No expense has been spared at what appears to be a Haunted Amusement Park of some sort. It seems to be an OWA themed amusement park as a very large and demonic smiling Scott Oasis threateningly welcomes all that pass through the gates.

Passing through the turnstiles, arm in arm, are Ms. Graves and her dedicated employer, Remington Ivory Prescott. The two of them pause for just a moment inside the park to look around at all the decorations and are almost immediately accosted by a couple of yahoos on the park’s staff. Park maps are shoved into their hands before the staff members skip away.

“This looks annoyingly fun.” Ms. Graves comments while unfolding her map.

“Or simply annoying.” Prescott does not look impressed.

“Don’t be like that. You said you would give it a chance.”

“Ugh. Fine.” Prescott rolls his eyes in defeat. “Where to first?”

Ms. Graves holds up the map and drags her finger across to some of the attractions.

“We could start with the Reigner Coaster?”

“Nah. Something tells me its past its prime. Probably doesn’t work as well as it used to. That’s a risky one. Pass.”

“Okay, let’s see, there’s the Tunnel of Filth. That could be romantic.”

“We might catch something. Pass.”

“There’s the OWArcade. We could play Spank-A-Barbie or test our strength on DT’s Ruler?”

“Now you’re just scraping the bottom of the barrel. Gross. Next.”

“Hah! Got it. Emmanuelle’s Washed Up River. All you have to do is lay back and let the waves take you where you need to be.”

“Even I’m not that lazy. Pass.”

Ms. Graves shoves the map at Prescott in pouty frustration. “Fine. You pick.”

Another roll of his eyes as Prescott flips the map around until it seems to be right side up. “It’s October. There should be at least one themely attraction in this idiotic park. You just have to know where to look.” Prescott grins. “Ah, here we are.”

Ms. Graves leans over to look at where Prescott’s finger is denting the map’s paper. “Darkane Drive?”

“Yup. Right next to Lazarus Pit Stop. I bet those bathrooms are disgusting.”

“Alright. We’ll go see what this scary thing is about but I’m demanding at least one run on the Hendrix Hangover.”

“Oh come on! That ride’s horrible! All that build to get to the top and then you just fall back down?”

“Don’t care. Want it.”

“Fine.”

The maps are tucked away and the pair start wandering through the park in the direction of the Homeless Hauntings section. It becomes clear as day that they are headed in the right direction when the patrons of the park grow sparser. The lights are more flickery to create a sense of suspense and fear. It looks more and more like a broken down Sesame Street set.

“Okay. Definitely creepy.” Ms. Graves doesn’t like the way this street looks so she clings a little closer to Prescott’s arm.

“I’ve seen worse.” Prescott keeps an eye out for any potential jump scares as they continue to wander down the road that has been christened with the lopsided Sesame Street styled sign: Darkane Drive.

As the two primary people of PresCorp continue their walk down Darkane Drive, it becomes very apparent that this is the part of the park that they just ran out of money trying to fix up. This is the part of the park where all the broken and abandoned rides have been piled up and discarded. Like waste.

“This is less thrilling than I thought it would be. There’s nothing here. Nothing of actual substance. Nothing that actually means anything anymore. It’s all just stuff that we’ve seen before.” Prescott shrugs as he looks at the chaotic aftermath being accidentally presented to those that dare to walk down Darkane Drive. "Act of violence. Act of violence. Broken shovel. Act of violence. Blood. Blood. Oh, here's something diff-- nope, nevermind, just another act of violence."

The boredom is written all over the faces of Ms. Graves and Remington Ivory Prescott.

"Disappointing." Ms. Graves doesn't seem all that disappointed. "Oh well! To the Hendrix Hangover!" She starts pulling on Prescott to turn him around so they can get away from this creepy landfill in the back of the park.

Before Prescott can be fully led back to the park proper, there is the sound of metal creaking and straining that draws his attention. "Hold on. You hear that?"

"Yes. It's probably a bear or Carlos Rosso looking for a reason to live." Ms. Graves is saying anything to make this part of the visit end.

Prescott pulls away from her long enough to move a couple of random signs out of the way to reveal an old and rusted dumpster with blood stains all over it. The lid is being pushed over and over as if whatever's inside must be trying to get out. Prescott watches the process warily, keeping an arm out to keep Ms. Graves back.

CLANG!

Finally, the dumpster lid swings up and over the back, slamming into the dumpster. Felt hands grab the side of the dumpster as what can only be described as a Darkane Muppet pulls himself up to full view.

“Raaaaaaaaaah!”

The Darkane Muppet flails his arms upon his boisterous reveal. It’s clear he’s attempting to be scary. From the looks on the faces of Remington Ivory Prescott and Ms. Graves? He’s failing. Miserably.

“Did I scare ya’?”

“No.” “No.”

“Darnit. I worked all week on that bit.” Felt arms cross over his drawn on chest. “Would it help if I was carrying a shovel?”

Prescott shrugs. “Maybe?”

“Say no more! Just gimmie one sec to pull it outta my ass and—“

“NO!” “NO!”

Prescott and Ms. Graves both rush to stop that visual immediately.

“Listen, uh, who are you?”

“Whaddaya mean? It’s me! Darkane! Scary Wrestler Guy! Flicker of the Magic Bean! Prisoner(?) of the Seventh Ward? The GummiWorm? Are none of these ringing any bells?"

Prescott just kind of stares at the Darkane Muppet.

"I haven't had enough to drink for this."

"Hey! Hey listen! I know that I'm just being used as a last ditch effort to stop your reign because everything else the Gods on Mount Olympus have thrown at you, you've been able to stop dead in their tracks but you gotta' cut me some slack here. I'm really, really scary!"

"Right. So I've heard."

"Exactamundo! You've heard all the scary and spooky stories about how gosh darn violent I am. I hit people with shovels! A lot! Oh and I dress like a 50's era homeless so you know I'm serious. I'm gonna' ya' kill ya'! Cuz I'm the Death Reaper! Rar!"

The felt arms are flailing again. Even Kermit doesn't flail this much.

"Death Reaper? Isn't that a pepper? Or a flavor on Hot Ones?" Prescott actually looks like he's trying to remember.

"I'll look it up." Ms. Graves has her phone out and her thumbs are working overtime.

"Alright, Dorkane--"

"Darkane! Rar!"

"... yeah." Another Prescott eye roll. "Alright. I'm sure you're plenty violent and I'm sure you've done the unspeakable. I get it. I do. Your brand is intact. But, unfortunately, I don't think those tactics are going to work on me. I just don't have the patience to sit through a history lesson right now. Or to find out that the letter K stands for Kill or whatever nastiness you and your shovel get up to late at night. So I'm going to go and leave you here to gargle in your own cesspool of despair."

"Wait! No! You can't go!"

Prescott and Ms. Graves start making their way back out of this dark corner of the park.

"Come on! If you don't pay attention to me, how can I scare you?! This is not fair! I'm the Boogeyman! Raaaaaar! Raaaaaaaaaaar!"

Prescott and Ms. Graves continue to ignore the Darkane Muppet as they make their way out of Darkane Drive.

"I had a whole speech planned! About how you suck at being violent! And that I'm violenter than you! Oh and about how you're rich so you're not as cool as me am! And something about the Tres Comas Club! Come on, Prescott! You loser! I'm calling you names now! Isn't this supposed to work?!"

Remington doesn't give it another thought as they round the corner and are back into the park proper.

"Ugh. I need a life. Or least some pus--"

* * * * *

Hi Darkane.

It’s me again, Remington Ivory Prescott.

I’ve only just recently been informed that over the past few days you’ve been trying to get my attention. I hear you’ve been grasping at straws, digging through old tapes and trying to find something on me that you can use to make me worried about whatever you claim you’re going to do to me in that Steel Cage.

Good for you, pal. I’m glad you’ve found something to do with your spare time and your little sister’s library card. It’s good that you’re taking this so seriously. You should be. Underestimating me just makes things a little too easy and we gotta’ give the people a show, right? It’s the fucking Kickoff!

Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but don’t you also currently believe that I’m nothing more than a stain on Olympus and that I spend my entire time hiding behind the Tres Comas Club and that I’m unworthy and blah, blah, blah? I think you’ve managed to get the wrong impression of me, bud. And I think that’s my fault.

You see, in using the Tres Comas Club as a means to an end, that end being the Immortal Heavyweight Championship, I seem to have given the entire Omegaverse the impression that I’m all in on their bullshit. Whether I am or not is mostly irrelevant to our match. Despite you thinking I’m backstage every night praying to The Third Owner to ‘save me’ every match, that’s not what I’m doing. Tres Comas Club understands that without me, they don’t have the Immortal Heavyweight Championship. Instead, all they have is hard on for messing with Cloud.

But we’re going to be in a Steel Cage, Darkane. And that means it’s just going to be the two of us. And as far as I’m concerned, I wouldn’t have it any other way. I’ve been waiting a long time to actually be able to prove that there’s more to me than my ungodly wealth, impeccable handsomeness and unnatural charisma. I’ve been itching to show the world just how unbelievably talented I am.

And that starts with you, Darkane.

As we step into a new era here at the Omega Wrestling Alliance, we’ve also reached a new era of Champion. I will be leading the charge as a reigning, defending, fighting Immortal Heavyweight Champion. No more hiding behind whomever happens to be in Olympus’ driver’s seat on any given week. No more allowing people to use such things as an excuse or reason why I’m successful. I mean, if that’s the only material you guys have that’s going to get old super quick. To be honest, I’m already tired of hearing it.

What I want now is to be seen as the unmitigated talent that I am. In a lot of ways, Darkane, by simply facing you in a Steel Cage, I’m already accomplishing this goal. There was a time when I would never have allowed this kind of fuckery. Now I welcome it with open arms. I welcome everything the GraveWorm has to give. I want nothing held back. Not your violence, not your stupid shovel, not even your legendary status. I want the absolute best that Darkane has to bring because what’s on the line is more than just the Immortal Heavyweight Championship.

The way I see it, we’re fighting for the Soul of Olympus.

The OWA that we’re used to is gone. We’re stepping into something completely different and new. And what we don’t need to do is have the same old guard shuffling the titles back and forth between each other for the next twelve months. We don’t need Olympus being represented by some homeless bum with an anger management problem the size of Louisiana. We don’t need your kind anymore, Darkane. We’re moving on to something so much better.

When all is said and done, I want the world to recognize that their Immortal Heavyweight Champion, Remington Ivory Prescott stood face to face with Darkane in a Steel Cage and didn’t blink once. I want everyone on Mount Olympus to feel my pain, see my blood and understand exactly what I am willing to risk for them and this title. I need the entirety of the Omegaverse to watch as I bring every fiber of my being into that cage to destroy not only Darkane but the legend that surrounds him as well. Because that’s what Champions do.

We fight, Darkane. No matter what the odds are. No matter who our opponents are. No matter what they’ve done or what they plan to do to us… Champions never back down. We plant our feet on that fucking mat and we watch that cage come down a lock us in on all sides. We stare fondly at the challenge that lies ahead and we wait for that bell to ring. Because we know that when it does, that’s when everything we’ve worked so hard to accomplish becomes everything we’re fighting for. That’s the moment that we have to do the impossible, yet again, as we fight to protect and hold onto what we fought so hard to achieve in the first place. That is the moment that we find out exactly what we’re made of.

Darkane.

I know our paths have yet to truly cross until this moment. We’ve always been around each other but never really, truly been in a situation of this magnitude before. Of this caliber. With these incredible stakes. But this is a chance for both you and I to tear each other apart for the enjoyment of the entire world. All eyes will be on Remington Ivory Prescott and Darkane as we shed our blood and destroy our bodies in hopes of leading Olympus into this new era as Immortal Heavyweight Champion.

We share an opportunity to set things in motion in what I’m sure will be an absolutely record breaking new world here in the Omega Wrestling Alliance. With the Immortal Heavyweight Championship hanging in the balance, I know that personally, I will stop at absolutely nothing to bring that belt back home with me one more time. If you want me to find another level of darkness to sink to, I will.

If I have to die to remain an Immortal, then that’s what I’m prepared to do.

If I have to slay the GraveWorm in a steel cage just to prove a point then that’s what I’m prepared to do.

What about you, Darkane?

You game?

Brody entered the press room to the flashing of a dozen cameras. His expression was serious as he sat down at the table and poured a glass of water. It was only yesterday morning that he was chained to a bed in Colombia, and now, after roughly 20 hours of flight time, he was facing the world press in Saudi Arabia. His head was still spinning as he looked down at the piece of paper in his hand and cleared his throat.
 
“Ladies and gentlemen, thanks for joining me today. While I wish this was just about the Season 6 kickoff, I’m afraid I have to address a subject that’s quite personal. I wanna get ahead of the rumors before they spiral out of control.
 
“Shortly before boarding my flight here, I was contacted by a journalist regarding a sexual encounter last year. It’s one I deeply regret, but I can’t undo what’s been done. I would like to go on record as saying that she told me she was 18 when we spoke on the Minecraft server. Sure, when I turned up at the address, I found out that wasn’t the case. Even though I knew what I was doing was gross, I’m ashamed to say I still carried on. My only defense is that I was incredibly horny at the time. And I drove like two hours, I wasn’t gonna not nut, you know?
 
“All I can think is that this attempt to smear my name is a desperate act meant to prevent me from competing in Clash of the Titans. But that’s not going to happen. I’m here, and I’m ready to fight. Thank you.”
 
A frenzy erupted as every journalist present threw their hands up and shouted questions.
 
“Yes, Cori.”
 
“Brody, how old was this person?”


“I’d rather not say.”


“For legal reasons?”


“No, why would there be legal reasons?”


“Because you’re being accused of having sex with a minor, I presume.”


“So? It’s not a crime.”


“Yes, it is! A pretty big one, actually!”
 
“Seriously? What the fuck! When did this come in?”
 
“Everyone knows this, Brody.”
 
“Nobody told me! I’ve done it tons of times, bro. Many of them are autistic, you see. Kinda like shooting fish in a barrel.”
 
“Are you… are you serious?”
 
“Autistic people like sex, too. Don't be ableist, Cori. But this law... does it just say Minecraft players? Because I’ve hooked up with people from a ton of other gaming servers, too.”
 
“It has nothing to do with the fact they play Minecraft. It’s because they’re underage.”
 
“Underage? Where the fuck are you getting that from? The Miners I fuck with are all legal, bro.”
 
Everyone in the press room looked at each other, completely puzzled.
 
“So… wait. How old is the person making this allegation against you?”
 
“Like 60, I think? And it’s not an allegation, it’s a kiss and tell. Also, since when have we been referring to Minecraft players as Miners?”
 
There was a collective groan of frustration from everybody present, after which Brody also seemed to realize where the wires had been crossed.
 
“Oh, what? You’re all disappointed that I didn’t sexually assault an underage person? Fucking hell, dudes. Take a look in the fucking mirror.”
 
“Brody, why did you feel the need to call a press conference to address this?”
 
“Because, Cori, she was pretty gross. I’m not proud of what I did, but my good name is being smeared as some sort of sleazy pervert when that’s only half true. Frankly, I expected more journalistic integrity from TMZ. I just like to work hard in the gym and mind my own business.”
 
“Really? Because there are multiple credible reports of what you’ve been up to since Final Destination.”
 
“You shouldn’t believe everything you hear, Cori.”
 
“Many of these women are saying you’re the best they’ve ever had.”
 
“But yes, those rumors are true. Yes, you in the dress.”
 
“Mohammed Ahmed Abdullah Al-Saud, Al Riyadh. How are you enjoying your stay in our country?”
 
“Only just stepped off the plane, bro. And I’ll be leaving as soon as the Clash is over. Dry country, you know? But yeah, I’m sure it’s great. Good job with the place.”
 
“What are some of the cultural differences you’ve noticed?”
 
“Not a big of the jihad, personally.”
 
“Excuse me?”
 
“Women should be allowed to wear anything they want, you know. Why does it matter if a man sees their hair? Kinda bullshit if you ask me. Yes?”
 
“Llewelyn Williams, Wrestling Weekly. Are you excited for the Clash of the Titans match? A shot at the Immortal Heavyweight Championship would be a good way to bounce back from the heartbreak of Philadelphia.”
 
“Don’t call it that. That’s not what we’re calling it. But yeah, I’m excited for the Clash, I suppose.”
 
“It doesn’t really sound like it if I’m being honest.”
 
“Not my job to convince you, bro. Next.”
 
“Rhys Thomas, Wrestling Monthly. Who do you believe is the main threat in the Clash?”
 
“Dunno. Yes, you.”
 
“Cerys Jones, Wrestling Quarterly—"
 
“Why’re you all Welsh?”
 
“Sorry?”
 
“All your names are, like, super Welsh. It’s weird. And your publications should really talk about some sort of merger. Pick a timeframe for release, seriously.”
 
“Okay, well, what did you make of the revelation that Poet is Jake Keeton’s brother?”
 
“Huh? Oh, yeah. Wasn’t that the dude addicted to painkillers? Wouldn’t know anything about that, personally.”
 
“Seriously? You?”
 
“What? I’m not an addict. I take drugs because I want to, not because I need to. I want to have a good time. I want to avoid violent withdrawals if I don’t take them. World of difference, bro. Next.”
 
“Owain Davies, Wrestling Semiannual—"
 
“No, fuck you. Next.”
 
“Do you really not have anything to say to your opponents, Brody?”
 
“What does it matter, Cori? Do you want me to just sit here and say Jacob Senn’s a fucking lightweight who couldn’t take a little injection? Or maybe that Nobi’s a nice guy and all, but he’s the type a dude who knows exactly how many air miles he’s got? Should I tell one of the new guys that they’re gonna have to go to hell and back if they wanna beat me? Is that what you want? Just write whatever, dude. It literally doesn’t matter.”
 
“Wow, okay. Well, what are your thoughts on the brand crossover? Is there anyone on Odyssey or Kingdom you’d like to face?”
 
“I dunno, dude. Maybe Davey Krysis?”
 
“Devi? That could be an interesting matchup. She’s got a lot of technical ability.”
 
“That’s a chick!? Huh, I guess that explains my boner. Next.”
 
“Good Lord... is there anyone else from Odyssey you’d like to face?”
 
“Nah, not really interested in hitting women, to be honest. Unless they’re asking for it. Not in a domestic violence type way. I’m not Brandon Hendrix, for fuck’s sake. I meant sexually. You can look at me like that if you want, but these chicks are out there, bro. Just look at Filth and Hartley. You telling me they’ve never asked to be choked while throwing it back?”
 
“Brody…”
 
“What? Don’t shoot the messenger, bro. Nothing wrong with rough sex. Or, as the Saudis call it, normal sex. I believe women should have the right to choose who blows their back out. I know we’re in Saudi Arabia, Cori, but women have rights where we come from. I’m somewhat of a feminist, you see. Susan B. Anthony? Yeah, bitches be horny, more like. So, you know what, if they wanna fight on Olympus, or if I get booked on Odyssey, then I guess I’m actually cool with it.”
 
“You know there're women competing in the Clash, right?”
 
“Yeah, but Cloud and Emmanuelle are pretty tough. Especially Cloud, bro. She’s been so awesome to me since I joined OWA. It was an honor to fight for her against Tres Comas Club, and I’ll always have her back.”
 
“She said recently that you still have some way to go to be considered a contender.”
 
“Oh, she did, did she? Well, at least I’m not getting divorced. Next.”
 
“Were you happy to see Tatsuo Sakaguchi win gold at Final Destination?”
 
“Sure. He’s come a long way under my guidance.”
 
“How come you weren’t at the Hall of Fame ceremony?”
 
“No reason. But, on an unrelated note, I just wanna say that Graham Baker is the type of person who’ll say you’re a Corsair and even fight beside you, as long as there’s something in it for him. But as soon as he gets his reward, like, oh, I don’t know, a shot at the American Dream championship, he’ll break your heart. It’s all, ‘You didn’t think I was serious, did you?’ Gaslamping prick.”
 
“So, you feel you have a score to settle with him, then?”
 
“Okay, I see what you’re doing. I’m not going to be drawn into this. I got nothing more to say, we’re done here.”
 
Brody, angry at himself for giving more away than he wanted, stood up to leave the press conference. His plan was to go straight to the hotel, as it would be the only place where he could get a drink. Before he left, he turned back to the reporters.
 
“Oh, yeah, I’ve… uh… been a bit busy since Philly, so forgive my ignorance, but is it gonna be a problem that that absolute fucking freak has a magical stone given to him by some weird immortal dude? Because it seems like that might be a problem…”

A transitional wipe cuts to a telly set made to resemble the backyard of every child’s dreams, there’s a jungle gym with monkey bars, there’s a big old tree with a tire swing, there’s a pool that’s partially in frame, a trampoline, a sandbox, an even the backside to another house. The sun is shining and everything is brightly coloured, like something out of a fairy tale. Ethan Giles swings into view on an old rope that’s tied to something out of frame of the shot, leaping off of it at the height of its swing. He rolls through the landing and right up to his feet, pulling off his hat with a little ta-da motion. Confetti pops out from behind him to emphasise the impressiveness of this feat. 

“Hello old friends and new! Welcome to The Super Awesome Magical Explosion Musical Edutainment Show! It’s friend to one and all, Ethan Giles!” He beams. 

His smile drops suddenly when there’s an off-screen explosion, causing everything to shake! Even the cameraman and the camera are shaking! Ethan tries to maintain his balance, waving his arms frantically at his sides “Woah!” A metallic hand steadies Ethan, a hand that belongs to Robby The Robot!

“Oh! Hi, Robby! Thank you!” the startled Ethan exclaims, patting Robby on the shoulder. Robby The Robot continues to look like a living statue, his expression not changing. His body language shows no signs of the camaraderie that Ethan clearly has for him. “Apologies. Ethan. I. Was. Doing. A. New. Experiment. When. Something. Went. wrong.” Robby explains and Ethan’s face lights up upon hearing, his excitement barely containable. 

“Was it a new way to recycle plastics?” Ethan looks directly into the camera and then at Robby, then back at the camera. Robby takes a pregnant pause before answering “No”. Sad news for Ethan, who sighs wistfully. It doesn’t stop him from breaking out into song.
 


Ethan does a little dance in time with his rhyme, Robby mimics his dance. He’s an almost perfect reflection of Ethan in that moment. Then the moment is over. Robby shakes their head and they hold up a bracelet. “I. Was. Devising. A. Time. Dilation. Manipulator. For. You.” Such a statement puzzles Ethan, making him glance at the bracelet and then he glances around. “Why would I need that?” The question causes some beeps and boops from Robby before he speaks “Because. You. Agreed. To. Do. Multiple. Different. Things. Today. With. Some. Of. Your. friends. A. Device. Able. To. Manipulate. Time. Would. Ensure. You. Plenty. Of. Time. To. Do. Them. All.”

“Oh Robby, I don’t need a device that controls time and space for that!” Ethan laughs, smacking his knee and shaking his head. “I just need to be able to multitask!” Ethan tips his hat to pull an assortment of balls out of it like a magic trick, tossing them into the air! Robby and Ethan in tandem juggle the balls, keeping them into the air when they break out into song again.


Robby ends the little number by catching all the balls they had been juggling, Ethan slapping his friend on the back. “See? It’s nothing to concern yourself with. Proper time management and multitasking will make it a non-issue!” Ethan reassures his robotic friend. “I. Was. Not. Concerned. Only. Thought. You. May. be.” Robby The Robot responds in his monotonous processed voice. “It’s just like a wrestling match where you have multiple opponents, Robby. Sure, it can seem intimidating at first glance at it. Having more than one opponent to keep track of and to try to deal with, that can be a tricky situation for even the most seasoned of wrestlers. I’d be lying if I said it could go flawlessly either, there may be some bumps along the road or some hiccups that develop. There’s always the possibilities of complications arising in any situation that you’re put in. However if it were impossible, nobody would’ve been able to ever win a multi-person match before! And we both know that’s not true!” Ethan pauses and he winks at Robby, Robby beeps and boops before saying a single word in response. “Affirmative.”



Ethan belts out, pantomiming wrestling an invisible army of opponents this time instead of some kind of dance. Robby The Robot plays the part of a crowd, raising their arms and hands into the air to cheer him on. Though even this movement is a little too stiff and unlife-like to be a realistic representation of a human being. Ethan ends the number on a question, looking directly into the camera to ask presumably the audience who is going to win the match. He scrunches up his own face in thought, stroking his chin to consider it. 
“But. Is. It. Not. Dangerous. To. Divide. One’s. Attention. Between. Multiple. Things?” Robby The Robot ponders out loud to Ethan, and Ethan doesn’t look like he’s exactly got the answer. The GentleGrappler pauses, stroking his chin a few more times and he paces in place. His pacing makes a little circle that it feels like he’s going to grind into the set’s ground with how many times he repeats it. 

“You’re not wrong, Robby. If you don’t give your undivided attention to something in the moment, it can be disastrous! You could end up putting yourself into danger, and then you’ll need A LOT of band-aids to fix yourself up afterwards. It’s why it’s always important to try to be as careful as you can be, but sometimes that isn’t always an option. Sometimes if you don’t try to multitask you can end up upsetting or disappointing a friend, or you can end up with someone blindsiding you in a wrestling match. Then you may end up needing more than just band-aids, you might need to visit a medical professional like a doctor!” Ethan pulls a box of Muppet themed band-aids out of his jacket, feigning counting how many are in the box when he speaks of needing them.

“That. Would. Be. bad. I. Think. I. Comprehend. What. You. Are. saying. Though.” Robby The Robot opens a compartment on his chest and he stashes the bracelet away, no longer feeling a need for it. “Do. You. Think. You. Are. Ready?”

“Well…” Ethan starts to answer but trails off as quickly as he starts, he takes a large step forward to the camera and the set’s lights lower. They continue to dim until there is a single spotlight shining down onto Ethan, and he retrieves a microphone from inside his magical jacket that has infinite space.. 









Pausing, Ethan bows and then he slowly stands back up fully to smile brightly at the camera filming him. “Have a great day boys, girls and they’s. We’ll see you again so, so soon. Never forget these words either, I’m proud of you and I love you.”

 
(In an undisclosed part of Connecticut, DT The Ruler is shown in one of his private homes, standing in the middle of a room being cleaned by three of his personal maids. All that is shown as DT The Ruler stands confidently is them hastily cleaning the dust off the shelves and reorganizing the certificates, championships, and trophies he’s won over the years, all while the OWA World Championship sat on a table by itself)

Enough shenanigans! Let’s get ready for the new season! The good ol’ Trophy Room needs to be spruced up a bit! It really is needing that that new car smell, just in time for Season 6. And ‘Tis The Season. Tis the season, indeed!

(DT The Ruler is shown being a bit more animated)

Not gonna lie, it does feel good. And there’s no reason to lie: I feel GREAT! I’m feeling like Tony The Tiger at the end of a Frosted Flakes commercial! And in most ways that matter, I feel good, good enough to just to take a moment and recollect on the greatest moments of Season 5 fuckery that I overcame and circumvented, examine the fruits of my labor from a glance and regain perspective. During this time off, I even managed to get eight hours of sleep and eat a well-balanced breakfast at least once! I even got the main offices cleaned from top to bottom during the week just in time to give it that new feel! And now I’m in the Trophy Room, getting ahead on Spring Cleaning! But to get on topic, It has been a weird, yet... comforting time. When individually, things seem to be going relatively well, I understand that if you stay prisoner to moments in time like what I experienced recently, complacency can creep in. You can assume that after reaching the peak of the organization you’re in, it’s over. The journey is done. You completed the campaign and can just kick up your feet and chill while watching the credits roll. Everyone else below you is still participating in the Rat Race in a way you're not, because you- well, me, the champion, the main man- sits at the finish line with not much to worry about.


Season 5 was one where I spent a majority of it with a championship in hand. I joined an alliance of like-minded individuals to push us all towards our own personal goals. I went to war with them for those goals as well. And also once the worst of the battle was set aside and done with, we went back to the one thing we all wanted to do in the first place: prove ourselves in the ring when and where it matters. And while we’re still not done with the last objective, we made much progress and got to at least feel some levity at the end of Final Destination. But even with that, I’m not going to stop. I’m not going to let up. The foot will still be on the gas, I still will find my way to that ring, and I will still put my foot on whoever’s neck I need to.

(DT The Ruler walked by one of his maids dusting a few mantles and went over to his OWA World Championship on the table and nodded positively)

Because... that’s what the winners in this business have done and continue to do. That’s what the winners in the history books have done and continue to do. Doesn’t matter if it’s sport or war, the victors you constantly hear about are the ones who went the extra mile, did the most, the ones who best utilized hard work, intelligence, and talent when and where it was appropriate. And that’s part of the reason I keep going. I want to be all over the history books as one of the greatest to ever do it. I want my name to be set in stone in such a way that my presence is described as mythological. I want my name amongst the stars and the elite to have ever laced up a pair of boots, and each championship match I succeed brings me closer to that goal.

(DT The Ruler turned away from the OWA World Championship for a moment and took a deep breath before gazing at it again. One of the maids was ready to polish it for him, but he waved them off)

I could see the last year in OWA as the best year I’ll have in the present. I can sit back in my office chair with the OWA World Championship now and believe I have reached my apex as a Professional Wrestler.  But that’s not in me. That’s not the competitor I developed myself to be. Maybe in a sense, Raivo was correct that if given the option, a person such as myself would decide to be champion forever If given the choice, but in reality: if I end up being damn near unbeatable, that’s ends up just being... what it is. The best of the best knows at any given moment, they can be overtaken, and I know that’s where preparation and wisdom come into play. The greatest of men in any field, any profession understand that you won’t win everything all the time, but you still have to stand against adversity believing you will be triumphant. My flight leaves later tonight for the Kickoff Show, but I want everyone to understand that despite me enjoying a bit of downtime, I’m already mentally where I need to be for my next defense.

(DT The Ruler picked up the OWA World Championship and saw his reflection in the belt, gazing at it for a short moment)

What in store for Mr. Nate Cage at the Kickoff Show coming for Season 6 is not something that’s going to be relaxing. It’s not going to be fun. I will be all business with my game face on, and that is not good news for him. That’s what Nate Cage better expect to see, a man determined to continuing building off his efforts to cement his name amongst the other legends. As many can note by observation, I take care of myself physically and always have. But if I was all brawn, I would not be champion now. You must be smart as well, knowing which maneuver to do at any specific time, as well as with understanding what your opponent is capable of, even beyond what they tell you.  And one thing I have to come to expect from many of OWA’s mainstays is that a lot of things they may attempt against The Ruler will make little to no sense. Many of the things they may try to take away my prosperity will have no rhyme and reason to them; they will take actions that may even put them physically at risk, especially if that inflicts more pain to myself than to them. With Mr. Nate Cage, I will enter that ring expecting a lot of nonsensical, Looney Tunes-esque bullshit before I expect a contest where two men will be testing each other’s abilities hold for hold. As when it comes to championships- and he’s helped a few- I know much of my competition may take up their aura of a man in survival mode. And in survival mode, many men will do damn near anything to ensure they live to see another day, to see another sunrise and sunset, and to guarantee that their opposition, their adversary, is completely incapacitated.

However...

In that very ring, if anyone has to approach a match that way, especially a match for a World Championship, so be it. Pathetic, but I mean, you gotta do what you gotta do, right? If people have to go beyond the rules to try and gain the upper hand, I have to expect it. Hell, even the stars of other sports are told this by officials, and in Professional Wrestling: it’s commonplace to go to extremes. That’s one of the things that sets me apart from many others. I understand my opponents mentally and physically in order to take them down and show them the difference between The Ruler and whatever they want to be that morning. And I’m feeling in the mood, you know, to set the tone against Mr. Nate Cage, not just for my championship matches but all of Season 6.

And I have a lot in store for everyone.

(One of the maids walked up to him, inquiring where to place one of his championships, and he waved them to a cleaned off mantle to his left, then continued)

I don’t expect Diantha and Raivo to slow down; I expect them both to be hungrier for glory. And as I hinted, I’m not slowing down because I can now look down at my competition from atop the OWA mountain. I’m not going to slow down after winning at Clash of the Champions and Final Destination. And I’m going to demonstrate in heartless fashion what’s in store for everyone against me, and that will be extremely easy to do against a man who wants to make sure I stop succeeding. How dare any man believe they’re going to enter any space I occupy and take over in my place! Once ANYONE dares to speak as if they can stop me from accomplishing anything ANYWHERE, that is when shit can get real for them. And trust me: I absolutely LOVE demonstrating the outcome of when Keeping It Real Goes Wrong. And for anyone aspiring to be World Champion over me: I hope you watch this match coming. I hope you watch with both eyes open, two Red Bulls, and freshly-brewed Blue Mountain coffee because what you’re going to see in that match coming up is me making a point with no regard for my opponent’s well-being.

So take note, all! Take note very VERY seriously, because OWA’s Master and Ruler will not just retain but continue on his reign as Champion throughout the season. And I am feeling marvelous, feeling better than I have in months! I hope Mr. Cage is feeling just as good. I want him to have all of the confidence in the World that he can do what many better men haven’t been able to. Because for The Ruler, taking away that sureness, knocking a man’s ego down several notches always feels amazing.

 
 
 

So, this is the plan, huh? 

Final Destination has come to a close. Now, the higher-ups want to host a spectacle for the people of Saudi Arabia—Clash of Titans. Whoever wins becomes next in-line for a title match for the Immortal Heavyweight Championship. 

Alright, sure. Let’s dance. 

I’ll refrain from speculating who walks out of that steel cage with the belt or voicing my frustrations about being thrown into a multi-man match after going through one for Final Destination. Neither of those things matter. What matters more is addressing the others in this match.

In-between petty jabs, it seems as if almost everyone has a chip on their shoulder. Hypotheticals, metaphors, and every reason under the sun to justify why they should be the one to win Clash of Titans. Words, words, and more words. 

Get your heads out of your asses.

The Clash hasn’t started—why are you even trying to bring meaning to a belt that you aren’t even close to touching yet? There’s only one person who deserves to win the Clash and that’s the winner.

Whoever climbs on top of 29 corpses is the strongest person. That’s the only person who can speak about the Immortal Heavyweight Championship when the dust settles. They’ve earned the right.

The strongest person, the winner, will be ME. 

I can endure whatever my opponents have in store for me. I’m willing to knock a person down as many times as I need to until they stop resisting. I don’t need to be a wishful thinker when I can manifest my victory through the only way I know and that’s through battle. 

I could talk about why I’ll be the one winning but I’ll save us both time and oxygen. I’ll show you why by throwing every single opponent over the top rope. Words without actions are meaningless. Actions can speak a thousand words. Rather than focus on hypotheticals or storybook fantasies, I’ll focus on what really matters: The Clash.

That being said, it only feels right to respond to what I’ve heard. I’m not deaf. Even if you remove my ears, I can hear the way my name is said and the way your faces twist in disgust.

My honest words are benevolence. I refuse to take pity on you all. 

Brandon—or should I call you the Don instead? 

Since we’re in such a congratulatory mood, I’ll offer my own words of thanks to you too. I only care about opponents who are serious about fighting so, by parading around like an ass, you’ve saved me some time. I don’t have to worry about your pitiful existence.

It’s funny that you mentioned our brief clash during the six-man at the last Clash of Titans. You lost but now, suddenly, you want to claim that it was because you weren’t trying? Coupled with your botched attempt to help your former silver-spoon fed employer afterwards, what does that say about you? 

You might try and hide your bruised ego by scoffing at me or telling me to focus on someone else but deep down, you know you’ve made a fatal mistake. You’ve exposed yourself: Your humiliating loss to me was either because you’re weak or because you don’t care about being the strongest. Regardless of which justification you take, you’re wasting my time and I’m rent-free in your head. 

Don’t act as if you’re a difficult trial for me to conquer. Even El Landerson, the bumbling idiot, was worth more as an adversary than you. Because even as Landerson stumbles to figure out which belt he’s fighting for, he still tries. What’s the point of battle if you don’t fucking try, you sad sack of shit? 

Sorry, your latest sob story doesn’t work on me. I know when someone is overcompensating for shortcomings and I don’t have time to fight with boring people whose resolutions are as fragile as their bodies. 

Though, I’ll commend you on one thing: Fighting to the death is the greatest honor. Even matches like this can result in a fatality; it's all up to fate. When I defeat you, bow your head to the Honored One. I’ll give you a dignified end. Claiming the head of a fallen enemy is the greatest thrill for a true warrior.  

...Or will you stop me, Mark? Reigning in your partner before he gets himself killed would be a nice little story but even then, I don’t think that’s what you want to do anyway. You’re tired of being the stepping stone for others when you believe that you deserve glory more than anyone. Your heart speaks words that your mouth doesn’t. 

Quit while you still can. 

You want to have Remy’s head and that’s good, great even! But if you’re so focused on that, your time in the Clash will end swiftly. You’re so blinded by your quest that you haven’t noticed the sharks in the water. 

You likened yourself to a wounded animal but don’t you know that focusing your attention on someone other than your opponent is practically asking to be killed? Do you even understand the gravity behind the phrase kill or be killed? 

I’ll let you figure that out once you’re thrown over the top rope. 

Hail to the king? Nah, not my style. You can bow your head to me however, Romani King. Or should I call you Jade Emperor instead? You’re about as foolish as him too. 

...Fancy seeing you again, Matsuda-san. Same to you, Nobi. Do temporary members send their two-week notices through the mail or do we have to tell you upfront? Final Destination ended horribly for you but I’m not going to treat you any differently than I do any other opponent. During the Clash, I won’t treat you like a hero, I won’t treat you like a friend, and I won’t treat you as my senior members. I will treat you both as obstacles in my way. So, sorry if you weren’t expecting such rough words from me. 

I wonder if you two even have the mental fortitude to last long here after everything. Matsuda-san, the precious relationship you had us risk our lives for ended in betrayal and Nobi, Remy managed to melt your white armor until even your endurance was hardly an obstacle in the Thunderdome. I suppose that should make you more hungry to get a win, because you have something to prove, but honestly? Sit this one out. 

I don’t hold any contempt for either of you, even if my actions might result in being cut from the World's Finest. Though, as much as I need you out of the way, I’m not the person who will be gunning after you the most. That would be...

Ryo.

Ryo, I need you to listen to me. It’ll be so fucking tempting to do what you did in the Thunderdome. Letting out all of your bloodlust feels so good, doesn’t it? Seeing the fear of your opponent’s eyes is like divine sake. It’s decadent...but if you release it without any awareness of your own body or surroundings, it’ll be your downfall. I won’t stop you from going after Stephaine, Nobi, or any other opponent in this match. Even if the first person you charge towards is me, I’ll embrace it. 

I respect you like a brother. I respect you enough that I won’t hold back against you. If you really want to win the Clash, if you really want to prove yourself to everyone, then keep your head on straight long enough so we can be the final two. Then we can have a conversation the only way we know how. 

Dampshaw, you goddamn leech. I thought that Ryo severing your neck was enough to put you away for good but here you are, within my eyesight like an annoying gnat. Just as fucking loud and annoying as one too. Listen to me, you unsightly maggot: Don’t speak to me about having anything to fight for. You’re wrong and you’ll always be wrong about me. The very prospect of fighting keeps me alive. Being the strongest and proving myself as the strongest is everything I need to keep fighting! TIME LIZARD, you have to pay your karma for desecrating combat with your existence. I don’t take kindly to cheaters or those who disrespect me. I’ll make sure that my existence is permanently etched in your memory. Not just with a loss here at Clash. To quote someone, I’ll be taking my pound of flesh. 

Speaking of that person...Noah, Graham. 

Yo. 

I’ll deviate from what you’re expecting from me because calling you old dogs or washed feels overdone. 

There are wrestlers in Japan pushing 60 and still can move as gracefully as they did in their 20s—you know just as well as I do. I only wonder if you’re actually determined. I won’t deny that I might represent opportunity but are you going to seize a chance? You’re both contradictory, wishy-washy. Is this your way of portraying yourself as a major trial to conquer? It’s not good enough. 

You’re both climbing up the mountain one time, an attempt to reclaim your glory days. Unfortunately for you both, the mountain of Olympus has changed and I’ll be the one who sends you both tumbling down. There’s some type of irony in a pair of Corsairs being taken down by a single Shiden, isn’t there? 

Emmanuelle, Allesandro, do us all a favor and shut up. You two have the loudest voices in the room when there’s no right for either of you to have it. I’m not going to be a pawn in this squabble you and Matsuda-san have against this red-white-blue jackass. You aren’t here for the Clash or the Immortal Heavyweight Championship. You’re here to fight a nepobaby who thinks that big buildings compensate for what little worth he brings to this earth and fight over a belt that looks like a plastic toy you can get from a gachapon machine. Like I said to Mark, you can have your individual revenge quest but in that ring, it only serves as a distraction to the real fight. 

As for you, Mr. American Dream? What more do I need to say besides what I just said now? You adore attention so I’ll give you none of it. 

You’re not exempt from my words, Senn. You should’ve won? Yeah, in your head, you should’ve but this isn’t the fantasy you cooked up in your head. This is the reality where you lost and the audience was treated to the live execution of another man. You and Dampshaw strike me as the same person but well, at least Dampshaw is honest about how deplorable he is. The louder one speaks of their redemption, the more they hide. 

Though, sure. I don’t mind testing your perceived perseverance, just like Nobi’s. Kyoushin karate was all about pushing yourself—it demanded that from you. If your body and mind was at its limit, you pushed further. That was the dojo I was raised in. Ishi no ue ni mo san nen. This match is your rock, Senn. Let’s see if you can sit on it for the full three years. 

Golden Gauntlet, El Landerson, Gunner, Cletus. Two guys I’ve already beaten and two people newer than me. I can only expect them to be thrown out of the Clash by someone else that isn’t me. Even if I stand tall as the Honored One, I refuse to bother myself with things that don’t matter. You guys don’t belong here and you're not worth my time, end of story. Unless you want to dispute that? You can try. You’ll fail. 

How’s the neck, Rafael? Or maybe I should ask you if your brains are scrambled because all I hear from you is nonsense. You can make as many corrections to your style as you want but your loss wasn’t because you weren’t technically sound. Your mind is in disarray. Your words are hollow. Are you going to openly declare that you’re not a lapdog while still sitting in that open cage? Or are you actually going to prove it?

Figure it out soon enough. Or maybe, figure it out after I throw you over the rope. 

Yo, Marce. This is the first attempt to topple me from my divine pillar, isn’t it? I can already envision your face turning red with anger, huffing and puffing about how you’ll destroy everything in your path. As I said before, you’re the loudest cuckoo in the batch. You won’t shut up even if I did cut your throat. But you’re interesting, I’ll give you. 

If you call yourself a man detested by the gods, then fight earnestly. It’ll be my great honor as the Honored One to deliver karma upon an asura. 

I don’t give a shit about your poetry, Poet. You’re the same as Allesandro, a deluded fool, so I won’t give you an ounce of attention. But Brody...what’s with that lack of conviction in your voice?

Isn’t the point obvious? We fight because we, as living things, are born to fight. The reason why the World’s Finest came up short is because most of the members, including you, were too comfortable—your minds weren’t straight and you lost focus. This isn’t a storybook where the good guys win through and through; this is reality where the cracks of one’s spirit are exploited against you. 

That’s what happened at Final Destination: They disrupted the rhythms of the World’s Finest. 

So I ask you this: Are you going to let it happen again?

I don’t hate you Brody but if you don’t keep your mind straight, then I will defeat you. I will approach you and kick you until you lose your voice and your rhythm is disrupted. Then I will throw you out of the ring. It’s true that the Tres Comas Club are puppeteers controlling strings...but I’m not letting that stop me. Because in matches like this, I have no allies. Only enemies. And it would be disrespecting my title as the Honored One if I didn’t give it my all each time. 

Are you going to let the Tres Comas Club continue to push you around, Brody? I’m not.
Will you defy the fate that they have planned out for you? I will.

Your redemption can only begin if you have the conviction to even keep going. So show me that conviction when I land the first kick on you. 

Since Final Destination, my sight has never been more clear. The gazes of kan and ken have lined up perfectly and any cloud of confusion has vanished. I’ve broken all of my vexations. I have reached a state of pure enlightenment—Void. 

Everyone has their reason for acquiring immortality but only one person has the mindset to win the clash. And it’s me. 

I wrestled a nearly perfect match at Final Destination V. I made one mistake, I allowed my pride to get the better of me, and it cost me everything I ever hoped for.

That’s something I cannot live with.

I stand before you today with a heavy heart and a soul burdened by my past sins and this enormous mistake, possibly the biggest mistake of my career. The echoes of Final Destination V, as you can tell, still resonate within me. My confidence in being able to walk out of Final Destination V with the victory cost me not only the chance to restore my legacy through challenging for the Immortal Heavyweight Championship tonight, but also the soulstone of Belial was relinquished from my hands into the dangerous possession of Darkane, placing the entire company in grave danger of the bloodbath and carnage we are all in store the moment he decides to become his vessel. I failed the entire company by allowing this to happen and plunged my name further into disgrace for the world to slander me with. I allowed arrogance and ego to get the better of me, I allowed my pride to provide weakness towards The Seventh Ward to allow them to take advantage, and I will not let that be the lasting image of Jacob Senn in the eyes of the world be this defeat. I sacrificed the soulstone for an opportunity I was unable to capture at Final Destination, the Clash of the Titans match on the first episode of Olympus this season, I will pay my penance through the sacrifice of my own body as I fight for the right to redeem my mistakes through becoming the number one contender to the Immortal Heavyweight Championship.

Throughout my career, I've made sacrifices that few can truly comprehend or have been able to experience in this business. I've burned bridges and severed friendships all throughout the industry, leaving a trail of broken alliances in my wake, bridges to be nothing more than smoldering ashes in what remains. Darkane, Matt Miles, and Elijah Hampton—once my closest confidants, now estranged due to my insatiable hunger for success. The Immortal Heavyweight Championship was my singular obsession, and I would stop at nothing to attain it. These sacrifices have come to haunt me, reminding me of the steep price I've paid to reach the heights I've reached. I look into the mirror to see the blood that has been placed upon my hands, all while I was beholden to the power and vitality provided by being the vessel of Belial, it vexes me as a curse I must cleanse through my redemption. I've sacrificed my body, willingly subjecting myself to the most brutal and torturous of punishments you can endure within this business, all in the pursuit of a legacy to remain immortal in the annals of history of this industry. I have broken bones in wars which have left lasting memories in the form of pain to never leave me. I have shed blood upon the hallowed ground of our sport known as the canvas enough to wash away the world and then some. I have destroyed my mind and body in ways it will never recover from to make sure no one will be able to forget the name of Jacob Senn. The scars I bear serve as a testament to the lengths I've gone to in pursuit of victory and no matter what happens in the Clash of the Titans, they will remain until my body meets the final resting place deep in the soil of this world. I know that I'll never be the same again, that I've pushed myself beyond the brink of endurance many times to the point where I can never return to the man I was even five years ago, but I've done so willingly and without regret. A warrior and fighter in this industry must reconcile the fact this is a willing sacrifice every man must take to succeed in this sport. However, my greatest sacrifice has been to my reputation and renown in this industry, even before I was transformed into the tyrannical vessel of Belial. The world has always shunned me from the praise and worship they hold for others, casting me aside like a pariah to be despised and rejected from the masses, forced to walk alone in the world to only be used and abused by those who seek to make me a stepping stone in their career or get whatever they desired most from me. Regardless of the path I've taken in my career, whether as a hero to serve as a source of inspiration for those in attendance or a villain made to bring forth the ire and hatred of the fans, I've been met with disdain and rejection from anyone and everyone who has laid eyes upon me. The world has always sought to diminish any accomplishment or accolade I have worked my ass off to capture in my storied career, to push me to the fringes of this business to be able to say that I am not one of the best in the world because of where I have decided to be in my career, and to deny me the recognition and respect I rightfully deserve for everything I have been able to produce and attain in this industry no matter the odds I was able to overcome. No matter where I have been in my career, no matter what company I have strapped on my back and carried to the heights of the greatest prestige for every person to be unable to remove their eyes from, this has been the constant of my career which has never changed.

Do you want to know something, though? I am Jacob Senn. No matter what has happened and how these people in the arena have responded to my success and failures, I’ve worked tirelessly to succeed in an industry which has deemed me unwanted and undesirable in their eyes. I am the paradigm this business cannot be able to refuse from being the success he has been. I am undeniable in this business to the point where there was no option for the world but to call me a Hall of Fame worthy talent. I rose above the hatred of the fans and the wrestlers who I worked with, I rose above the obstacles to achieve greatness in this industry where most can only hope to achieve, and I rose above every single failure as a phoenix from the ashes without any pat on the back or congratulations from those around me. I want to make one thing clear—I don't seek forgiveness from anyone. I don't care who wants me here or who doesn't. I don’t care whether you cheer my name in the audience or spit on the ground I walk on in hatred of me. My desire is not for the world's approval; it's for my own redemption.

The redemption I desire for myself to be able to look myself in the mirror and know my legacy has been restored to where I want it, begins with this match. It begins inside of the Clash of the Titans as an accomplishment I was so close to achieving last year, but was unable to achieve. This type of match, this battle royal for an opportunity to change the direction of a man’s career, this has been a trial in my career I have been unable to conquer at any moment in my career. This has been a mountain I have yet to reach the summit to be able to bask in the glory of and add to my storied career as an accomplishment. I was so close from earning this opportunity before and right now, I am determined to emerge from the gauntlet that this match will be shown to the world as to be victorious, with the goal in mind to etch my name in history as a two-time Immortal Heavyweight Champion!

Being victorious would allow me the opportunity to settle the scores outstanding in my career, build the road of redemption out for me as I seek the chance with my contendership, and allow me to see all of the sins of my life cleansed in my eyes. There are many paths on the road to redemption, should I walk out of this Clash of the Titans match with the opportunity to challenge for the Immortal Heavyweight Championship once more! If fate allows it to happen where I am placed opposite against the current champion of Remington Ivory Prescott, I would be able to use the opportunity to avenge the transgression made against my former brother of The Dynasty, Elijah Hampton, he has committed against him with the wretched Tres Comas Club. Stealing the championship Hampton had put himself through the worst and arduous tortures I could put him through to take it from me, punishing him for his mere existence in forcing him to met with setback after setback from being the face of Olympus he was destined to be, these are crimes you deserve to be punished for. Should I be the last man standing inside the Clash of the Titans and you are the one who miraculously survives a steel cage match with one of the most brutal competitors this industry could throw at you, just know I’ll be waiting to bring you back to reality by claiming the Immortal Heavyweight Championship and restore honor to that championship as Elijah would if he had the opportunity. If I was to claim the Immortal Heavyweight Championship then, Darkane would be unable to resist the allure of the title draped upon my shoulder, and he would be drawn to settle our score for it like a moth to a flame. However, should destiny steer your steel cage match towards Darkane rising as The Death God of Olympus and two-time Immortal Heavyweight Champion in his own right, settling the score between us becomes imperative. We have been in this push and pull between each other for who stands as the better man between us. At Final Destination IV, I was the one who prevailed inside of an Inferno Deathmatch. At Final Destination V, it was you who prevailed inside of a Falls Count Anywhere match with Lazarus Arjen and Elijah Hampton. A third match to decide who is the best between us is vital as I know and you know we can’t let this draw between us stand. That’s why when I’m able to claim the opportunity this Clash of the Titans presents, we will prove that without any interference or outside forces to mar the contest with a stain of uncertainty unlike our last encounters have undergone. In that match, I will regain the soulstone from your possession, return it to be sealed away with its dark powers to end the line of succession for potential vessels of Belial to use to his designs to bring forth a cataclysm unfathomable to the world. I would achieve the redemption I seek with your failure, be the force of light I intend to be for this company through restoring my legacy, and give the world a reminder for who I am. One way or another, this design to force the evils of this business to be punished without hesitation only happens if I’m able to walk out of the Clash of the Titans with my hand held high.

Winning this match is not just a quest for a championship; it's my path to redemption. It's my chance to restore my legacy to what I've always dreamed it could be. My journey has been fraught with missteps and stumbles, but I will not be defined by my failures. I will not be defined by the mistake of allowing Belial to use me as a vessel to attempt to bring birth to a cataclysm upon the world. I will not be defined by the hatred of those who have constantly dreamed of my downfall in this industry. I will not be defined by the moment of weakness Final Destination V proved to be for me by allowing my pride to supersede the need to protect the soulstone from someone like Darkane from abusing it to his will. I will rise above every single failure I have allowed to happen in my career and when I am able to win this Clash of the Titans match to proceed on my path of redemption, it will allow me to not be remembered for those mistakes which hover over my head like a black cloud. In the end, I hope to be remembered for my resilience to push through everything that has been placed as a barrier for success to me, my determination to never give into whatever is said around me and be what I have always dreamed of, and my unyielding spirit to remain the paradigm of this industry and stand tall as the icon I know I am.

The Clash of the Titans is my crucible, my opportunity to rewrite my story from what the world has wanted to tell and set myself on the path to redemption I must achieve to restore my legacy to what it needs to be. I will not falter, I will not waver, and I will not be denied. This could very well be the last opportunity at world championship greatness I have. This could be the last chance I can be known as the best in the world with the Immortal Heavyweight Championship draped on my shoulder once more. This could be the only opportunity for me to right the mistakes and cleanse the sins of my soul. I would not be able to see another chance to write a new chapter of my career as the fleeting moments of time start to draw the curtain on me if I am met with failure again. Let me paint the future of Jacob Senn should he be able to walk out the Clash of the Titans with the opportunity of a lifetime. I would settle the scores which lay outstanding, I would hold the championship with honor and prestige as it deserved when I held it last, and I would prove to the world Jacob Senn is a man reborn. When the dust settles, and the echoes of battle fade away, I will be the one left standing. They say fortune favors the bold in the world and let me be the first to let you know, there’s no one more bold than me in this match. With the blood in my veins which will pour onto that canvas, with the sweat pouring from me from the battle I know I will endure in this match, through the sacrifices I will make in this match to conquer this trial before me, I’ll be the last man standing and make my legacy be once again…

Immortal.

I'm alive.

What happened at Final Destination V wasn't my best night. Fire, C4, bomb…..

……. golden knife……

I wonder how I could survive from those but here I am, talking to you.

Not just talking. I'm actually going to talk about my upcoming match at the first OWA show after Final Destination V.

First thing first, obviously I'm not happy with the way the match ended. Not only did I fail to win the Immortal Heavyweight Title, but finally, my FD streak is broken. I didn't want it to happen but life goes on right? As a matter of fact, apparently now I'm gaining a new moniker.

SuperNobi.

Once again, it's not something I came up with. It's just a nickname that the commentators gave to me. I don't know if I'm really super or not and I surely have countless extreme matches under my belt, but I'll be honest, I didn't expect to go back to work this soon.

So that means, I have to make the most out of it, don't I?

Clash of Titans.

I never won this before in OWA but I did win one in SSW. I won the SSW Spirit Royale where I outlasted 29 other competitors in order to retain my SSW Puroresu World Title, so I do believe I could finally win Clash of Titans too. I know things are not going to be easy with all the talented competitors and possibly surprise entrants, hell, when I won the SSW Spirit Royale, it was also very tough, but I absolutely have no reason to lower myself.

Especially after coming out as the runner-up at Wrath of Gods ThunderDome at Final Destination V. I was very close to winning the Immortal Heavyweight Title and this Clash of Titans is my bet, my journey, and my way to finally win the Immortal Heavyweight Title. 

But that's what the other competitors are thinking too. Everyone in this match wants to win this match. From a top notch veteran to a hungry rookie young guy, everybody is going to do everything they can to be the last man standing. That's natural. That's the nature of Clash of Titans.

So what should I do to make a difference? What should I do to repeat the same success I did in the SSW Spirit Royale a few years ago? 

I was focused. I was hungry. I had the desire.

Now, I do have the focus because I want to win this Clash of Titans and this is eventually going to lead me to the Immortal Heavyweight Title. The title I have desired so much. That's the title that I'm chasing on because it's the top belt on Olympus. 

That's also the title that everyone are gunning for. I don't expect this to be easy at all. This is going to be a very tough fight.

The thing is, besides I have won SSW Spirit Royale which is the SSW's Clash of Titans version, multiple guys and girls stipulation have been a norm to me lately. Well, not just for me. Also for people like Stephanie Matsuda, Brandon Hendrix, Mark Michaels, Alessandro Devastation, Emmanuelle, Graham Baker, Ryo Sakazaki, Jacob Senn, Noah Reigner, and some others too. So many hungry, talented, driven individuals in this match. Some of the best and all that.

And you know what? If I win this Clash of Titans, it means I 

I'm going to play out my nickname to describe this situation. 

So I have always been labeled as a Knight. I don't know why but maybe is it because of my resilience? That I don't want to quit and give up easily? Yes, that's right, I don't. I'm always working towards the win. Just like everybody else and this is what happened in life too, I win some and I lose some. I guess that's the nature of not only this business, but this life too.

So what does it have to do with Clash of Titans? Well, in a match that are full of so called Kings, Queens, Rich Boys, Merchants, Mafias, Beasts, and even sluts, Knights are always expected to fight to win and survive. That's what I have to do. 

I don't think I'm 100% yet after what happened at Final Destination. I'm being honest about it as The ThunderDome match wasn't a joke at all. The thing is, Clash of Titans is also a human chess game meaning you also have to use your brain. I mean that goes for every single match but all the brain cells need to be used to the fullest in this match. Naturally, the brawn plays a role and while I'm obviously wanting to do all I can in this match, the damages that have been done at the ThunderDome match aren't 100% healed yet. 

It actually pissed me off. My chance of winning is a little down because of the damage I got from Final Destination V, but this is why I have to prove it why I'm SuperNobi. I have to do what I can to win this match. To get closer to the Immortal Heavyweight Title again. The title that was actually on my hands at one point.

The thing is, even if I was heading as the Immortal Heavyweight Champion at Final Destination V, I did lose my title at the main event of the second night. That is really pissing me off. This is also pissing me off with the damages that I'm having.

But I'm trying, I'm trying really hard all I can to win this Clash of Titans. I have to get the momentum back for myself. Maybe that's what guys like Brandon Hendrix, Mark Michaels, Reginald Dampshaw III, and Ryo Sakazaki also wanted to do. Maybe for guys like Allessandro Devastation, Poet, and Tatsuo Sakaguchi, they want to be double Champions. Maybe for veterans like Jacob Senn, Noah Reigner, Graham Baker, Stephanie Matsuda, and Rafael Barrera, they see this as a chance to add more accolades under their respective names. Maybe for guys like Brody, Cletus, and Gunner, they want to make an impact to boost their respective careers by winning this match.

Yep, everyone wants to win.

Including myself. 

I know my own body, I know my body is damaged, but I know my own goals too. Why do I want to win this Clash of Titans? For all the possible motives that people might have. I want to win this to add another accolade to myself. I want to win this to become someone who has won both SSW Spirit Royale and OWA Clash of Titans. And as I said before, I want to win this to become the Immortal Heavyweight Champion whoever the champ is after this show.

I lost.

A night where I had assumed I would be walking out with my head held high, a night where I imagined to not only conquer the evils of Olympus but earn a chance to reclaim my legacy I tarnished with Belial, a night where I had hoped to gain redemption was where I instead lost.

I stand here at a crossroads in my career now. I stand in a pivotal point in not just my own career, but the entire company of the Omega Wrestling Alliance, as I have bestowed the power of Belial to a man who is determined to unleash Hell on Earth from the bloodbath and carnage he hopes to inflict: Darkane. What lies before me are two paths to the future. One where I go back home, bury my head in the sand to wallow in melancholy and grief, beating myself on the fact I allowed this to happen. The other path, to push forward through this defeat, and seek out my redemption through destroying a man who decides he seeks to sit in the same throne of destruction I once sat upon. If this was last year, I would probably say that I would remove myself from this equation and sulk on what I had failed to accomplish.

I made mistakes in my past, there’s no question about it. I avoided the responsibility I should have endured when I lost the Immortal Heavyweight Championship, went home, and sat to watch as Olympus lived on and thrived without me. I avoided the obligation to accept my fault in the destruction I had caused and instead allowed for others to simply suffer at the fallout of what I had done as Immortal Heavyweight Champion. There’s no question about the faults I made on the path my career has taken and there’s no doubt I need to atone for those sins, even if many have no forgiveness in their heart for me. The redemption I seek, however, I do not seek it for those who I have wronged. They have their opinions, they have their minds made up towards me, and I do not seek their forgiveness. I seek redemption for myself, for my own heart to be cleansed of the sins they have been stained with, because I’m the man who has to stare in the mirror at night at recognize if I am a good man who deserves salvation or an evil monster who must be forced to be purged through the fires of his own malfeasance to this wrestling industry. I do not seek redemption for the fact to be forgiven by the word, but I seek redemption to be able to forgive myself for falling under the temptation and allure of the power Belial holds.

I do not intend to walk down the path of misery, sorrow, and grief this time. I walk alone on the path of redemption, the road less traveled for salvation, and the salvation I seek through the destruction of the evils of this industry by purging them in blood.

There will be no time for sulking in my own sorrow and avoiding the failure I had when entering Final Destination V. I lost in a moment where winning was of the utmost importance for me. I lost when the entire company depended on me and Elijah Hampton to walk out with a victory to not allow a powerful artifact in Belial’s soulstone to fall into the wrong hands. I had the confidence I would not allow such a moment to happen, but here we are. I let OWA down in the moment it needed me most and I accept that failure, not shy away from it. I should have won. I should have defeated The Seventh Ward in that match, but instead crumbled under the pressure forced upon me, something which rarely has happened in my career. I allowed myself to feel that I was the old relic of a bygone era in wrestling everyone wants to believe I am. I allowed myself to let those thoughts of doubt of how much longer I can fight in this ring crawl into the back of my mind like a parasite corrupting me from the inside out. I gave Darkane the opportunity to strike at my Achilles’ heel in that match to allow me to suffer defeat by his hands and claim something he has no business holding control of. I allowed that to happen and I must find a way to rectify the mistake I made, to correct the oversight and underestimation I made at Final Destination V, and redeem myself in my own eyes from being not only a twisted man who forced himself to be corrupted by an entity of pure evil and malice, but a man who let his ego get the better of him to open the door for a new twisted soul to sit upon the throne of darkness and destruction I once laid claim to. My road is not about avoiding the failures I made or the ones that will come in the future, but it is a path about standing tall after being knocked out and facing the demons of my past personally, no matter how daunting the task may be to face them. In the face of darkness, I refuse to slide back into despair. I'll stand tall, confronting the demons of my past, redeeming myself from personal sins. I'll be a testament of hope, an embodiment of perseverance, against the evils of this industry who wish for nothing more than to see it crumble into a wasteland of blood and ruin. With every battle, I'll write a new chapter, proving that one can rise from the depths, stronger than ever. I'll carry the torch of redemption, a beacon for all who've stumbled, fallen from grace as I have with the desire to be restored to their former glory. Olympus may have its trials, but I'll face them head-on, forging a legacy of resilience. This is my pledge, my unwavering vow—to be a warrior intent on punishing the wicked and cruel of this industry.

As a warrior who stands before you with a fire burning through his soul, forged in the crucible of redemption and restitution, opportunity has not left me behind and fate has bestowed upon me a chance to correct my mistakes from Final Destination in a match I’m very familiar with: Clash of the Titans. The Clash of the Titans is a match anyone who has been a fan of this company known is a match where the endurance of a man is tested, where competition reaches its pinnacle to decide who will be the last person standing within the ring, and a match where dreams will either be shattered into oblivion or made into reality in a single moment in time. This is the match which holds significant importance to me, it encapsulates the very essence of the wrestler’s journey through this industry, and the embodiment of my unwavering determination to rise from the ashes of my own creation. I’ve walked the path of the darkness, made to taste the bitter sting of failure in this ring, and taste the ambrosia of victory while basking in its radiant glow. This match holds those same opportunities to be experienced and it will not be the first time I have endured its challenges.

As all of you should be well aware of, this is not my first foray into the gauntlet of The Clash of the Titans match. The last time I participated in this very match, I had pushed myself all the way to being in the very last two men left in the match until I was unfortunately eliminated by the man who would go on to become OWA World Champion that year in Michael Bishop. It was a battle I pushed myself to the very limits of my endurance, where every ounce of strength I brought into the match was in pursuit of main eventing that year’s Final Destination, where every fiber of my being was devoted to the quest of victory in that match, and I had showed the world the amount of punishment I would do to reach that peak. Even then, I was met with failure to reach the moment I desired, but my resolve was not broken. This Clash of the Titans will only hold one difference: I will walk out of this Clash with the victory attached to my name and the opportunity to redeem my mistake at Final Destination V by challenging the Immortal Heavyweight Champion. Whether the person who walks out of the steel cage on the first episode of Olympus in this new season with the Immortal Heavyweight Championship is Remington Ivory Prescott or Darkane, being victorious in The Clash of the Titans will provide me with the opportunity to redeem my defeat at Final Destination and the keys of the kingdom of immortality to restore the legacy I tarnished as the vessel of Belial’s malfeasance to the world.

In the heart of the Clash of the Titans, it's a spectacle that showcases the rich tapestry of our industry, a tapestry woven with the threads of future champions, former world titleholders, and Hall of Fame legends. This Clash represents a collection of men and women who know exactly what is needed to achieve glory at the end of the night and I know, this will be a challenge for even a man of my reputation in this sport to be able to walk out with their hand raised as the victor. The young men and women who hope to secure their spotlight in this match, dreams of etching their name into the annals of wrestling history, carry the weight of destiny on their shoulders to be the future of this industry hope to propel themselves towards that status by claiming the status of contender to the Immortal Heavyweight Championship. They are determined to push themselves and utilize their youth to endure the challenges which lie before them to lay claim to victory. You have those who have tasted the sweet ambrosia of victory, world championship gold, and understand the sacrifices which are demanded to hold that status and spotlight. These embodiments of perseverance have weathered the storm before, know the state of mind required to endure the struggle, and have emerged from the fires stronger than ever before. You even have other Hall of Fame icons such as myself, storied careers which have left an indelible mark on this industry forever, who seek something greater than adding another accolade on their already impressive résumés. It’s about proving the fire of passion for this sport still burns within their very soul, that they can outperform and outlast the new generation of talent who seek to douse them out, and they are the living legends who will continue to inspire all who watch them.

We all share the same common thread in this match to desire victory and be the contender at the end of the night. We all hope to be the one to stand out from the rest of the pack and be known as the one to challenge for the Immortal Heavyweight Championship and etch our name in history, for some of us once more. I know what this match requires from me, know what must be done to reach the very end and stand all, but I know many others in this match are capable of doing the same. We must possess the willingness to push through the pain we force our bodies to be inflicted with from our enemies in this match. We must force ourselves to ignore the fatigue that gnaws at our bodies to stop when it feels we cannot face the torture any longer. We must summon the willpower to keep going when every muscle screams for respite and deny us respite for the chance at immortality. The person who achieves victory in The Clash of the Titans must become a testament to the human spirit. They must prove they can endure, adapt, and thrive in the face of adversity to be able to claim victory against all the ambitious rivals standing in their path.

This will not be the only traits needed to walk out of The Clash of the Titans for the championship contendership we all seek as our prize from standing tall against our opponents. This battle is not just the physical endurance we need to persevere, but it stands as a test of character and our state of mind. This match is about who has the heart to rise above adversity when it is presented to them, who possesses that unyielding spirit to overcome the odds and spit in the face of hard times when they come knocking on their door, and it is about who will not let the hardships cloud their mind into accepting defeat when they are literal fingertips away from glory beyond their wildest dreams. The Clash allows no room for doubt or hesitation. It allows for no second thoughts on the next move in this human chess game. It’s a crucible where only the strongest among us will survive and I intend to emerge from that crucible not only stronger than anyone has ever seen Jacob Senn ever before, but on the path of redemption to claim the Immortal Heavyweight Championship once more. If destiny has taught me anything, it's that it's never too late for a comeback. I may have faltered at Final Destination by allowing Darkane to achieve victory, I refuse to let that define me as the wrestler I am today. I've tasted the pinnacle of success in this industry, and I yearn to stand there once more. Not for the accolades, not for the glory, but to prove that I can be a champion worthy of the name and legacy I once held. I want to be the Immortal Heavyweight Champion, not just to hold a title, but to wield it as a symbol of hope and inspiration. I want to reign in a way that restores my legacy to what it should be—a legacy built on honor, resilience, and the indomitable spirit of a true champion.

By winning this Clash of the Titans, it will allow me to challenge for the Immortal Heavyweight Championship against whoever wins the steel cage match. Whether the person walking out the match as the victor is Darkane or Remington Ivory Prescott, my intentions are very clear in being the person to take the championship away from you. Until I collapse from the punishment I endure in the Clash and my body cannot push forward any longer, I will fight for this chance at redemption. I will fight for the opportunity to right the mistakes I have made. I will fight to make my name and my legacy restored to one word to define me in this industry once again.

Immortal.

Prologue (CD)

The murky waters of the Amazon were vast and unfathomable. A pulsing artery of life and death, where survival was a constant struggle that only the fittest endured. Little did Brody know that he would be thrust into a similar environment on the season six debut of Olympus.
 
As he sat on the deck of the wooden boat, wrists and ankles bound by rope, he surveyed his surroundings. Howler monkeys were chorusing from the treetops, their relentless caterwauling echoed through the dense jungle. Beneath the surface, sleek black caimans with eyes of glowing amber waited patiently for an opportunity to strike. It was an intricate dance of predator and prey.
 
“Listen, bro,” said Brody, shuffling to get comfortable. “If you don’t untie me, I’m gonna start fucking shit up.”
 
“You’re tied up to stop you from doing that,” replied Dr. Ramirez, adeptly using a small blade to slice up an apple. “So, why would I untie you?”
 
After waking up from his tranquilizer-induced slumber, Brody tried to commandeer the helm. And although it was four against one, he almost succeeded. Now, the extraction team was taking no more chances in delivering their cargo to its destination. As Brody opened his mouth to speak, everyone was suddenly startled by the sound of thrashing in the water.
 
“Shark! Shark!” Brody screamed.
 
Two of the highly trained special operatives seized their carbines while Dr. Ramirez pointed a flashlight in the direction the sound came from. It was, in fact, a river otter, sleek and muscular, wrestling with a catfish almost twice its size in a fierce battle of strength versus wit. It was a testament to the unyielding determination of both predator and prey, but in the end, it was the otter’s cunning that prevailed. There was a lesson to be learned as the otter tossed its prize onto the muddy riverbank and began tearing away at its flesh.
 
“Whoa,” he said with a look of wonder. “Fucking gnarly, dude.”
 
Everyone returned to their post as the journey continued, but Brody’s mind began to wander. He was drawn to a memory from his youth. To a simpler time when he was seven years old, and the only thing that really mattered to him was watching Saturday morning cartoons.
 
It was a cold winter day when he decided to venture to the lake near his family’s winter home in Aspen, where they spent every Christmas. Even in the oppressive humidity of his present-day surroundings, he could feel the freezing air on his cheeks and the fresh snow crunch beneath his new boots. He also felt the shock jolt through his body. The same one he felt after falling through the ice.
 
As he delved deeper into his memory, he fell further into the water. His heart began pounding as the inky blackness began to swallow him. When it seemed as though all hope was lost, flailing desperately beneath the surface, he felt a strong hand grab him around the wrist and yank him out of the water. The relief of seeing his father’s face as he coughed and spluttered while graciously gulping the air was the most joyous moment of Brody’s life. He clung to Wyatt like a limpet, shivering and shaken but ultimately safe. After tucking him into bed later that night, his father kissed him on the forehead, and the words he spoke replayed in Brody’s head.
 
“I’m not always gonna be around, son. One day, you’ll have to look out for yourself.”
 
Yet here he was, some twenty years later, essentially being rescued by his father.
 
“But I didn’t fucking need rescuing!”
 
“What?”
 
“Oh, uh, nothing,” said Brody, snapping back to reality. “You still haven’t told me how you found me, by the way.”
 
“Being one of the two of us, I know.”
 
Dr. Ramirez’s demeanor was stoic. Some would say emotionless, but not Brody. He could tell her steely determination was pure professionalism. It was clear she did not suffer fools lightly.
 
“So, is there a Mr. Ramirez?”
 
Her gaze softened ever so slightly while the edge of her lips curled. It was the first change in emotion she had shown.
 
“No, huh?”
 
“I’m sure there is a Mr. Ramirez. But I’m not Mrs. Ramirez.”
 
“You’re not? Who are you?”
 
She looked at Brody with a raised eyebrow and a smile. He was enthralled by her beauty, but her eyes soon returned forward, and she did not say another word until they reached the safe house in Leticia.
 
 
Wyatt fumbled with the key in the lock a few times before entering the room to see Brody lying handcuffed to the bed and the woman that he had hired to track him down sitting on a chair in the corner, reading a book, stoic as usual.
 
“For Christ’s sake, Brody. Do you ever wear a fucking shirt?”
 
“Nice to see you too, Pops.”
 
“Thank you, Miss... Mrs…”
 
She just looked at him with the same look she had given Brody on the boat.
 
“Fair enough. As for you,” he turned to Brody, “What, in the ever-loving fuck, were you thinking of?”
 
“It’s not that big a deal.”
 
“Yeah, no, right. Not a big deal. You just disappear after losing at the biggest show of the year against a man you’ve got personal issues with, turn up two weeks later in Colombia, go missing again, along with $40,000, and wind up desecrating a spiritual site with a drug-fueled sex rave?”
 
“Well, when you say it like that.”
 
“And you title your transactions way too fucking honestly, by the way.”
 
“Huh?”
 
“Drug money for the FARC bicep emoji cool guy in shades emoji? Come on, man.”
 
“Oh, so that’s how you found me.”
 
“Fucking Venmo, of all things. Why the fuck is a paramilitary group using an app for a drug deal worth tens of thousands of dollars?”
 
“I know, right? Shit’s depressing in, like, a super indescribable way.”
 
“I paid off the rest of your debt to them and gave them a little extra to let an ‘anthropologist’ ride along on their next delivery.”
 
“Well, shit, bro. You did it again. Congrats.”
 
Wyatt turned to the woman and handed her what looked like a platinum poker chip.
 
“Uncuff him and bring him down to the car. Then I’ll consider our business done.”
 
She nodded once before Wyatt left the room. Once he did, she walked gracefully to the sink, which was by the door that Wyatt entered, and spat.
 
“Dude,” Brody laughed. “Of all the things we’ve done to each other over the last 18 hours, I can’t believe swallowing is your limit.”
 
 
As they drove from the safe house to a small airstrip, Wyatt tried to glean more information from Brody, who tried to hide tired eyes behind his sunglasses.
 
“So, let’s start from the beginning.”
 
“I dunno, dude. It’s all kind of a blur. I think I remember talking to Tatsuo after the match, then—”
 
“No.”
 
“Huh?”
 
“The man you were talking to? Yeah, that wasn’t Tatsuo Sakaguchi…”
 
 
“Tatsuo, bro, don’t fucking worry about me. I’ll be fine, dude. You got a big match coming up; you need to be focused on that. Just remember everything I’ve taught you, and you’ll be fine. I believe in you, bro.”
 
“Brody, I’m a medic.”
 
“Ahmed? Where the fuck did I get Tatsuo from?”
 
“I’m so sorry, he’s a little concussed. It’s nothing racial.”
 
“Why would it be racial?”
 
“Well, you know…”
 
“… yes?”
 
“That whole thing about Japanese people all looking the same.”
 
“I’m Korean.”
 
“Let’s not split hairs here.”
 
 
“The last time I saw you, you were heading into the showers. Let’s go from there.”
 
Brody just looked straight ahead, in another world completely. An interrogation was the last thing he needed. The events of the last week were slowly catching up to him, and all he wanted to do now was sleep.
 
“You fought well, you know.”
 
“So? Still lost.”
 
“But he had to cheat to beat you.”
 
“Yeah. Who gives a fuck, dude.”
 
Wyatt could tell that Brody was in pain. He had never seen his son so utterly defeated before. Even the time that he came from behind to beat Brody in a close game of 1v1 basketball by taunting the 12-year-old boy with graphic descriptions of sexual intercourse with his mother.
 
“Are you going to be ready for the next show?”
 
“What’s the point?”
 
“The point is you owe me a lot of money. I might’ve let you rest if it wasn’t for your little excursion, but you ran quite a tab, and the Saudis are paying a lot.”
 
“Whatever.”
 
“Don’t you want to know who you’re fighting?”
 
“I guess.”
 
“Well, we’re getting a god-damn Clash of the Titans Match,” Wyatt announced gleefully, hitting Brody on the shoulder. “How about that, huh? Talk about a fucking money spinner. Just look at some of the previous Clash winners and what they’ve gone on to accomplish. You can really put your name up in lights with this one, Brody. And I tell you what, if you win, we’ll call it even for this escapade. You’ll still owe me for everything else, but this I’ll forget.”
 
“Oh?” said Brody, turning his head to look at his father. “Were you still talking, dude?”




For a while now, it’s been my dream to compete in a Clash of the Titans. To test myself against the best in the world and win. Go on to the main event of Final Destination and become OWA World Champion. It seemed like the path was laid out before me. Like some sort of road made of bricks that are a color roads aren’t usually made of.
 
I was there when Aria Jaxon won the first Clash, and the atmosphere was off the fucking chain, dude. It was like nothing I’d ever experienced. From that moment on, I made it my life’s work to climb to the top of that mountain. To feel the roar of the crowd as my music hit and the rush of adrenaline as I sprinted to the ring.
 
And now it’s not just a dream, bro. It's reality. But I could care fucking less.
 
Like, think about it. We spend so much time chasing after all these things, you know. Money, fame, shiny stuff. But in the end, what's it all worth, bro? One minute, you’re competing for a title at the biggest show of the year; the next, you’re getting your dick sucked in the Amazon while off your tits on Colombian power sniff. We're all just passing through and leaving nothing but footprints in the sand, dude. We spend so much time in the gym, but you know what? No matter what, our body’s still gonna get old.
 
Just don’t worry about it. Why worry about shit when you can just choose to constantly have a good time? Leave climate change to the nerds to figure out. If you’re threatened by war, just say no. Diagnosed with cancer? That sounds like a choice, bro.
 
When I arrived in Philly for Final Destination, I was ready. I’d worked hard, and now it was time to reap the rewards. The World’s Finest had beaten Tres Comas Club, we rescued Monica, and we all got our opportunities. It felt like the stars had aligned, dude.
 
And what happened?
 
RIP won. Devione won. Monica stabbed Cloud in the back. And Poet… well, he beat me. Sure, he bent the rules, but I expected that from him. I’m not gonna complain about that, bro. It’s like the tale of the Princess and the Frog, you know?


You don't? Well...
 
One day, there was this princess who really wanted to open a restaurant, so she tried to fuck this frog. I think the frog had connections in the industry or some shit. Anyway, the frog was like, ‘Nah bro, you’re a princess, you’ll fucking sting me the first chance you get.’ But she was like, ‘Nah, don’t trip, I’m just thirsty for dick, bro.’ So, the frog was like, ‘Sweet, hop on, bitch.’ He was all about the jokes, this guy. But as they were fucking, the princess stung the frog, and they both died. As they were drowning, the frog was like, ‘The fuck, bro?’ and the princess said, ‘You still gonna hook me up though, right dawg?’
 
So, you see my point?
 
Olympus is a fucking den of vipers, bro. And now I’m facing 29 of them in one match. Yeah, I could prepare for it. I could put hours and hours in the gym, but why bother when it’ll just end up in fuckery? Love it or hate it, the TCC runs Olympus. They’re fucked if it’s a fair fight, but they’ll never let it be a fair fight. Why would they? It’s not in their nature, bro.
 
Who’s my money on?
 
Well, you really think KD is gonna enter his son into a Clash of the Titans match, with all of the World’s Finest, without the express intention of helping him win? Not a chance, dude.
 
Rambeaux and the Gauntlet man were only mercenaries, so it won’t really matter to them, but the likes of Poet and Jurch Popscotch are about to find out where they really stand in Tres Comas Club. And I’ll give them a hint, it’s below anyone with the name Devione. Even Remington Ivory Prescott can’t change the fact that, no matter what, KD is gonna side with his golden boy. The dude’s like one of those weirdos obsessed with Halloween, the way he pumps his kin.
 
So, again I ask, what’s the point?
 
They’re pitting Brandon Hendrix against Mark Michaels. Tatsuo against Ryo. Matsuda against Emmy. Reigner against Baker. El Landerson will also be there. Even to me, it’s obvious what they’re trying to do. And we’ll probably just let it happen. Let them divide us even more.
 
I’ll turn up and fight. I love the game too much. But I’m not wasting any time preparing. I’ll meet the challenge with whatever I have right now.
 
And if that’s not good enough... whatever, who gives a fuck?

12/01/2022.
MOUNT SINAI REHAB CENTER

The scene officially begins directly outside one of New York City’s most iconic rehabilitation centers, where the interior of the building tells a story of its own, as from the forefront, it didn’t look the least pleasing. Instead of being a well-monitored, highly-kept building like it once was described as, it now looked to be a shell of its former-self, it now could only be seen as a borderline abandoned infrastructure, with limited staff holding the place together, all because of what lives past the door. Not long after, the camera started to gradually pan inside of the location, where an unfamiliar individual is seen pushing the doors open. There isn’t any sense of confidence visible, not in her eyes, not on her face, nowhere, there’s only one thing that was for certain — in this moment, she’s an anxious wreck. Even then, she refuses to pause, and instead walks up to the front desk.

RECEPTIONIST: 

“How can I assist you today, ma'am?”

???:

“ I’m here to see a patient…Gunner Wilson.”


(The conversation stops in its tracks, as the receptionist seems to be stunned, not expecting that name to be spoken. However, she manages to collect herself, and moves on.)

RECEPTIONIST: 

“Alright, and what’s your relation to the patient?”

???:

“…Brother.”

For the second time in only a few seconds, there was a lengthy pause between the two, which only continued to confuse her, not really being able to grasp the environment that she’s surrounded in. That was until from the corner of her eye, she noticed that a doctor was heading in her direction, which immediately diverted her attention away from the front desk, and towards him.

DR ULRICH: 

“Hey, it’s Julia, right?”

JULIA WILSON: 

“Yeah, that’s me. And you are?”

DR ULRICH: 

“I think it’s better if we sit down for this one, if you don’t mind.”

DR ULRICH: 

““’m the lead doctor at this rehabilitation center, and for the past nine months, I’ve been in charge of taking care of your brother, with the sole job of slowly reintroducing him into society when the time is right – and only then. ”

“ It’s been a long road to recovery, are you familiar with the reasoning behind why he’s here?”

JULIA WILSON:
“ I’ve got to be honest, not at all. I’ve been distanced from our family for years, and he’s had to fend for himself ever since… Did something happen?””

DR ULRICH: 
“Oh dear.”

DR ULRICH: 
“In your absence, your stepfather was diagnosed with schizophrenia. He refused to take the medicine that was prescribed to him, and in turn, his hallucinations took over his mind. He has claimed that a presence other than himself forced him to torture those who contradicted his behavior, which he did with a sick-and-twisted version of a “game.”

JULIA WILSON:
“A game? What kind of -”

DR ULRICH: 
“He forced your brother to bring home a group of friends each year, filling the house with traps of all kinds, daring them to escape if they could, and if they didn’t - they’d be at his mercy. As you might imagine, he watched his friends die every year, over-and-over again.”

JULIA WILSON:
“ Jesus christ…”

DR ULRICH: 
“Each and every time, he has been promised freedom, he has been denied. Not only does he think that he’s the cause of all the death that’s around him, but he’s been led to believe this is the truth. Consistently by those who are supposed to love him, you can only imagine the pain.”

“So before I go ahead and take you to see him, I’d like you to be prepared. This isn’t the same Gunner that you remember, he’s different, and it’s important to remember that.”

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Can you feel that, man? There’s confidence in each story that they try to tell, they pretend to understand the truth behind my own story, almost as if they were there — but they're all fooling themselves. If anyone had actually been there to bear witness to the horrors that had occured, maybe we wouldn’t be in this predicament, but that’s the thing — nobody was there. Time and time again, people feel it’s appropriate to use me for their own benefit, without fail, I’m passed along like another piece of meat, because of everyone else’s fear to stand up to the monsters of this world. Some might call this pathetic, but frankly, I call this a fact of life, as we all have a choice to stand up for what we believe is right, so why waste it on something that doesn’t benefit you? Many seem to not understand this approach to life, but it’s the ONLY way I’ve been taught, to make it out alive, and secure what is yours, nothing more, nothing less.

There’s rules to our existence.
And I’m prepared to follow them through.

They’ve tried to save me before, but just like in the past, I don’t need a savior, I don’t need help, I know what I’ve been through, because I’m the one it happened to. Yet, the truth doesn’t matter to them, my own demons aren’t of importance to them, because they only want one thing — and that’s to be the hero. But that’s the thing about these kinds of stories, there’s no heroes or villains, nobody to save the day, or to create a divide, only those who are willing to do what they deem necessary to survive. And for me, that’s returning to where it all started. I’ve been away from professional wrestling for far too long, I’ve seen numerous people pass me by — just because I was pushed out the door too early. Realistically, there’s a ton of unfinished business to tend to than I’ve let on — and I’m the only one who can deal with it head-on. At one time, I was on the rise to stardom, constantly told that I was on the cusp to ‘bigger’ things, even adding the title of ‘World Champion’ to my resume — but I lost it all — all because I’ve never been able to control my emotions. In the past, I always thought that this was a fault of my own, that maybe all those who promised that my nature could only be seen as psychotic — maybe they were right.

What do you think, Rafael? Were you right about me all along?

Over a year ago, you chose to take a gamble on me, to learn the ropes, and have the distinct honor of standing alongside you, but that didn’t last long, now did it? It was a tale as old as time, when you were no longer able to control me, and the thoughts of my success matching up to yours started to slowly creep in — you vanished. You chose to cut ties with me, not because of my ‘psychotic’ nature, but rather due your insecurities of being worse than the two of us — and you’d be right. By every stretch of the word, you’re worse, and if you don’t want to take my word for it, feel free to check the record books, they don’t lie, and my victory over you still reigns true to this day, even if it wasn’t in this company.  I haven’t forgotten about your mistreatment towards me, and I promise you in my return, your debt will be collected, and the humiliation that you felt back then, this time will only be a repeat.

You aren’t the only one though, there’s so many like you, those who try to fool the world of their innocence, but the consistent issue with this industry is that you’re all so damn gullible. However, if I have to be the one to reveal the truth, to show that many of you aren’t capable of being in this industry, let alone to challenge for the brand’s top prize, then so be it. There’s a part of me that wants to give you all the benefit of the doubt, but then I look around, and I see men such as Graham Baker, who’ve only made their career based off of lies and deception. You’re really going to tell the entire world that I bailed on every promotion I’ve been a part of? I’ve tried to play the humble game before, many times in fact, but it’s never gone my way, not in a way that I envisioned anyways. So don’t try to play that shit, Baker, you’re not any better than the rest of us. You’ve been given more opportunities than anyone else can afford, and the result has never been different, but you still believe in your gut, that this time won’t be the same – that’s the definition of insanity.

I’m not going to run away, but you might want to — three years makes all of the difference. And you need to be taught that lying on one’s name isn’t rewarded.

Just like you, there’s so many others that believe they deserve more than they’ve earned, that in some way,they’re special, but that’s a load of crap. A majority of you think there’s something special within you, that you’re more than deserving to be a king among peasants, but you’re just another tick in the system at the end of the day. And I speak from experience, I’ve been in the same position as someone like Marce Rambeaux, ambitious for the future, thinking his time will come any day now, but allow me to let you in on a little secret — you’ll fail. Do me a favor, don’t waste your time in being ambitious, you’re in a den filled with wolves, just waiting to be chewed up and spit back out…because that’s your role. Same to you, Reginald, if you wanted to rest so badly, you’d have done it already, but instead, you’d rather sit back and watch everyone around you prosper, to lap you, and don’t try to dispute it.

You might not know who I am, but you’ll learn it soon enough. I’ve been in your position before, almost feeling lost around others, wondering where it could’ve all gone so wrong? But here’s some advice, if you’re unable to figure out the reason as to why you’ve constantly failed, while all of your peers have managed to surpass you, it might be time to look in the mirror. If my research is anything to go by, you’ve been in this company for YEARS, and in that time, you’ve continuously tried to fool everyone into believing that you’re worthy to lead the charge. But these second chances aren’t made from deserving acts, but instead from pity. This should bother you.

There’s a handful of you that could be running these streets, you could be in the same position that RIP is currently in— but instead you find yourself being the beacon of hope for these people. But why? Just look at a guy like Nobi, someone who’s felt the pressure of being a World Champion, and instead of embracing it, he crumbled, it was too much to handle, because you’re not doing it for yourself, you’re doing it for THESE PEOPLE. Individuals who don’t know right from wrong, who only want to see you succeed, because they refuse to push themselves far enough to see any success of their own. So I’ll be the bad guy yet again, I’m going to have to keep you from realizing your potential once more, and repeat the events of Final Destination V. But instead of cheating you out of a title victory by stabbing into your flesh — I’ll be keeping you from a chance at redemption, by throwing you over the top rope, and ensuring that you realize that listening to those who willingly waste their lives, won’t get you far. And will only lead to your failure.

And I’ll be the one to make sure that this time around, the feeling will last.

But for people like you, I can only hope that you’ll listen, because I don’t want to inflict violence upon you, but your persistence to not find that killer instinct inside you is only hurting you. And the same can be said for you, Mark Micheals you’re truly one of a kind — at diminishing your potential. After being given chance after chance to prove that you're worth the time and effort, to justify the investment that’s been put into you, your ability to fail every single time that you’re up at the plate is incredible, because in all honesty, for someone who has the benefits that you’ve been given, there should be NO EXCUSE for your lack of championship gold. But still, you’re left with nothing, and when it comes down to it, there’s no better way that I’d like to spend my debut, than proving to you that your failure to accomplish your dreams are your own doing, and I’m only the one who’s willing to send you down the route that you’ve seen so many times before.

Don’t blame me because you’d rather waste your opportunities, rather than embrace them.

But yet, that’s still nothing compared to you, Brandon, the one who let the world slip from his fingertips, all because he didn’t think he was worth it — until it was all too late. I’d like to believe in you, I truly would, but it’s evident by now that you didn’t start believing in your own capabilities until you started to see results. So tell me, why should I believe in you, if you can’t even believe in yourself? I can’t. All you’ve ever wanted to be was a World Champion, but when you were given that opportunity to shine and finally accomplish your dreams, you weren’t good enough. But that’s the story of your life, isn’t it? Getting so close to immortality, but proving to be nothing more than a pathetic mortal at the end of the day — and that’s all you’ll ever be. This is no longer about you realizing your potential, that ship has sailed, and now it’s much more important for you to learn a valuable lesson. Which is that there aren't unlimited chances in this sport, and eventually, if you fail enough times, your chance to make something of yourself expires — and that’s where we’re at now.

I’m not going to allow you, or anyone else to cost me a chance at redemption, to experience the opportunity to become World Champion one more time, but unlike the rest of you, it isn’t about representing this company,I’ve been down that road before, it’s not for me. But what IS for me, is ensuring that you all are taught that opportunities aren’t free, that your career is only valuable if you treat it as such. And if the only way you’ll learn that is by me taking away all of your selective dreams on my first night here — then so be it.

I’m not afraid to prove that none of you belong. Let the games begin.

Final Destination V has come and gone, and the the sixth year of OWAs run as the top company in the world, and the Night Two main event: Wrath Of The Gods Thunderdome match, has seen its end. "ONE! TWO! THREE! AND STILL IMMORTAL HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION…… REMINGTON IVORY PRESCOTT!!" Evil won in the end somehow. Remington got past four of his biggest enemies and somehow retained his Championship at Final Destination V. Now, either he or Darkane must face Olympus's Clash Of The Titans winner that comes to the Season Six kickoff show, where thirty wrestlers will fight to throw twenty nine others over the top rope to win. And one of those thirty men is one of the men who challenged for the Immortal Heavyweight Championship at Final Destination V in one of the main events, The Don Brandon Hendrix. Taking the most brutal beating of his life, one moment of the match came of what would have been Brandon's final resting place. He promised that he would either win, or die trying. Both opportunities got taken from him. He went home a failure again, but he walked into something worst fate than he could imagine.

Story Time

So, it was shortly after the second night of Final Destination V, I was supposed to start my way back home. I was sitting there in that Philadelphia traffic, when I felt my heartbeat going slower than normal. My hands started getting clammy, I started sweating profusely…. Then I blacked out. By the time I came to, it was the following morning, and I was laid out in a hospital bed, where Angelo, Tony, Marco, and Matteo were standing by, and my…." Brandon goes to speak, but his voice starts getting shaky. He clears his throat a couple of times before speaking again. "My daughter, who ran up to my bed… crying and fell right into my arms. I found out that I suffered a heart attack. My pulse was slowly fading away, and I almost left my daughter to be an orphan…. And now…. I'm forcing practically everyone to let me compete. Everyone told me that I should retire, I should give up. That I had a decent enough career and I should go home and take it easy…. I can't. I can't sit back and settle for less. Call me selfish… call me stupid… call me whatever… but how I see it… it's that tomorrow is not guaranteed. I already saw that first hand when I went face to face with God about my future. And he said my future still had a light shining on it for as long…. As long as possible, because he didn't even know if it was possible. So, I'm here to announce that I'm going to fight this season… as much as I can…. And I'm going to give everyone the greatest story ever told. And my story starts with the Season Six kickoff show where I participate in the Olympus only Clash Of The Titans match. And in this match, you have to toss me over the top rope, but as God is my witness, I will
fight till the very end with every faint beat of my heart because fighting to my death is the greatest honor of a wounded Don. I might not make the Finale of Season Six….. but mark my words, I will be Immortal Heavyweight Champion before that day comes. And that starts with tossing twenty nine of you over the top rope.

Jacob Senn." Brandon chuckles a bit at speaking that name. "The man who when I returned to OWA, he was the Immortal Heavyweight Champion. Terrorizing his way through OWA, defeating the likes of Hampton and Darkane when I came back. And after losing your Immortal Heavyweight Championship to Elijah Hampton, you took your ball and went home. You abandoned this place because you lost. Don't say you were hurt, don't say anything else than you quit because we all know that little stone you had made sure your ass was healthy enough to compete. You couldn't live without the gold, so you wouldn't understand that when I tell you I'll break your neck in order to finally hold the gold, you'll think I'm joking. This is the farthest from a joke, Senn. Becoming the Immortal Heavyweight Champion is my life right now. I have selfishly pushed my family to the side in order to fulfill this goal. What have you ever had to sacrifice, Jacob? I wasn't here for the beg of your career, only joined at the end of your career to see you get handed everything till your hand outs worn off. Now you try to return to avenge yourself. Thing is Senn, nobody wants you here. Nobody wants the redemption arc. Nobody wants the new Jacob Senn. Do us a favor, and that's when you're eliminated… fuck off again and don't come back.

Graham Baker. Recent Hall Of Famer, congratulations on that. But with that congratulations comes a deep regret." Brandon takes a second, rubbing his chest, as he takes a second to catch his breath. "The deep regret is you're not winning either. I'm sorry but it's no longer your time. I'm making it my time, the time that everyone says I will have one day since fucking November. Another has-been going down to the new generation of wrestlers with all the grit, all the will to fight that you once had. And maybe because of all that grit, all that determination I have, maybe it's the reason I will pass you as an All Time wrestler when this is all said and done. Could I be wrong about being an "All Time" better wrestler? Yes. But I know for damn sure that I will be a better All Time OWA star then you could ever be.

….. Mark Michaels. First and foremost, thank you. Thank you for not only taking a stab in the hand for me, but ultimately saving my life entirely. I can never repay you for that, but don't let that make you think that I will let you throw me over that top rope easily. You see, we both talked about this being personal. You know how I know this was not too personal for you? You didn't jab that knife into his neck and ripped it along his fucking throat. After everything we've been through because of that man- you, me, Nobi, Ryo, World's Finest, and so on- and we both know that he deserved to die. But you couldn't do it. You failed at eliminating the problem. And because of that, we got eliminated. We had him where we wanted him and you DROPPED THE FUCKING BALL!!" Brandon yells out, short of breath. He takes a moment before speaking again. "I get why everyone wanted to get behind Mark for Final Destination V, but when it comes to putting someone down, he can't fucking do it. So now, I'm going to take that same knife that you held. I'm going to place it against his neck like you did. But it's kill or be killed now, and I'm going to decapitate this motherfucker and have him sliding down the poll to Hell. Mark, you can call me what you want, but you will not call me a failure any more. You no longer say this is personal… because you lost that privilege. I'm personally making it my mission to end Remington Ivory Prescott, and if I need to toss you over the top rope to fulfill my mission… then so fucking be it.

Noah Reigner, another congratulations goes out to you on your induction into the OWA Hall Of Fame as well. But you're just like Graham Baker. Another has-been that's trying to steal the spotlight from someone who can actually use it. Catch my drift- this isn't before, big dog. OWA has moved into an era where if the OG members or past members of the company left, OWA would still be the number one company in the world with the wrestlers they got now, myself included. Hell, it's why the new generation…. Plus Dampshaw I guess, main evented the biggest show of all time, probably the greatest Final Destination of all time. And to go off the greatest Final Destination of all time, I will bring the greatest performance of kick off history. And if I have to put you down like the old dog you are, I will because I can't let you stand in my way.

Tatsuo Sakaguchi, the new Icarus Champion. Yeah, you don't get congratulations, but a good job instead. You only twenty five percent proved something to me, but when it came down to break out performances, you haven't had one. And maybe that's because you haven't had that massive match yet, or because you haven't had a massive opponent who cared about the match they're in and that must bother you because if Reginald or myself put some care into some stupid ass six man tag match, it would of been the biggest win of your entire career. But what happened afterwards when you faced some of a higher level that cared? You flopped. You fucking sucked. But maybe this match you make an impact. Maybe you step up to me and try to prove something. Maybe you face one of OWAs biggest heroes in Mark Michaels and make a statement, or maybe you eliminate RD3 convincingly, and then and maybe then you'd gain some respect. But until then, you're another young lion in the Tiger's den."

Brandon takes another moment to catch his breath. It's clear he's nowhere near healthy enough to do this match. "Nobi, here we are again. Now what I did say came true in terms of you losing at Final Destination V, but it didn't come to my hands, it came at the hands of Remington Ivory Prescott (pause ) which led to him retaining the Immortal Heavyweight Championship. Now we all lost, but me and Mark, who was kicking ass and going through hell as you chilled out in your safe space while we were getting near massacred. And even showing up last in the match, you couldn't get the job done. So you're not a factor in this match anymore Nobi. You're just another JOBBER to toss over and secure my place as the Don Of Olympus while the White Knight becomes the secured Joker.

Stephanie Matsuda, now after everything you've been through, after everything that has happened, it seemed destined for you to beat Allesandro Devastation and win the American Dream Championship. But you weren't even in the final two on the ladder to grab the fucking unneeded title OWA decided to bring whenever a company dies off. This was built like a Cinderella structure, but this was like if Cinderella didn't show up to the ball. You let this man kidnap your wife, call you racial slurs like it was covid season, and beat you at Final Destination. Just retire one more time and stick to Commentary, it's the only thing you're semi decent at now and days.

Speaking of Allesandro Devastation, kill yourself. No please, do everyone a favor. End your life. Slit your throat, cut your wrists, shoot yourself in the head, hang yourself, drink bleach, jump off a building, drink bleach, eat rat poison, sit in your car as the the exhaust fumes kills you, I hope you get hit by a car, I hope a dog mauls you, I hope a wild cougar rips your throat out, I hope you choke on food as you eat, I hope a rattle snake bites your ass, I hope a python squeezes around your throat, I hope you fall down stairs and break your neck, I hope you try to open your window and it falls and slams your head to pieces, I hope you go to make a sandwich and the knife ends up in your neck somehow, I hope when you sleep, your brain quits and you don't wake up, i hope Santa Claus comes to town and his sleigh falls on your bitch ass, I hope a horse kicks you in the skull then Millie Rocks on your corpse, and I especially hope that we get rid of that retarded ass Championship because once we do, we get rid of any traces of you permanently.

Emmanuelle. Been a long time, ol chap. Last time we had a longer interaction than one tweet was from a dead company ran by racist Neo Nazi's which you tried bragging about me passing out when in reality your poor hygiene routine was crazy that day. All jokes beside, the man you faced in Project Honor is a complete one eighty from the man I am today. I'm the lost boy who was way over his own head in 2021 to one of the greatest today in the Don. And me passing out won't do you much good because you would have to lift two hundred and sixty five pounds of limp carcass off the ground and I damn well know you can't do it.

There is a lot more people to name off, and I'll get to that soon. But in the meantime, I want everyone to tune into The Porter Games where I, handpicked, gets to go and battle for the honor of OWA and will win. And with that win I will move on, then move on, and move on once again before going to the finals and winning the tournament. And with that win, I will get to choose a title opportunity of my choice. Now, I'll be the winner of the Clash Of The Titans and I'll go and win the Immortal Heavyweight Championship…… but what if….. I use that opportunity…. On you DT? And what if I win that and become the Undisputed OWA Heavyweight Champion? Then everyone will be saying that The Don Brandon Fucking Hendrix is the Greatest…. Of All Time. See you fuckers soon."

The bar at the end of the world was never full, but it was never quite empty.


Some things in life were certain; the suns always rose, and the bar was always there. It had stood on its hill for so long that no one knew who had built it first or what it might have been before the Age of Sand. Now it served the travellers from beyond The Edge who were looking to cross the Last Desert.
The bar is where I come to try and forget. Try and dull my intense pain in drink. Today I can't forget. I failed him. I was so close.


But I like this place. People are nice to me here. They treat me with respect. They’re willing to share a laugh and a drink with me here.


"Drink it." A voice comes from the door, "It'll make you feel better." The voice says. He's probably right, but he also doesn't know what happened. It couldn't possibly be anything close to what happened. He could never understand. I'm not sure if I want him to.


It’s Orion Bloodmoon, maybe the best friend I have in this entire universe. The thing is that no one can change how I feel now. No amount of alcohol, friends or comforting words could help ease the guilt and shame I am feeling at the moment.


“Cheer up, old boy.” Orion walks over to my table and sets down two large steins of ale. My hands are still shaking as I reach out and take one for myself.


My body continues to shake as I take another gulp, but this time the burning sensation isn’t as intense.


“So you didn’t get the treasure. I saw you, though. I saw how tough you were, T.L. How hard you fought to try and capture it. That has to count for something, right?” Orion Bloodmoon says with a smile on his face. It feels like a long shot, but the gesture still brings a smile to my own face. I feel just slightly better already.


He nods and smiles at me again before taking a drink himself. When he set the mug down, there was foam on his upper lip and chin. He lets out an awkward cough before speaking again, "You did your best. There's no reason to worry about the past now. Besides, you’ve seen the past, present and future. So are you really going to beat yourself up over it?” Orion says as he slams down the rest of his mug in one gulp.


I stare at him in awe and wonder for a moment before we both turn our heads to the entrance. It was her. She walks slowly across the bar room floor, stopping by each of the tables before sitting in one of the chairs. Her eyes scanned us all intently as if she were studying our every move. Remember how her lipstick looked on TV? Were her lips always that red? Red like the blood that drips from a cut finger. 


She looked my way again and our eyes met. I quickly averted my gaze. I couldn’t look her in the eyes. Not after what happened. My heart started racing like mad, my breathing became erratic and I had to gasp for air. I looked up at Orion, who’s face became white as a ghost.


“T.L….” Orion mumbles under his breath. He turns to me with a terrified expression, "T.L., your throat’s slit.”

---

So this is what it's like to be on top of the world, huh?

I, Remington Ivory Prescott, the Immortal Heavyweight Champion, have systematically and single-handedly brought Olympus to its knees by tearing a hole through the entire roster. I've taken everything that this company has thrown at me and I've sent it back, bleeding and screaming. I've apparently pissed off so many of you insignificant peons that even in your collective moments of ganging up on me, you haven't been able to stop my reign.

You idiots had The Third Owner, stupid name by the way, hand me to you all on a silver platter. The deck of pain and violence stacked against me as I was put into a Thunderous Dome filled with my entire Rogues Gallery...

And I fucking beat you all.

I've embodied what this title is all about. Immortality. I've been targeted for extinction by this entire roster and I've done some ungodly shit to stay right where I am. I'll admit, even I'm not proud of some of these things. But the fact of the matter is that I'm the one who has done those things. These are choices that I've made and these are choices that I'm going to have to live with for the rest of my life.

Ah well.

The popular belief is that I'm just following around the latest annoying group to step into the halls of Mount Olympus. That I'm just playing with fire. That, in the end, these Three Stooges will come for me. People think that just because I stand alongside these pricks that I've decided to drink the Kool-Aid. I'm rich. What the fuck is Kool-Aid? DT? A little help here, brotha'?

No. This is not that kind of story. I know exactly what The Tres Comas Club is about. I know exactly what they want. I know exactly what they think of me. I know because I had Olympus in the palm of my hand and they realized that since I had been carrying the brand on my back for months before that I was poised to elevate it to heights even they couldn't reach. So what did they do? They Captain Planetted themselves and came running to stop me before I could even begin. So I pivoted and became their Ace, taking the Immortal Heavyweight Championship from Elijah Hampton and finally solidifying my place among the Gods and Legends.

I've been caught up in their bullshit ever since.

That'll change soon enough.

But for right now, I'm doing what I need to do in order to survive. I have greater plans for myself than being Immortal Lackey #1 forever. I have much bigger plans for the Immortal Heavyweight Championship. For Olympus.

For OWA.

The Powers That Be Assholes know that a man like myself cannot be contained for long. I can only be held in place until I decide I want to move. My entire life there's been two people that I've trusted. One of them is dead and the other is not me. So when I say that my allegiance is a matter of convenience, that's exactly what it means.

But digressions aside, I think we all know why I'm actually here right now...

Darkane.

After we've both been through our own different kinds of hells at Final Destination, we're both set to walk into this new era fighting for the right to call ourselves the Immortal Heavyweight Champion. This is a moment that will, dare I say it, go down in Omega Wrestling Alliance history. The Richest versus the Poorest. The Spotlight versus The Dark. Two opposing forces vying for the top spot in order to make our mark in the history books moving forward.

But only one of us is a natural talent.

You see, as with most things that happen around Mount Olympus, there's a whole lot of Yu-Gi-Oh bullshit going on behind the scenes. We got all kinds of resurrected Asians, magic beans, wishful matchmaking... this shit is exhausting, to be honest. But what I've done is that I've remained a true constant through all of it. Never once have I wavered in my convictions or my methods. Not a single moment have I fought for the latest mystical puzzle box of contrivance. I've only ever done one thing here and that's fight.

I've fought for my place since the day I arrived. People have been throwing me to the wolves since the moment I signed on that dotted line. I've had to climb into That Very Ring with so many legends that they had to go dig up some other ones just to see if they could knock me off the pedestal that I built for myself. Sure, I stepped on some people along the way. I had some help collecting the bricks. But this is a throne that I built and that I intend to continue to rule from for a long time coming.

That brings us back around to you, Darkane.

You're the next one of these legendary souls that I'm going to have to send packing to continue to prove my worth. I've destroyed everyone that's come for me and my championship and now you've decided that it's finally your turn. It's your turn to come slithering out of the Seventh Ward Sewer and ride the We Hate Remington train all the way up here to see if you can't be the one to put me down.

And after I'm done with you, I'm sure another magic genie or some other insane shit'll dream up someone else to try this with. Rinse. Repeat. Do Over.

Whatever.

See, I've dealt with psychos like you before. Almost too often. No matter where I decide to hang my scarf, whether it's some podunk hole in the wall bullshit like Kingdom Pro or if it's a world altering megabeast like the Omega Wrestling Alliance. There's always some poor, deluded, angry soul that's had some shitty life and just wants to see the world suffer. You all dress alike. You all have the same tired and lonely facial expression. You all search the same goth and murder shit while secretly listening to the latest Taylor Swift track on your black headphones that you don't think anyone else can hear. You're all a bunch of stray dogs looking for a home but nobody actually wants you around. The bosses tossed you scraps one time and now we're stuck with you.

Yay.

You know what? I take that back. Actually, I am glad old overly aggressive stains on the business like you are still around, Darkane. Legends like you don’t come around too often. And lately it’s starting to seem like you all only start showing your face in a credible or meaningful manner when someone like me comes along. In the past few months alone we’ve seen the return of Baker, Reigner, Rosso, Asian Woman That’s Not Cloud… and yeah, I know you’ve been around this entire time but… have you?

That’s the question, isn’t it? You’ve been slumming it up with Arjen the Grouch so long that a lot of us forgot you were supposed to be the scary one. You’re supposed to be the guy that when someone says “Darkane”, we all start quaking in our expensive boots. We’re supposed to all be nervous to climb into the ring and do battle with the cookie monster of violence because he might hit us with a shopping cart full of sharp things.

Gasp.

Darkane, pal, let me bring you up to speed. There’s nothing that you or your Magic Beanstalk Bean can do to me that I’m  not willing to endure to protect what’s mine. That Immortal Heavyweight Championship is the single most important thing in my life right now. I will do whatever I have to do, use whatever trick I have up my thousand dollar sleeves, grab whatever weapon or OWA fan I can, bring the entire goddamn arena down on your head, sell whatever’s left of my soul to whatever Hell will take it and I’ll do it all with a smile on my face because that’s what being the Immortal Heavyweight Champion means to me.

I came to OWA as a coward. A sniveling and sneaky little runt that hid behind anybody and everybody I could find so that I wouldn’t have to get my hands dirty. I never wanted the world to see this side of me. All I wanted to do was coast my way to the clouds of Mount Olympus and reap the benefits of those lack of actions. I was born with the world in my palm and I didn’t believe there was any other way to live. Now I see that if I’m going to be the one to carry Olympus into this new Era, I can’t be that person anymore. Hell, I can’t be the person that was at Final Destination.

I’m going to have to be something better. Something worse. Something else.

I'm going to have to do things differently. I'm going to have to change everything that everybody thinks they know about me. I'm going to have to ascend to another level that I don't even know if it exists. Stepping up my game isn't going to be enough. I'm going to have to redefine every fiber of my being and I'm going to have to do something that when I first stepped foot onto OWA soil, I never thought I'd ever be in a position to do.

Make an example. Out of you, Darkane.

To be clear, whatever animosity you may have for me or whatever disdain you may have for the way I am or the choices I’ve made? More power to you. If that’s what you need to fuel yourself back into some semblance of relevance then you do what you need to do, buddy. I get it. If you don’t sound like you want to rip my face off and drink a Prescott Smoothie, your whole image is kind of shot. I understand your brand, dude. Say what you have to say to get your… what’re your fans called? Darkies! Kaneinites? Homelesses? Whatever, get “em all riles up. Please. Because I need them to be the first to realize that ol’ Rich Boy Prescott ain’t as big of a chump as everyone seems to think I am. I need them to bear witness to the demise of everything that you used to be and everything that you’re still trying to become.

I need the entire Omegaverse to be standing behind you when we go to war. I need everybody in that arena to be chanting your name and screaming every lackluster obscenity they can come up with at me. I want all the hate that you and all your little Darklettes have to give. Because that is what fuels me. Not rage. Not anger. Not the passion for the sport. Not the need to win.

I live and I breathe to defy expectations. I exist to do whatever the fuck people don’t believe I can do. The entire Omegaverse never thought I stood a chance against Elijah Hampton but look what happened. Everyone wrote me off when the Thunderdome was announced and look what happened. I know that right now the world believes that Darkane vs Remington Ivory Prescott for the Immortal Heavyweight Championship is a cakewalk for you, Darkane. I can damn near feel it in the air.

Good. I hope it stays that way until the goddamn bell rings. I want to feel the way the winds change and the tide turns as I do the unthinkable. I want to be standing in the center of that ring, looking down at your body as I once again hold my Immortal Heavyweight Championship over my head and… fucking laugh. Because once again Remington Ivory Prescott will have done what nobody believed he could. Again, I will have taken everything that you had to give and begged for me. I will have suffered through the pain and the abuse brought down upon me without losing an ounce of fight. And I will have vanquished yet another legend that has dared to attack my Immortal throne.

I want you to understand me, Darkane. I want to be absolutely clear about this. I already have the world. I have more money and power than even I know what to do with. I was born into this life and I will not apologize for being successful. Since I’ve decided to take this hobby of mine more seriously I’ve been considered nothing more than a fraud, a fake, an unworthy asshole that doesn’t deserve the accolades I’ve achieved. It’s hypocritical fuckwits like you, the Omegaverse and fuck it, yeah, the Tres Comas Club too, that would love nothing more than for me to no longer be an entity here in OWA. You all want to eliminate the threat before I become an extinction level event that not a single one of you, Third Owner or Aizen or Whomever Else Is Annoyingly Present This Week, can contain.

I will do to you what I’ve done to everyone that came before you. I will destroy everything in my path to get what I want. To keep what I have. I have sacrificed too much of myself, my life and my soul to just roll over and let The Glow Worm or whatever the hell you call yourself take away the one thing I sacrificed all of those things for. I’ve done far too much to turn back now. My only path is forward and if that means I have to fight every single person that bleeds OwA then line up motherfuckers because I’m not going anywhere.

Darkane.

As much as I would love to hurl a pile of insults at you and claim my superiority and whatever else you expect me to do, I’m a different person now. Lessons have been learned. I’m not who I once was and I will never be that man again. I want you to know that I wholeheartedly support you and your Partner in Grime being the World Tag Team Champions. That’s a good lane for you. You can slum it up down there and get all dirty with the best of ‘em. It suits you.

But this. This Immortal Heavyweight Championship? My baby? My precious? This is not for the likes of you. Not while the blackening heart in my chest still beats. Maybe when I’ve decided to relinquish my throne and walk off into the sunset, maybe then it’ll be your turn. But this is not your moment, Darkane. I’m sorry but you’re going to have to wait a little longer.

So bring me whatever you've got, Darkane. Don't hold anything back. I'm not worried. I'm not nervous. And I damn sure ain't scared.

Come on, man, I haven't been afraid of the Dark since I was five years old.

Grow up.

Location: Undisclosed Location, New York, New York
Time: 2:20 P.M.
Date: 10/3/2023

 
Poet stood on the porch steps and sighed.  The house he was standing in front of looked as though it was about to collapse.  The weatherboards were in need of some serious paintwork, the windows had cobwebs in them, and the garden looked as though it hadn’t been touched in years.  Weeds were growing everywhere, and it took Poet some maneuvering to get himself up what was left of the garden path and to the front door.

The only thing that was completely out of place was the shiny, new truck that sat in the driveway.  While his brother drove him up the wall, it was nice to see him use the money for something other than beer.  God only knew how much money Poet had given to his older brother over the years.  There were times when he had thought to cut him off, but their upbringing hadn’t been easy, and Jake had always been there to protect him whenever he needed it.  So, he figured that this was his way of repaying that protection, even if Jake had often ended up pissing the money away.  To see the truck in the driveway actually made him smile – perhaps Jake had turned over a new leaf after all?

Those thoughts were quickly extinguished when he knocked on the door.  One knock was all it took for the door to slowly creak open.  It sounded as if it hadn’t been used in months.  Poet just shook his head as he stepped inside the house; sitting on the tables, in the hallway, and on the kitchen benches, were bottles of beer.  Most were empty, but some were also at varying lengths of being finished.  Some even had cigarette butts in them.

“Hey Jake, you here?” Poet called out as he continued to wander about the house.

“I’m out on the back deck, you little shit” came the gruff response from somewhere towards the back of the house.  Poet went through the kitchen, past a laundry that was piled high with clothes, and opened the door leading to the backyard.

This part of the house was in better condition than what he had just seen.  An old wrestling ring sat in the middle of the yard, and while it was still standing and had what looked to be functional ropes, it had seen better days.  The grass around it seemed to have been cut recently, and a few trees dotted the back fence.  To his right was a small shed and sitting, to his left, on the deck was his brother, Jake. 

He sat there smiling, beer in one hand and a half-finished cigarette in the other.  Despite the state of the house and what looked to be a diet of beer and darts, Jake looked to be in great condition, something he never had a problem maintaining. 

“So, tell me something” Poet began. “How the hell did you end up with this house?  It might look as though it is moments away from falling down, but it’s still worth something.  Why the hell do you need money to buy a truck when you’ve clearly had enough money to buy yourself a house?”

Jake takes a long drag from his cigarette before responding.

“I didn’t buy it.”

“You… didn’t buy it?  So, you’re just squatting here or something?  That sounds about right.”

“I’m not squatting in it either, Josh” Jake responds with a smile.

“Don’t call me Josh.  You know I hate it.”

Jake chuckles to himself.  “Why do you think I do it, you sook?”

Poet just sighs.  “So, you going to tell me how you got this house, or just act like a child as per usual?”

“I inherited the house,” Jake says as he takes a swig of beer.  “Many years ago, I met a man named Fred, who took me in when I was at my lowest.  He gave me a room and supported me, and I helped with the chores and the overall upkeep on the house.  He passed away a few years back and he left the house to me.”

“I’m… sorry to hear about his passing.”

“I’m not.  The old bastard was a massive pain in the arse.”

“So,” Poet says as he takes a seat opposite Jake “you’re honoring his memory by treating his house like dog shit?”

“You could say that,” Jake says as he takes another drag from the cigarette.  “Without him here it seems like a waste of time to keep the house in good nick.  As long as the fridge works and I can sit outside, then I’ll live.”

“Indeed” Poet responds as he looks around the backyard.  “So, how are you these days?  Apart from the odd phone call asking for money, it’s been a while since we actually caught up.”

“Are you trying to say that I only ever reach out to you when I need something?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying.”

Jake just grunts as he takes a final drag of the cigarette before flicking it onto the grass.

“I’m doing just fine little bro.  I’ve got a house to live in and, last time I checked, a fresh contract with OWA.  So, I can’t really complain.”

“It’s funny you mention that, Jake.  After all this time, why come back?  I mean, you could have told me you were coming back, rather than just turning up after I defended my title so you could once again steal the spotlight.  Say one thing for Jake Keeton, say that he loves making sure that I never get my time in the sun.”

“I’m just keeping you honest, brother.  We can’t have you getting too far ahead of yourself with that little Prestige title around your waist.  You always let things go to your head far too quickly.”

Poet just smiles across the table at Jake.  “It’s funny you mention titles – can you remind me how many you won the last time you were in OWA?  I recall it being a big duck egg.  Zero.  Zilch.  Nada.”

Jake takes a long drink from the beer bottle before putting it back on the table.

“You know, if it wasn’t for that powers that be backstage, I’d have had a title around my waist.”

“Excuses, excuses.  Always blaming someone else.”

“Take a look at the dart board on the wall behind me…”

Poet leans to his left to see an old dart board that has been nailed to the weatherboards behind his brother.  A variety of darts have been thrown into the board, and in the centre is the picture of what appears to be a wrestler, with a few darts puncturing it.

“Well, this gives off serial killer vibes, Jake.  I don’t get the meaning.”

“That’s a picture of Gareth Cason.”

“Who?”

“Exactly.  No one really knew who he was back then either.  I had a match with him many years ago that I was going to win.  My interviews were on point and that piece of shit was nowhere to be seen.  Then, he goes backstage just prior to our match, fellates the writing team, and BOOM… the man is able to get the win.  Work that one out.”

“So, you put his picture on a dart board as a way to get back at him…?”

“Seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“I thought your beef was with Nate Cage” Poet responds as he leans back in his chair.

“If you take a piss later, you’ll see his picture taped to the inside of the toilet bowl.  Again, seemed like a good idea at the time.  I’d have taken it down, but I’ve pissed on it so many times that I’d rather it washes away of its own volition now.”

“Have you ever heard of gloves?”

Jake finishes off his beer and throws the bottle onto the grass in the backyard.

“Yeah, but I’d have to spend money on those, and I’d rather keep what I have left for booze and food.  Nothing else really matters.”

Poet stands up out of the chair and wanders over to the old wrestling ring.  “When was the last time you actually trained?”

“A few weeks ago.  There are a few of us from the gym who don’t mind working out inside the squared circle.  They come over here to use it and sometimes I join them, otherwise they pay me in beer.  It’s a pretty good deal and it keeps me fit.”

“Is that why you’ve come back to OWA?  To see if you’ve still got it?”

Jake doesn’t answer straight away.  Instead, he reaches for the packet of cigarettes and lights one up.  He takes a few puffs before addressing his brother.

“It’s a fair question.  I mean, why should I come back now?  I want to make it clear that it’s not to steal your thunder.”

“You could have fooled me with the way you showed up last week, unannounced.  What else am I supposed to think?”

“I could ask you the same question.  Why go to the same promotion that worked me into the ground for nothing?  Are you trying to prove a point?”

Poet wanders over to the chair and sits down again.  “I came to OWA as it was the first company to offer me a fair deal.  I’d tried a few others and they offered peanuts but here… here was a company that saw something in me.  I knew you had been here before but taking on the moniker of ‘Poet’ meant that they had no idea that we were related.  It was my best chance for success.”

“Well, I guess that’s why I’ve come back,” Jake says as he flicks away some ash from his cigarette.  “I have unfinished business here.  I let my anger get the better of me, again, and when I felt I wasn’t being used properly I decided that I could be of better use elsewhere.”

“Going to strip clubs most nights is not a better use of your time, Jake.”

“Yeah, well, it was better than showing up each week to take the L.  Rather than see Maggall’s man boobs or deal with the incestuous relationship that Harman Ardelean had with his mother, I thought I’d sit at a bar, drink beer, and see a decent set of tits for a change.”

“And now you’re giving up that… life… to come back now?”

“I guess you could say that.  I don’t know how often I’ll be back, but I think the timing is right.  I know, with an opportunity, that I could have done more in OWA and it doesn’t sit right with me that I didn’t achieve that.  So, here I am.”

“So, now that you’re back, are you with me or against me…?”

“I am with you, Josh.”

“That remains to be seen.  And I told you before, don’t call me Josh.”

“And I’ll remind you again that I don’t give a shit.  I’m your big brother, Poet. I’ll always have your back if you need it, but going by the last PPV, it doesn’t look like you need any support.  Looks like you took care of business while barely raising a sweat.”

“Ah, Brody” Poet replies with a smile. “He never really stood a chance.  The man needs to get away from his father.  He is stunting his career.  I had the match won and then Scott Oasis, on what looked to be the urging of a few backstage, tried to turn the tables on me.  Suffice to say, I won’t be voting for him to be president.”

“You always enjoyed holding a grudge,” Jake says with a smile as he takes another drag of the cigarette.

“Going by the pictures you’ve got up; it seems to run in the family” Poet replies.

“So, Jake, what happens from here?”

“Nothing for the moment little bro.  I’m not booked on the next card.  In fact, I’ve spoken with the powers that be and I’m happy to wrestle part-time at the moment.  I could be on the next Olympus card, I could be at the next PPV… or I might not be.”

“So, you won’t be participating in the Clash of the Titans Match?”

“Not at this stage.  I think I’ll leave that to you.  You’ve earned the right to wrestle in that one and, if what I’ve been watching continues, then you’re a fair chance to win it.  It doesn’t look like you’ve got much to go through to get there.”

“Yeah, that’s fair.  When you look down the list of wrestlers it doesn’t inspire any fear.  Jacob Senn?  Meh.  Graham Baker?  Average.  Emmanuelle?  Should be in the kitchen.  Brody?  Been there, beat that.  Count them all as nothing more than names on a list.”

Jake flicks the remnants of his cigarette away and stands up, stretching as he does so.

“Well, I’ll be watching.  That could be from home, the local strip joint, or even backstage… and I expect you to win it.”

Jake then turns and starts to walk inside the house.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m out of beer, so I’m heading out to get some more.  Problem?”

“Other than your alcoholism and your addiction to cigarettes which will put you in an early grave… no.  No problem.”

“Right, so get the fuck out of my house” Jake responds with a grin.

Shaking his head, Poet stands up and walks with Jake through the house and out to the overgrown front yard.  Jake’s new truck still sits in the driveway, while Poet’s Tesla sits on the curb in the street.

“A Tesla?  Really?”

“Not my fault I’ve got the money to buy one.   I also had the money to buy that truck you’ve got sitting there.  I don’t see you complaining about that.”

Jake considers that for a second, shrugs, and wanders over to unlock the driver's side door of the truck.  Before stepping inside, he turns to his brother one last time.

“Now that you’re a Poet, any chance you want to give me one of those poems you’re so well known for?”

Poet smiles, thinks for a moment, and responds:


“You’re an absolute prick, do you know that Josh?”

“Love you too, you alcoholic bastard” Poet responds with a smile.

Jake laughs to himself as he gets into his truck, while Poet wanders slowly over to his Tesla and the short drive home.

Final Destination V.


Post-American DReam TLC Match.


Aria Jaxon didn't wait around for the final match of the night. From the moment she saw the result of the American Dream Championship TLC Match, she knew the aftermath required her attention. The Tribunal saw everything from their locker room. The crew were mostly licking their wounds, frustrated at their loss, but once Aria saw what happened to Stephanie, the bitter taste of defeat quickly left her mouth.

Kenny nor anyone else didn't question Aria storming out of the room. They knew who she was going to look for. Tyler looked at Kenny and pointed at the door with his thumb. The Tribunal figurehead nodded, and watched Tyler follow The Outlaw Queen. 

Tyler was silent in his steps as he remained several feet behind Aria who made a beeline for the Brody section. She didn't need to look behind her to acknowledge Tyler's presence.

Aria Jaxon: You can tell Kenny that I don't need a chaperone. 

Tyler remained quiet, knowing that his latest pseudo-mentor was in her own head. She witnessed her best friend getting betrayed by her wife, and pushed off a ladder when she was seconds from winning the most important title of her career. For some reason, Monica Vaughan has sided with her former captors and Aria wanted answers.

But most of all she wanted to check on Cloud.

Aria stopped at the entrance, watching the other contestants of the match making their way inside. Cloud wasn't among them. Annoyed, Aria grabbed a production guy by collar and started shaking him. 

Aria Jaxon: Is Stephanie still out there!?

Production Guy: She was taken to the medical office-

Before he had a chance to finish, Aria marched away towards the other side of the backstage area. Tyler kept up with her pace, surprised that someone in heels could move so quickly. They turned right and walked to the end of the hallway where Aria walked inside to reveal a med office in disarray. Several shaken staff members stood in the middle of a sea of knocked-over supplies and an upturned gurney. Aria sighed, shaking her head.

Aria Jaxon: Where is she?

EMS Worker: She said she didn't medical attention. She just wanted to get out of here as soon as possible.

Aria and Ty looked at each other as if they had the same idea.

Tyler Kulina: Parking lot.

Aria nodded and the two raced down the hallway as fast as they could to the parking lot. For Aria, this was DEFCON 3. There was no telling what was going through Cloud's head at the moment. The aftermath of that match could have disastrous consequences, and Aria needed to prevent that from happening. 

They reached the parking lot where they saw a familiar blue Tesla exiting the parking lot. 

Aria Jaxon: Damn it!

The Outlaw Queen took out her phone to start messaging the closest people in her friend’s life, as Tyler sighed and placed his hands in his pockets.

Tyler Kuliuna: Where do you think she’s going?

Aria Jaxon: Knowing her…in this state? Anywhere.


Anywhere.


Aka Koto City, Tokyo.



“We touch, I feel a rush, we clutch, it isn't much
But it's enough to make me wonder what's in store for us
It's lust, it's torturous, you must be a sorceress
'Cause you just did the impossible, gained my trust
Don't play games, it'll be dangerous if you fuck me over
'Cause if I get burnt, I'ma show ya what it's like to hurt
'Cause I been treated like dirt before ya
And love is evil, spell it backwards, I'll show ya”

Stephanie moved through the Japanese crowd in complete anonymity with her headphones on. She arrived in her home country with no luggage, just half a day’s travel from the moment she walked out of The Linc back in Philly. She checked out and upon arrival in Japan, had her stuff sent to her penthouse where it would be received by the concierge. She figured she’d have Sora put it in her place. Cloud wasn’t in the mood to be “home” or see anybody at the moment. Thanks to one of her more wealthy friends, she was able to book a private plane to her home country. She didn’t want to be recognized, or hounded by paparazzi. Her whole business was exposed to the world: betrayed by her own wife, Monica. Pushed off the ladder just moments before grabbing the American Dream Championship. Matsuda spent the whole ten-hour plane ride replaying the events over in her head. She was tired and possibly in need of medical attention. But, she couldn’t be anywhere in Philly at the moment, nor anywhere near the home she shared with her wife. She had to be somewhere nobody could find her or think to find her.

Except for one person.

She expected her to find her there, or even already be there waiting for her. Judging from the missed calls and texts, both of her Queens of Wrestling partners were worried about her. As were the rest of her friends, family, and colleagues. She’d speak to everyone eventually but now wasn’t the time. Speaking of which…time was something she needed at the moment. Not a lot of it, just enough to recover in peace and prepare for what lies ahead. 

Using every ounce of strength she had, she willed herself to the block she once frequented back in her JET days. On the block was the noodle house she and Azumi Goto lived above when they were just a couple of rookies in the joshi promotion. Cloud dug in her pocket for the keys and opened the door next to the restaurant where she walked up a flight of stairs leading to the one-bedroom apartment she and Azumi purchased a year ago along with the rest of the building as a personal keepsake.

Stephanie opened the door, feeling the weight of the weekend’s events on her. She could barely keep her eyes open as she walked inside and saw Azumi sitting on the couch looking worried.

Azumi Goto: …Cloud?

Everything went black.


Cloud didn’t want to go to the hospital and Azumi respected her decision. She contacted a private doctor used by her husband’s family to arrive and patch up Stephanie. Fortunately for the Sky Queen, she was going to be okay. Azumi decided to reschedule her meetings for the week and informed her family that she was going to take a couple of days away. The Sakazaki family had qualified nannies to look after her and Kira’s daughter Anna, and honestly, Zumi herself could use a mommy break. Cloud was okay with her being around as long as she didn’t bring up Monica. Azumi trusted Cloud to open up eventually, especially considering how integral Cloud and Monica’s marriage was to future plans. For now, Azumi was a quiet presence, cooking for Cloud and making sure she was recovering the right way. It reminded her of the days they’d spent as roommates in this small apartment they could barely afford in the “good ‘ol days”. Things were so rough then they shared the same bed while alternating with the couch on certain days one of them had an important match coming up and could use the uninterrupted sleep. 

Being away gave Cloud time to check up on the upcoming season of OWA. She received word that was scheduled to participate in Olympus’ very own Clash of the Titans Match. Stephanie sighed to herself. She was eager for combat, but the events that transpired were weighing heavy on her mind. Maybe it was time to address the public and let her thoughts be known to the world. Stephanie sighed and grabbed her phone.


“I don’t know what to say. I know the world wants to hear me talk about what happened back at Final Destination, but I have no words. My mind…is currently a blur at this point when it comes to the past. Maybe I’m exhausted, maybe I feel guilty about the state of my marriage, but the only thing that’s running through my mind right now is to move forward. I must move forward and keep fighting. I have to endure and keep going. I came this far upon my return from retirement. In fact, that action led to where I am now. Do I feel upset? No. I knew the consequences of coming back to action. I’m an adult who makes decisions and accepts the consequences that come my way. Do I like it? Fuck no. The future is so blurry, but I must venture forth. So what’s waiting for me on the other side of this fog? The Olympus Clash of the Titans Match. twenty-nine opps both friend, foe, and stranger. Just another day in the office, for me. I’ve been in battle royals before and quite frankly they are chaotic as hell. One has to keep their wits about them if they want to walk out of this with the opportunity of a lifetime. When the smoke clears, being the last person left standing would make the misery I’ve suffered worth the pain. Both World’s Finest and TCC are here including other various usual suspects like Jacob Senn. He and I share a unique history bonded by trauma and a need for redemption. No matter how much we want to be freed from the bonds of our individual pasts, it comes calling back. I can’t save Senn’s soul when I don’t know what’s even happening to mine. He didn’t get a chance to wield the soul stone, but maybe it’s for the best. Maybe it takes a madman like Darkane to wield it. Unfortunately, this victory won’t be his either.”

“Graham and Reigner, it was fun going to war with you guys. Seriously, I’m looking forward to doing it again. Unfortunately, that belt should’ve been mine, but well you both saw what happened. But once again I have to deter The Corsairs from obtaining something that would benefit me. I’d rather have us on the same side, but it looks like we’ll be at each other’s throats for a little while longer. If that’s the case, then so be it. We’re fighters, this is what we do my friends. The same goes for Michaels and Hendrix. You guys were valuable during my war against Tres Comas Club, but all good things must come to an end. I’m out here on my lonesome against you, Tatsuo, and my dear Nobi. But, no matter what sets us against each other I can say for certain: we all hate Allesandro Devastation. Our homies hate Allesdandro Devastation, as well as our fans, and anyone remotely connected to us. I’m tired of going into specifics about this asswipe but just know and understand this Ally: you won’t get away with what you’ve done.I don’t know what the fuck you did to my wife, but when the time comes, I’m ending this charade once and for all. I don’t think I need to elaborate on what I mean by that. Just know that from the moment you set foot in that ring, if I’m there. You’re my main target sweets.”

“Before I address Emmanuelle and Ryo, I have a…poem of sorts for our esteemed orator on Olympus:

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Omae Wa Mou Shindeiru

If you know, you know.”

“Now, back to Emmy and Ryo. I know things..have been odd. Ryo, I’m fucking worried about you. Sure all eyes are on me about my headspace, but I’m somewhat…level headed. But you? That heart of yours is so corrupted right now. You’re a good kid, Ryo. Don’t go down a path you’re going to regret. I know what that is and what it does to people. I walked down that road and let’s say my actions years ago influenced OWA in a way nobody would expect. Emmy? You did what you could with the Dojo Bros. I know I came at you before, but in all honesty, you worked hard with them. You also fought your ass off in the TLC Match. But…Emms, don’t stand in my way. I’ve been racking my brain about this on my way home when I left Philly. It’s weird - in recent years wrestling has been a place where the powerful and the unreal have crossed paths to fight for control. From the promotion itself to the world as a whole, for some reason, the squared circle exists as a modern-day battlefield of sorts. Sports feuds aren’t the only things settled here anymore. Why is that, I wonder? What could possibly be so important that gods and monsters have to sign a contract with OWA in order to further their causes? And then it hit me: it’s not the promotion itself. Wrestling is one of the most popular - if not - the most popular combat sport in the world. Hell, in general, it's up there with soccer and the NFL. This means it has an audience, hence, subjects that can be controlled. People who can blindly fill your pockets with money or be manipulated to do whatever they want. But, even with that, there’s an even greater power. In pro wrestling, true power doesn’t come from the investors or bookers. It comes from the champions. Whoever is holding the top prize can make or break a company. It can influence minds, and generate a whole generation of future stars. That’s the kind of power we all want. That’s the kind opf power I’ve held in my hand seven times, and currently an eighth time. I’m Miracle Galaxy Pro’s IIW Women’s World Champion. This is a title that would’ve gone into the goodnight with its promotion if MGP didn’t graciously pick it up much like OWA did with Wrestleworld’s  American Dream Championship. I won the AD title when April Song defended it in OWA for the first time. After several defenses on MGP events, I won the IIW title and already elevated it to heights it hasn’t seen in its several-year existence. And you know what? I’m not satisfied. Much like in 2020, I want more titles, more influence, and more power. The only difference from my rivals is I don’t want to use these belts to control people but to inspire and elevate them.”

“The Interracial Twin Towers won’t inspire shit. Love El Landerson, but he’s not the one. RD3 and Rafael are glorified goons and as for Brody, Gunner, and Cletus? They have a ways to go. I’m Stephanie “Cloud” Matsuda, the Sky Queen of Olympus. Future three-time American Dream Champion…

And future Immortal Heavyweight Champion. Know it. Understand it. Believe it.”

 
 
(Sitting comfortably at an unknown beach, wearing an unbuttoned white shirt and matching pants, DT The Ruler is shown in a back view, embracing the wind against his sunglasses as he ends a call with an investor he is connected to. He places his phone down on a rock next to him and takes a deep breath before speaking)
 
I figured this break between Seasons wouldn’t last long. I’m already conducting business like usual outside of OWA, but I had a hunch that this time I have to rest and recuperate physically and mentally would be as short as it was indefinite. Despite those things, I did take any chances I could get to enjoy a few sunsets, breathe different air than the typical city smog I’ve become accustomed to. I just need to just get any moments away I can muster as both a regularly busy businessman and as OWA World Champion. Because I deserve it. I fought for those moments, as rare as they are, so I cherish them a little more now, especially after the Season I’ve experienced in OWA.

And what a season it was. Pain and suffering. Blood, sweat, and tears. All that motivational crap we’re familiar with. It was all that and more for myself and my associates from For The Minorities, as we went to war and despite not being direct winners at Civil War, many of our goals were met heading toward Final Destination V.

However...

(DT The Ruler pulled out a cigar and lighter, quickly lighting the cigar and taking a puff, accompanied by another deep breath)

I understand that at this moment in time, the leverage our alliance once had is not as powerful due to the events of Final Destination V. With Ms. Felix Hartley finding a way to become Womens Champion- or whatever that title will transform into- and “Finish the Whorey” ... I guess that means experiencing the mythical female orgasm, I don’t know... and us as a collective gaining no other championships along the way, that leaves For The Minorities in a worse position. It’s not a place we cannot climb out of, though. Just at this moment in time, we must find way to regroup and get back into focus together. But as we are getting ready to be submerged into the chaos, I must do my part as OWA World Champion and continue to build on what makes a good champion, a threatening champion, a champion that adds worth to the very title he possesses, as well as continue building my legacy as a great in this business. Much like with the Outlaw Championship in my possession, I made an Open Challenge. For sure, there were some people I wish would’ve answered first. I would’ve loved to give Raivo a rematch. Hell, even give Diantha a chance to make part of the new Big Oasis Initiative more obvious while his Campaign is still going. But instead, I heard a name unexpected. Mr. Nate Cage answered the challenge first, and I’m not going to complain. Why? Because this is one of the things I went to war for: equal opportunity. Open opportunity. Because as much as I may have my preferences for everything in my life, I will not pose like Mr. Damian Lillard in his trade request and restrict myself when it comes to options, as that is not what champions or actual competitors do.



You introduction as to who I am- according to you- was beautiful, eloquent, like hearing Shakespeare with a modern twist. You even start with something close to the right idea of addressing me as “Mister Ruler”. Excellent Bait, Mate. I applaud you for starting as you should when you speak my name, and honestly: you should’ve kept treading that path. It was more noble, more coherent, and honestly: more truthful. Let me start off by giving you a few pieces of advice before you and I meet one-on-one. The first is to smile more. Yeah, sure, women hate it when men tell them to do that, but in your case: you should be happy. I made an Open Challenge with no strings attached, and you’re in! CONGRATULATIONS! You get to meet the rare, one-of-a-kind Singles Match for a World Title! I mean I haven’t experienced that myself until I became champion, so I know how it is. I mean I won the title in a Clash contest- by the way, it was the second one I’ve been in- but the point still stands: these situations are uncommon, so embrace it! Enjoy it! LIVE LAUGH LOVE!

...

And continue to be real.

And I want to be real about many things but one specific thing you’re holding onto I’ll address first, and that is the circumstances of my contest at Final Destination V. Mr. Raivo is one of my partners and business associates. Mr. Raivo is also a friend, no doubt. And despite that, we looked at each other and said, “If we have to fight, we have to go all out.” Because no friend should have kid gloves on in this business. The best at any given moment have to rise, and the ones people remember rise to the occasion consistently. And that is what you can find all over Season 5 when The Ruler is spoken of: consistency. No matter who I face, big or small, champion or not, I do not spare anyone and their feelings. It would be disrespectful to. So understand, Mr. Nate Cage: as much as you speak about my match vs. Mr. Raivo being friendly, that’s not what I’m used to by any means. I’m used to antagonism, I’m used to looking across the ring and seeing an enemy, I’m used to my opponents being on some gangsta shit, and I’m used to making every moment in that ring feel like torture for my opponents. My last title match had a rare aura of respect between brothers, though still competitive. But just to warn you, Mr. Nate Cage...


My first defense as Outlaw Champion was against a desperate Alejandro De Leon, who even had a member of the “Mafia” he’s connected to interfere on his behalf...and I still retained. My Tag Team Championship defenses were filled with many desperate out-of-fucks-to-give members of this roster, including the current Tag Team Champions themselves... and myself and Raivo retained multiple times. The biggest fight in what you called our “Race War” attempt was filled with desperate and out-of-fucks-to-give members of Thotessey and The Frontline. The very match I won the OWA World Title in was filled with some of the most desperate and hungry members of OWA’s roster. What you’re promising to bring to the ring in our match is not unfamiliar territory at all.

In fact, I’d argue that it’s the norm.

Psychosis, unpredictability, lack of control: I do oppose those things, as those characteristics almost ruined my adult life as it was beginning, and I caught myself just in time and changed for the better. The fruits of my labor I can experience because of that change of pace, and I would never go back to living with reckless abandon. It sounds fun, entertaining, until you can’t pay your medical expenses or for the essentials and must constantly steal for such things. And I tell you these things so you come into our match with the right idea of what you’re facing. You are astute in noting how brutal my contest was against a man I consider a brother. So with the Kickoff Show approaching, and me getting some rest and time to heal my nagging aches and pains, do you really believe I’m going to enter a match for the World Championship, MY CHAMPIONSHIP, on friendlier terms against... you? With the so-called Race War me and the rest of For The Minorities still leaving a mark in OWA, do you believe I’m going to approach you like Dudley from Street Fighter and desire to Fight Like Gentlemen?

(DT The Ruler takes another puff of his cigar to remain calm)

I hope not, Mr. Cage, because that will only make your destruction all the quicker, though I wouldn’t mind shooting for a PERFECT KO right from the get-go. Whether friend or foe, man or woman, my sole goal when I enter the ring and see who my opponents is to triumph over them by any reasonable- albeit brutal- means. If dropping them on their head doesn’t do it, I’ll dump them down again. If locking them in the Ruler’s Throne doesn’t do it, I will escalate to the next painful submission. With the many battles I have survived to make it to this point, the many various opponents I’ve had to contend with in order to be where I am today as champion, know that coming into this rare type of Championship scenario for you with the thought that fighting without honor is going to backfire... because I deal with that regularly. With this match coming, you taking up the energy of Desperate Incarnate is expected, as I bet you never thought this situation would even be likely for you.



You see, I speak of my allegiances with For The Minorities, as I hold them all to utmost importance because we fought together to get the results we desired. I see you and the rest of the Tribunal trying to do similar. You’re not fighting for the same reason we fought, no, but you are trying to be the same level of threat we became, Mr. Cage. I’m not too occupied with my own business affairs to notice that The Tribunal is still in the struggle.  When you seem to be getting some momentum, someone interferes with it and says “No.” Right as you pick up and gain some leverage, someone your group disrespected events the odds. And I know that rubs you all in your egos the wrong way. Where For The Minorities succeeded as a collective, The Turbinal right now is stumbling. And it’s not just my success you want you stop seeing happen: it’s everyone in my group. You don’t want us to succeed or overcome, and fortunately for us: that is not for you to decide. The assertive, the bold, the daring, and the strong-willed are the ones who decide in this business, and one of those people is the current OWA World Champion. We could’ve sat around on OWA’s Twitter spaces.... well, it’s X now, right... and complained like little bitches. We could have run to Oasis and Kenny Drake and whatever other General Manager is around and attacked them. But instead, we decided to attack the problems we had head-on.

But my current problem is you, Mr. Cage. Desperation is a sensation many wrestlers I know experience when it comes to Title Matches, especially this may be your best chance because it’s one-on-one. But I know with your Tribunal connections, it might not stay that way. But a difference between you and I is that I’m coming into this very prepared for whatever random shenanigans and nonsense you may muster up. My head will be on the swivel as I defend my championship and break you down piece by piece. And after I’m done dishonorably beating you down and my hand is raised and the title is returned to the comfort of my left and right hands, I want you to make another respectful summation of my dominance over the OWA landscape. I want you to proudly communicate to the OWA Universe about That Time You Lost to your Master and Ruler, the OWA World Champion.

 
 

Being aware of your opponent is not something pathetic. Something pathetic is to not be able to can say „thank you”. I feel really sorry for you Aria, that you never heard from your opponent any hyping and respected things to be that shocked to pin a really big attention on how I pay a tribute to your career. I am not even shocked about what you have throw to my person. I could have predicted this. I tripped you over myself because I respect you and I see you as a mentor of all women including me. I am not ashamed of this. You want to tell me that having hype videos or posters about a match is something like Final Destination level? I am so glad. Have you even had one on your lately Final Destination Match? No? Maybe that’s why you reacted like this. But it is okay Aria, I always loved your confidence. You of course don’t need a one because your huge name is on match card already and it speaks for itself. And yeah, that’s right „sHe HaVe hEr OwN fiNal DestinAtiOn”. This match is straight out of my dreams. I saw us someday at the biggest stage of them all. I don’t really think it is something to be ashamed of. Did you never had your mentor? Did you never saw it coming to be someone’s mentor?  That someone in the future will really respects you? Now I can see; that THIS is pathetic. You don’t know Aria how to be thankful for moments like this. I am enjoying every single match like it is my destiny and a step to better things. But this one it is not like every single one. Maybe I am not a huge name that everyone can recognize — but this is still in progress, because I will become a huge name when I will beat you for your OWA’s title.

I love your spirit about coming back to ring shape after your maternity. You don’t gave a single fuck about people’s hates about your long career, that you lost a step, you are just going and going and going for things that we can’t even imagine. It really motivating me to work on myself and don’t look back at all of these hates. Because I wanted to build them up while they tear me down. But the only thing you lost — is your goddamn mind and pride. To tell that you were in same comeback situation and now for making me pathetic for that. I will enter the ring for the first time in like 3 fucking years. I can’t be blindsided. I have seen enough. I was in the same situation when I faced Tarah Nova, it builded me. But this losing streak to icons must comes to the end and to make YOU now get blindsided by a reality hit. Blindsided not only by losing to a newcomer — but losing your dignity and championship. I promise you Aria, that you will eat your own words in the future. I am on completely different state of mind right now. I truly believe in myself. I am not returning to be just a place holder. I have returned to take what’s mine and to prove that I can be on main event level. 

At this point I don’t really need you to believe that I am some conquering hero like you think, or that I am easy to beat based on how you described how our match will end. But in one condition you are right - I am about to be a kind of statistic, I am about to continue your losing streak with another L. And that’s how shit changes Aria. I said that I was watching you back in 2015. I am fully aware of your current achievements in current company. Really, good for you that you have won matches against „people like me” to maintain a place where are you now. But currently you are in a place when „PEOPLE LIKE ME” gets to business and just starts their own road. It doesn’t speaks for itself enough Aria? Are you sure that you maintain the right position? That you got chosen to be my first match up? Now that’s Aria some SHIT CHANGE. We are in the situation when „revolution” girl came along with a reason. To just come in and knock their competition off. 

But thank you for proving me wrong that you are not the right person to be seen like a mentor. I care about people. That is why I am coming back. To take what you took from these girls who had hopes for a better tomorrow. You took them their confidence about making a change. People are scared and they do not have anymore thoughts about being someone bigger because of you. A bad bitch with a god complex. I have not even entered a ring already and I am done of hearing your stereotypes. And you know what Aria? There is no place anymore of „I will”. This season six kickoff I am about to just do it. I am opening this season with Christie Sky on completely another level with Outlaw Championship on her waist. 

Yes, I want to pick back my position and build it directly to the top as it was my main goal. It’s actually still is. Shit Sherlock, there is nothing to be surprised of. This comeback match is my opportunity. I thought my mission is to try myself with an icon and my longterm idol. Doubts for that. I know that my mission is to cross your doorstep and to take off your own house with a long history. 

That would be fucked up, wouldn’t it Aria?  

I told you that I am ready. I am ready for you and to proudly continue a history of Outlaw Championship. I am aware of my words; I still believe that it will be hard to beat you. Because you are hell of a wrestler. I am thankful to OWA for taking me to this place. To you. Because I am still in state of mind that this match isn’t based on the Outlaw Championship. There can be the victors without championships. There people can look at you with pride, without you throwing to their face that you were a champion. My proof will speaks for itself when after our match, I will beat you. Beat someone who have nothing to prove without her gold. It looks like this Aria. They will look at me and will just know who the hell Christie Sky really is. Maybe it can look like OWA gave me a chance for a title on silver platter, but I am just reclaiming what I was supposed to earn before my injury. I worked to become a champion back 3 years ago, now I am continuing my legacy. In some reason; I can’t pretend to be shocked about championship match, right? I am just getting started again with some build position. It is like starting a new chapter but with history behind it.

Bring your possessive position as you said and show me why I adored Aria Jaxon so much. Cry me a river. Your reign has come to the end. There’s no redemption in my eyes. The only thing I can put a blame on is my injury. I am really happy that you love your job so much and you see every match as a next task. But so am I. You may have build in some kind Odyssey, Kingdom or a whole company, but after some time of living in it, a home needs some makeover. When a family grows, they need a bigger home. And I am up for it. I came here honestly not as that too new member of this company — but I will CREATE a new home, brick by brick. For me, my future and other new talents. It is time to move out. If you Aria want to continue hold on your ideals of what "should" happen this day because most people who were like me that you have faced never achieved anything in this company, they let down the fans, creative team or they just disappeared, then let's definitely ignore everything and let the better woman win to check if I am the same like the rest. It's a big match, after all it's my comeback. The Outlaw Championship is on the line. Of course I am hyped about that and I will remember this forever. But every time you pass a big moment like this, it becomes ordinary. Suddenly meeting you in the ring next time won't be a big deal anymore, because after that I am sure that I will head further. But with such a start like this; The gates of glory will be wide open for me. 

This is called being hungry. And I am damn hungry. I certainly won't rest on my laurels and won't boast all the time about the fact that I defeated great Aria Jaxon for her Outlaw Championship. No. I am not that weak. It can seems that my extroversion throws me off my rhythm. But as I said it will be ordinary in a couple of months. And maybe it happens when you still try to claim that your credibility needs to be acknowledged by all of that achievements? Yeah.

I have many weaknesses, more than strengths, and I have never been afraid to show them to the world. I learned to accept them and live with them. As for me, I don't mind any chance that allows me to take it and to wake up next day to a new world. Am I better than you? I like to believe that. If anyone in this company is worthy of this momentum - it's me. I have always been proud of my ability to turn people not to be afraid to dream, just like me. Now Aria maybe it is time to wear rose-colored sunglasses again and see the reality. It is my comeback story. And thank you for changing my mind; I sure have to win. Because winning is everything to shut you up with your damn god complex. 

Honestly, I do not like the situation that we live in. Same old, same old. There is no hope. But I have the power to takeover. 

What I do now inside and outside of this ring fits the bigger picture. 2020’s Christie Sky was not even in the small picture. After our match, I will not go under to the repeated pattern of a champion. I want to be remembered and respected as Christie Sky. I want to make sure that nobody’s reign can equal mine. You may still be a terror to the new talents here at OWA, but not for me anymore. I DESERVE this spot and at this moment I may not get a fraction of the respect I expected, but when you are as motivated as I am, nothing can stop you from getting what you want. And I want what you have. You. OWA’s Outlaw Championship. Top place of Omega Wrestling Alliance.

I am about to shock everyone and be a miracle to this company. So see you Aria at Season Six Kickoff Show, be ready to handle your bankruptcy and say a nice goodbye to your title.

( The scene opens inside the home of The Romani King Mark Michaels. It’s here we find Michaels friend and Confidant, Harman Ardelean, racing up the stairs to the second floor.)


Harman Ardelean: Where is he?!?

( Ardelean practically Storms into Michaels’ bed room where he finds his charge zipping up his gym bag.)

Harman Ardelean: Where do you think you’re going?

Mark: I gotta flight to catch.

Harman Ardelean: The hell you do! You’re barely out of the hospital, you need to healing up here at home.

Mark: I’m fine.

( Mark picks his bag up off the bed. His face winces from the pain that shoots through his body. Mark Takes a deep breath and steadies himself before taking a step towards the door. Harman quickly reaches out a hand to make him stop in his tracks. )

Harman Ardelean: Woah, woah, slow down. I don’t know what you’re thinking, but you’re wanting to go into a fight with 20 other guys in the ring, and for what?! So they can finish the job Prescott pulled on you in the Thunderdome? So you can spend a few months in the hospital?! In case that little sting that makes it hurt every time you breathe wasn’t a clear enough warning, every single man and woman in that ring is gonna see a bull’s eye on your belly. What in the world can be so important that you risk your career, and more importantly, you’re health and livelihood for huh?!

( Mark lets the strap of his bag slide off his shoulder. The bag lands with a heavy thump. Michaels looks Ardelean square in the eye before he speaks.)

Mark: What’s so important is that I’m not letting the lasting image of Mark Michaels be me damn near bleeding out inside the Thunderdome.

Harman Ardelean: So your ego is what’s making you act a damn fool?! Jesus Mark nobody thinks any less of you-

Mark ( Interrupting): THIS ISN’T ABOUT WHAT OTHER PEOPLE THINK OF ME! THIS IS ABOUT BEING ABLE TO LOOK MYSELF IN THE MIRROR AND NOT SEE A GUY WHO DAMN NEAR DIED!

( Michaels takes a moment to compose himself.)

Mark: I don’t want the memory of how that Thunderdome ended for me, I don’t want that to be how I start off the new season. I can’t let what happened in season 5, all the cheep shots, the sucker punches, the getting screwed time and again, and the just plain falling short. I can’t let that carry on. Goddamn every moment of Last season felt snake bit, and this in a year where I set a record for reigns with the Prestige Championship that won’t be touched any time soon. Experienced an explosion in popularity. And reached new heights in my career. All that, but I’m still lacking the one thing puts an end to all the doubts my critics have, and solidifies me as the head honcho here on Olympus. I need to be out there on the OWA Kickoff because I can’t let myself be comfortable and complacent with being the guy who is only employed because Brandon Hendrix allowed me to win. I can’t be satisfied being the guy whose face is blown up all over the poster for the biggest show of the year, only to fizzle out and tie for third place. I… I Just can’t Harman.

I need to be out there, I need to wash the taste of everything I’ve been through out of my mouth. I need to go out there and show the world, and more importantly prove to myself that I’m just as good in that ring as anyone you could name. That I’m not just all smoke and no fire. I need to set the tone, right here, right now, that this isn’t gonna be a rehash of everything I went through. I need to start this season off the right way. Best way to do that is to hop the flight to Saudi Arabia, run through 29 mother fuckers, and get back to challenging for the Immortal Heavyweight Championship, because you know I ain’t gonna wait in line to get me a crack at that son of a bitch who shanked me.

Harman Ardelean: Mark, I know you want to win a world championship, I know it’s all you’ve ever wanted to do since you were a boy, but don’t you think you stand a better chance of becoming a world champion if you were closer to 100 percent before trying to challenge for one.

Mark: Oh this isn’t just about winning a championship. See, winner of this Clash of the Titans match, they go on to face the Immortal Heavyweight Champion. And that means they’re either facing Darkane, who I still owe an ass kicking for the shit he’s pulled. Or they’re gonna face that little silver spoon shit. Should Remington find a way past Darkane, I know that he’ll be feeling untouchable, unstoppable. I know that his already inflated ego will be puffed up like a hot air balloon, and it will be the perfect time to send him crashing back to earth. As much as I want to just straight up beat the shit out of Prescott, I know nothing would hurt him more than for him to lose that Immortal Championship to a guy who he thought he was rid of once and for all. The guy he thought he put down for good. For RIP to lose to someone who came from where I came from, that would be too much for that jackass to handle. Nothing would hurt Remington more than for me to be the man to take that title from him. He’d never live it down. So if it means I have to go through 20, 30, 50, or even a hundred competitors just to get the chance to cause RIP that kind pain and suffering for all the misery he’s put me through. Well then so be it. Nothing and nobody is gonna stop me from getting my hands on that money grubbing bastard.

Harman Ardelean: Mark i understand you’re angry, but you don’t think that there’s a whole locker room full
Of people who want to get a crack at Remington Prescott just as badly as you do? Think about how Nobi was inches away from winning it all at Final Destination. Or what about Ryo and Dampshaw, and how the two of them had a lust for blood that I’m not sure was quenched in the Thunderdome? And that’s not even mentioning Hendrix, Noah Reigner, or Cloud Matsuda. Mark this man has managed to piss off seemingly everyone.

Mark: But it’s a whole different level between him and me. Nobi wasn’t made a slave to that asshole, Brandon Hendrix wasn’t fired because of him, and Ryo didn’t have a knife jammed in his guts! I’m not saying those guys don’t have perfectly valid reasons to want to tear Prescott a new asshole, but nobody in that ring has been screwed over time and again by RIP the way I have. And seeing how patient I’ve been waiting for the chance to get the
Jewfro rocking jackass one on one, the line to get a piece of him starts behind me.

Harman Ardelean: Look Mark, I’m not trying to argue with you. But you seem to not be hearing what I’m saying. Who do you think everyone from Jacob Senn to El Landerson sees as a threat? You know damn well that Dampshaw and Poet are gonna do everything that they can to keep you from getting a clean shot at RIP. Hell Graham Baker would try to put you on the shelf permanently just for the thrill of it.


Mark: You don’t think I know what I’m facing out there Harman? You don’t think I don’t realize what kind of shape I’m in before this match? I am honestly a little disappointed in you. You know when an animal is wounded it’s at its most dangerous, because it is kill or be killed. If anyone should know that Harman, it should be you. If anyone should know that I will cling to anything and everything I can to avoid elimination, if anyone should know that I will hang on and hang in that match like my life depended on it, it should be you. Yeah I get it, everyone is a psycho in that ring, that I’m surrounded by sharks who smell blood in the water. No friends in this one, no allies.

There’s a ton of guys who’d just as soon step on my neck as look at me. Guys I’ve never been in the ring with like Poet, The Golden Gauntlet, and Cletus the slack jawed yokel. If I was in the shoes of anyone of these new faces here on Olympus, to take their best shot at one of the top dogs, and start the season off making the biggest bang possible. So when it comes to any of the new blood, I know not a one of them will hesitate to be the man who put down Mark Michaels. Well I’ll be damned if I just sit back and allow this opportunity to slip past me. So the way I see it, it’s initiation week here on Olympus, and your first trail comes in the form of a ass kicking the likes of which you have never seen before. I’m fixing to do on to others before they even have a chance to do on to me. Welcome to Olympus boys, try not to take what comes next personally.

But the newbies aren’t the only people I gotta watch out for. Sure as the pope shits in the woods and a bear is catholic, There’s people like Cloud Matsuda who I respect the hell out of just itching to stand on top of Olympu. Now as much as I hate the bullcrap she’s had to endure at the hands of the Tres Comas Jackasses, I was pumped to see Stephanie lace up the boots again. Hell I’ll even admit that I was cheering Q-O-W when she came out of retirement. But she, along with every other man and woman knows damn well that respect in this sport means you don’t go easy on anybody. So I wouldn’t expect anything less than for how ever many sons of bitches they pile into that ring than to want leave me laid out like I was at Final Destination. Cloud has as much skill and talent as anyone in that ring, and with a lucky number, it wouldn’t be a surprise to see her win it all. It wouldn’t be if I wasn’t there. Cloud is a great competitor, but even she isn’t bringing the kind of heart and hustle that I am. I’m fighting tooth and nail to win this. Ain’t no getting around this Romani Sand storm about to hit Saudi Arabia, and when it does, even the Queen will bow to the King.

I don’t expect someone like Graham Baker who ccalls me a nut hanger, funny when the only way he got his world championship was tugging at the testies of Scott Oasis. The same World Championship that he managed to lose twice in the matter of a night. To take it easy on me. Last run he had here he had to abuse his power as commissioner of Olympus to get a title shot he didn’t earn, and then ran as fast as he could to get as far away from Noah Reigner. All that and somehow this crazy asshole is calling me dogshit?! Remind me which one of us was just in the main event of Final Destination? Who’s been carrying the Olympus Brand while the other done fucked off for a year and a half till he got to ride Noah Reigner’s dick into the hall of fame?! I think Baker’s been away too long, he’s forgotten that Mark Michaels is not some gentle lamb to be slaughtered. He forgets how he damned near had to kill me to beat me. How after taking his worst, I got right back up and brawled with him and a shit ton of security. If that’s the case I’ll be more than happy to toss his Gijin Goomba ass over that top rope, and send him back to being the grim reaper, or flipping burgers, or whatever the fuck he’s been doing since final destination 5.

And where Baker goes, his best buddy Reigner can’t be far behind. I’m not gonna lie, I have been wanting another shot at that dude, ever since it came down to me, him, and Darkane, I’ve dreamed going toe to toe with the man once more. Yes he’s a hall a gamer, well deserved accolade if you ask me, but considering where I was when we last faced off to where I am now, what would it be like for Mark Motherfucking Michaels, backed by everyone riding along in the cosmic caravan, to battle it out one more time with that dude. If he thinks it was tough enough trying to put me down when I was nothing more to him than Nathan Fiora’s disciple, then boy is he in for a long night when he faces the Romani King.


Should I keep going on?! I could run my mouth all damn day about Rambeaux, or Barrera, or Brody, or even El Landerson once he remembers his password on his social account. I could talk and talk all damn day and give you all the reasons why I’m gonna kick off the newest season of OWA by winning this clash of the titans match, before making good at game over and becoming the new OWA Immortal Heavyweight Champion. I could talk, but I’d much prefer to show them all.

( Mark begins to Reach down to grab his bag. He’s stopped by Harman. Michaels begins to protest but Ardelean simply picks up the bag for him.)

Harman Ardelean: If you’re gonna do this you’re gonna need your strength. Just do me one favor, and make sure you win this mother fucker.

Mark: Harman, I promise you that by the time this kickoff show is over, I’ll be the last man left standing in the Clash of The Titans, and there when it is all said and done there will 29 other Olympians who will have hailed to the king baby.

( Harman nods in agreement and leads the way out the door, and on towards the OWA Kick Off Show.)