you’re forced to come to terms with your own mortality?

You can claim that the horde is your strength. But ever since you were freed from Jonetta’s clutches and you embraced the horde, you’ve been nothing remarkable. You speak of that cage match with Diantha and ask how I can say you’re not the same woman? BECAUSE YOU LITERALLY AREN’T. You have gone soft. You appease the fans now. You are reliant on them for your success. Back then? Back then you were feral. You were unhinged. That Banshee? I almost respected her. That’s the Banshee I wish I was facing. Instead of this sad, neutered version that begs for the fans' adoration.

I am not jealous of the horde. You may have millions of fans. But I have millions of dollars from my OnlyFans subs and those are the only fans I need. Do you think I care if the people in the stands cheer me or boo me? I couldn’t care less. Because regardless, they all have their eyes on me. They either want me, they want to be me, or they watch me with jealousy and hatred. Either way, they’re enamoured with me, Banshee. And I don’t need them to succeed. I have never needed anyone. And while you cling to the audience like your last life preserver, they can’t save you. You have failed so many times that you are grasping at straws. Hoping that something will finally be able to put you over the edge.

But where was the horde on Odyssey when I was beating you bloody with my wrench? Where was their power? Where was the edge they were supposed to give you? I didn’t feel it. I didn’t see it. I just saw you fall at my feet. You asked what part of that match was supposed to be the preview of Game Over. So sorry, it was the part you don’t remember because you were unconscious. It’s the part where you were blacked out and bleeding. It’s the part where you woke up the next morning with a throbbing headache wondering how you got there. Wondering how the whore got the upper hand. When you realized that I am not the same as the other girls you have faced.

This may be a standard wrestling match. But I know neither of us quite enjoy playing by the rules. And no matter what you say about leaving your powers behind, I don’t believe it for a fucking second. And in that moment, you should have realized that this match will be different. That I am going to take great pleasure in destroying you. That I can’t wait to watch fear grip your throat when you have no choice but to look into my eyes and call me Daddy. When you are choking in my grasp, like you choke in every championship match. When you realize that even your powers won’t save you. When you realize that nothing can stop me. Not you. And not any other bitch that wants to stand in my way. My apologies. I thought that was obvious. Maybe I should have pinned a note to your lapel. Didn’t realize I’d have to spell it out for you. But I guess that’s the downside of being mentally unstable. You’re not all up there, are you?

This reign? It’s just begun. I am looking to make history. I just got to the top of the mountain and I’m not ready to relinquish this spot just yet. And just like my Openweight Championship, that will be the ONLY way that this title leaves my fucking grasp. When I relinquish it. When I am good and ready. When I have destroyed every woman in this fucking industry and I’m finally too bored to go on.

I don’t care why you want this belt. I can’t keep up with your lies about whether you actually want it or whether you simply want it to hurt me. I can’t keep up with you saying you won’t underestimate me and then telling me I suck in the next breath, ignoring all of my accomplishments. Slough them off because you have no retort for my perfection. It doesn’t fucking matter. Your desires don’t mean shit to me. Whatever it is that drives you, it isn’t enough. Because while you can stand before me and LIE that when you set your mind to something you achieve it, your history tells a very different tale. A tale of a woman who wants so much but isn’t fucking good enough. And I’ll be damned if I let a monster knock me off the pedestal that I earned. That I fought for.

You were the one gifted so many opportunities. So many matches. I was given NONE. I was placed into the Clash to fill a number. No one expected the low level cunt to rise to the top. No one expected me to carve my path to Final Destination like NONE before me. And certainly no one expected me to break Diantha’s curse and be the first Clash winner since Natalie Cage to actually WIN her Final Destination match and gold. You can see all that I have accomplished and try to cut it down. Try to paint it as luck or as gifted opportunities. But you’re full of shit. I wasn’t given ANYTHING. I took it.

And at Game Over, I’m taking your facade. I’m taking your fucking legacy and I’m shattering it. Monster, demon. I don’t care what you are. It’s hard to fear the enigma who has been proven false time and time again. It’s hard to cower before a monster that has lost so many goddamn matches. To women who wish they were as good as me. Look at what I’ve done versus what you’ve done and look deep inside. There’s a reason I’m at the top and you’re an afterthought.

You think this is a horror movie. And you’re right. But I think you’re mistaken at which one we’re in. You think you’re Jason Vorhees or Freddy Kruger. A monster who is unkillable. Except, I’m the cockroach here, Banshee. I’m the one who can’t be killed. Because I’m the Final Girl.

I was the Final Girl at the Clash. I was the Final Girl at Final Destination. And in my third installment, I will survive yet again.

Because you fucked up when you decided that I was just ANY final girl. Nah. This isn’t Texas Chainsaw. This isn’t Nightmare on Elm Street. Baby, we’re in Scream.

And I’m Sidney fucking Prescott. The final girl of all final girls. The bitch who never dies. The protagonist who everyone is obsessed with. The monster is inconsequential. The person under the mask, the killer, always changes. Someone new is always hunting her. Because it’s not about them. It’s about her. It’s about me. This isn’t a movie where the monster is the star. I’m the fucking star, Banshee.

I’m the Final Girl in every sequel. I’m the one with the it factor that everyone is obsessed with. And you’re just another idiot behind a mask trying to take my life and my belt. But just like the losers behind the mask before you, I will slay you and move on to the next one.

You may think you’re the Queen of the Monsters. But you’re just another loser in a mask and robe, trying to use my name to level yourself up. Trying to use my name to give you fucking fame. You think you’re the first one to do it. The most important one to do it. Because on paper, it should be yours. But paper and reality are two different things. And in reality, this isn’t my curtain call. It’s yours. You won’t be making your name off the back of my fucking success. This will NOT be the career making moment you hope for.

So say goodbye to your credibility. Say goodbye to the illusion of superiority. And say goodbye to MY belt. Because at Game Over. I crush it all. And I move on to the sequel and you remain in the graveyard.”

VaeVictisBD, Michael Bishop, Jeff X, The Banshee, Lazarus Arjen, Felix Hartley, Enter Name Herekyle and Chad Ecclestone have spoken. It’s such good shit!

Re: OWA Promos August 25th 2022, 11:37 pm by **Angelina Magnum**

Enter Name Herekyle has 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

‘Fake it, until you make it’

‘Only those who dare to fail greatly, can achieve greatly’

OWA Promos

Similar topics

Similar topics