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 OWA Promos!

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PostOWA Promos!

Here is where you can post your work for upcoming matches on weekly shows or major events, or just put up a piece for character development. Before you get started here are the rules of the page!

-There is a TWO promo limit for our regular weekly shows and THREE for our major events!

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

-NO DOUBLE POSTING! If your opponent has not responded there is no need to follow up with extra responses.

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

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

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

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Re: OWA Promos!
Post on 5/12/2018, 11:54 pm by CM Nas
[[The camera opens up to showing CM Nas and Rick Walton conversing in Nasir’s home office. Rick turns to the camera then smirks.]]

Rick Walton: LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! I give you the Omega Heavyweight Champion and the BEST Champion and Wrestler ALIVE…..C! M! NAS!

CM Nas: Thank you as always Rick.

Rick Walton: Oh it’s nothing Champ, now tomorrow is the big day for you huh? First ever Omega Heavyweight Title defense. Tables, Ladders, and Chairs! Against Miltiades and Jacob Senn!

CM Nas: My first true test here in OWA. For you see a lot of things have changed over the course of the past few months for many MANY people that led them all down this path to Hardcore Havoc, including myself. You have people like Aria Jaxon, Scott Oasis, Finnegan Wakefield, Kenny Drake and Myself who all came from the same circle, this former land we inhabited which we have now quickly come to realize is simply one small corner of the entire world of wrestling. On the inverse however, we have new faces trying to etch their name into history for the first time. Scratching and clawing for every opportunity to make an impact in our modern day business. Such blue chip prospects as Scotty Adams, Gareth Cason, Christopher Sabertooth, Bull Connors, and Nate Cage. These guys aren’t pulling any punches as they realize any and all momentum they can snatch away from us veterans will benefit them immensely! But lemme stop speaking so generally. Let’s cut to the chase shall we? Let’s speak specifically on my Championship Defense. The Omega Heavyweight Championship and my two contenders. We have men who fit into both slots of men I described just now. A veteran who’s become a Pillar in this industry, and a young gun who is firing on all cylinders to reach the top as soon as humanly possible. They’re both damn good, I cannot deny. I have all the respect for what they are capable of inside of this ring. However as people I don’t care for them for their own individual reasons. On top of that my motivation is to not only survive, but THRIVE night in and night out with this here Omega Heavyweight Championship! I will hold on to this title for the foreseeable future and not a single individual will ever faze me! 

[[CM Nas takes hold of the Omega Heavyweight Championship sitting on his desk as Rick Walton claps for him.]]

Rick Walton: Now Nas, don’t forget in about a week’s time you’re gonna have to return to Mexico City to defend the Azteca De Lucha Heavyweight Title in a fatal four way match!

CM Nas: Yes, I know all too well Rick, then I’m flying back out to Newcastle to put my Proving Ground Wrestling World Championship up in a Falls Count Anywhere match.

Rick Walton: And of course your obligations to the Phantom Troupe in Strong Style Wrestling,

CM Nas: I dominate all forms of our art. I’m not just a jack of all trades, because that implies you are good at everything, but not special in any significant area. I am The Best in every single category you can think of!

The Best in British Mat Wrestling

The Best in Lucha Libre

The Best in Puroresu

The Best in good ol’ American Wrasslin

Rick Walton: You name it and my client is the man on top of it! Grappling, Striking, High Flying, Submissions, Promoing, Promoting, and the list goes on, and on, and on!

CM Nas: Everyone already knows all of that though. But it needs repeating for a world wide event such as Hardcore Havoc, just so it truly seeps into everyone’s skulls! 

Rick Walton: Proudly proclaim yourself to the world Champ!

CM Nas: C! M! NAS!

Rick Walton: Absolutely!

CM Nas: Now let’s get down to business about the men themselves. Let’s start it off with the new blood, Miltiades. I like your attitude. You’ve got the in ring ability, you present yourself like a true competitor. You speak like wrestling royalty. You carry yourself as if you’re already a champion. If I had it my way, I would take you under my wing and fly you all the way to the top. And clearly you have good taste as you recognize the good in me as a champion and a wrestler. But trust me Miltiades, you are a damned fool. You pride yourself on certain qualities, then turn right around and downplay others for the exact same things. My matchup with Gareth is something any man including yourself would be proud of win, lose, or draw. Don’t you dare lie to me. I created a masterpiece in that ring on that night. I put that kid on a pedestal! Not that he couldn’t carry his own weight, he most certainly did. BUT at the end of the day, it was just another day in the office for yours truly. I compete in highly dangerous matches all across the globe for a multitude of promotions on a weekly basis! You simply cannot stack up to me as you are Miltiades. Perhaps in a couple of months at the very least once you’ve built up more of a resume before attempting to size up with The Best Wrestler Alive! At your best you are a poor man’s CM Nas, and at your worst you are someone who needs to be carried full on by your Tres Comas Club boys to even stand a chance of making it to this Triple Threat Free Per View Matchup! 

Rick Walton: And I presume Andre Virgo won’t be an issue either?

CM Nas: Naturally, if I see Andre out there once that match has started, he’s a dead man just like Miltiades. But let’s talk as far as Jacob Senn is concerned. Talk about a man with an obsession. After EVERYTHING that’s gone on. All the travelling, all the politics, even you taking over as the head guy for Strong Style Wrestling...and yet you STILL cannot get over the fact that I’m just a better wrestler than you Jacob. It’s just pitiful if you ask me. You truly are a sad sad little man. You don’t belong in the same ring as me anymore Senn. I’ve proven my dominance over you time and time again. At this point it’s not even enjoyable to see you suffer in defeat anymore. It’s beyond old and beyond annoying. You didn’t do ANYTHING to earn this matchup or your place in it. You just waltzed on in and flexed your seniority and got your way. You can do that and no one bats an eyelash, but imagine if I did the exact same thing. People would be outraged. I would never hear the end of it. But that’s fine. Because you know what Jacob Senn will never hear the end of after his defeats? “HERE IS YOUR WINNER, C! M! NAS!” Miltiades will not be building his roman empire, nor will Jacob “regain retribution” against me for “past crimes” against him. What will happen is an example of what WILL happen at every Free Per View. CM Nas walking away still as Champion as his opponents lie in defeat, their dreams shattered to pieces and their bodies broken in half. I triumphantly raise the Omega Heavyweight Championship which I make the single most important title in all of Professional Wrestling. And More and More people begin to follow my almighty gospel. My word is absolute. I am divine justice. I am the law. And the law of this land is stay out of CM Nas’ way or you will be destroyed! Jacob Senn and Miltiades are simply the examples that will be set for those who are too foolish to keep their heads down.

HAKAI!

[[The camera fades away as Rick Walton pats CM Nas on the back and the two smirk towards the camera.]]
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Re: OWA Promos!
Post on 5/12/2018, 11:50 pm by CASPIAN
HARDCORE HAVOC: MIS PALABRAS SON DE ORO.

DESERVED.

I am a man who deserves the best treatment, women, facilities and especially OWA’s most prestigious belt.  The Spartan’s belt has been looking at me with eyes of lust, begging for a conqueror to snatch her away from the hands of nothingness.  I’ve seen the way she looks at me, knowing that I’m the right one for her; the one who will hold her with dignity, honor y respeto. These other hungry and one-and-done perros would just use her as a prize instead of her meaning; the Spartan.  I can’t imagine a reality where these pedazos de basura throw around their weight and make this championship feel less than the rest. For weeks, this American authority and their puppets are keeping me away from holding you and showing you off to the rest of the world.  However, this stops now because I will prevail and hold this championship, no matter what the rest of my opponents say! I stay here with no more toleration of my mistreatment and how I’ve been cast aside from these average peasants. I am a gem this world has not seen shine yet but I’m not letting them ignore me.  Every man in this match wants to make a moment for themselves here, but I highly doubt anyone else here will be able to stand up to what I have planned for this match. Tengo estrategias y estos putos no van a ver lo que tengo planeado por esto. This company deserves my revenge after what I’ve been put through for the last couple of weeks, especially last week.  Ese viejito loco set his kingdom of gringos to assault me after they disrespected me. Vernon knows that I can wipe them all out with the snap of my fingers, but I’m too classy to do such a thing as that. I want to slap that fat perro in the face and make him respect me, so I will do this by winning the Spartan’s title and shoving it in his face. He deserves this more than anyone he’s signed; he knows he’s trying to hold un hombre real chingon like me from being accomplished en este país.  

Scotty Adams, you got lucky, cabron.  You only managed to take me down when I was unjustly attacked by these salvages!  Esos gorillas almost killed me and you supposedly take me down with your own strength.  That’s a load of basura! Everyone saw how abused I was and how much heart I still had to fight you.  If you were a real man, you would’ve let me regain my strength and let me finish you like I’m going to finish you off this Sunday.  You keep a calm composure and talk a tough game, but I’m going to dissect you like the pig you are. Scotty, you are nothing compared to me.  You are just like your wife; a nobody who no one would care about if you never showed up in OWA. Why should these people even care about a no-charisma puppet like you?  The agenda of this company want you because you are so easy to mold. Your face is going to end up on posters and mugs yet they’ll frown at the idea of me getting a shot around here.  How is that fair to a man like me? A man loved by his people back home and respected by his peers, yet can’t get the mere opportunity to main event a show or get anything in return. I don’t need to work hard for it because I’ve already worked hard enough to get here.  You remind me of average wrestling Joes that I can find in underpaid promotions, but hell maybe they’ll make a better match for me. I’d be more impressed in their motivation than you because you’d rather go the cheap way out than actually defeating me. I’m unimpressed with your supposed streak Scotty because you don’t deserve it in my eyes.  What makes you so much more better than I? It’s not like you have more charisma and emotion than me. I’m full of both while you stand around like every generic superhero! Meanwhile I’m a man with a troubled past; someone who has to defend himself every day from his opposition. You don’t have to deal with this burden every day and come defend his honor in front of an American audience.  You aren’t constantly disrespected by American authority and told to “fight” for what deserves to already be mine. I’ve been screwed since my first week here and they expect me to fight? This organization is full of injustice, yet I am told that I have to keep fighting under their biased regime? They continue to push me to the edge of my tolerance and once they break it, I will make sure every single member on this roster regrets it.  

I don’t care about every other man in this match but me, I can talk about myself for the rest of my life.  Look at me; I’m going to be champion in less than 24 hours! I will be going into business for myself and nobody else.  The Spartan’s title is going to be OWA’s top title under my reign and I will start el era de CASPIAN. I’ve been laying low for too long now and this event will bring out the side of me that everyone has yet to see.  El Capitan will lead the charge in OWA and this is going to be my first step to doing that. The Ultimate X match will be my place to shine and I will show why I’m a survivor and not a typical gringo loser. Voy a ganar para mi gente at Hardcore Havoc y voy a enseñar mi valor a todo el mundo.  Este Hondureño va a chingar este putos hasta que no pueden respirar. Voy a matar estos perros como maté a todo esos líderes de los carteles. It’s my time now. Cabrones y viejas, welcome to CASPIAN’s cage.

MINE.
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Re: OWA Promos!
Post on 5/12/2018, 11:26 pm by Jacob Senn
I don’t claim to be a messiah, I don’t claim to be a devil, I just claim to be… The Iconic One.

What about yourself, Miltiades? What do you claim to be? An emperor that rules over the lower percentile of this world with dominance and authority over them, but I am the one that has this grandiose picture painted in his mind of himself? You have painted this masterpiece of yourself to be the emperor that will rule over this entire Kingdom that has been shown to you, that you have been brought into you, and you hope to do so by climbing up the ladder and reaching at the top for the rich championship that you seek in the Omega Heavyweight Championship. You desire a crown to place upon your shoulder to recognize you as the top champion of this industry, but let’s be frank, you won’t hold that championship. I don’t say this out of egotism like you want to believe I am because I come from a generation that has devoted themselves to being known as a messiah to the wrestling world. A god that was placed upon this planet to secure this wrestling plain into their own divine possession, but I’m no god that walks on this earth that will attempt to place his thumb atop of the industry to make it bend to his will. I’m a mortal man that deals with broken bones, who bleeds his blood, and feels the anguish and suffering that one will feel when experienced with the match that will take place at Hardcore Havoc. I’m a man, but I’m one that has devoted himself to the mission of reaching the pinnacle of this sport once more to be recognized as world champion by his peers. I will look upon that prize at the top of the ladder and do whatever I can to make sure that you and Nas are fallen at my feet because here’s what you are to me. You talked about the question of what does this match have to do with you and the three options that you might have for me, but I think you might have gotten things a bit twisted in your assumption. So Miltiades, let me elaborate on my opinion of you. I don’t find you as a goal for me to chase because the only goal that I look towards is something that you won’t be holding at the end of the night in the Omega Heavyweight Championship. I don’t look upon you with contempt because what you have done, what you remain to do in this business with this aura that you exude of a regal nature, it has all been done by me in my path to being known as a champion. How could I look towards you with contempt or hatred when I have done the same acts that you have committed with the same aspirations you seek? No, these two things that you have been hoping for me to say I’ve done and to fall under some verbal entrapment that you would have me become under, it’s false when you speak about me. The one subject that you’ve danced around that has grazed upon how I view the man that hopes to become an emperor in this company was the fact that you are an obstacle to me in this match, but not for the reasons you may believe it to be. You’re an obstacle to me not because of any inferiority that I might find towards you because as much as you’re a talented individual in this ring, you don’t hold a candle to what I can do in that ring. The carnage that I can bring to the table, the suffering that I can inflict upon men like you, and the impact that I can leave on this company will dwarf anything that you can hope to do with the championship. You’re an obstacle not because I’m here to put something on point with your downfall in this match, but you’re an obstacle because you’ve chosen to take this challenge of the TLC match for the right to be known as the Omega Heavyweight Champion. You’re an obstacle because you’re going to stand across from me in that ring, fight me to the bitter end for the chance to hold that championship for yourself to be crowned as the emperor that you desire to be so desperately, but ultimately fail when you’re forced to look up from whatever carnage is left around the ring to see that it’s not you that’s holding that championship in his hands.

 It’s The Punisher himself standing at the top of the ladder with the Omega Heavyweight Championship in his hands.

I say this not out of egotism or arrogance for discrediting the talents that you possess because I’m not here to discredit you. I know that you’re a man with many talents inside of that ring to where you put me to my limit, that we could have a war that this championship is deserving of. I do not find yourself to be not deserving of this opportunity to be presented to you because in Strong Style Wrestling, that’s proven to be quite evident because I’ve watched what you could do in that ring from afar. However, I get to experience what the hype has been about with Miltiades for myself. No, my belief that I’m going to climb up that ladder and reach that championship for my own personal gain while both you and CM Nas are lying on that canvas unable to do a damn thing about it, that comes from the knowledge of what I’m able to bring to the table and the determination that I have to make sure that you’re not going to be able to do it. It’s as simple as that. I’m not going to place the thought in my mind of you taking my spotlight from me because the moment that I do, it becomes a reality. I let you allow that thought fester into my mind and start burrow into my soul to where it becomes an actuality, but I’m already bound for glory and being crowned Omega Heavyweight Championship at your expense. Now, you could have your soldiers of fortune in Tres Comas Club to act as your mercenaries in this fight and I’d almost guarantee that they would make an entry in this match to be able to secure another piece of gold for more cash to be flowing into their hands, but here’s where I might want to believe that they will not show. What is an emperor able to do by letting his army fight his battles for him? When a king has called for a duel with the man who wears the crown, there are two options that you can have. You can stand from your throne, don the armor that you intend to use in that battle, and clash swords with the rival that intends to take your crown from you. However, you could have another option to where you show just the coward you are and allow your armies execute the rival for you to where you keep your reign as emperor through their help to where it breeds discontent and disrespect from your people. Knowing you and the pride that you have for the craft that you have created, I would believe that you’re of the first ideal to where you would want to fight me with the honor that an emperor would desire for his crown to be fought for. That’s what this is all about for you, Miltiades. This isn’t about the glory of winning a championship, this isn’t about earning the respect of the people that will be in attendance at the Viejas Arena, but this about the coronation that you would have when you became known as the Omega Heavyweight Champion. This would be the achievement that defines your career and make the world recognize you as the emperor you desire to be, but this is not the moment that you shall have.

This is my moment to claim the championship for myself to let the world know that I’m not here to be cast aside.

You’re right that I’m a man that will put his body through all sorts of torture with reckless abandon when it’s in the pursuit of championship gold. I’m a man that has the determination to push past the limits that his body might have in order to reach that treasured trophy that will hang in the balance between us. I’m a man that will fight for the world to know THAT I WILL NOT BE AN AFTERTHOUGHT IN THIS COMPANY! I will not resign myself to being some veteran that walks around this roster to look at the future prospects of this company and give them the opportunity to shine as the present. I’m not going to be the man that will just simply take a fall to let the world find their new icon to be in awe about. I’M THE ICONIC ONE AROUND HERE! I’m the one that the entire world will be watching inside of that match to where they will see that The Punisher remains unrivaled in this industry as the greatest fighter in that ring! It will be Jacob Senn that stands as the face of this company to where I shall bring new eyes onto this product that would have never taken a second glance at it without my name attached to the forefront and the management of this company, they know. With all the talent in the world that you might possess, a name that most people can’t pronounce doesn’t hold a candle to me as a figurehead for this company. Face the music, Miltiades. You’re out of your depth when it comes to being a world champion. For you see, I was in your position before where I knew in my heart that I should be the man that to take the mantle from someone, but I didn’t know then how unprepared I was for the chance to be known as the world champion and you, you’re in the same position. You have started to feel so desperately that you’re the one that deserves to hold that championship on his shoulder, but you’re on the path to fail nonetheless because you don’t have the experience to deal with the challenge that stands in front of you. Fate has determined the championship that you chase after to already be conceded by you before your music even hits for you to walk down that ramp into the ring because of it and looking into your eyes I don’t find confidence, I find fear. Nothing to be ashamed of because it’s not a strike against your pride because when I was in your situation, I knew that it was frightening to know that your defeat was moments away. You begin to dread it and when you feel that shiver of dread start to tingle against your spine, you start to scrounge whatever excuse you can use to avoid the truth and run from it. However when we’re inside of that ring, with all the chairs, ladders, and tables surrounding the entire arena for us to use to be able to climb and reach that championship that dangles high above the ring, there will be nowhere for you to run. I’ve fought men that have survived a wrath that is unparalleled by any other that you’ve experienced in your career, I’ve stood against the most famed names in this sport that have been met with the acclaim of the people, and I have been on the mountaintop to where I’ve sat upon the throne of excellence that has been coveted by every single man that has walked into this industry. I’ve done it all, I’ve fought them all, and I’ve defeated those that have stood in my path of making those achievements a reality and Miltiades, you will soon join that list of names that has been brought down to their knees at my hands. At Hardcore Havoc, I dig that knife into your spine to where you meet the demise that you’re worth. You will meet the fall of a great emperor that you aspire to become here and when I deliver that final blow to where you’re left broken onto the canvas, I will ascend to the top of the ladder and take my place as the Omega Heavyweight Champion once and for all. This is the moment where the world remembers who The Punisher is, where I show the world that I won’t stand in the background for the future of this company to just stomp me out, and this is where I leave one word into their minds as I stand on that ladder victorious.

Iconic.
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Re: OWA Promos!
Post on 5/12/2018, 11:24 pm by Finnegan Wakefield
Chapter 4: Fear of failure

"The Wrestling Artist" Finnegan Wakefield

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The Olympus-FS Fighting Factory is one state of the art facility, one that has trained generations of tough competitors from all walks of life to have promising careers in such sports as MMA and professional wrestling. Their base camp in San Diego may very well be their most enhabited grounds, but their locker room is visibly uninhabited. We can hear a faint noise, the familiar sound of tape being distributed in one, long strand. We come to find the source of the noise as Finnegan Wakefield, dawning training shorts and sneakers, is starting to dress his right hand with a white athletic tape. Though he must know of the camera's presence, he doesn't look up as he focuses solely on the appliance of the tape around his fingers, wrist and fist. It doesn't take him long to speak up, however, despite not looking up to the camera in a display of absolute focus. ”They say we have to be fearless. We have to take chances. We can't live life just being afraid of what comes next. That's not what living is about. But I believe different. Bravery is not being afraid to be afraid. It's knowing what's in front of you, knowing it terrifies you and moving forward anyway. And so the question is, what does Finnegan Wakefield have to be afraid of? I'll tell you this much, I don't fear any man I am going to lock eyes with come Hardcore Havoc. Far from it, although I acknowledge their individual talents and the challenge they bring, none of that has the power to strike fear into my heart. To say they instil me with fear would be an acceptance that I have no possibility of walking out with the OWA World Heavyweight Championship, but as all three men should know all too well by now; if I had any doubt on any given day that I could defeat any man that opposes me, I wouldn't even be in this profession in the first place. And when I look at all three men that oppose me tomorrow night, I don't feel a single symptom of fear. No chills down my spine, no wobble in my knees, no butterflies in my stomach. I have never been more confident in my life, even with the percentage of victory being divided, that doesn't discourage me in the slightest." Cutting off the tape from the rest of the roll, Finnegan tests the durability of the tape by flexing his finger joints and both closing and opening his fist. Satisfied, he then begins to tape up the other, once again refusing eye contact with the lens of the camera that focuses on him. But I guess I avoided my own question. See, there is one thing that I fear, one sole thing that whispers in the back of my mind and pumps blood faster through my veins. Failure. To be specific, the failure of what I may never become. Point your fingers, throw your stones, laugh to your hearts contempt at the very idea of my failure is something that keeps me up at night. But don't think for a second that it is my greatest weakness. For it is possibly my greatest of strengths -- my greatest driving force. It is better to conquer yourself than to win a thousand battles. And the only person standing in the way of my ambitions is myself. Victory is always possible for the person who refuses to stop fighting. And at Hardcore Havoc, I intend to prove that very fact when, one by one, I eliminate every man that challenges my drive to become what I have always worked towards becoming; the very best. Success is not the measure of a man but a triumph over those who choose to hold him back. The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph. Look at who I was as little as a year ago. Just another fledgeling that many counted out before I even made my first impact. They saw the shining triforce, the nobility, the boy scout mannerisms and they thought I will forever be a small fish in a big ocean swimming with sharks that will tare right through me, chew me up and then spit me out. Now, look at me. I stand before you a man who has gone through trial and tribulation. I'm a man who has crossed the world and back for a chance at destiny. And when I stepped up to destiny, I did something no one thought Finnegan Wakefield could ever do. I changed my fate. I gripped my hand tight on my wallowing career, raising it from perdition. Raising it from the hell that would hold it hostage. Raising it from the management in the back. Raising it from every single person that mocked the code I conduct myself to, the denial of fraudulent or tainted victories, holding values such as honor and respect in an industry that may never show me such things. And what I aim to raise next is the green leather strap, the glistening gold and the inaugural honor that is known as the OWA Championship." As he had done previous, Finn severs the tape from the rest of the roll, testing its durability as he had before. Once again satisfied with the result, he places both hands on his legs as he sits on the bench, staring daggers through the lens of the camera with the blue portals to his soul.

”And the challenge my opposition will bring will only make that rise all the more meaningful when it is looked back upon in years to come. For these are only the beginning hurdles of the obstacles I seek to overcome. The first being reluctance, weeding out the people who lack ambition and will only weigh down any forward momentum. I can't think of a much better example than Chase Vedder, someone who calls himself the man yet doesn't feel inclined to make a case for himself now that three men are listening, three men are watching, painting a bullseye on his chest. See, I hate that opportunities go to the self-entitled that won't even put in a solid effort to take advantage of said opportunity, essentially just burning a shot that could have gone to someone else in his place, someone more worthy and will make use of it. Not sure how shit-hot this guy is in Japan, but that doesn't fly in the OWA I want going forward, where opportunity gets wasted on people with an ego bigger than guts. In the OWA I hope to lead, the confrontationally silent will go out in a whimper, cowardice exposed and exiled. Then, there is the separation between the personal and the professional. Keelan, I don't know what you think I would have to apologize for, but no matter how the pendulum swings tomorrow night, you will be sorely disappointed when an apology is only the second furthest thing you'll be receiving. Because I have every reason to think you are lying through your gritted teeth, trying to play an old friend like a pawn that is sacrificable for your own benefit. Don't forget, I have had a front row seat for every event of your life in the past year and additional months. I have seen everything. Every heinous thing you have said, every despicable thing you have done, and yet I still do in fact think of you as a friend despite it all. But only when it no longer benefits your career objectives. Behind those curtains, when those cameras are off and there aren't thousands of people watching from around the world, yeah, you and I are friends. When there is no reason to sabotage your friendships for something that has evaded you for the longest, when there is no trophy for betraying your friends, when there is nothing to feed your greed to overpower your long-forgotten sense of pride. Out there it is an entirely different story, because out there is where you reap the benefits. I have seen you superkick a woman for less than the temptation of championship glory, someone you once held dear, I wouldn't doubt at all that you had similar plans for me once my back was turned in a faux sense of trust. You say there is no preparing for the unpredictable, but you seem to forget that I know just about everything there is to know about you, the way you think, the way you act. There will be a day that you and I will come face to face, man to man, but the only way that is going to happen tomorrow night is if you earn your way to the final two of your own merit, as I plan to. We have experienced me as a comrade, you have yet to experience me as an opponent and I can assure you, I don't show remorse when they stand in my way, friend or foe. There won't even be a minuscule amount of regret once I force you to break under the pressure of my submission hold, nothing to apologize for once I become the OWA Champion, except that I am sorry. Sorry that this is the outcome that you deserve."

”Last, but most certainly not least, entitlement. Jon McAdams, when it comes to your in-ring ability and your tenacity, I have nothing but praise for you. But when I look past that, I can't ignore the ever-existing sense of self-entitlement that will always make the cracks appear in my diplomacy-dyke. The very notion you believe everything you want belongs to you is the reason I held such resentment against you in the first place and, even with the new coat of paint, that Jon McAdams of old still exists. Just because there are a few extra bells and whistles on the Sovereign, that doesn't mean that Sovereign still doesn't possess his former arrogance. The encounters we've had, the blood we have shed in combat for gold, that may have swayed my opinion away from the absolute disdain of your character, even earning a degree of my respect for what it is worth, that doesn't change a thing I said all the way back then. That a championship in your possession, a kingdom in which you call yourself king, that isn't a reality I want to see come to fruition. Despite a newfound appreciation for work over want, I can't help but think more sense of power will only get to your head and bring back the arrogance of the Jon McAdams of old. Call me sceptical, but I am a firm believer that old habits die hard. Many things have changed, just as much as many things stayed the same. Including the very roots that our rivalry spawned from. Respect was earned through bloodshed, but my drive to win has only grown stronger. Every encounter leading up to this has left the big question mark, the question that has yet to be answered, who is the superior, the true elite? Jon McAdams or Finnegan Wakefield. Of course, I know the answer, as do you. We both think we are the one that is better than the other, the one that can defeat the other when push comes to shove. Hardcore Havoc will give us that answer, especially if it comes down to just you and I fighting for the championship as the final two. Our rivalry has morphed into a game of thrones; a matter of do or die, and perishing is out of the question. The crown will slip from the head unworthy, their kingdom will crumble to the ground, and be forced to bend their knee to the winds of the victor's majesty. And I will never bend the knee to anyone, especially the Sovereign."

Finnegan reaches behind the bench he is seated on, putting his hand in a sports bag, pulling out MMA gloves that he proceeds to place over his taped fists, strapping them up. ”When I say this match is the most important match of my career, look me in my eyes and see just how much I mean it. Failure scares me, but it drives me to the point where it isn't an option." Finnegan stabs a determined finger into his chest in the space that is just over his heart. ”You will all come to find I will fight harder than any of your greatest rivals for this prize that may only ever come once in a lifetime, to be the start of something special, the spark that ignites the ever-burning fire. You may get stronger from every defining moment, but I have only begun to show cracks in the shell that hides my full potential. Tomorrow night, I cast the shell aside as it breaks away, I will rival and be amongst the greatest this company will ever see, holding a World Heavyweight Championship high above my head. Mark my words. Before, we were an alternative. Now it’s a revolution and that’s an absolute fact!" With that being said, Finnegan elevates himself from the bench as he walks out of view of the camera, the screen cutting to black at the slamming of the locker room door, the wrestling artist being poised and focused for the war that is to come tomorrow night, with everything at stake.
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Re: OWA Promos!
Post on 5/12/2018, 11:09 pm by Boujie Alan
HARDCORE HAVOC


Grandma taught me how to cook a meal in the crock pot
Now when I wanna eat I slip a gram to a crack thot
Grandma put needles an’ tools in da cookie tin
That how I learn put needles an’ drugs in da cookie tin
Doctor put grandma on morphine the day that she die (Rip)
Then I said Grandma I wanna die high like you die (Aye)
[Incoherent mumbling]
[More incoherent mumbling]
FAMILY VALUES BITCH!!!


Awww Yeah, Y’all already know who it is.

Storytime, Yung Gs. When I was just a Yung Boujie I used to go around my grandma’s crib and the moment she saw me she’d always say the same damn thing: “Go get yo money, Boujie Boy”. So I did it. I’d bop up to her purse and just take the gwop out myself. Boujie remembers. Boujie know where he came from. And Boujie Alan still handling his business the way that Yung Boujie did. Errytime I go down to that ring, you know it, BOUJIE TURNS UP! Ain’t nobody stopping Boujie from taking what belongs to him. It don’t matter who you are, I do it to my own grandma, Boujie taking that W. Boujie taking that gwop. An’ when Boujie on his way home, Boujie tell the limo dude to stop off so he can  get some kool aid and something to get that shit turnt you know what I mean?

I tried putting this shit in a little story for errybody because some of y’all still acting like haters and refusing to understand. Since I first stepped into an OWA ring, Boujie ain’t stopped winning. He whooped the ass of every man that tried to muscle up wit him and it weren’t even hard, fam. That’s cos Boujie a real gangsta. And wit Bad News Bart at my side that makes two. THAT’S MORE THAN ONE, HOMIES! WE A GANG!!! And this is our turf. Still dem BW Hoes still be talking shit like they about to run a train at Hardcore Havoc. But think about it… Y’all remember Boujie dropped as a solo act and he beat on... ALL DA HATERS! He beat on… The three whack ass wiggas in tryna share HIS stage. An’ Boujie whooped both cheeks on the asses of each and erry one of the BW Hoes like they did bad an’ he they daddy. All SIX of ‘em. I mean… Wait. Hold up. Hold up. Let me use my fingies… One… Two… Thr-Oh shit they five. Five ugly ass hoes. That’s my bad. My bad. I don’t count good. Stop tryna confuse me with percents homie, I don’t know about geometry and shit my dudes, all I know is that I keep it one hunnid all day erry day and that ain’t about to change. See the only shit that Boujie counting be the dead presidents on his green, the dead bodies at his feet, and all the bitches sliding in his DMs now he racking up dem followers. We up over four fiddy k-dawgs now fams. And Bada Bapadom Dick Fap or whatever the fuck yo name is, I don’t know you but you know me an’ NEWS FLASH BITCH - they all already seen Boujie whoop yo bitch ass twice. You ain’t livin’ that down yet homie. You can’t just press fucking delete on that shit. They’ve saved it all on they phones, whatchu do? Rob all of dem homies? Shit, nobody THAT gangsta except Boujie. Even then… too late fam, they arredy shared that shit with they homies on insta. They rollin up on facebook sharing you getting yo cheeks beat like you just dropped the soap to they blood fams. They mommas. They cousins. They fuckin step daddies. You think you just gotta throw some fetti in da air and they all just gone delete that shit? You sippin some hella good lean man, I want me some. You know that ain’t how the internet works. Oh wait… I forgetti. Do you even have wifi in New Delhi Starbucks? Aight lemme getchu streetwise homie. This is a new wave, wigga. This is a New World Order. We all need a tiddy for a pillow but we don’t fuck with Brimful of Asha. This is the SoundCloud era fam. We don’t need no big labels to make a dollar. We don’t need networks and tv execs and Saudi business men who trippin over bitches showin us they fine bodies. That’s sus fam. Y’all gay. But we… All the Bad & Boujie wiggas out here to make something out of nothing… All we gotta do is hustle. We based-gods fam, all we gotta do is what we do and that means I’m sticking these fresh white Jordan’s so far up yo ass they coming out browner than you is.

And I haven’t forgotten about the rest of y’all. Bo Tista, my enforcer is Badder than yo enforcer and he a whole lot mo gangsta too. Bart about to drum a hard ass beat on Brax’s bald head while Boujie laying down some fire bars and laying down some whack grapplers. And we don’t discriminate, we about to beat down yo MAGA ass just like dem Indians and dem Wakandans. I saw Jhevaunte cop some balls last week and that looked painful but I don’t even care. Man go there and Boujie do what he do to every bitch that touch his dick and cum in they face. But y’all gay man probably want that. Man like Jerome always tryna catch on my wave but the only thang he gonna catch is this fade wigga. Y’all arredy know it.


Bad N Boujie don’t take no prisoners.
We just take the W and the gwop.
Aye, peace.
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Re: OWA Promos!
Post on 5/12/2018, 6:30 pm by Isaac Thornton
III: Final Words

[With Hardcore Havoc only being a day away, Isaac made the relatively short drive to San Diego from his LA home. He is in the Viejas Arena, standing a few inches from the ring. He has his headphones on, in an attempt to zone everything and everyone out. He is in his own little world. Next, he grabs a towel nearby to wipe the sweat off his forehead. He must have just ended a brief training session. He takes his headphones off as the camera gets more near. Before speaking, he takes it all in. The arena, the ring, the seats ... just visualizing the crowd being their normal rowdy selves. He looks at the ring and tries to play as many scenarios this match could go/end in his head to help him prepare. Isaac looks a little worried since he doesn't have that signature cocky grin on his face. Could Isaac be having stage fright.]

Isaac: What if ... what if they are right? "They" being my opponents, when they talk about how my professional wrestling career will only end up floundering ... just like my acting days? You see, since the moment I signed my name on the dotted line, I have come off as one confident motherfucker. Being cool as a cucumber, even when facing the most difficult times ... or acting as if nothing gets to me while I frequently deal with the harsh criticism and negative reviews that come from my peers and fans' mouths. The gig is up, it was all a facade. I can no longer take that mental toll. Unfortunately, the honeymoon period has come and gone. The ink has dried and cooled off ... and so have my expectations for myself. Last night I had an epiphany, right? And I just don't know if this career path is for me anymore. Maybe, just maybe, being a professional wrestler is nothing more than a phase or an experiment? I mean it's only been a few weeks and my heart is no longer in it, so it must be the case. I guess this is it. This is the end of Isaac Thornton: The Wrestler. This is me putting my two weeks notice in. Is that a thing in wrestling? Meh, who knows. But I am done. And I am sorry, just so sorry to OWA management for wasting their time. I am leaving this arena and I am driving back to my house and sulk about my poor life decision making. I just want to thank my opponents for helping me see the light! They made me realize that I am not cut out for this business and hey, that is okay. I can proudly hold my head high, knowing I at least gave it a shot ... HAHAHAHA...

Nah fuck that,  I came here to collect. And let me tell you, that Spartan's Championship will look real good in my trophy case, especially when my Oscars start overflowing in it, just busting through that glass. But speaking of the Spartan's Championship, I clearly want it. However, I don't need it. Just like I don't need to win it tomorrow night, because I see plenty of title shots in my future. It's just funny how guys like Gareth talk about how they are "obsessed" with the Spartan's Championship when it's only been around for a few weeks. Unlike him, I don't have some forced emotional attachment to it. I just want it because it may very well end up being my first title as a professional wrestler. I also want it because the post-match salt would be unreal. "Oh my god, Isaac doesn't deserve it. He hasn't paid his dues yet! He doesn't know about the hardships, the sacrifices we make! WAAAAAAHHHH!" Who doesn't know about sacrifices? Me? That's preposterous! I am making a big sacrifice this Sunday. I mean, in case you didn't know, it's also Mother's Day this Sunday and I really want to celebrate my mother because she has always been there for me and if it wasn't for her, I obviously wouldn't bear .. tough luck for my opponents. They would have a real shot at winning if I didn't exist, but ah well. But yeah, I won't be able to see my mom because OWA clearly hates mothers, but I digress. I am here to address my opponents once more. You know, the same opponents that desperately want me gone because they know that deep down I am their biggest threat going in. And they will laugh it off to mask their insecurities. Rinse and repeat. 

So let's start with some new blood, shall we? Someone I haven't talked about yet, that being, Scotty Adams. Fun fact, I started playing his video message in the background just because I wanted some sound since I hate silence and before he stopped talking, I found my wife, got married, had two beautiful kids, they went to college, found the love of their lives, and had my grandchildren. For real, I thought your gum-flapping would never end! For future reference, if you feel the need or urge to speak, don't. Instead, just shut your fucking yapper Scotty boy because I have things to do and people to see, you selfish prick. I'll tell you what, put that video on good ol' Rotten Tomatoes and you will get a score of 0. No, give that video to an interrogator and it will make even the toughest SOB's crack because they could no longer handle the torture. No, get a time machine, give the audio to Vincent van Gogh and he will cut off both ears instead of just the one. You get the gist. Anyways, I had high hopes for you, Scotty, because I only heard good things about you heading into this match. Just kidding, nobody talks about you. At least not to me and I can understand why because the topic of Scott Adams isn't a great conversation starter. Seeing as how you clearly read my bio on OWA.com, in return, I read yours. Even the bio that some OWA intern most likely wrote was a little too wordy but then again, it is about Scotty Adams, so it makes sense. So all I really got out of it is you're a mastermind and you see yourself as some gatekeeper to the honor of professional wrestling. But let's backtrack a bit ... you of all people, are a mastermind? Um okay, yeah, I don't see it. At least not from when you talk. Well to be fair, I just fast forwarded to the part you talked about me. And even with the fast forwarding, it still took about two hours to reach that part and in the end, I was unimpressed. You just made generalized statements, statements that I have already heard countless times and this is my only second week here. Just like everyone else, you went on the attack about my acting career, hoping to strike a nerve, to get my blood boiling, but in the end, all I do is pity you and your lazy zingers. Believe it or not, I am not here to talk about my Hollywood career. I am here to be a professional wrestler and be a god damn great one, might I add. But I must say, I do enjoy the fact you take an interest in my life outside of the ring. Unfortunately, I won't be returning the favor because you don't interest me in the slightest. Hell, the only reason I am giving you the time of day is because I wanted a change. I wanted to talk to someone not named Gareth or Christopher but now, I see that was a mistake. So ta ta for now, Scotty. 

Then there is the big man, Bull Connors. *A ten second pause* Man, I'm debating if I actually take the bait here, you know? Such as giving him the satisfaction of a proper response to his half-assed comments. Is he worth it? No. Abso-fucking-lutely not. But ... actually nah, I don't know. See, I just tried to convince myself to go on the offense, to let him have it ... and by doing so, putting him in his place. However, is that really necessary? Because after our match, once I have the Spartan's Championship firmly in my grasp and he walks away empty-handed, I think he'll have a pretty good idea of where he stands in terms of the pecking order around here. Then again, I love talking shit, hmmm. It's like I have an angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other. The angel is telling me to just zip my mouth, mind my manners and move on. But then, the devil is screaming at me, telling me to roast this Pillsbury Doughboy. Soooo, I guess we'll just play it by ear here. And action! Listen here Bull, you, yes YOU, are a main reason as to why I hate being in matches with multiple people. Actually this is my first match with such conditions, well more than two opponents at least, but I have studied up on them in different places. You know, doing my homework for a role? It's what stars like I do because I like to be thorough, so I wouldn't expect you to understand. Anywho, I noticed that leading up to these kinds of matches, the opponents just rehash bullet points from the others. Leading to these men, or women, to travel in circles instead of progressing in any shape or form. It gets tiring, you know? Repeating yourself over and over again. It's actually kind of stressful because it feels like I'm going mad! Plus, I don't want these beautiful locks to turn gray yet, or better yet, lose them altogether, but you guys are really pushing it. Because this week alone has felt like its aged me twenty years. If this is what it's expected for every week here in OWA, then maybe I'll take Gareth up on his offer and he can go right on ahead and end my professional wrestling career before it even officially gets off the ground. It's really tempting, I must admit. But then again I'll probably bang my head against a wall here shortly, maybe to the point I fracture my skull, who knows, but fingers crossed either way. What was I saying again? Or better yet, who was I even talking to? Um, Bull right? Silly me, how could I ever forget such a forgettable man? Sorry! Please accept my sincere apologies. It'll make me feel better, which is the only important thing in that equation. But yeah, fuck you Bull. That ... that didn't feel natural. Take two! C'mon Isaac! You can do better than that! You can deliver that line so much better! Deep breaths! You can do this! Okay! And action! FUCK YOU BULL! Cut! Too dramatic. Plus, too much shouting. It felt forced. And the reason why it felt forced is because there is no bad blood here. You're right, I don't take you seriously. No one does. You have the appearance of a teddy bear and when you get all worked up with these flimsy insults of yours with no merit, it's cute really. For instance, when you say something like you're surprised I made it past school plays, I just wanna give you a pat on the head, give you a big ol' bear hug, or at least try to, because I don't think I can lock my arms around you, 'cause fat, and comfort you by saying, hey, at least you tried! That's all we can ask out of someone like you. Someone who has had the deck stacked against you from the very beginning. I can only imagine the difficulties, the hardships of resembling an ogre. Hey, maybe they should make a movie about your life?! I think it would be a hit because you just scream Average Joe to me. And the masses can relate to that. I would even be willing to play the part of Bull Connors! I'm just gonna need a few years to pack on the pounds and to grow whatever that is on your face. But in the meantime, this is about you as my opponent. 

This is about me debunking your claims and providing a bulletproof rebuttal in response. A speech with no filler. A speech with facts. A speech with tons of information, a speech that has plenty of meat and potatoes to it. I feel like that last line got your attention as the drool begins to seep out of your mouth. See, this is a two way street, Connors. You're the kind of guy that takes everything for face value. You hear that I have acting experience, so you jump on it as if it's a freshly baked pie. See? You define me as a failed actor because why else would I be here if my acting career didn't pan out?! So since all you see me as is a failed actor, then I'll match that laziness and define you as a fat slob, you're welcome. But hey, I don't fault you for scraping the bottom of the barrel with those comments of yours since my other opponents have followed suit. But who is to say my acting days are done?! Who's to say that I can't multitask? You guys. It's because you guys can't fathom the thought of life outside of this sport. You put all of your eggs in your basket, well except for you Bull, you probably already ate them, shell and all, but you put all of your eggs in the professional wrestling basket. There is no plan B, which is a dangerous game, seeing as how no one has ever heard of the likes of Bull Connors, Christopher Sabertooth, Scotty Adams, Gareth Cason, etc ... before OWA's existence. What's so bad about that? Oh I don't know, maybe because OWA wasn't a thing until two months ago? Now, I wholeheartedly believe that OWA will rise to the top, just like when it comes to talent, the cream always rises to the top. That being me of course. Because guys like you Bull aren't used to the limelight. You, like the others in this match, are nothing more than supporting actors, while I am the lead man. You don't realize it yet, but this match itself is a movie. It's a movie about how a man with all the talent in the world, Isaac Thornton, must overcome seven other jealous men that will do everything in their power in stopping Isaac from beginning his legacy as the only wrestler that truly matters on this planet. You'll get your shots in, that much is true because after all this will be an action packed film, and if I just go out there and win in five seconds, it lacks the drama and suspense. It'll get bad reviews and we wouldn't want that. Just like we wouldn't want Bull fuckin Connors as the first ever Spartan's Champion. Imagine fifty years from now, OWA fans look back at the history of every championship, right? And they stumble upon the Spartan's title history and they see who was the first ever to hold it and they'll have a confused look on their face ... "Bull Connors? Who the fuck is that? I don't even remember him." And then some know it all, most likely a guy who refreshes wrestling rumormills every five seconds says, "Oh yeah, that's Bull Connors. I thought he had great potential back in the day but he only lasted in OWA for three months. And because of his lackluster run as champ, they actually destroyed the Spartan's title and pretended it never existed." See? We can't be having you devaluing a what should be prestigious championship. We need a star to hold that title ... a star like me. 

Aka the guy who called himself the Marlon Brando of this generation. Something I said days ago. Something that wasn't all that important in the grand scheme of things, but for whatever reason, you held onto it and didn't let go. I guess you go against the grain. While others focus on the actual nuts and bolts of my speeches, you pick the oddest parts you want me to elaborate on. Um, okay, sure. The reason why I compared myself to such a legend is because just like Marlon, I have stunning good looks, charisma for days, and am multi-talented. That is the summary of it all. I could further dive into this topic. I can talk all about how he stole the show, or I guess film in such masterpieces as "A Streetcar Named Desire" or "The Godfather" or  "Apocalypse Now", just showing off his range in each and every one of them. I mean, we could talk about this all day, Bull, but in the end, does it really matter who I compare myself to? I don't owe anyone an explanation, especially someone named Bull Connors, so I think it's best if we just move on. Lastly, I want to talk about how I supposedly haven't left my mark on OWA yet. When you said this, I could tell you thought you had me on the ropes! That you finally got me! How will I ever defend myself! Quite easily actually ... I've only been here for two fucking weeks. Actually a little less than that. What did you expect, Bull? Me draped in championship gold already? To be in the main event every week? To be the face of OWA?! Like I said, I've only been here for a week. I've only wrestled one match in my life, this match at Hardcore Havoc being my second ... and just imagine when I acquire my first ever title, in only my second match? I can't wait to see the look on your faces when this does indeed happen. Well, to be fair you'll be knocked out, so it won't matter much. As for you Bull, what have you accomplished here that is considered "noteworthy?" See you talk this big game, almost as big as that gut of yours, and what exactly do you have to show for it? See, two can play this game. But the reason as to why I never brought this up in the first place is because I actually have a brain my noggin. I look at the facts before I speak while you have no filter. The process should be think, speak, reflect. And you just do the second one. See, I don't expect many, if any of you at all to have countless of accolades during your short time here in OWA because like I fucking said, OWA hasn't been around long and good on them for not just handing out titles and shit, but I digress. You know Bull, I liked it better when you didn't talk. It was far more pleasant with your mouth stitched shut and hell, you provided just as many insights back then as you did today. 

And lastly, there is Christopher Sabertooth. You know how the old saying goes, "You save the best for last?" Yeah well, that doesn't apply here. So once again I pretty much fast forwarded through his video and believe it or not, I don't actually mean that as an insult. It's just because it's the day before Hardcore Havoc, and a Saturday nonetheless, so I'm on a tight schedule. So I watched the very beginning, and he did that thing where he has his opponents' pictures up on the wall, you know, the thing that's been done before countless times in various wrestling companies across the globe? It's just my opponents rehashing more shit. Again, quite tiring, but it's to be expected when you factor in who my opponents are. Anyways, I guess this was him introducing us to Christopher Sabertooth Show! The pilot episode! Aka the only episode that'll be in its existence since it will get cancelled tomorrow morning. What did you expect? The content was focused on Christopher Sabertooth of all people. The ratings and views were doomed from the start. I think as you can tell by now, my patience is wearing thin. I'm sick of talking about my opponents ... that's right, even I, the guy who loves talking perhaps the most shit in this match just because I like to stir up the hornet's nest, has pretty much reached his limit. I mean nothing new has been said. No new concepts have been introduced. No new tidbits have been shared. No new points have been made. Like I said, we are just going circles at this point and I don't know about you, but I'm getting dizzy and I'm gonna vomit ... which would still be less disgusting than the words that come out of their mouths. I tell you, the things I put up with for that Spartan's Championship, man. I deserve it just from listening to these men yak about promises they won't be able to keep in the short or long run, as well as the thoughts they shared, thoughts that should have been left unsaid because it served no purpose. So as for Christopher, I talked to you last week. I talked to you this week. I'm talking to you right now. So I think it's fair to say we know each other pretty well at this point, or at least, as well as expected, given the small sample size. Since last week, I see you haven't changed your tune. You still think you're the last real professional wrestler in this business or whatever. I am truly puzzled here because I don't get how you laugh at someone like Cason for his "legit dangerous" shtick while you say shit like that or you know, the alpha to your omega line. Even the Havoc shit.

 After connecting some dots, I have realized what a coincidence this has been. Wait, what were those last two words? Has been? Hey imagine that, a synonym for Christopher Sabertooth, but I digress. Before I got sidetracked, I was of course talking about these coincidences. For instance, you call yourself the alpha and you wrestle for a company called Omega Wrestling Alliance. Not only that, but you have a persona named Havoc and the OWA special event this Saturday is called Hardcore Havoc. Shiiiiiit man, you must really be a big deal since they are naming all of this stuff after you. That or you're just ripping it off and hmmm, I'm gonna go with the latter. What I don't get Christopher is why are you so mean to me, when all I've ever done is show you respect and sing your praises to every man, woman, and child I cross paths with? Saying I don't have talent. Saying I don't belong here. It's like I'm the new kid here and it's lunchtime and I go to sit at a table and there you are, telling me I can't sit here because this is for cool kids only as you pop the collar of your Letterman's jacket. Then I go and sulk in the bathroom as I eat my meal. We coulda been the best of friends, you know? We coulda been two peas in a pod! You coulda been Shake and I coulda been Bake! But you ruined it! You pissed it all away! Now ... now I must destroy your life as a result. I must take everything you love and desire in this world to get even and it starts with the Spartan's Championship! Nah but for real, fuck you. Fuck everyone in this match. I am walking out of Hardcore Havoc with the Spartan's Championship on my shoulder because I am me and you guys are you. Again, I suggest you start thinking of your excuses as to why you lost to some "failed Hollywood actor", as you like to refer me as because once I have that gold in my hands, you are never gonna hear the fucking end of it. They don't call me "The Thorn In Your Side" for nothing boys ... and you'll soon see why. 

[With that, Isaac is done talking for the week. Before he exits the arena he once again looks out at the seats, then the ring and pats it, almost saying see you soon. The camera fades to black.]

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Re: OWA Promos!
Post on 5/12/2018, 6:03 pm by Keelan Callihan
All roads lead back to this.

No matter which direction my career might take me - whether it be a rough journey or a simple drive - I always find myself right back to this position. Am I caught in a loop? Am I going insane? Probably. Insanity is what drives me though. It’s a determination; a motivating factor. I’ve broken down every single barrier in my way over the course of my career without fail. Some were tougher obstacles than others but in the end, I overcame every single fucking one of them. People think I’m a lost cause or that I’m way too far gone to rescue.

They couldn’t be more wrong.

It doesn’t matter how long it may take I get the job done eventually. I look in this match and I see three very capable men who believe they very much could lead this company as its world champion. Chase Vedder: an individual who has been on the come up since Strong Style Wrestling and has been earning his keep each and every single week he’s had a match. Very talented individual, very capable of winning this match. Jon McAdams: a man who I’ve shared the ring with many times and we’ve been pretty even in each encounter; having each other’s number since 2016. A former two time Hardcore Champion and now has the opportunity to relieve himself of the mid-card and make himself a main eventer. Finnegan Wakefield: one of the most talented wrestlers I think I have ever witnessed and an old friend of mine who every time he’s stepped up to the plate when the odds were stacked against him, he overcame them all with flying colours. Out of all three of these men, they’ve all had their own roads that they’ve followed and it too has all gotten them to here. But there is one thing they all share that they do not share with me and that one thing is going to cost them in the end. Between myself and those three men?

None have been world heavyweight champion.

Despite my rough times gunning for the world championship last year, there’s no denying how close I was to walking away with the gold. Those situations last year were some of the toughest matches I’ve ever had in my whole career. This time around? I’m literally laughing. Experience is what matters in this situation. I mean honestly, take a look at what we’ve got here. Yes, all men could grab this for the taking but two of these individuals have never seen a world championship match before. The other one saw it one time and it was his final match for the company. I have held multiple world championships across multiple promotions in multiple countries across the globe. I know exactly what it takes to win, and against these three blokes in this one, I will.

So help me god, I fucking will.

There isn’t more I should have to say because out of Jon and Finn, all I hear are the words I have heard for what feel like centuries. Chase Vedder has been smart. The man’s kept quiet. I think he knows his place and if he doesn’t, I’ll put him the fuck in it.

Finnegan Wakefield. You and I do indeed go way back. Despite where you and I may stand on different ends of the spectrum, I still have a lot of respect for you. Hell, I truly believe I still consider you a close mate. I think deep down you consider me the exact same too. Because it doesn’t matter how we may be feeling or where we go in our careers, it’s the ability to take a step back, forget about each other’s attitudes towards certain things and appreciate exactly what the hell we’re able to do in that fucking squared circle. I know for a fact that you can out wrestle the absolute best of them. You and I have never been on the opposite sides of the ring as opponents. We’ve only ever been teammates. This Sunday, for the first time ever, you will experience what it’s like to be in the ring with The Killer. You may think you have your gameplan set in motion to prepare for me but there is not preparing for the unpredictable my old friend. Also, the fact that you think I had ulterior motives in inviting you out to that pub a couple weeks back makes you look a little weak in the head in retrospect. You said it yourself - you were waiting for the day that you and I would go one on one with a world championship up for grabs, and I knew how badly you wanted that so I gave you an opportunity for us to have that. There was nothing underlying in what I was offering. It was not an empty gesture. It was legitimate. If you don’t want to follow through with it, then that’s completely up to you. Just know that when you’ve found yourself coming to on your back staring up at the lights, hearing my music playing with me standing over the top of you with the OWA World Championship in the air, the regret you will feel will be insurmountable. And from then, it will be too late to make amends. It will be too late to come to me with an apology.

Jon McAdams. You’re right. It’s time to leave what happened in the past exactly where it belongs. The two of us are completely different people now. You do seem to change yourself up every couple of months to keep fresh I guess, but whatever works for you pal. Things are very much different now. New scenery, new attitudes, new era. This is your first shot at a world championship from my knowledge, and you know as well as anybody that while our matches have ended in such odd ways in the past that I am not just your simple opponent. You know exactly how deadly I am in that ring. You know exactly how much damage I am able to inflict on my opponents. Imagine putting a world championship in that mix. Imagine what I’d be able to do then. Imagine the lengths I’d be willing to reach just to get my hands on the glory. Jon, you need to realize that this isn’t your simple mid-card championship one is fighting for. You saw how close I was to dethroning Jamie O’Hara last year? That’s the greatest world champion in that company’s history. Okay, and now look at the opponents I have in this one. Yeah, there is no comparison. For a guy like me that’s tasted this before it should be a walk in the park but I know I shouldn’t have that mindset going in. I won’t have it. All I need to do is do what I always do and that’s dominate. When it comes down to it Jon, guys that are new to the main event scene usually feel the pressure sooner or later. Allow me to be that pressure and you will fall faster than you ever would have thought capable. This isn’t a simple singles match on a previous Voltage episode - this is the main event of this company’s first EVER major event to determine an inaugural world champion. If you haven’t prepared yourself for that, then you’ve already prepared yourself for defeat.

Experience will out wrestle all of you. The momentum you three may carry will not factor into this situation because once that bell rings you will soon realize that you’ve just entered a match with a man that’s going to stop at absolutely nothing to attain what has been his for a long ass time. Three men, but only one Killer who will soon be your first OWA World Champion.

THE KILLER HAS SPOKEN.
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Re: OWA Promos!
Post on 5/12/2018, 5:01 pm by Stark
(The Bollywood World Order stands assembled in Bada Dik Baap’s glorious Indian palace somewhere in India)


BDB: What the Amerikans do not understand about this world is that it was never theirs to begin with. Colonizing like their pathetic British ancestors only to be kicked out like the trash they are every time they try to put their foot into new land. It’s pathetic. Now when you look at the glorious alliance made here between the Indians and the Saudi Arabians, you’re really looking at the evolution and advancement of humankind as a whole. We have pumped a disgustingly high non-disclosed amount of money into this shithole known as the Omega Wrestling Alliance in an attempt to bring our culture, our standards, and most importantly, a New World Order to the United States of America - and eventually, the world. And this new world order is none other than the Bollywood World Order itself.

(BDB looks down at his phone, shaking his head, while the camera pans around his back to show him looking at the match card for the Fatal Four Way Tag Team Match at Hardcore Havoc.)

BDB: This is what this shitty company thinks of me? Can you believe this Hussein?

Hussein: Hwla' alkufaar sayaerifun min nahn.

BDB: Yes they will Hussein, yes they will. I just find it baffling that you have the perfect human specimen, a true Aryan ubermensch in the flesh in myself, the Bada Dik Baap, and you’re going to put me in this match?! Seriously, you madarchods have Chase Cheddar main eventing your very first PPV for some god-forsaken reason, while you’ve relegated the ideal Greek God to the curtain-jerker, in a match full of freaks? Is that what you take me for you Amerikans, a freak?

Hussein: This level of disrespect to the Saudi-Indian Alliance will not be tolerated. ‘Uwlayik aladhin la yuminun sayatimu alqada' ealayhim. Those who do not believe in the mission will be eliminated. OWA will forever be a company sitting on millions which could be billions - all they had to do was trust the process and realize that the only man capable of carrying this company to the stars beyond is my associate, Bada Dik Baap. But instead, you decide to treat him like this. You treat him how you treat the Amerikan Kafirs, Botista and Brax. You treat him how you treat the Sex-God Jhevaunte Kyofu. We simply cannot tolerate this anymore, because worst of all…

BDB: Worst of all, you dare to put me back in the ring against Boujie Alan and Bad News Bart. Let’s all forget for a moment the fact that they beat me, because that was fake news. You stupid American’ts don’t understand how rich and powerful I am with the entire weight of Saudi Arabia behind my back.

Hussein: Lilbalad , lileamal , li'abiin kabir dik. Bada Dik Baap will take it all.

BDB: Yes I will Hussein, yes I will. I can have all footage of that match erased from history. I can have anyone who filmed that match erased from history. I can erase Bougie Alan and Bad News Bart themselves from history. But I won’t. The reason is, it all boils down to one simple concept - numbers. Numbers, of which we have five, while Bad and Boujie have two. Do the math, they have a 133 ⅓ % chance of losing at Sackerfice. I think it is well in our understand that the Americunt Bolievers and the Byofus are no match for the Bollywood World Order. I’ll even throw you a small bone, unlike my extremely large bone, and point out that even they are no match for Bad and Boujie. But if you seriously think that you’re going to get one up on us again, then I’m afraid the BWO has no choice but to throw all of our weight - the combined weight of the glorious 1.3 billion people of India and the great Royal Family of the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia - at you deplorable infidels.

Hussein: Ladayna bed alkhutat altafjiriat lilsayiyat walbujii.

BDB: Indeed. The takeover starts at Hardcore Havoc. Glory be to India.

Hussein: And glory to the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia.

Khaled: Amen.
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Divine Intervention
Post on 5/12/2018, 7:33 am by Christopher Sabertooth
Divine Intervention.
 
The scene begins in a dark room. Nothing can be seen or heard apart from the ticking of a grandfather clock. As the clock strikes midnight, the bells are heard in a distance. They become louder and louder as a man approaches the camera frame. Suddenly, light switches on that only illuminates part of the room. Standing underneath it is Christopher Sabertooth wearing a suit and a top hat. He takes out a cigar cutter and cuts off the foot of the Cigar. He lights a match and lights the Cigar by rotating it to get an even burn. Chris has a look at the Amber as he smirks and takes the first puff. The smoke from the Cigar fogs the camera and nothing else is visible till it clears out. When the smoke finally clears, we can see a pin up board behind Chris. On it are photos of seven familiar faces… The very men, Chris faces at Hardcore Havoc in an Ultimate X Matchup for the OWA Spartan’s Championship. The Camera zooms in on the faces and pans out to focus on Christopher Sabertooth, once again.
 
“I believe you have noticed the familiar faces situated behind me. Seven men that I will be sharing MY ring with, this Sunday. You heard me right, it’s my ring. Wherever I go, when I step into the ring… It is mine. NOBODY can do what I do in that ring. You may be a NCAA Division I All American or a proficient bare-knuckle brawler or a failed movie star or even a leader of a cult for all I care… Though, I have done that one too. Seven very different men with different motivations but the only thing common between all of them, is the goal of becoming OWA Spartan’s Champion. I can go on and talk about these men on interviews or backstage or whatever Scotty Adams does. But why should it be a boring affair…. Hardcore Havoc is this Sunday…. Why not make it into the most talked about thing in professional wrestling today. So, why are we here? Why do I have these photos pinned up behind me? Why the hell do I look so good in this fancy suit? Don’t worry people as all of your questions will be answered tonight. Welcome to the Christopher Sabertooth Show with me, your host, Christopher Sabertooth. Tonight, we have a great program planned out for everybody watching at home. Do you guys like plays? Well, I don’t care, because we are going to have one on here tonight. It’s a beautiful story, about a man overcoming the odds at every step of his life to become a living legend. I’m telling you, it always brings a tear in my eyes. So, grab some popcorn, and relax as you travel through a magical story of a man they call Christopher Sabertooth. Enjoy or do whatever you people do.” screams Chris as he bows to the camera with a huge grin on his face.
 
“Oh! By the way, I am playing myself because nobody has the acting chops or the talent to convincingly be me. So, deal with it Isaac. I am better than you at your own day job.” The camera backs out as we see red velvet curtains closing in on the stage. After a small pause, we see the curtains open up again.
 
“This is the story of a man and his dreams. Born to a family of wrestlers, he was destined to be a part of the family legacy. Born and raised in Aberdeen, Washington, he quickly became the man he was always meant to be. A prodigy in every aspect, a physical specimen like no other. He struck fear to the minds of anybody that opposed him.” Said the Narrator in a melodramatic tone.
 
A young Chris walks on the stage and wrestles other kids of his age and some even older. He takes down all challengers as his hand is raised, bout after bout. He becomes better with every match, as nobody was better than him on the wrestling mat. The curtains are drawn out again as the scene changes.
 
“Nobody could walk in his shoes, as he got older, he only got better. Destined to be an Olympian but young Chris has his eyes on something else.” Exclaimed the Narrator.
 
We then see a teenage boy watching television, fascinated by the larger than life characters that he saw. From that very moment, he knew he wanted to be a professional wrestler. Another boy of the same age walks up to the stage.
 
“What are you watching, Chris?” asked the teenager.
 
“You have to check this out, O’Shea. This is better than anything else on TV! Look at all the people watching these men wrestle in that ring. They are completely in the palm of these wrestlers… They react to whatever these men do. Look at that guy, he carries a snake to the ring. A real snake! And the other guy and all of his tassels. This is so fascinating!” exclaimed Chris.
 
“It really is. Do you want to be like them, Chris?” asked O’Shea.
 
“Yes…. I want to be just like them. I want to go around the world and fight new people. I want to listen to these people chant my name.” Said Chris.
 
“In that case, I will join you! I want to be just like them too! We will wrestle together all over the world and people will come to see us.” Exclaimed O’Shea with excitement.
 
There was a glimmer in the eyes of these two young boys. Awestruck by the dynamic performers that they saw on TV… They had promised to become one of them as a teenager. That’s all they wanted to be. The curtains close up again.
 
“With this, we go forward in their journey. Young Christopher had made up his mind. There was nothing his father could say to change it. But as years went by, a lot of things changed. O’Shea’s father forced him to join the Police Academy just like him. With that in mind, Chris now lived the dream for both of them. He made a promise to make it big in the world of professional wrestling.” Said the Narrator.
 
“But, maybe it wasn’t meant to be. Life is like a rollercoaster ride, with its ups and downs. Christopher had seen the highs but he wasn’t ready for the lowest of the lows.” The Narrator's tone changes. 
 
The curtain opens at a parking lot set up. We see Chris, now played by himself, walk out of a car.
 
“Hey Sabertooth!” a man called out.
 
“Donavon? What do you want?” asked Chris.
 
“What’s with the attitude? I was just here to tell you that we face off in the ring tonight. I know, we don’t really eye to eye with each other…. But, tonight we should put on a great match for the people here. I know, this is a small gym and there are what, 80 people out there? I am not used to this small environment but I am sure you are well versed with it. You have been here for like a year now, right?” Donavon laughs.
 
“That’s really.... funny, man. We’ll see how funny you are when I beat your ass in that ring.” Said Chris sarcastically, as he walks away.
 
“Tough guy, eh? How about I break your leg right here and make sure you never wrestle again, huh? How about that, tough guy?” said Donavon.
 
“Man, this is hilarious. How about this? Take your best shot. I would love to see you try.” Said Chris as he called out Donavon.
 
Donavon laughs. He then approaches Chris with a smirk on his face and pushes him. Chris pushes him back. As they’re about to brawl, they hear a voice from the gym shout at them.
 
“What the hell are you guys doing there? The show is about to begin! If you want to get paid, you better get your asses in here at this moment.” Screamed the Booker as he went back inside.
 
Chris calms down and begins to walk away.
 
“Yeah… Run away, pussy!” screamed Donavon. Chris turns around and punches Donavon right in the face. Donavon falls down and Chris walks away.
 
Scene changes to a wrestling ring with about 60 people sitting around it. Chris prepares to face Donavon in the ring… It was time for their match and the crowd were chanting for Chris. His music plays as Chris makes his way to the ring, high fiving the fans. Donavon’s music hits to a chorus of boos but nobody comes out. They wait for a good 4 minutes before stopping the music. The booker comes out and asks the audience to leave as the show was over due to unforeseen circumstances. Confused himself, Chris walks up to the booker.
 
“What’s wrong?” asked Chris.
 
The booker ignores the question and drags Chris by his arm backstage. “All I want from you is the truth. I saw you guys fighting in the parking lot. I can’t believe you would go that far. Donovan was found…. bleeding out in the parking lot as he was stabbed. The Ambulance has taken him to the hospital but it doesn’t look good. The Police are on their way and should be here at any moment. Confess what you did…. And maybe that will help reduce the punishment in some way. I pray to God that Donavon survives.” Said the Booker.
 
“Wait…. What are you talking about? Confess my crime? I haven’t done anything. He was mocking me and maybe it got a little heated between us and I punched him. But that was it! I did not stab the guy.” Screamed Chris.
 
“You tell all of that to the cops, man. I don’t know what to say.” Said the booker as he walked away.
 
The curtains closed once again.
 
“That night, everything that could go wrong went wrong. The CCTV camera of the gym facing the parking lot, hadn’t been functional for a week at that point. Chris was the last person, Donavon saw. Yes, Donavon succumbed to his injuries because of the multiple stab wounds. The murder weapon was nowhere to be found and all hands pointed at Chris. Everybody knew that Chris and Donavon hated each other… Chris was taken under custody. Was the dream over? Was this the end?” asked the Narrator.
 
The curtains open up again and we see a desk and two chairs with Chris sitting there handcuffed. O’Shea, walks in and sits down in front of him. Chris looks at O’Shea with all hope lost.
 
“Look…. Chris. You would tell me the truth no matter what you did right?” asked O’Shea.
 
“You…. You really think I would do such a thing? You have known me for pretty much my entire life…. You know me. You know I did not do this...” said Chris.
 
“I know…. I know Chris. I know you didn’t do this. But the evidence is very circumstantial. Mr. Davidson told the Police that he witnessed a fight about to happen between the two of you. Since the CCTV was not functional, we cannot run through the footage to prove your innocence either. Our best hope is to find the murder weapon which we’ll run tests through and find out who did this. Trust me, Chris. I will find out who did it and you will be out of here. But until then, don’t lose hope. Okay?” said Officer O’Shea.
 
Chris nodded slightly as he sat there bound to the shackles. The curtain closes in again.
 
“Christopher Sabertooth was about to go through the worst period of his life. Due to the lack of evidence against Chris, he was not given bail and was stuck in prison until his innocence was proven. The court hearings weren’t in favour of Chris either. With all signs for a motive, Chris was the prime suspect. Chris was stuck in prison for something he didn’t do but he still held on knowing his best friend, continuously sought out for the truth. Prison wasn’t easy for Chris either… People always mocked him and beat him up but Chris wasn’t going to lose his cool. But one day…. He had enough of the pain. He was done sitting quietly, waiting to be out of this hell whole. When people mocked him again, he decided to fight back. And fight back, he did. Brutally beating up the man that mocked him all this time. And on that day, he was given the name Havoc. Time passed by and the little gleam of light that was slowly fading away, shined bright once again. O’Shea had found the murder weapon that proved Chris’s innocence. Chris was free to go. But O’Shea had made him a promise, a promise that he intended to keep. O’Shea will catch the culprit that put his best friend through all this pain and suffering. A week passed by…. A day that will change Chris’s life once again. He receives a call from the Aberdeen Police department. Chris was shocked…. They had caught the man who had stabbed Donavon and robbed him. But, he had put up a fight. And in that fight, a noble Police Officer was shot and fatally wounded. That man was O’Shea. His best friend kept the promise but at the cost of his life. Chris screamed in anger and grief as he was alone, once again. Chris was a free man, but he lost his will to live.” Said the Narrator.
 
A moment of silence followed.
 
“But, he too had made a promise. He could not let O’Shea’s dream die with him. As teenagers, they had promised each other to wrestle all over the world. The passion for this business still burned inside of him, like a flame. Just like a phoenix rises from the ashes of the fallen, Christopher Sabertooth stood back up from everything that he went through. He intended to keep the promise he made to his best friend…. What a hero! They say, time heals every wound, but Chris never forgot. He was going to be the best wrestler in the world, not just for himself, but for O’Shea as well. He was not going to stop at anything to achieve his dream. As the years passed by, Chris wrestled for Next Gen Wrestling. There he teamed up with Rocky Hollywood to become the best tag team in the business as the Hollywood Cabinet. Then came North Atlantic Wrestling. Christopher was done being the lacky of the rich and maniacal Rocky Hollywood. He set down his own path, to the top of the company. But in that path, he met a man named Jacob Cass. A brash, cocky wrestler who had all of his opportunities handed to him. The man was not afraid to bring back Chris’s painful past and mocked him and his friend O’Shea. That was the last straw for Chris…. He had enough of the mockery. He was done with the backstage politics that gave guys like Jacob Cass and Rocky Hollywood everything that they ever got.  Was Chris losing his mind? Whatever he was becoming, changed his path to the top significantly.” Said the Narrator.
 
The Curtain opens to Christopher Sabertooth staring at his reflection in the mirror. He is gently swaying around as he continues to keep staring at his own reflection.
 
“Is this who I am?!” screamed Chris. “Weak…. I am not weak. I will no longer let others control my path. They made fun of me… They made me think that I have lost my mind. But, that’s where they’re wrong. I am not losing my mind…. I am simply discovering my true self. I am not a weak human being… I have been through a lot of pain and suffering all my life. This body…. Chris’s body isn’t weak. His soul is…. But I am not. All this time, I did everything that was told to me…. Only to become what I always wanted to be. But what did the system ever do for me? I was always lost in the shuffle to guys like Cass or Rocky Hollywood who could just throw some money and be whatever they want. It is time that somebody around here does something about it. I will no longer be bound to the shackles of this system…. I am no longer a slave to the machine. I am free.” He stares at his reflection for one last time before picking up a bottle of paint. He dabs his fingers into it and runs it across his face. The curtain is drawn out once again.
 
“A new man was born that day. Christopher Sabertooth was lost and out came Havoc. Havoc was not like Chris. He mauled his way through the competition and rose to the top. Nobody could stop him…. But as time went on, Havoc had taken full control over Chris’s body. He had become an emotionless monster who only wreaked pain and suffering to anybody who stood in his way. But somewhere down in his mind, Chris still existed. Havoc could say that he killed Christopher Sabertooth, but deep down he knew, his essence still existed. And that caused the conflict in his mind… Drunk with power, he was slowly becoming what he hated. And that’s when the inner turmoil was too much for a man to handle. He was gone and nobody thought they will see this man again. But being the hero that he is, he fought through his inner turmoil and the man deemed weak, prevailed. Christopher Sabertooth was once again, himself. It was a long, painful journey but one that he had to take. And now we are back to the present…. As Christopher Sabertooth prepares himself to face seven other men, to once again prevail. But, it wasn’t the same Christopher Sabertooth that broke down and turned himself into the path of darkness. No…. This man has a different demeaner. He is more confident than ever. He has finally forgiven himself for what happened to his best friend. He has finally become what he always aimed to be. A legend in the business, Christopher Sabertooth has returned to the squared circle at Omega Wrestling Alliance to continue what he started. Ladies and gentlemen, please put your hands together, for the REALEST man in professional wrestling, Christopher “Havoc” Sabertooth!” screamed the Narrator.
 
The curtains open again and Chris is back wearing his suit in the middle of the stage.
 
“Where the fuck is my Tony Award? Who needs Broadway. Anyway, how did you like my sad story? Is it sad enough for you sick fucks who enjoy these kinds of things? Now, I don’t want to toot my own horn here, but as you just saw, I have been through a lot in my life. Not everybody goes through all of this and comes out the same. I didn’t either…. You see, in these past three years, I embraced all the mixed feelings I was going through in my mind. Havoc doesn’t have to be a sperate man altogether. What he did…. Excuse me, What I DID as Havoc was beautiful. I tore down my opposition with ease… And I am not afraid to admit it, I was enjoying it. Being Havoc was far more powerful than being Christopher Sabertooth. Sure, Chris was a great wrestler but he lacked the cutting edge that is needed to become a star. So, when Havoc took over the business, things were going great as he amassed titles after titles. But there’s one thing he lacked…. The swagger. He was too preachy. ‘You will never walk alone’ he said as he started to gain followers who believed in his way of life. But I wasn’t here to bring down the system… I wanted to be the best wrestler in the world. And that part was lost somewhere that I had to find again.
 
 So, you may wonder, what if I combine both of these personalities into one? Because you shouldn’t need to. You’re looking at him. I still love my best friend, O’Shea. But if people think they can manipulate me by using that name against me then they’re in for a shocker. I don’t need to dig deep down anymore to become Havoc again… In fact, I don’t need to be Havoc again. Everything he could do, I can do the same. And with that, I don’t even have to cover my pretty face. I am not here to save anybody from their problems…. No. I don’t care about anybody else but me. So, I invite you all to delve deep down into my past, as I have laid all out for you to see, tonight. Try your best to get under my skin, but don’t be disappointed when you fail to do so. I was always brilliant at wrestling, that was never the fault but yet, something held me back. And then it hit me; I held myself back through my ideals and moral code. I wanted to be surrounded by fans who would cheer on my name so that I could validate my performance. But, I don’t seek anybody’s validation or approval anymore. That just unnecessarily complicates things. People are fickle minded. Validating yourself by their opinion of you is like asking a ten-year-old to correct a calculus test. These people have never been in the ring…. Then who the fuck are they to decide over the fate of a wrestler, that to a REAL wrestler like me. I have been asked by many, why do I call myself the real wrestler? The answer is simple…. Nobody can go toe to toe with me, in that ring. People watch wrestling and think, that it’s easy. Which is probably why, guys like Isaac Thornton even think of stepping into the ring. A failed acting career doesn’t exactly transition well to be a wrestler. Sure, the man can talk but so can everybody else. These wrestlers don’t deserve to be in the same ring as me.
 
All of this tonight, wasn’t really something I do. Since, everybody thinks I am a man in conflict with myself, I put this out there to prove that I am comfortable about my past. What happened, happened. Would I have done things differently if I had a choice? Probably…. But if you think I am a man defined by my horrible past, you’re terribly mistaken. So, to all my opponents in the Ultimate X match digging deep into my past to get into my head, you might have to find another way because this isn’t going to work.
 
I began tonight with a set of pictures behind me…. The pictures of my opponents this Sunday at Hardcore Havoc, which haven’t really played a part until this moment. Let us continue the show, shall we? Let’s see…. Who’s first on the list? Caspian. The self-proclaimed ‘King of Carnage’. Now, let me get this straight…. A Drug Cartel leader thinks he can be a wrestler just because he beat some wimps back where he’s from? I don’t want to get into the legalities of this, as that’s none of my business. I presume, you have gotten into a fair share of fights being from the drug cartel background. You say you have been stabbed, beaten down and you walked away from it to live another day. Well, newsflash buddy, I have been through all of that too. But you know what separates the two of us, I am a wrestler and you’re not. Beating people senseless when it’s not much of a fight must be enthralling I presume, but in a wrestling ring, your brute strength will not be able to compensate for your lack in experience. I have been doing this for years! You are right, passion doesn’t get the man to where he wants to be, I know because I tried that route. Kicking ass does and I have done a fair share of that myself. So, you may be the kingpin of whatever that you do, but in that ring, you are nothing but fodder to my ego. It’s guys like you who think wrestling is as easy as pulling the trigger. You’re not going to have a gun to save you this time around. To me, you’re just a business man wasting my time. You should have stuck to what you do best…. “said Chris. He takes out a red marker from his pocket and crosses out Caspian’s photo.
 
“Gareth Carson… Careful people, he’s LEGIT DANGEROUS… to 10-year olds. Your claim to fame is that you tapped out the World Champion… That’s commendable. So, you do talk a lot of shit and so far, you have backed it up. But, that’s about as far you get into your journey. You have a legit MMA background from what I have heard about you… A LEGIT BADASS, ladies and gentlemen. Yet, you talk trash like it’s no mans business. I would have thought, a guy like you would let his actions speak louder than words but by God, you fucking talk too much. Have some dignity and actually try to act like the Badass you claim to be. Your fighting background will definitely play a factor in this match, there’s no denying that. But, the problem arises when you start looking into what I have been through. I was in prison where I was beaten down, shanked and left to die but I didn’t give up. So, whatever you have to bring to the table, I can take it. I would have been scared if I had a glass jaw but there’s nothing you can that I haven’t already been through and overcame. And when it comes to wrestling ability, you can’t even lace my boots. So, you’re no threat to me, Gareth.” Said Chris as he strikes out yet another picture.
 
“Stefan St. Sigmund. Where do I begin about this guy…? When I think of underdogs, you’re the first person that comes to my mind. Like, you’re tiny. And you care about the fans and what they want…. All the positivity…. Stop giving people a sense of false hope. You know exactly what you have been through. It’s a tough world out there and guys like don’t stand a chance of surviving in this business. All your positivity, and your fake smile is just an act to hide all your insecurities. You’re not a glimmer of hope to these people, you’re just a poster boy of false propaganda. Nothing good ever comes out by being the nice guy…. What good has it ever brought you? I know, you have been made fun of before. Is that what you really deserved? No. But that’s what you got. That’s reality my friend so, get used to being beaten down because the underdog story will not be told this Sunday.” Smirks Chris. He pulls out Stefan’s picture from the wall and throws it away. “You don’t even belong here.” Said Chris.
 
“Moving on… ‘The Righteous’ Nate Cage. Never before have I seen a ‘cult’ leader suck up to someone like Nate has to Kenny Drake. You and your constant military references does not make you a tough guy. I know a thing or two about ‘fate’ and ‘cults’ and all of that nonsense. I am shocked how easy it is to fool people into believing the words that you spit out… As Havoc, I had lost touch with reality when I tried to change the world for what it was and people bought all of it. Just like they’re buying into your bullshit. Just remember, these loyal followers of yours will change belief when they see their so-called leader get his ass whooped back to reality. All the words you spew, mean nothing to me. Frankly, you don’t even deserve my time. Talk to me when you have actually accomplished something worthwhile…. And no, being a pet to Kenny Drake doesn’t count.” Said Chris with a disgusted look. He simply crosses out Nate’s picture and moves on. He is absolutely appalled by the next picture in line, of Isaac Thornton.
 
“This guy…. I don’t even feel like talking about him anymore. A failure in Hollywood has stepped foot to the squared circle to fail again. I beat this guy already…. Why is he even on here? Even Stefan can probably beat him if he tried hard enough. It’s obvious that he stuck to his acting roots because he is trying to make himself and the others watching the show believe that he’s a real wrestler. And he sucks at that too, since nobody is buying your bullshit. You don’t belong here Isaac… You’re just a guy with a loud mouth who is trying to stir the pot as much as he can before he fizzles out into the background. Strike the iron while it’s hot Isaac, because this is probably your last shot at anything. You had a chance to prove everybody wrong on Kingdom last week but you failed to do so. Call me a con man all you want, that’s how this business works. We all go in to the ring to win and I won…. But you wouldn’t know anything about that or this business. You are a man with no talent and no reason to step into the ring… Take my advice and walk away before you are unable to do so and maybe then you might have a chance at acting…. But let’s be honest, you’re just terrible at everything you do. “said Chris as he crosses out Isaac’s photo. “Actually, while I am at it, I might even put you where you belong.” Chris pulls out Isaac’s photo, crumples it and throws it in the trash bin.
 
“That was hard to go through… Even talking about him disgust me. Either way, I have to finish this now. We’ve got ‘The Unbreakable’ Mr. Bull Connors. Connors, I am not going to resort to fat jokes to put you to your place like the rest of my opposition… No. Though, it’s hard believing that you got as far as you did in the NCAA. You are one of the few wrestlers that I actually respect. Yes, I know it’s hard to believe that seeing your performance so far in OWA. You were a force to be reckoned with in collegiate wrestling and I give you props for that. You and I, both share an amateur wrestling background and you have the titles to prove for it. But you see, as good as I was on the mat, I always wanted to be a professional wrestler. Maybe, you can give me a run for my money on the mat but we are not going to be there, are we? Ultimate X… Probably the stipulation itself is your biggest enemy. I was expecting a lot more from a four-time NCAA Division I All-American…. But from what I have seen you do so far in OWA, has been very disappointing. I was rooting for you, Bull. You were probably the guy I wanted to face the most when I came here… But, with every week, you just failed to live up to the hype. You claim that your addiction is winning, but when you lost, you try to justify it by assaulting the man after the match and calling it a statement. Bull Connors is nothing more than a hypocrite and a very apt choice of words on my part. A word befitting your nature… You may be the collegiate champion but you have never faced a challenge like me. I don’t doubt your capabilities as a wrestler like the other opponents do… I have myself learned to not be fooled by one’s size… But you don’t phase me.” Said Chris.
 
“Of all the people on here, you’re the one that I expected better from. Everybody else is delusional, self-centred idiots who don’t know any better. But you…” Chris sighs in disappointment as he crosses of Bull Connors’s picture.
 
“And finally, we get to the last and probably the least of my concerns, in Scotty Adams. You can try your manipulative hoopla on others to some success but please do spare me with your bullshit. The Pinnacle of Purity? Do you live in the same world as the rest of us or are you too ‘pure’ to admit that you’re living inside a bubble that you refuse to come out of? I was dumbfounded by the things you had to say about everyone involved in this match… With such great articulation and precision. Man, I haven’t seen a faker person in my life and I am the crazy one. I am the one who’s become an emotional construct? You said something about mirages, right? Yet you talk like Jesus lives within you with all the ‘purity’ bullshit. You’re telling me that you haven’t done anything wrong in your life… I see, you’re a charitable person and if I actually gave a shit, I would be impressed with your commitment to your act. Man, who even talks like that? You are so full of yourself that you are blind to your own issues. Look into yourself, the two seconds of palpable ecstasy dissipates to a sudden realization when your ‘act’ is over. It’s ironic that you talk about the delusions that fester me when you have to live with yourself, whatever you are. But, let us all be real for a second… Even if this man can do nothing wrong, doesn’t translate into a ring general now does it? So, you can spew all the bullshit that you believe in and be the ‘purest’ man in the locker room for as long as you please, but I am still going to destroy you. I know you’re trying to compensate your physical incapability with all the shit you like to say.  But, that’s all well and good until you get in that ring. I’ll see how well your purity holds on for when I kick your ass back to reality. Denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. Get used to these words because the Spartan’s Championship is not coming your way anytime soon.” Said Chris. He marks the cross on the final opponent as he steps forward towards the camera.
 
“You see what I am dealing with? Hardly anybody actually qualifies to be a wrestler here. A drug lord who thinks too highly of himself…. NOT a wrestler. An MMA fighter who yaps about how dangerous he is based off a fluke victory…. NOT a wrestler. A failed actor who I don’t want to fucking waste my time on… NOT a wrestler. Two delusional people, caught up in their own bullshit that they spew…NOT a wrestler. A jibbering oaf who believes in false hopes and dreams… NOT a wrestler as he barely even qualifies as a man. And a man who should be a lot more than what he is…. NOT a wrestler in my eyes. And then they say why I call myself the last real wrestler in this business. I am not going to talk about how the Spartan spirit lives on in me and all the other bullshit people have made up to make belief. I am going to speak the harsh truth that they’re not ready to hear…. I am going to win the OWA Spartan’s Championship, this Sunday. Why? Because, my name is Christopher Sabertooth and I am the GOD of wrestling walking amongst peasants. All of you should thank me for saving OWA from these pretentious know-it-all’s who have nothing on me. And that, ladies and gentleman, is Divine Intervention.” Said Chris as he takes a bow. The curtain closes and the scene ends…
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Re: OWA Promos!
Post on 5/12/2018, 3:58 am by Miltiades
(Horns blow within the Valley. Miltiades marches down the aisle as his followers make a way for him. He is flanked by people known as his advisers. They keep their distance as Miltiades makes his way through the masses. He checks the Barracks and is greeted by the personnel inside. They give him his undivided attention.)

Do you know why I am here? I am here because at this point under-performance could be a bane to our balance here. Our delicate balance that we all strive to make sure isn’t put on one end or put on the other end because at that point it makes us look like we have no idea what we’re doing here. And this Barrack is one of the over-performing groups here. You are the example people try to mimic, and to some avail it works, but to others it doesn’t it just makes it shitty in a regard, and makes them fall flat. I’m sure what you’re thinking here, “What does it have to do you with you? What Does any of this have to do with you?” Well when people look up to you, when people look up to you, it’s as one of three things. They look at you as a goal, as something to attain and maybe even surpass. Another of what they look at you as is an obstacle, a way that is making their mediocrity on point, something that they hate, something that they wish wasn’t shining so brightly so they could continue to just ink on by. And the last one is our of contempt because they want to be those in front, they want to be those that get these little talks instead of waiting on the back burner because they can’t make it by a small percentage. You are still asking yourself what this has to do with you? And what it does is fairly simple. Make these people an example. The strong versus the weak. If you are put up against a person of the lower percentile, show them why they are the Lower Percentile. If they end up beating you in the end, that’s fine nothing will come upon you, in fact it will be a good way to show that they can improve and will hopefully keep that light in their stomach. But if they win, if they are utterly defeated by the widest margin, then humiliate them. Humiliate them to the point that they quit or take it upon themselves to never be in that position again.

(Confused looks on the personnel tell Miltiades all he needs to know. They are unsure, they are maybe  unwilling. He walks towards the end of the tent surveying all of the belongings, all of what he can infer from how everything is kept and how it means for the people on hand. Some are unkempt, but have their items isolated in one place. Some are fairly clean, yet their places are that of isolation as well, not really social. Then there are the few who keep their places clean and are obviously the ones who interact a lot with others.)

I can see you are contempt, you don’t like the idea of either humiliating your fellow man, or even losing. And that’s fair, no one in their right mind would want to aim to humiliate anyone or take losing lightly. But I’m not asking you to do this because you think it’s right. I’m asking your to do this because it’s a trial for the other, because it’s something they will have to endure either way and will end up learning anyway. We are not molding them to be their own special person, we are molding them to live up to their potential, but to be in the same mold as we all are. Driven, hardened by battle, and no regrets in any decision they make. Because with it they will be able to grow and learn that’s how they need to be. And when we do that we’ll be a unit.

(Miltiades reaches the end, and his advisers give each personnel two pieces of paper. It’s a list of weaknesses, strengths, and a Bio. Bios of two men who have been proven to be that of people who are growing to be a bane in his side. On one hand you have Jacob Senn, Strengths: resiliency, and audacity for greatness. Weaknesses: Messiah Complex, In Over His Head. On the other hand you have CM Nas, Strengths Consistent with his mouth, Talented in the Ring. Weaknesses: Tendency to let his mouth talk but for get to do action, and undeserved attention.)

These two men, these two men are the obvious reason for this talk. Because they resemble a spectrum of what we don’t want from this. They each represent a one point of the spectrum that makes or breaks a person, and they are also obviously my opponents in this upcoming match. Let me tell you more. CM Nas, CM Nas is well a man of refined taste, but what he lacks in actual championships he makes up for in how he could persuade people and leave them wanting more. And while he is an excellent tactician in the ring, he more than doesn’t show that with his will to succeed. He believes he should be handed these opportunities, he believes he deserves it above all else, and every time he’s tried to prove it, he’s come out on the bottom. First it was with Gareth where he wanted to show this up and comer what he’s all about only to tap. While Tapping was a good strategy in the long run it was still a loss, a loss to someone who was just feeling their way around, and found that he was better than the self-proclaimed champion of OWA, and therefore solidifying that what was happening in Nas’s little head, was nothing more than a fantasy. I could come to respect Nas more, I could come to respect him a bit more but from what I’ve seen and witnessed it’s hard to do so. It’s hard to do so because you can see so much in him but he’s not utilizing it. He’s using the same old tricks, the same old concepts that may have made him strive before, but it’s not happening this go-round because the talent around him isn’t the same nor where they ever the same. He just assumed he could continue working the way he’s worked and it’s come to bite him back in the ass.

(Miltiades’s advisers take the portrait of CM Nas away from them. They collect it and take it the light fire outside of the tent and with it burns the portraits. However the ink that was used to print on the paper causes an effect on the smoke. The ink gives it a blueish tint, and then turns white to indicate a term of surrender, the only reason you’d need to give Miltiades in order for him to show any semblance of restraint.)

And now on the Senn. Now Jacob, he’s a part of what I’d like to call the old guard. He along with many members of this group make it sure that they have every right to a title or even a celebrity status. Hell, when his music his on his return everyone knew who it was before he even came out. It caused a rile between everyone and caused a sort of hope. And during that week he answered that hope and was able to dispatch Me and Nas, but he let it get to his head. And that’s goes for everyone a part of this Old Guard. They let things go to their head, and then they are on something not even Cloud 9 could contend with. It’s this sort of Messiah Complex they all have that if you know how to exploit it, you are able to do something about it. You see while he does feel right to be wary of my Tres Comas Club comrades, he does so in discounting my actual ability. He does so in his own petty way that to him means he’s not even going to give me a second glance. He’s that spectrum of where his status makes him think no one can touch him. And honestly those are the worse kinds of people. Because when they lose that sense of mortality, that sense of anything can happen, then they become reckless, they become dissuaded with the thought of loss, but when push comes to shove they are not where they should be. And even then they often think they don’t fit the mold and he no doubt will say so. But learn from his mistakes. Learn that he may think he’s untouchable, but really he’s not. Learn that when you get called out on having an army that’s where his attention truly lies and capitalize on it. Learn that when he wants to break you and batter you, you show him why you will come out on top. Learn from the mistakes of the Old Guard, and then you too will be the ones to prosper. Because While the Old Guard is wise in some regards, that’s only some regards.

(The advisors take Senn’s portraits and throw it into the fire. This time however the smoke doesn’t turn white. It turns green, the signal of war, the signal that no matter the begging, no matter the outcome, what happens in that ring, would have to be considered a god send, and that only divine intervention can stop it. Miltiades turns around and leaves the barracks, leaving his people to stew on what he’s said.)

They’ll learn, they’ll learn or find out that they are easily replaced. That mindset could fuck anyone up, but that’s what they need to think right now. They need to think that if they don’t live up they can be replaced, and they will be if I see it. But right now Hardcore Havoc is calling my name. And I have to answer it’s call. Nas, Senn, You have yet to actually see a man like me. You’ve fought many people who have called themselves kings, themselves rulers, themselves Gods, but you’ve never fought against a man with the resolve of a survivor, and the resolve of a anarchist. I want you to keep doubting me, I want you to keep thinking over my words and think you have the best response, but what I am saying you also need to take into consideration. I am not like anyone you’ve faced. You’ve faced people who dissolve when they lose, they’ve never taken their loss into account as a lesson and have weathered any type of storm. Nas, Senn you are both coming with an idea that this will be like anything you’ve done before, but that’s not true. You are facing a man with more to lose, and less to earn than anything. And to balance that out he’ll do anything. Because that’s what this world needs. It needs weaklings, it needs to strong, and it needs the man in between who is able to harness strength, but still relate with the weak to rule. And that’s who I am. I am the Balance, The Absolute, I am Augustus, and this is my warning for you both.
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Re: OWA Promos!
Post on 5/12/2018, 3:53 am by Bull Connors
Hardcore Havoc/Promo No. 1


“Wants & Needs”


“I’ve never exactly been the type to mince words or deliberately mislead anyone about what my true intentions are or what I plan on accomplishing here in the OWA. So I’m going to just come out and say it. “


“I. Want. The Spartans Championship. “


“Actually, let me go ahead and clarify what I’ve just said. I don’t just want the Spartans Championship. I need the Spartan’s Championship. You see, everyone has something they want or something they need. I mean, we’re all taught from a young age that nobody lives a perfect life, right? We all seek out something in our lives, something that others have that we desperately want for ourselves. For some, it’s stability. For some, it’s money. For some, it’s sex. For some, it’s power. For some, it’s excitement. But for me? My greatest addictions?”


“ Winning. Proving to myself that I’m far better than my opponent could ever hope to be. My intense drive to accomplish and succeed. I mean, to convincingly defeat anyone that steps into the ring with me? To have my arm raised high by the referee, as I stand over my battered and bruised opponent as the victor in our match? To prove to myself, that I’ve got what it takes to become the best wrestler in the OWA? These are just some of the main reasons why I do what I do. Why I want to win this Ultimate X match. Why I’m going to be the one who will walk out of Hardcore Havoc as the Spartan’s Champion.”


“Don’t fool yourselves for even a second.”


“My opponents can try to convince themselves all they want that I’m an irrelevant part of this match. That I’m nothing more than a mere non-factor due to my size. All they’d be doing is further confirm my belief that they’re all even stupider and more brain-dead than I previously thought they already were. I’m too motivated and too determined to accept the remote possibility of a loss. To be the one who will start an entirely new legacy of champions. To get my name into the history books forever. That’s something I’d give anything to accomplish. That’s all the motivation I could possibly need to win right there. Just the very idea of anyone but myself wearing that belt around their waist...upsets me. No, actually. I take that back. It doesn’t just upset me. It pisses me the hell off. Just imagining any one of these men actually running around with the Spartan’s title wrapped around their waist, while I’d have to sit back and watch as they’d be the one who would forever cement their place in the history books. The very thought of it manages to make my goddamn skin crawl.”


“Speaking of whom…”


“Let’s actually go over some of my opponents one by one, shall we? I’ve talked enough about myself already, I think it’s about time to really try and “understand” the mindset of them all going into this match. The four biggest threats to me winning the Ultimate X match, to be specific. A rundown of everybody I’ll be stepping into the ring within just two days. Let’s start with Isaac Thornton, an egotist calling out others for being egotists. Ugh. You may pride yourself as an actor, but you don’t convince me for a single second. You seem to act as though you’re desperately trying to project some kind of Marlon Brando-esque air of coolness around yourself, hell you’ve even called yourself the “Marlon Brando of your generation.” Which I’ve got to say is absolutely hilarious. What exactly makes you ”the Marlon Brando of your generation”? Is it the exorbitant demands you’re making from those around you, simply to accommodate your ego? Or is it your prima donna behavior that shows itself whenever you don’t get your way? Now that I look at it. You really do have some striking similarities with the man. The only discernible difference being that Brando actually was a great actor and you’re...well, not.”


“Frankly, I’m shocked that you even made it past the “middle school play” phase of your acting career, but I digress. I’m not here to talk about your acting abilities or lack thereof. No, I’m here to talk about the fact that you honestly think you’ll be able to slither on by and snatch the Spartans Championship out from under my nose. I can recognize a snake in the grass when I see one, and you certainly won’t be the one taking that belt home. So long as we’re in the same ring together, I’ll do my damnedest to make sure of that! You can go on and on about the fame you’ll soon earn once you begin racking up wins and collecting titles all you want. That’s all in the uncertain and unwritten future. Now? I can say with almost complete and utter certainty, that Hardcore Havoc won’t be the place where you’ll finally be able to begin leaving your mark on the OWA. Why? I’ll tell you. It’s because you’re vastly out of your depth. When you chose to describe yourself as a minnow trying to survive in the deep blue sea that is OWA, you hit the nail right on the fucking head because that’s exactly what you are. Of course, you’d end up taking that right back and instead claiming that you’re actually a shark. A shark, hm? An “apex predator” sitting at the top of OWA’s food chain. No offense, but I’m fairly certain almost no one here is going to buy that. Perhaps you should start calling yourself that after you finally do something noteworthy here.”


“Next, there is Gareth Cason. A man who constantly spews reason after reason as to why he’s considered “Legit Dangerous” and why he’s someone that everyone else in this match should be utterly terrified of. Sure, you did professional MMA and did pretty damn well for yourself. Congratulations. Am I supposed to be impressed about that? That you beat up some dude I can barely even remember the name of? That you got a fluke victory over the Omega Heavyweight Champion? Guys like you have started to become a dime a dozen in the world of professional wrestling. You’re nothing new. To me, all you are is a loud-mouthed little punk who can’t stop talking himself up like he’s a big fucking tough guy. It’s genuinely amazing, how you can sit there and convince yourself that we’re all “scared” of you. As if you're some kind of boogeyman, coming out to terrorize us all. Did it ever cross your mind that maybe, just maybe, some of us like to actually think before we say something? Talking like that doesn’t make you look like a cool badass. It makes you look like an absolute tool. Then again, one of your nicknames is the “The Instrument of Violence” so I suppose to a small degree you’re already somewhat aware of the fact that you actually are one.”


“Next, we’ve got “The Righteous” Nate Cage. Kenny Drake’s personal lap dog who hangs onto his every word as though it were his last. You talk an awfully big game for someone who feels the need to constantly surround themselves with an army of “loyal followers”. Running around and calling yourself “the only true soldier in this company”, as though that actually means something of any importance or relevance to anyone but yourself. Christ, why am I placed in a match with so many delusional fucking people? Am I one of the only participants in this match that isn’t suffering from a fairly severe disconnect with reality? Honestly, it’s just maddening to listen to. You act as though beating someone with mental issues is at all impressive because it isn’t."


"I don’t quite know what happened two weeks ago, but it seems like almost no one remembers the simple fact that I completely annihilated a 6-foot-6, 345-pound man and put him through the ringside announcer’s table. I’m sure someone will come by and say “but you didn’t win, how is that impressive?” To which I reply: Did I need to win to make a statement? No, I didn’t. I could’ve easily won if I so desired, but that’s not what I did. I planned to make him look completely helpless and that’s exactly what I managed to do. Yet what do you have to say in response to that? An insult to my weight. A fucking fat joke. Not even a funny, witty or cleverly worded one. I could’ve come up with a better one in my sleep. Please, spare me and everyone else any more of your shitty jokes and incessant ramblings about your “army”, none of whom could probably take me on in a fight, even on my absolute worst day. I don’t need anyone to help me fight my battles or to reassure me when things don’t go the way I want them to, I’m more than capable of doing that on my own. That is what separates us, Nate.”


"And finally, “The Silver Bullet” Scotty Adams. Believe it or not, I’ve finally found someone in this match who isn’t quite as delusional as the people I’ve already mentioned so far. No, in fact, if I could select anybody as the person to watch out for in this match. It would be you, Mr. Adams. You possess a certain degree of self-awareness and intelligence that clearly isn’t as close to being noticeable on our opponents, as it is on you. You’ve suggested that we are all trying to convince ourselves that we can win, more than actually trying to convince anyone else of our own ability to achieve victory. To a certain degree, I find myself agreeing with that. Yet, on the other hand, you’ve failed to acknowledge me as a threat in this match. You pride yourself on being highly analytical of your opponent’s every mannerism, action, and behavior in the ring. However, while everyone else has already been given a match to showcase some of their abilities in the ring, I haven’t had such an opportunity quite yet. You could barely even consider my match with Broseph to be an actual “match”, it lasted for such little time."



"Therefore, I now realize that I’ve been gifted an unexpected advantage. Being consistently underrated by my opponents is almost entirely because they have no knowledge of what I can truly do in the ring. A match that lasted a mere couple of minutes is no proper way to gauge what I’m actually capable of. You see Scotty, the only “internal crisis” that I was suffering from, was this sense of fear buried deep within me, saying that I wouldn’t be leaving San Diego with the Spartan’s Championship. However, after looking at this crop of opponents, I can steadily feel that fear slip away from me. You can speak about how you’d love to win this Spartan's Championship in the city that you once called home all you want, about how much it would "mean to you". I hate to burst your bubble, but the classic story of the "hometown hero" coming back to win the big one for his city, won't be happening this Sunday. Come hell or high water, I will adapt my approach as I see fit over the course of the match, do whatever else it possibly takes to ensure my victory, and continue fighting until I’ve become the first ever OWA Spartan's Champion.”


“Rest assured of that.”


Last edited by Bull Connors on 5/12/2018, 4:01 am; edited 2 times in total
avatar
Re: OWA Promos!
Post on 5/11/2018, 10:10 pm by Monolith
Hey megalomaniac.
You're no Jesus.
Yeah, you're no fucking Elvis.
Special, as you know yourself.
Baby, just step down.
Step down.








A four pane window, a classic look for the myriad of apartment buildings that have popped up in the area in the past century, clouds with droplets of rain that have collected over the past hour. Refracted are the beams of sunlight from between the now parting clouds, slightly obscuring the sight of a seated individual at his desk, hunched over in his seat. From the sheer size of the specimen, the assumption can be made that this is a man, though perhaps just in form rather than function. Long dark hair, matted down the protruding shoulders from under the straps on his black beater, glistens with the same water which clouds the window.


“Nine years.”


The beast straightens up in his basic wooden chair, bending back at the neck and bending it either way to work the kinks out. The cracks sound oddly weak, but his sigh of relief would suggest otherwise.


“Nine years and ninety seven days since the world declared me a man. Eighteen's the time you can make a difference, they said. Eighteen is opportunity. Eighteen is freedom.”


The man stands up from his perch and turns around, revealing a mammoth of a man. Stocked into his aforementioned black beater and sweats of the same color, he seats himself backwards on the chair. The eyes pierce with conviction.


“Eighteen can be whatever you want it to be. My coronation began long before that. It began when food was scarce. It began when eviction notices appeared. When my deadbeat parents couldn't even look me in the eye. Life was nothing more than a simulation of how to lose your child. So they did. I split.


Understand that there is no harbored resentment. No Christmas or birthday cards being exchanged either. What there is, is knowledge. The knowledge that there is no 'best life' out there. There is only a means to an end. That end, is survival. The means, was decimation. A teenager on their own gets only what they take in the Bronx. What I took was what I needed. That, and hope. Fighting in the alleys with scrappers over a wallet with a couple of hundred dollars that have sweat, grime, cocaine, and all other sorts of filth all over them is what I had to do. Beating them within inches of their lives is what I wanted to do.


For every person in their three piece suit and tie carrying a briefcase telling a 'boy' like me to get off the sidewalk when I couldn't find those infested wallets and a couple of others looking for a payday, I needed to go further. For those who attempted to talk as if the people sitting on the streets and in the alleys don't have the fucking sense to understand their insults and high-brow statements on OUR human condition, I had to make the mark that would lead me here. I saved that money. I bought those books. And I studied those rats in the race that looked down upon me years ago. Now, it's not an alley, or a parking lot.


It's a ring.”


A snarling breath, built upon the rising veracity of his words, leaves the monster.


“Omega Wrestling Alliance is the culmination of the past three thousand three hundred and eighty four days. The boy doesn't exist anymore. The man never did. The only thing that remains...


Is the Monolith.”








Fade.
avatar
Re: OWA Promos!
Post on 5/11/2018, 8:55 pm by ScottyAdams
The Radiant Glass ---


Date:9/5/2018
Time: 2:20 pm
Location: San Diego, California, USA
---

We open to the interior of the "Adonis Gym", where if we pan around, we can see at least twenty-five people, all going through their daily routines, whether that be on the treadmill, sparring in one of the three wrestling rings (all regulation sized; with Cheery red, sky blue and cream coloured ropes affixed from the turnbuckles), or with one of the eleven wine red punching bags that are situated at various points throughout the gym,each one affixed to the ceiling's metallic blue painted steel beams by steel chains (which allow for additional 'give' when they are hit). 

Others are sitting on the oak benches, either 'cooling down' after wrapping up their session an indeterminate amount of time prior to our arrival, or loitering around, waiting for their turn to use one of the many pieces of equipment that is currently occupied. One of those being Sebastian Whitfield, an up-and-comer in the San Diego area, currently competing with the "independent" SDWC promotion; a trainee of Scotty Adams and the American branch of his 'Adams Wrestling Clinic'. But we're not here to talk about him, and well, there's not much to talk about with him to be honest, seeing as he is still a 'greenhorn' when it comes to wrestling in a professional sense, having only graduated from the academy two months ago. 

Continuing to pan throughout the gym, there is a figure (Attired in a crimson red shirt, black/wine shorts and charcoal/azure 'New Balance' sneakers) leaning against the back right hand side snow painted wall, about three feet from the window, their eyes simply surveying the goings on in this gym --- a gym they know all too well. A gym, where it all began for them --- where their venture into the realm that we know as the 'American Professional Wrestling scene' took its first steps, ten years ago. January 2nd, 2008 if we're being *exact* with our recitation --- yes, the figure *is* indeed, Scotty. 

A soft smirk crossing his face, he allows the memory of the first time he walked through the oak double doors, a young man looking for his 'place' --- willing to scrap and claw his way through the rigours; the physical strain that awaited him. That still awaits him, even as his career progresses; his name becomes more and more cemented as one of the all-time 'icons' this industry as produced. A status that some have said is assured --- that it's no longer a question of *if* he'll be a wrestling hall of famer when the time comes, and he *finally* (and not just in the sense of a 'hiatus' like he has done before) walks away from the business, but *when* will the induction occur? 

It's admittedly, not something that *he* personally thinks about --- in fact, he stated back in June of 2016 when asked by Michael Gira of Channel 10 back in Australia about this topic, he stated that although the hall-of-fame would be something he cherishes forever (just like he does the plaque he received from the NWA when he was inducted into their HoF back in 2013), it's not something he seeks out, or even really thinks about. 

"I'll cross that bridge when the time arises for it to occur," was his exact statement,and sums up his thoughts on the topic perfectly. Slowly stepping forward, a deep sigh leaves his lips, as he glances around at each piece of equipment that is around the gym, imagining himself being on them, breathing heavily and feeling his body almost scream at him to take a break; re-calibrate after the day's session, yet he would keep pushing on --- he would keep breaking his own limits, no, not just his limits --- the *human* limits to how far one could exert themselves, before their body would just shut itself down and say "no, I can't take this any more".  

Same as he has been his *entire* career, when it's come to gym work --- even if his visits have been less frequent in recent years, due to wishing to manage his knee and back --- issues that no matter what he might try to say; how much he wants to deny it, *do* affect how much effort he can actually exert within a gym setting (primarily the back). Continuing his walk around, his eyes catch a few of the patrons, mainly people that he has interacted with over the years --- including one of those using a punching bag that was situated about ten feet from where he initially was situated --- a patron, he remembers sparring with on his fifth day here, in what was actually his first ever sparring session since landing on American shores. 

Nodding to himself, he turns his attention back in front of him, before allowing the words: "It's as they say --- it all comes full circle in the end," as he allows the sounds of grunting and well, the kinds of sounds you would expect to hear at a gym to radiate inside of his mind. Each sound, invoking a memory of his road to just being noticed in the American scene --- to *not* just being another nameless; faceless import who would have their 'flash in the pan' moment, before fading into obscurity and being another case of 'unfulfilled potential' like many that had come before him; many that have followed him.

 Though he *always* had the advantage of being a charisma goldmine --- which, as we should *all* know by know, usually means one will have a successful career in this industry, irrespective of in-ring talent. Which, as we all also know, Scotty has in spades --- even if it *wasn't* always that way. Something that he has openly admitted several times; something that is the same for the vast majority of wrestlers when their career is starting out (even if they wish to instead make themselves out to be this prodigious son who was skilled from the outset to the fans and media). 

Softly wincing, he feels a slight pang in his back, before gritting his teeth and contorting his face into his famed half-smirk, as he resumes his walk, glancing over at the treadmill where he was 'discovered' by Tyler Davis --- who offered him the chance to team with him in the 'Gods of Wrestling' promotion three weeks after his official American debut (which occurred in a Los Angeles based underground promotion called WEW), stating that it would be a means to further integrate him into the realm of American wrestling; show him the nuances that would be required to 'make it'. 

"Sometimes it takes going back to the start, to realise just how best to proceed forward," his words calm, he turns his glance back ahead, as he sidesteps a patron that is heading in the direction of the same treadmill Scott was looking at. 

"To realise, just what must be," stating this, he makes his way over to a bench about three feet from where he was standing, pivots his body before sitting down and cupping his hands --- as he slightly places his head between them.  "This is where my passage began --- the blood, the sweat, the tears all commenced in this very gym," As cliche as that may sound (a fact that is partially why Scotty softly chuckles under his breath after remarking those words), it's the truth. 

Rubbing his temples gently, he tilts his head up slightly, commenting "The moments I spent here, were moments that defined me --- that made me who I am today," before moving his left hand down to his jawline; stroking his beard gently, pondering just how best to broach the subject matter he wishes to divulge next. Glancing over to the azure painted mahogany double doors that grace the entrances, a holographic image of a clean-shaven, younger form of him sauntering through those exact doors manifesting itself, as it calmly yet nervously makes its way towards the registration office --- just as he had done back on his first day. 

An event that he stated in a Channel 7 interview in 2014, actually took him twelve minutes to complete, as he legitimately had no clue where the registration office was; was too nervous to ask anybody, as you would expect from someone who had only been in America for four days and looked like an absolute twig, compared to others in the gym. "It's funny how it works, sometimes," he states, allowing his mind to regather some of the thoughts that had been eluding him to this point. "You come back to the place where a significant event --- in this case, me starting the road to where I am today; all you can think about, is just how it all could have been different,". 

"How if certain events didn't mesh together to lead you upon the passage that you ultimately took, *everything* could easily have unravelled --- no matter how much you try to convince yourself otherwise," Feeling his back begin to throb slightly, he leans back, laying down atop the bench; allowing it to act as a pseudo-bed, whilst his eyes stare up at the ceiling lights.

 "And it very *nearly* did, " Exhaling deeply, he thinks about the next words that are about to leave his lips --- words that he has *never* divulged before, to *anybody* outside of Bianca and Jane. "I nearly walked away from this business after three days --- In fact, I literally had one foot out the door, before something clicked inside of me and reminded me that I was here to *escape* the security blanket; the shelter that I had provided myself with --- that this *was* the stability that I had been craving," Pausing, he allows those words to sink in, as his eyes blink before returning their focus to the lights. 

"That I *still* crave to this day --- and that quitting would have only been validation that they were *right* about me," his comment drifting into the air faintly, he thinks back to the criticisms that had been levied his way throughout the early portion of his career, whether they have been from within this gym (and especially the owner/head trainer Mark Adonis) or various 'blogs'/other forums, where people were basing assessments and placing a pre-emptive 'ceiling' on Scotty; his potential within the industry, based solely off his body of work back home in Australia, which had all been on an 'amateur' (well, semi-pro) level.

 Comments that deep down, left him even doubting himself, no matter how much he tried to push them to one side --- no matter how much he continuously put his body on the line (as we stated earlier) in even the simplest of training exercises, he just *couldn't* shake their words. Their vilification, which was only compounded by the lingering feeling of home sickness. Of missing the comfort of his own bed; of surroundings that were familiar to him, and people that he could truly confide in, when the need arose for him to do so.

 "But ten years on, I'm *still* here --- yes, there have been absences, 'hiatuses' if you will in between, but ultimately: I'm still going out there night in and night out; showing people just who I am. What I'm all about --- the *exact* same as I did from the moment I set foot in here," his remarks spoken in a reflective manner, he swings his legs over the right hand side of the bench, pushing himself back up to a seated position as a devilish smirk crosses his face. 

"It's poetic justice, isn't it --- the place where it all commenced; the place where everything began, is the city where I have a chance to claim my fiftieth career championship," Allowing his smirk to curl further upwards, he feels the image of him hoisting the OWA "Spartan's Championship" high into the air; looking down at the carnage that lays at his feet from atop his perch, as he exhales in a manner much akin to a sigh. "It holds a special kind of meaning to me, to be honest," he remarks, his stare still fixated in front of him, at the holographic image that has manifested. 

"Championships have *never* been my end game, They've never been the thing that has truly defined me --- but to win this belt, in the place that I once called home; that in a sense, I still *do* call home, would honestly mean more than any other accolade I have acquired," his comment about 'still calling San Diego home' being a reference to the fact that he owns a condo deep in the heart of the city --- which is where he has been staying ever since arriving here on Monday afternoon; where he will be remaining until not just Hardcore Havoc on Sunday, but until next Tuesday --- the reason for that being the second reason San Diego is still seen as 'home' in a sense for him. 

That is, the fact that one of his famed "Adams Shelters" for the underprivileged/homeless is situated right in the heart of the city. An avenue, for those who for the most part, have been tallied as being nothing more than 'nameless; faceless statistic'  to acquire the hope they crave. To have someone there, who *actually* wants to 'guide' then; *wants* to open up doors that had been bolted shut to them, just like the special "class" he shall be personally hosting on Monday afternoon, hopefully with the Spartan's belt firmly atop his shoulders. 

An opportunity, for those who may not otherwise be able to enrol within either the public/private schooling system, to be able to receive an education --- to be able to grasp the opportunity they would otherwise *never* have a chance to experience; a 'bridge'; a doorway to potentially making the 'most' out of what has been strewn in front of them. To persevere, when all other avenues; all other gateways have been sealed and they are left with nowhere else to turn. Just like the opportunities he has been granted throughout his life --- just like the position he finds himself within, that was enabled by people giving him the chance to survive --- no, the chance to *thrive*, despite having been one of those 'nameless; faceless statistics', shifting around from foster home to foster home, craving for at the very least, *some* stability in his life. 

Just like all those who attend his classes; all those he engages with when he makes appearances at the Shelters (which are situated throughout America; indeed, the world, each managed by the respective branches of 'Adams Enterprises' that are in the region); all those who have even spent a single second at the Shelters will tell you: Scotty is a firm advocate for changes within our culture. Of "being the change he seeks", when it comes to the management; 'care' of those who literally live day-to-day. *Not* just in the sense of 'taking things one day at a time', which is what the vast majority of people associate with that phrase, but those who scrap and claw each day, not knowing whether today, will be the day their life either ends, or whether they will be able to truly 'see the light' we all proclaim is at the end of the tunnel. 

Placing his palms on the benches 'ledge', he slowly makes his way up to a vertical bench, wincing as pain jolts up and down his back, a sudden 'bolt' of agony pinging inside of his brain. Slighting stepping forward and pivoting his body to the left, he glances around the gym, his eyes catching a few patrons that he remembers from his early days here --- faces, that he would compete with to continuously push himself; to continuously ensure that he was giving everything he had, and then breaking that limit each and every day he walked into this gym. 

Sighing, he returns his glance to the vacant spaces ahead of him, a soft smile creeping across his face as his progression takes him to the 'weight machine' where he was *discovered* by Tyler Davis, who along with Devin Stone (the picture of their initial meeting manifesting itself in hologram form in front of his eyes), have been credited by Scotty himself (both in 'Memoirs of an Icon' and the corresponding Channel 7 Interview back in 2014 to commemorate its release) as being two of the catalysts for his career taking the passage that it has --- for being able to firmly entrench himself within the climate within American wrestling. 

Whether their roles have been as a 'tag team partner'/mentor' (in the case of Tyler, referring to their time as the 'Iconic Superstars' *which would also bring about Scotty's first ever title, the GOW tag team belts), or as the first real 'foil' within the scope of his career --- a 'foil' whose career has been intertwined to a certain point (even when they're not in the same promotion) with Scotty's from the moment Scott first entered the industry (in the case of Devin), he is eternally grateful for them ---  he still maintains contact with them to this very day, even if in the eyes of many on social media or in blog posts/online podcasts; videos believing that he has far *eclipsed* the two of them. That's *not* the sort of person he is. 

"Loyalty means the world to me --- if you're loyal to me, then I'll be loyal to you. That *doesn't* change based off 'perceptions' or whether or not his star status is 'greater' than the people he interacts with. "I ain't someone who believes in that whole 'sociological class' bullsh*t --- that sh*t people talk about supposed 'standards', because it's just an excuse for them to be snakes --- to be the portrait, of the society that has turned its back on morality," His statements resonating within the air, he softly extends his right hand, placing it atop the cold; cream painted steel of the machine, smiling as a faint memory of the first time he did twenty reps whilst lifted 530 lbs --- a weight amount, that is still a 'personal best' for him in that department, even to this day. 

"The society, that encapsulates the wrestling business --- no, that encapsulates the entirety of our existence," Sighing ruefully, he feels his body slowly relax, as his mind begins to invoke memories of 'simpler' times --- of times, when people *didn't* just fall for the lure of 'trends' or 'flavour of the month' fads, before being discarded away, only the annuls of time remembering their existence. Or at least, times when those aspects weren't as rampant in society --- yes, in the grand scheme of things, he's still *young* himself (being 29, turning 30 next Thursday); this generation, has been the generation, the culture he has been around, he still reflects on his youth --- a youth, when Social media was less immersed; embedded within society. 

"A society, that we have enabled to occur," His words mournfully floating into the air, he releases his grasp, before pivoting left, uttering a soft "Hey," to Evan Grange (one of the first people he met upon his arrival to America) as he walks by, attired in a black 'Converse' training singlet, obsidian shorts and charcoal/white 'Converse' trainers --- a towel draped loosely across his left shoulder as he acknowledges Scotty with a slight nod, before continuing his way towards the bathrooms, cooling down after what has been an intense session of gym work. 

"Just look at those who have spoken about the match --- those, who have engaged in the discourse of self-convincing," His famed half-smirk creeping across his face, he exhales slightly as his feet firmly 'pound' against the vinyl hardwood floor, each step sounding as if it were a heartbeat.  

"Each one believing; asserting that they are the 'favourite'; that they are 'entitled' to be champion, irrespective of the reality that awaits them," His words chilling, he softly yet mockingly shudders, before a gentle laugh emits itself from his lips; he pivots left, wishing to make his way to the equipment that he stated in a Channel 10 interview with Michael Gonal back in 2016, was his 'favourite' piece of equipment' when it comes to the gym: the rowing machines.

 "Each of them, claiming that they are 'Spartans'; as such, embody the belt that has been put forth --- yet only serving to project their own insecurities. Their own lack of self-belief, whilst being completely blind," A holographic image of a ball of wool appears, directly in front of Scotty's eyes as those words are remarked --- a visual representation of the old adage; a quote that Scotty has used ad infinitum to describe society and its tendency to allow the wool to be firmly pressed against their eyes. 

Smirking devilishly as the hologram fades, he remarks "There's an adage, a little mantra I have: those who don't know, are the ones who feel the need to talk. Those who *do*, need not say a singular word," Those words festering within the air; radiating throughout not just his own mind or our minds, but also the minds of anyone who is out there, watching this recording; feeling the *truth* that seeps through every word that he speaks. Reaching a vacant rowing machine that is situated about ten feet; diagonally left from the cobalt painted oak double-doors that mark the entrance (and exit) to the gym  

Leaning over, he softly runs his right palm against the flaky; jet black paint job, exposing the bare steel underneath, gently chuckling as he utters "I see this hasn't changed,". The 'this' a reference to Mark's mentality of 'it's not about how *pretty* it looks, but how *effective* it is at what it is designed to do --- which also serves as his rationale behind *not* refurbishing them. And it's true --- just like in life, it *shouldn't* be about how 'aesthetically pleasing' something or someone is, but how *effective* they are at serving their defined purpose. 

A mentality, that Scotty *embodies* to its fullest; one, that his is living evidence of. His style has *never* been something that one would claim is 'crowd pleasing', or about going out there and simply giving the fans moments they can 'ooh' and 'ahh' about --- he's admitted many times in the past that he knows he isn't the most athletic in the ring, that he *never* has been about that, but what he is, is effective. He's willing to grit and grind his way to victories --- no matter how 'ugly' they might appear externally. Pivoting his body, he sits himself down atop the jet black plastic 'seat' of the machine; leans forward, gently clasping the steel handles that jut out from the slate nylon cord they are attached to, as he slides back and braces himself to do his first 'rep' of this visit. 

"See, if you hold the belief in yourself that you *can* overcome any obstacle; that you have it inside of you to define the title; the accolades you crave, then you have no need to try and convince anyone otherwise. Their thoughts, would be irrelevant to you,"

Feeling his back pulsate, he slides forward and back, his face slightly contorting itself as he does due to the combination of energy and weight exertion, completing the rep, before commencing a second one whilst remarking "The fact that you feel the *need* to make guarantees; to make assurances about your victory, means that deep down: you're not sure if you have it inside of you --- if you can *really* go out there, and fulfil your promise," Inhaling and Exhaling as he continues sliding back and forth, each rep causing more lactic acid to build up inside of him; more strain to be visible in order to complete the repetition, A slight, joyful smirk peers out from his lips. 

"You're afraid that you will fall flat on your face; the weight of your own words being too much for you to hold --- yet you'll try and attribute the blame to happenstance --- you'll try to attribute it to factors that were never in your control. That 'the odds were against you' ---," Allowing a soft, exasperated sigh to float into the air as that rhetoric leaves his mouth, be softly places the handle back atop the machine, pausing his mini-workout for now, his hazel eyes beginning the shimmer as the lights reflect off them. 

"Yet it was *you* who made that bed; it was *you* that defined those odds, the moment you stated the words 'I will win', made the decision to dismiss those who stood against you as being nothing more than a step,". "A 'means to an end'," his lips pursing as those words hiss, piercing through the air as if they were knifes slicing through the souls; the minds of those listening, Scotty simply smirks in his chilling yet stoic manner, allowing the intensity to radiate throughout his body. 

"What happens if you *fail*? What happens if it all becomes too much; your own insatiable *lust*; your own destined road, ends up leading you into the path of despair? The anguish, of your own finality?" his eyes beginning to softly 'glow', he pivots his legs right, allowing the small beads of sweat that have begun to form atop his forehead to slowly run downwards, getting captured within the hair of his eyebrows, as he places his hands atop his lap. "What happens, when your soul is vanquished; your eyes are forced to stare deep into the dancing flame? The flame, that has claimed all that you desire?" Demonically probing into the psyche of each and every one of the seven that shall be sharing the ring with him, he pokes his tongue out sarcastically, before returning to his icy cold stare, as he presses his palms against his thighs, using it as leverage to stand back up; resume his walk through of the gym. 

His own reflection of everything that moulded together, everything that has led to this point in his career. In his entire *life*. "See, my legacy is etched in stone --- I've cemented that; one singular loss won't define my career. It won't hold water, when the time comes for everything to be placed atop the table --- yet that doesn't mean I plan on just going out there and 'going through the motions',"  

Slightly shaking his head, he ponders his next words, remarking"That's *not* who I am, at all --- I plan on going out there and making sure that when the time for execution arises; when the bells toll, I am the one standing," watching as a miniature hologram appears within his line of sight, displaying him standing atop the cables; spartan's belt hoisted high in the air; glancing downwards upon the broken; shattered spirits of all 7 who have been vanquished, he exhales softly as the image shatters into a glass like effect. "'When people have to create misconceptions about you to construct themselves, that is when their toll has been acquired' --- it's funny how many people don't realise that quote exists; how it resonates especially with Nate Cage and his little commentary, his belief that all I am, is another individual who revolves around his youth, using that as his leverage ---" 

His eyes rolling as those words leave his lips, he softly spits out a laugh before replying "That couldn't be further from the truth. My past is merely what built me, it is not the *only* thing that makes me --- but hey, I applaud you for trying to do some research, no matter how misguided it was," Sarcastically 'golf clapping', he continues his methodical walk, pivoting his body right, as he nears the forest green painted walls; the shining rosemary tinted silver plaque that has 'Reception' carved into it; the tan two-seat sofa that leans up against the wall, five centimetres from the entrance way itself. 

"Nor have I claimed that my exploits on the basketball court or my aptitude in school, give me this discernible advantage in the ring --- even if the latter actually *does*, yet you're probably blind/ignorant as to how," stepping over to the sofa, he pivots his body; sits himself down atop the cushions. 

"It should be easy enough to figure out; is the answer to this simple question: If it's not my athleticism or my strength, the latter you have over me, the former having *never* been something you associate with me, then *why* am I upon the 'perch' I am?" Allowing those words to fester throughout the air, he hears his own mind faintly answering his own question, yet wishing for Nate to be the one to state the remark, the very moment he decides to attempt to muster up a commentary in response to the harsh; blunt truths that are being delivered to him. 

"Ask Kenny if you must --- maybe he'll be able to guide you upon the right track --- the realisation that you need in order to make your determination," Raising his left hand, he strokes his beard, before turning his stare dead into our lens. "I'll let you try to figure that out though ---," Mocking 'clicking' his tongue against his teeth, he replicates a clock, before allowing his thoughts to focus on the next person he wishes to dissect. "Gareth, I'mma give you some props here: You *have* backed up your moniker. Your billing as being 'legit dangerous', yet at the same time --- I can sense the doubt that lives within you,"  Feeling those words cut through, he slightly leans back on the sofa, resting his back up against the supporting 'backrest', as his irises begin to burn. 

"Each denial, each 'I don't need to prove anything' only serves to project that doubt; that lack of esteem that your body of work speaks for itself, irrespective of your perception," His inflection changing to that of a psychologist, he quips: "Just because something has been proven in one aspect, does *not* mean that it correlates over to another aspect --- especially when that aspect pertains to a different realm," the chill in those words evident, his eyelids slightly close, before reopening to expose the hazel ball of fire and light that is his eyes, the flame dancing as it roars within his mind. 

"That's okay though --- I've been in the same position," Softly breathing as he continues his deathly stare, be allows his half-smirk to paint itself across his face. "I've been down the route of convincing myself that if I tell them my body of work, if I remind them what I have done, then they will believe what I say --- but it is fleeting," Pausing, he waits about five seconds, his expression unmoving before remarking: 

"It's a simple principle: 'how do you expect others to believe you, if you don't even believe *yourself*? And no matter how much you tell yourself; no matter how much you spout that you *do* believe in yourself, your very words contradict that," Lifting his left forearm and twisting it so that the underside is visible, he allows us to see the 'cross' tattoo he got done back in 2012 --- a tattoo, that serves as a remnant of Joely --- a way for her to forever remain entwined with him --- but also as a metaphor.  A symbol for the cross his foes bare, should that tempt their fate. Should they stand before him, awaiting their final deliverance. 

"Once you figure out your truth --- then you can commence the acquisition of what you desire ---" His words icy and bitter, he allows them to resonate, before we slowly zoom in onto the flame, its dance mesmerising as he slightly chuckles, a slight smirk across his face. "Isaac Thornton --- a man whose own insecurities; own fragility brought him into this realm --- under the facade of 'stealing back what was taken from him'," His smirk moulding itself into a cheesy grin, Scott *knows* the story. An actor, who floated from set to set, trying to find themselves a job; find themselves somewhere to make their name --- yet doesn't want the accountability when they fail to do so. 

"I must admit, you do play the role of an actor well --- yet at the same time, you fall into many of the same 'tropes' I already dissected before. You know, the 'needing to convince yourself' one, but in your case, you *are* at least open about that, so kudos," The final words of that comment stated in a more sarcastic manner than usual, be uses his already elevated left hand to push himself upwards --- remembering that he needs to be home in two hours, due to having promised Bianca that he would take her out to his favourite restaurant for dinner, as a 'celebration' of the news they received from Larni last night. 

News, that Amelia was at the stage of her recovery, where she could very well be discharged from hospital within the next month; is responding better to doctors and her treatment. News, that they had been waiting for ever since she fell into a catatonic state back in March, a by-product of the brutal; sadistic assault she suffered in August last year. Slowly pivoting himself right, he calmly commences the walk back towards the exit of the gym, his eyes continuing the shine bright within. "Yet Isaac, all that does, is play your cards; 'show your own hand' if you will --- pierce the facade you yourself, set up,".

 "Even if you don't wish to admit it," Feeling his own words radiate within his mind as they float into the air, he softly sighs, before quipping "Because we can't hold ourselves to account, can we now?" A soft, light-hearted laughter leaving his pursed lips, Scotty allows his face to showcase the expression of someone who's joyous --- someone, who's having fun dissecting the 'home runs' that have lobbed his way, because --- simply put --- he is. "That's what you seem to neglect Isaac: it's *not* on anybody else but *you*. Never has been either ---," Smirking, he allows the expected response of 'Wrestlers took my job' and 'you don't know the cinema business' to radiate inside his heart, as he lets out a cheeky chuckle. 

"See, you cry about your failure to succeed in the movie business --- that's fine, being cinema made isn't something everyone is. I've been there before, I *know* the nature of the industry, yet it is up to you to stand out," Allowing his daggers to imprint themselves into the mind of Isaac when he hears them, his expression returns back to the icy, intense state that he is known for, as he slowly reaches forward with his right hand --- grasping the steel handle of the doors in this case, but also as a reference to the famed 'brass ring' we hear heard oh-so-often in wrestling. A trope of its own. 

"It's up to you, to make your imprint on the industry, on society --- and luckily, this week gives you the chance to do that," Pausing, he allows those words to hand in the air as he steadily makes his way through the double doors (which he had pushed open whilst speaking), feeling the cool; crisp air brush against his skin. "But it shall only occur, if *you* are the one who ensnares it --- otherwise, your own fractured mirror, the glass house in which you live, shall be what brings about your demise," Continuing his stroll, he glances around --- allowing himself some time to not just gather his thoughts about the next discourse he wishes to have, but also about what he shall be wearing when he enters the restaurant. 

He's *never* been a formal, suit-wearing guy --- just as he told CASPIAN last week, so that's outta the question. Softly grinning internally, he pivots his body left, making his way down the concrete path that separates the gym itself from the communal carpark. "Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, isn't it, Chris?" His tone inquisitive yet jovial in nature, he pokes his tongue out, before bringing it back in as he remarks: 

"Yet imitation is also the greatest identity crisis a person can have --- when they are unsure of *who* they are, to the extent they need to clasp at somebody else's creed," Smirking, he extends his hands out into his famed 'cross' formation, slightly tilting his head to the right as he does, before flicking his head back straight; dropping his hands back by his side. "

You allow yourself to become immersed with the delusions that fester within you, the fallacies on which you base your statements, that you become nothing more than an emotional construct. A design, whose reality becomes nothing more than a mirage," Hearing the words 'I'm the last *real* wrestler in this industry' whisper themselves inside of his head, he snorts dismissively as his icy stare penetrates itself through the windows of his Lime green/white 1997 model Porshe (having reached the car during his discourse). 

"See, proclaiming you're the "last" of something fails to apply, when there is somebody who already defines purity --- who is what you'd call a *real* wrestler, stands before you ---," Running his right hand down his body, he places his left hand on the door handle; pulling it towards him, as he extends his right leg, stepping into the car. His left leg following, he releases the outside handle of the car, before grasping the inside handle; pulling it towards him, whilst fidgeting around his shorts pockets with his right hand; grasping the keys, the placing them in the ignition. "In your case, that would be *me*,". Those words hanging in the air, he turns his body around (having strapped the seatbelt across his body), surveying to ensure the 'coast is clear' before commencing the act of reversing out of his space. 

"And Sunday, should you wish to stand forth, you shall realise that falling into the same lure --- allowing your own internal crisis to define who you are, shall be what brings you to your knees; sets you upon the passage that the mire has laid out before you," Demonically smiling, Scotty turns the car left, before slowly navigating his way out of the parking lot --- knowing that soon, he will be enjoying the bliss; the dinner with the one he cherishes more than anything. "To all seven of you, I shall see you Sunday ---," his statement blunt, he uses his right hand to turn the dial on the radio, the final sounds we hear being 'Ready for Whatever' by T.I as we fade into nothingness.
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Re: OWA Promos!
Post on 5/11/2018, 5:51 pm by Isaac Thornton
II

[Isaac Thornton is seen in his home theater, yeah bitch he has money like that, watching an interesting video. A video of just walls drying from a fresh coat of paint. He looks bored as you can imagine, while he chows down on some popcorn. He pauses the video for a second to finally address the camera that is shot right at him. He dusts himself off and finishes chewing. And action!]

Isaac: I must admit that this popcorn tastes a little off. It's a little too bland for my liking. No butter. No salt - which is actually probably a good thing since my opponents have supplied plenty of that these last few days - and that's an understatement. Now, I am sure most of you are wondering as to why on god's green earth would I be watching paint dry? Simple, because it helps prepare me for what I will endure as I watch my opponents make complete and utter asses out of themselves, almost giving me second-hand embarrassment in the process. But this video helps me with all of that. It teaches me great patience, to not get so worked up when these buffoons spew the hottest takes that shouldn't be treated as gospel, but thrown in the trash, to keep their careers company. So I suppose the video does the trick. Now, with only a few days away from Hardcore Havoc, it has become abundantly clear that I gave these men too much credit heading into our match. And I am not sure as to why? Hmmmmm, I suppose since most of these men have spent years, if not decades, trying to hone their craft as a professional wrestler, that they should automatically have a leg up on me. However, after doing some digging and scouting, I no longer think that's the case. I no longer perceive myself as this minnow trying to just survive in the deep blue sea that is OWA. Nah man, if anything, I am a god damn shark, looking to extirpate the school of fish that is trying to live off my fame and take credit for my abilities. And no, I am not just talking about my fame outside of OWA, when I lived my life as an actor. I am talking about the fame I will earn once I begin racking up wins and collecting titles to cover my bare waist and shoulders. I am sure my opponents will only laugh at that statement because they all think they are the shit, that no one can touch them when it comes to that squared circle. And you know what? That egotistical behavior is fine with me. I say let them underestimate me. Have them treat me like a joke, as if I am just a waste of space or just some small cog - do it because I would do the same thing if I were you. I too would just shrug me off because I have only been here for a week while some of you have been here since the very beginning. It would be embarrassing for some "D list actor" as one of you put it, to come into your line of work and swoop in to take one of "your" prized poseesions, that being the Spartan's Championship of course. But spoiler alert, it will happen so I suggest you think of your excuses now as to why you lost to someone of "my caliber." 

While most of you are trying to convince the others that they are wrong. I am only worried about proving myself right. 'Cause I know I have talked a big game this week. I have made my intentions perfectly clear and known - I am winning this match and more importantly, I am winning the Spartan's Championship. I know some of you want me to expand on that thought, to give you some concrete evidence to support my claims, but why bother when the people that need to hear the reasoning the most, will only plug their ears with their fingers and yell "nah nah nah, I can't hear you" like the children they are? Guys like Gareth Cason fit that bill. Gareth, you say the most basic shit and then act as if what you said is groundbreaking. You are not some genius or some innovator, you are just like everyone else. You criticize guys like Nate Cage for being too predictable, when you are guilty of doing the exact same thing. There is nothing to you, really. There is no pizzazz, no surprising elements to who you are, and you provide nothing that really garners attention. You aren't some badass, you aren't some monster or machine, you aren't some generational talent ... you are just a guy. A guy that is way in over his head. Yet, you don't realize this and I wouldn't expect you to. You have tunnel vision. You don't see the bigger picture. And you are simple-minded because of it. You are one-dimensional, a one trick pony ... and nothing more. It's not "fun" talking to you. It is very much a displeasure. You bring nothing to the table. Nothing to sink my teeth in because just about everything you say serves no purpose ... it's just filler ... zero substance. That is the reason why I brought up your appearance the first time. You really gave me nothing else to talk about. You said all this shit for no reason. It could have been summed up in one sentence and that is you think I am a nonfactor in this match or that I don't belong in this match to begin with and hey, that's cool. It's your opinion after all. I am not gonna get worked up over it. And to just reiterate what I said last time, if you truly thought I had no chance in this match, then why waste time out of your day to address to me? Oh because you are the predator and I am the prey! This is just you playing with your food! Dumb. That is a dumb reason. I must say, you are quite the puzzling creature, Gareth. 

Unlike yourself, I am not afraid to admit the truth. And the truth of the matter is, you are a threat in this match. Every single man in this match is a threat and I am not saying that to be politically correct, but because this isn't your traditional match where once a pinfall is scored or you make your opponent submit, the match ends. In order to win this match, you will need skill, yes, but you will also need a bit of lady luck on your side. Now, I am sure you will disagree with that statement because you think you will just waltz your way to victory after knocking out every last competitor like a game of Whac-A-Mole, but that is simply unrealistic and if you say otherwise, you would only be lying through your yellow stained teeth. Another thing I don't like about fake tough guys such as yourself is they make so many empty threats. For example, you briefly talked about putting me out of my misery by attempting to end my career. I don't get it, am I supposed to be shaking in my boots after remarks such as that? Is a stream of liquid supposed to be traveling down my pants, huh? Am I supposed to treat your words like daggers even though they only have the impact and damage of a nerf dart? You aren't ending my career, don't be ridiculous. I am trying to be serious today and I must admit, your threats really have me on the ropes because I am about to break out in laughter. However, I will be able to compose myself, don't worry. It's what great actors do after all, but I digress. So tell me, why are you trying so hard to make this personal? Threatening my career and all. You are really giving this a lot of thought, especially since you already wrote off my chances of becoming Spartan's Champion this Sunday. Am I supposed to return the favor? Am I supposed to hurl generic empty threats at you? Believe it or not, I don't care about you Gareth. You are just another obstacle standing in my way before I run right through you. Whether I land a scratch or not is beside the point. I am not just focusing on you. I am not a bull and you are not the color red ... even though bulls are color blind, but I digress. What I mean is I am not just fixated on you. All I care about is ripping that title down and having it firmly in my grasp as I hoist it above my head to a loud crowd reaction, whether it be cheer or boo's. Now, I will help you out with a bit of rebuttal. If I don't care about you in this match specifically then why am I still talking about you? Or better yet why am I talking to you when it's bound to fall on your deaf ears? Good point, me! Thanks, me! Let me tell you why! Because it's like you said, a majority of our opponents haven't even said a word about this match yet. To you, it's because they are scared of Gareth "LEGIT DANGEROUS" Cason, which is completely wrong, might I add. They have their reasons. Maybe they are training in the gym instead of fulfilling their contractual obligations of promoting their matches, who knows? I don't think lesser of them because of it. Instead, it get's me thinking, while you have the complete opposite effect. When it comes to Gareth Cason, what you see is what you get ... so not much. As for the rest of my opponents, please speak up soon. I'd rather not lose my sanity, thanks!
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Re: OWA Promos!
Post on 5/11/2018, 5:47 pm by Tarah Nova


Friendly Fire---Hardcore Havoc
Promo Number Two

“I don't care about the story. I don't care about the myth. I don't care how you see my life. You haven't witnessed it Use fear as a weapon, and pity as a whip. Convince everyone around that I'm a piece of SHIT...Give me a kiss. You sold me out… hold on, wait... what did I miss? Gossip gets you off, but you couldn't resist. Make me a sinner because you paint the picture. Buy your believers, you couldn't resist. We're on the same side: Friendly fire - Honest liar.”

user posted image



“Because remember, Tarah.”


“You.”


“Deserve.”


“This.”

Those words spoken by Kenny Drake echoed around the small room that The ShockCollar sat in silently. With the camera rolling, her face was down with her eyes glued to the floor and her long black hair all pulled to the left side of her head. She was lost in thought, her fingertips dancing against her bottom lip. The viewers could see the wheels in her twisted head turning more and more with each passing second till the heavy silence was broken by a laugh. It was small, almost like a whisper but yet, it was there. The camera zoomed in on Nova, her lips curled into a full smile now, her laughs growing louder. With her hand, she tries to muffle the laughter but it was no use; her laughs echoed around her--much louder and stronger than the words by Drake. After a few moments, her laughing fit died down and she slowly looked up at the camera; a smile still on her lips before three words fell from them: “I deserve this.”

Slowly Tarah stands up from the cool ground, “Yeah. You are 100% right, dear Kenneth. I do deserve this...”

“...I deserve every single venomous filled word that you have thrown at me. I deserve to be taken down a notch and beaten into the ground like a pathetic cub that you claim me to be. I deserve so much Wicked blows to my heart, my body, my soul and everything in between but the thing is Kenneth... You're not going to be the person who gets that pleasure of handing me everything I deserve. It is not your Birthright to take down the one true alpha. This is not your kingdom, this is not your hunting grounds. These are mine and mine alone. I have claimed this company as mine because I am one of the only people that will put her body on the line to make sure that this company Stands Tall above any other. For over a decade I have sacrificed myself in the name of hardcore wrestling. I have destroyed lives and hunted down men and women who did not deserve to be in this ring. 21 men and women fell by my claws. They fell because they believed that they could be the ones would be able to take me down once and for all and yet; they all failed. They all disappeared into the Moonlight, never to be seen again and Kenneth, that is exactly what happened to you come Sunday at Hardcore Havoc.” The eyes of Nova slowly become heated. Like the fires of hell have engulfed her soul by his words,  “You believe that you can stop me...You believe you will be the one I can finally put an end the Killer that is Tarah Jay Nova but...Oh No, You won’t be. Kenneth, I promise you on every ounce of my being that you will not succeed. You will not end me. You will not ruin me. You will fight and struggle and yeah, maybe you'll get the upper hand a few times but in the end; it won't matter. It won't matter because I will be the one that stands tall above you. I will be the sole survivor. The true Alpha between us because there can only be one and that one will be me."


Tarah shakes her head slowly before looking back at the camera, "I am one of the Best Wrestlers in this Division to date. Time and time again I have proven that to be true whether it's by Leading a division or by showing everyone each and every night what I can do in the wrestling ring and for you to come waltzing into my domain; claiming that I am nothing but a poser, a walking Sin; lusting over every want and desire that I hold in my heart.” She lets out a sigh, rolling her eyes before continuing,  “Oh Kenneth, You need to realize something...We all sins. No one in this world is perfect. No one at all and yes, I mean you too. I mean news flash WOLF, you are nothing but a hypocrite when it comes to talking about sins. You have sinned many times in your life; I can see it in your eyes when you stare daggers at me. I can hear it in your voice when you speak down to me. I even felt it when you stood in the ring with me when this whole War began. So do not come to me preaching about God and how he stands by your side when you commit these acts towards people like me...people like us. See, you are right..We are not so different. We went through the same struggles. We conquered them all the same but the only difference between you and I, Kenneth, is the way we portray ourselves now. The bodies that you have stocked up in your memories. All those sinners that you have collected and cleansed...you use them all just to fill your ego. You use them to claim that God is on your side and that's you are the most pure of them all but you're wrong. You are not pure like you say you are. You are not God's executioner like you claim. You are merely a man trying to wash away his own sins by destroying everyone else and I will not allow that to happen any longer.” The Alpha looks directly at the camera, like it was Kenny Drake himself, standing in front of her, “So here I stand Kenneth. I stand before you as not only a sinner but as the leader of them all as well. I'm not afraid of you. I have spoken those words many times and I will say them many times over because it takes a lot to put the fear in the heart of the true Alpha and let me tell you this: you have nothing in your arsenal that will strike me down in that way...but I dare you to try. Yes, I dare you, Kenneth Drake to try to defeat me this Sunday. I want everything that you have built up inside you. All the hate, all the anger for the people like me. The people like us. I want everything you have until there is nothing left.” 

“And as for myself?" Tarah’s eyes glance down at herself quickly before looking back at the camera. "I will shoot back 10 times harder than any other time that I have graced the wrestling ring. I'm going to come out and I'm going to show this so-called God that you believe in that you are nothing but walking Sin yourself. I am a woman of my word, Kenneth and I promise you that I will break you in the middle of that ring and with my own two hands I will bury you inside a coffin of barbwire. This is not an act. This is not a show, this is me and I swear to you No God from Heaven or Hell will save you from the Wrath that I hold inside for you right now..." Tarah chuckles a weak laugh before touching the thunderbolt necklace she wears around her neck, "And before I end this, Kenneth, do something for me, will you? Over the next couple of days I want you to sit in your little Shack in Oregon and I want you to pray. Oh, I want you to pray long and hard that you will surpass me in this match. That you will be the one that shall knock me off this pedestal. Ask your God, ask every angel in the sky for help against me... but just keep in mind that no matter how hard you pray to those up above; nothing will save you from me. This war that we have against each other in a ring of Barbwire was fate and at the end of it all? Well...Destiny will be calling my name in victory while you become nothing but ruined...believe that.”

With that, static starts to take over the camera, fading out the view of Tarah Nova standing there till the scene before the viewers goes back; ending it.





 WORDS:  1418 | TAGGED: KENNY ‘THE WOLF’ DRAKE
© TARAH JAY NOVA


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Re: OWA Promos!
Post on 5/11/2018, 8:55 am by Gareth Cason
Hardcore Havoc Promo #2:


“The Instrument of Violence.”


*The camera pulls in on Gareth sparring with somebody in the ring, ducking and dodging multiple strikes at the same time as trying to get in his own. He was absolutely killing it, and it seemed that the words said to him by the other participants of the Ultimate X at Hardcore Havoc were fueling some anger inside him. He dodged a punch and took down his sparring partner by both legs, before rising to his feet while adjusting his new shark teeth mouth guard*


*As soon as Gareth heard the word “go!” Again, he was an animal. No punch could it him, no kick could affect him, he was a machine. He quickly took his sparring partner down and rose to his feet, roaring viciously*


*After his second spar, Gareth exited the ring and got some water, he began to stretch a bit too. Knowing if he didn't limber his body that he would pull or break something. Especially with how intensive his training always is. Gareth sat on the apron of ring. Looking around the gym and taking a deep breath*


Gareth: I see that some people may have responded to my words… especially a certain Issac Thornton. Who had some choice phrases on his own behalf. I certainly found the way he spoke frankly funny as he claims that I am too cocky yet talks about how he's going to win despite not winning a single match here yet. Issac, I'll admit I've had a very small sample size with you, but you have absolutely no potential at all. You say I have a punchable face? Well go on, try to punch me. You won't be able to because you're not even a goddamn wrestler, you're the backup stunt double to whoever the real star of the show is, and come Sunday, that will be me. I'm sure you're used to playing second fiddle to somebody so much better than you, and if you aren't yet, you're going to get used to it. Because if you think for one second that just because you have “agility” you're better than someone who has proven how good they are countless times, than you're more delusional than you even put on in the beginning. Which is pretty delusional. It's funny because you claimed that I would puff out my chest against someone like you talking massive amounts of bullshit about me. Don't think you've got into my head or that you goaded me into anything because I always have my chest puffed out. I'm only ever confident in my skills and my ability to beat the shit out of any goddamn idiot who dares to stand across from me. Issac, I targeted you because you are who you are, a D-list actor who doesn't matter to anybody. I didn't target you by mistake or contradict myself, I saw easy prey and I went in for the kill like any predator who's been anywhere near the wild will tell you, but you've been nowhere near the wild Thornton, you've been on the cutting room floor getting your kicks this entire time and then you think you can waltz in on Sunday and take that championship? KEEP DREAMING because there's absolutely no way that it's happening. I promise you, D-lister, that your looks won't get you anywhere in a wrestling ring. So you making fun of my hair and especially… my name? Seriously, my name? Jesus guys, come up with something better than my hair, the part of England I'm from, and my name. Holy shit, how does any of that matter in a WRESTLING MATCH? We aren't in a beauty contest guys, I'm not here to sit and look good, I'm here to win titles and cement my legacy as the greatest ass-kicker to ever walk this Earth. You, on the other hand, won't be keeping your good looks once I cave your skull into your brain, you'll be looking for what everyone in Hollywood has, plastic surgery. Just one more step forward in your stupid actor facade. I'll nip it in the bud and end your career on Sunday for you, I'd be doing you a favor. *Gareth puts a fist into his palm and cracks his knuckles, before cracking his neck and shoulders*


Gareth: Nate Cage did exactly what I thought he would do, he sucked on Kenny Drake's dick and said absolutely nothing that was important or valuable. It's funny that you made fun of where I was from like it would help you win in a wrestling match, and what? You don't like cursing? What the fuck do you think this is.. the playground? I'll tell you something​, if this is the best that the Wolvesden has to offer, than it sounds like they're just as useless as I thought they were. You are absolutely adorable Nate, just a class goddamn act. You said it was a foregone conclusion that you would be walking out of Hardcore Havoc with the Spartan's title, I can't think of anything more idiotic besides whatever that shit was that was coming out of Thornton's mouth. You're exactly like your leader, delusional and a loser. You couldn't win a title if it fell into your lap and you obviously don't know what the fuck a foregone conclusion even is. The only thing you have to account for is how many teeth you'll be swallowing and how many you'll be picking off the goddamn floor when I'm done bashing your silly fucking face in, you walking piece of shit.


Gareth: Other than that, nobody has said anything about this match. It's quite funny because this is exactly what I thought would happen. I knew my competition would be shivering in their boots and all I've heard from any of them is that I'm from the wrong place in England and that because they're agile that they're going to win. OWA seems to really be scratching for talent here, because I see all of you and I can smell the inferiority, I can taste the Spartan's title, I can feel the mat under me once I win and I don't just want that title, I'm OBSESSED WITH IT. There isn't a soul or being on this stupid goddamn roster that will stop me from raising that title in the end on Sunday, there isn't a being alive that's going to take that title away from me. And not in this realm of existence can any of you stand up to me on your best day. None of you can hope to lace my goddamn boots. I walk into Hardcore Havoc with a bone to pick with every single one of you wankstains, and I emerge from the dust as the first, inaugural OWA Spartan's Champion. Good deal isn't it? I get to beat the shit out of a bunch of loudmouths and then get some gold around my waist that I earned a hell of a long time ago. I earned gold around my waist before I even stepped foot into this damn company and I'll be damned if I don't get what it is that I deserve. I am not like the rest of you… I'm not a normal human… I'm a machine, an instrument of violence that won't accept defeat at the hands of a pack of idiots who's drooling takes up most of their brain activity. It just isn't going to happen. As far as I'm concerned, at Hardcore Havoc, none of you have a hope of winning. I am the first OWA Spartan's Champion, and I don't believe in Destiny, but that sure sounds like what it is here. Because I KNOW that the Spartan's Championship is mine.


Gareth: Like I said before, you're all just the stepping stones to the new era of OWA, the era of Gareth Cason, it begins May 13th, at Hardcore Havoc in San Diego, California. The era of Legit Dangerous…


*The camera fades to black as Gareth slides back into the ring for another sparring session*
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Re: OWA Promos!
Post on 5/11/2018, 7:36 am by Finnegan Wakefield
Chapter 3: History

"The Wrestling Artist" Finnegan Wakefield

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The sun hangs low on the horizon, its golden glow painting the sky around it while the water below shimmered in its light. We pull away, the sun shrinking as more and more distance seems to be put between us. Finally, we stop, finding ourselves with a fuller picture now; surrounded by sand, looking out at the water and setting sun in the distance. The recognizable Ocean Beach Municipal Pier to locals or visitors of San Diego gives them the indicator as to which beach this is being filmed at; The sounds of the waves crashing onto the shore and seagulls squawking immerse us in a peaceful, calming atmosphere. There is only one occupant of this beach it seems, a scrawny lad sitting on a towel facing out into the ocean and towards the sunset. Sporting red boardshorts, a grey form-fitting t-shirt and a pair of sunglasses, Finnegan Wakefield too finds himself staring off into the horizon as the California sun's warm glow descends in the sky. As the camera approaches the wrestling artist, he begins to speak, as if only to himself. It has been quite the journey..." Finnegan takes in a deep inhale before releasing his exhale slowly, turning to face the camera in which he knew was there. Too often we only identify the crucial points in our lives in retrospect. At the time, we are too absorbed in the detail of the moment to spot where it is leading us. I remember every detail of my career vividly, every landmark, every rise, and every fall. But only now as I reflect on these highs and lows that came from this line of work do I connect the dots to truly understand the gravity of the situation that I find myself to be in on May 13th. This is the culmination of the last year plus of my life working my fingers to the bone, striving to become one of the best wrestlers in the industry, it has all led me to a situation that is worth much more than just any plate of gold. No, this is worth much, much more than that. History. Many can be apart of it, but only an elite and select few actually get to make history. It's a decisive moment, a moment that many hardly ever get to see in their lifetime, a moment that is a do-or-die risk with the highest of stakes for the highest of rewards. It's no stretch of the imagination when I say that this match is the most important match of my entire life. To be that focal point that is looked back on for generations to come, to be the standard bearer and the very pulse of this company only just brought to life, that is worth more than anything I have ever fought for. I have fought for a World Championship before, one with a lineage that spans back ten years with names that raised its value beyond its physical properties. But to be another name in a pre-existing legacy pales in comparison to being the inception of where a new legacy starts." Finnegan looks out the vast ocean that lays before him, the orange and pinks that make up the sky and glistens off the water below make for a beautiful view. Finn cracks a small grin on his face, with a chuckle escaping behind his lips. ”But like many good things in life, like many dreams we want to be fulfilled, it doesn't come easy. It is the most important match of my career as it is potentially my most difficult. Three others wish to also claim this paramount honor for themselves, three clashing forces to oppose my own. It only puts more emphasis on a moment like this; clashing ideals, forces, desires and conditions. Although they might all have the same goal in mind, they all have their own traits that can change the destiny that is forged once the champion is crowned."

With this, Finnegan runs his index finger into the hardened sand next to him, writing the three names of his opponents in a surprisingly neat fashion all things considered. ”Perhaps we should start with the wild card of the group, Chase Vedder. Someone who, full disclosure, I know very little about in comparison to the other two men who I have a much more extended knowledge of. But from what I have gathered, Chase likes to consider himself and proclaims himself as “the man”. A bold and ambitious proclamation to say the least. See I like the old adage; to be the man, you have to beat the man. And although he defeated CM Nas a few weeks back, who himself is in questionable "the man" status, that defeat contradicts the usage of such a phrase. Specifically, because the method used to obtained that victory showed just how immaculate he is at his core and only demonstrated a lacking of that certain genitalia. In layman's terms, it painted Chase Vedder as a bit of a pussy. No, since coming to OWA you have yet to convincingly beat anyone, much less beat anyone that would earn you such a status. I can't say with complete honesty that I know the woes of someone who feels that entitled, but if the mission statement was to convince everyone that you're the man around here, I'm afraid it has had the opposite effect on everyone you have encountered thus far, mate. If nothing else with how the last four weeks have gone for you, I think you might need to convince yourself that you are the man more than you need to convince us that's the case. Because your last four weeks have consisted of cheating to defeat Nas to just to qualify for this match by the skin of your teeth, as well as getting yourself disqualified against Jon McAdams when things were looking bleak so you could have some semblance of victory even in defeat. But then there are the two events where you and I have interacted. Last week, you and the rest of your Tres Comas Club clique wanted to take the cowardice just an extra step further in an attempt to get some credibility walking into this event by attacking some of us from behind, even planting my skull into the mat with the Lethal Weapon. Now you can ask Jon McAdams himself, I can hang something over your head for months on end, but you know what? I can let that little incident slide. Because I understand. I understand someone would feel so insecure that they'd have to resort to a cowardly attack to feel like a big man, especially if they were forced to submit in such a quick, demeaning fashion. Two weeks ago, I made you do just that. And let's just say that I am fairly confident that it wouldn't be catching lightning in a bottle if I force a surrender out of you once again on the 13th. But as I have come to learn in my career thus far, even the people you suspect might be one-trick ponies can have another one tucked away in their sleeve. I have taken into consideration that what I might see as your Achilles heel can also be your biggest advantage in this contest, especially if you were to just wait in the wings until you find a time to strike to ultimately benefit your chances of winning. I have also taken into account your Tres Comas Club backup, and they could tip the odds in your favor should they get involved. See, I could demean you and your credibility like Jon has all day long if I wanted to, but I'd be foolish if I completely counted you out from this match just from these recent events, you have tools that could very well make you the very first champion of this company. But it would make every fibre of my being disgraced and appalled if that were to happen, so I will go to great extremes to ensure that doesn't happen, even if it costs me this once in a lifetime chance. Because if one thing in this world could disappoint me more than losing this opportunity, it's losing this opportunity to someone who doesn't deserve it, who will only taint this companies image to only be salvaged in the future. And I will muster up every ounce of power that I can to ensure that won't happen. I will teach you a lesson or two what defines a man when the time comes, Vedder, I will teach you that manners maketh man."


With a broad stroke of his index finger, Finnegan draws a straight line through the name 'Chase Vedder' in the sand. ”Next, there is Keelan Callihan. This isn't how we envisioned it, but this match has been a long time coming -- the match that finally sees Finnegan Wakefield standing on one side of the ring and Keelan on the other. Since the very first day I stepped into the land of elites, Keelan became one of my best mates. In quite the drastic contrast of Chase, I don't think there is a man in the entire wrestling world that I know better than I do Keelan, because I have seen it all. I have seen every triumphant victory and every crushing defeat and I think its safe to say that the very same can be said in vice versa. Keelan has seen every step I have made forward and that has led me to this very match, this very situation that we always joked about but meant wholeheartedly. Because we fought side by side before, and we went to bloody war against our greatest rivals in St. Petersburg, Russia and left the Kretsovsky Stadium in a near state of ruin by the time it was all said and done, blood dripping down our faces as our hands were raised in victory. We knew from that day forth it was essentially a race between him and I; a race to see who will become the World Champion first, knowing that the other wasn't going to be too far behind. Of course, you had the head start. I didn't mind, I didn't care -- I wanted you to become the world champion. I saw much you worked for it, how much you sacrificed for it, all the blood you have lost just to get that little bit closer to capturing it, and I was pulling for you every single step of the way. Because after I captured the New Breed Championship, I knew what I was going to chase after. The day you won the World Championship, I was going to be the first in line to congratulate you and challenge you, because that's what we wanted, to one day face off for a World Heavyweight Championship." There was a silence after that final word as Finnegan removes his glasses and places them on top of his head, pondering just how to phrase what comes next. ”But this is not the Keelan I thought I would be standing across the ring from. No, this Keelan became consumed by his frustrations of having the title slip between his fingers numerous times and became fixated by his greed to get it by any means necessary. That is not the Keelan I called my friend, and you know that. You knew that when you invited me to the bar two weeks ago, when you proposed to me the idea of eliminating Jon and Chase so that we could have the match we always talked about, one against one. See, I don't know who you think I am mate, but I am not burdened with ignorance. I not gullible enough to not see past this empty gesture to see that it is just a way for you to get that little bit of extra edge by telling me you have my back with the knife unsheathed. I sometimes know you better than you know yourself. I have seen the atrocities you've done with this newfound attitude of yours and trustworthy is not a trait that comes with it. Honestly, I am not sure what insults me more, the charade that you're simply offering a truce to help out a friend, or the fact that, after everything I have accomplished on my own leading up to this, you feel that I need any kind of help to become champion. I don't need anyone helping hand, nor do I want it. This is my battle to fight and it's every man for themselves. Rest assured, we will be having the match we wanted despite the added opponents, and I am going to give you that cold, hard slap in the face that you are long overdue. At the end of the day, my friend, it is all for one."

With a slash through the name 'Keelan Callihan', that leaves only one name without a line through it in the sand. ”And finally, 'The Sovereign' Jon McAdams. It seems that you and I have gravitated towards one another yet again as if we were destined to cross paths to test the mettle of the other. On two occasions over the course of last year we faced off against each other, pushing ourselves to our limits and beyond for the prize of a championship belt and, with one hanging in the balance yet again, there isn't a doubt in my mind this will be any different. But I welcome that, it is what I want after all. No asterisk next to my name as the scribes of history dip their quill, no footnote when I become the inaugural champion of this company. I am sure it is the same for you, and that's why this becomes a completely different game with your involvement. This becomes a battle of wills, a test of endurance, a natural progression to the evolution that makes us that much better every single time. It all began at High Voltage, when we both were pushed to the brink to the point where we both couldn't help but fall with smiles on our faces, knowing that despite the shards of metal that would dig into our flesh and the volts of electricity that would course through our veins, we knew we had found something that will only push us further forward. You told me you were like no one I had ever faced before and, although I had my doubts, you proved that to be the case. Much like how you questioned my worth as champion and my fighting spirit, falling from 50 feet into the electric mayhem sparked that epiphany. And from that, A rebirth out of spiritual adversity caused us to become new creatures. Evolved creatures, stronger and, dare I say, with a sense of mutual respect. Although you would go on to wrestle the next week while I wasn't made clear to compete, possibly because I received the worst of the fall, I needed there to be a rematch to prove that my mettle as champion was not inferior, no fluke caused that draw result. Although it came with the caveat of a third who ultimately added nothing to the match other than to raise more questions than answers, we found ourselves back at that stalemate; neither of us owning a victory over the other. And although our paths separated, the fruits of those labors began to bloom. You became Hardcore Champion after defeating the tyrant that had the division under his thumb while I only just fell short of becoming the longest reigning New Breed Champion of all time but countered it by making one of the biggest progressive leaps from New Breed Champion to World Champion contender. We both left individually for our own reasons, found our way here and, all these months later, we are evolved and fighting for a title once again, the title that establishes us as the apex of this new slate. It's poetic, now that I think about it. To achieve my goal of becoming the inaugural world champion, I must overcome the only obstacle I didn't encounter in my last reign as champion, to put a true and definitive full stop at the end of the footnote. We have proved our worth, that we belong on this level, and I couldn't think of a more fitting way to become champion than by finally putting that uncertainty of who the better man is to rest. I no longer underestimate you, I acknowledge the challenge you bring, which is why my crosshair is sighted right between your eyes. It's not about who shoots the first volley, it's about who shoots the most steady and true. And if our encounters have taught us anything, Jon, it's that my precision is unrivalled." Finnegan crosses out the 'Jon McAdams' written in the sand. ”And that I shoot to kill."

The sun has now fallen below the ocean surface, the last glow of orange that peaks over the horizon is now behind a standing Finnegan, his eyes narrowed straight into the lens of the camera. ”May 13th, history will be made. The sun will set on an age of unknowing, and with it will come the culmination of many things. It will bring about the silence of a killer, the breaking of a sovereign's glass, the arrogance of a man. It will bring about the end of the cliche despicable, worthless champions holding onto their gold because of a political game of 'who won the popularity contest'. It will bring about the end of everything that makes people doubt the credibility, the will-power, the unrivalled ambitions of a wrestling artist. But with that sunset, there will be a dawning. With it, there will be a champion to be proud of standing at the forefront, a champion that will put this place on the map, a champion that will lead this company to the promised lands it so rightfully deserves. To my three opponents, try as you might, I will ensure that the first plate that graces our World Championship will read Finnegan bloody Wakefield!"


Last edited by Finnegan Wakefield on 5/11/2018, 12:20 pm; edited 3 times in total (Reason for editing : miss counted)
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Re: OWA Promos!
Post on 5/11/2018, 3:15 am by kennydrake
PENDLETON, OREGON
HEAVEN’S DEN
3:15 PM

The grassy plains of Eastern Oregon. The sun is setting just over the hill in the distance, staining the sky a blood red. A tall, rail-thin, shirtless man in blue jeans and boots stands alone on a hill, facing towards the sunset. His back is heavily scarred, yet strong. His long black hair is slicked back. He cracks his neck and turns slowly to the camera.

His fa-_-___---_-_-----_-____-----__

[STOP]

[FF >> >>]


[STOP]

[PLAY >]


There are a few things you have wrong...little cub…



We are NOT a “cult.”

I find that word rude. Dismissive. A generalization of people that are on the outer fringes of society.

And from the self-proclaimed “leader of the freak shows”...I’m disappointed, Tarah.


But then again, that’s just YOU, isn’t it? That’s just the SHOCK COLLAR OF THE ALPHA DIVISION! The person who takes so much PRIDE in her monikers - Shock Collar, Leader of the Freaks, the Black Wolf, was it? - yet when confronted with those that are ALSO considered different, meaning myself...you show nothing but indifference. You are what so many of your generation are, Tarah...You are the poster child for this Hot Topic generation that can buy legitimacy at any mall in America. You are the FACE for the kinds of people that get by on how they are PERCEIVED, rather than what they really are…The kinds of people that lust for attention and admiration and acceptance, like the sad children they are...

You...Tarah Nova...are a POSER.


I know. Harsh words, right? How can I BE SO CRUEL?!

It’s because you’re SELFISH. And you DESERVE this.

Do you want to know why I started this War with you, Tarah? I don’t want to make a name for myself, nononono...I don’t want to go after the OTHER wolf here, either...

It’s because YOU...DESERVE...IT.

You have been Chosen, little cub. Number Two.



YOU, Tarah Nova, are guilty of being the embodiment of LUST. You are a Sinner...and all Sin must Die.


Now, there’s a million reasons you’re LUST. I mean...look at you. Look at how you act, how you talk, how you look, how you walk…

But that’s not what He meant when he said you’re the embodiment of Sin...of Lust.

No...He meant that you crave that which you do not deserve...you HUNGER for things that YOU should really leave well and good alone! Everything from a seat at a table, to a championship match...you want it.

People tend to confuse the term Lust as something purely sexual. Not true. One can be lustful for money...for power...for FOOD, even. It’s when there is no NEED, only WANT. A greed that cannot be satiated with a simple tasting or even full procurement...it is a desire and craving that is purely driven by ego.

YOU, Tarah...are the leader of the WANT generation.

Do you NEED validation from others, or do you simply WANT it? You crave for the admiration that comes with being from Detroit, oooooooo! You WANT for the pity and the pride from your sordid upbringing, and how you MADE something of yourself! Yeah!

In other words, you did what you were supposed to do.

And now you want a cookie for it.

Here’s the thing, kiddo...you’re nothing special.



You are not the only one that has come from a harsh street or a back alley or a broken home. Not in the SLIGHTEST. Do you know how many people I have put down with my bare hands that have come from a “hard area?” Have you any idea how many...hoods...I’ve conquered before even having my morning coffee? You were BORN in that, Tarah...You were MEANT to either sink or swim, and CONGRATS! You swam! But I’m from a place where we have class, and civility, and pride in ourselves...and I STILL CONQUERED WHAT YOU CONQUERED. I went to places that make Detroit look like God damn Seattle on a Sunny day, and I BEAT THE TOUGHEST THEY HAD.

Do you know WHY?

Because I am His Executioner.



And You?

You’re just a punk kid with an attitude.


Now, I simply MUST address your little “gift” during my match with...ugh...Scooter Adams…

It was cute. It was really cute.

But I don’t DO cute.

I do Vicious, Horrible things.

You merely adopted this mindset, Tarah...I was born with it...molded by it...I grew up with such an intense anger...a need for violence and hate...I didn’t experience love until I was a man, and by then...it was simply nauseating…

And I? I hate that you are a THING because of it. That little girls look up to you because of it. That there are...LINES...LINES, out the door, for when you go to a signing, because THAT simply Proves my point! I mean, I should be happy, right? I’m RIGHT!

But no...It makes me sad...It makes me angry...because what I see is a new generation, gone to waste, because of people like you. People who preach false ideals, who give false promises, who say one thing yet do the other...people who have made being “fringe” or even mentally unstable, simply profitable and pop-culture. There are little girls and little boys in schools who are wearing your t-shirts, playing as You in the [REDACTED] 2k17 game, copying your finishing moves at friends houses...The next generation will be You.

And I weep at the thought.

So, this? All of this between you and me? This is more than just a horribly brutal match...this is more than even a simple “feud”...

This?

This is a Crusade.

And I am on the side of God.

And my task is to leave you flayed, bloody, and broken.


Because remember, Tarah…



You Deserve This.



Wolves, Aeternum.
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Re: OWA Promos!
Post on 5/10/2018, 11:54 pm by Aria Jaxon
I.

I gave you a gift, Savannah.

The fact that I didn’t intend to give you a gift don’t really matter, does it? When you ran your ass down that ramp and wrapped that candy cane around my neck, I knew we were at the point of no return. And you might be asking, “How was that the tipping point when you attacked me first, Aria?” It’s simple, sweetheart. Some of the other bitches running up and down the hallways of OWA Arena, they talk a big game about not wanting to be crossed, when really, if someone does, that person ain’t getting shit but worth being scared about in retaliation. You did what you felt like you had to do to me to make it apparent you could get just as down and dirty as I could. A few moments of aggression from Savannah Sunshine suddenly means she’s ready for war! Or so you’ve told yourself.

Everything you think you’ve done to me won’t end up amounting to anything more than instant gratification for you. Think back to that first episode of Kingdom, the first match ever contested in this company. In the aftermath of all that, what’s hilarious is that you can still doubt the kinda power that I have. The bass that you have in your voice now, that newfound pep in your step? All that confidence? You didn’t have that before, baby girl. You weren’t shit but a plucky ass underdog who was coming off of one of the most underwhelming rookie runs our previous employer had ever seen. And now you fancy yourself ready to jump down in the trenches with the best female wrestler on God’s green earth. It’s amazing what having a win over me will do for someone’s confidence. Everything that you are right at this moment, as good as you think you’ve become in recent memory, it all stems from the confidence boost that you got off of ONE VICTORY. That’s the unintentional gift I gave you -- I accidentally bestowed upon your dense ass the belief that you could duplicate that feat. Tell the whole story! I beat the shit outta you and smacked you around like you owed me rent money from damn near bell to bell, and when it came down to it? Will anyone be able to honestly say that Savannah Sunshine out-wrestled Aria Jaxon? Did Savannah Sunshine put up the fight of a lifetime against Aria Jaxon? Did Savannah Sunshine prove she was even worthy of standing in the same ring as Aria Jaxon? Hardly. When that final bell sounded, what got the best of me was my own willingness to break you and then cast you aside. There was a window of opportunity for you, and I didn’t shut said window fast enough. But the way some of the whispers in the halls persist, goddamn, you’d think you actually went out there and put on some kinda clinic against me! Say what you want about New Aria, but she’s saying that she was wrong, and what she’s tried to do since you came up off the fluke of a lifetime is right said wrong.

You kill me with your sob stories, you really do. “I thought you were my friend, Aria!” Yeah, I thought I was your friend, too. When I held onto more baggage than I had any business carrying around, I was your friend. When I did everything by the book, played by the rules, and had the entire world calling for my head on a silver platter, I was your friend. I went through more than any proverbial “law-abiding citizen” of wrestling deserves. At least now, I can’t say I deserve to have people begging for my downfall. Plenty of people have called me too cocky for my own good, but it looks like you’re about to step up to the plate and try to actually shut my mouth yourself. That’s direct action for you. I knew deep down that you’d be stupid enough to be completely okay with the terms of the match that I wanted. While I’m not one of these crackhead backyard wrestling-esque hardcore match stipulation enthusiasts, let’s not play games here; I’m much better equipped for Falls Count Anywhere rules than you are. We can refer back to that Extreme Elimination Chamber, if you want. You went out FIRST. You ventured off the beaten path and into dangerous territory -- all while pining after a belt you’d never get to hold -- and didn’t exactly have an impressive showing. I had a record-setting reign with the “plastic” belt that you could never get within a football field of. I held onto it, partly at your expense, and you’re also dealing with a woman who’s got Extreme Tag Team Warfare and Six-Way Street Fight victories under her belt. But by all means, tell me how your ONE candy cane attack puts us on equal footing! Tell me how you “unleashing a side you never wanted to show” matches up with anything I’m willing to do! You mentioned dreams, and I can’t think of a more grandiose pipe dream than thinking I won’t leave you laid out somewhere at Hardcore Havoc.

Of all the buzzwords you could possibly throw out, “jealousy” wasn’t one I expected to hear. Mostly because it makes no sense whatsoever. What do I have to be jealous of, Savannah? The shit you’re doing, staying in favor with all the mouthbreathers in the crowd, I’ve already done it. I’ve been there, and I was better at it than you are. I’m not proud of how far outta my way I went to get them on my side, but at least I can say they had every reason in the world to back me. Never-say-die attitude, megawatt smile, more wrestling talent than was really reasonable. You know, the whole package. I realize now that you get cheered because those degenerates on your home turf back in Philly see themselves in you. You’re a charity case. You try and you try and you try and you throw everything at the wall hoping something will stick, and they lost their minds on Kingdom I because there was the one time out of ten where you actually did something worth giving a shit about! They can all wait with bated breath for you to write some Cinderella story for yourself, but I can tell you and all of them one hell of a spoiler. You won’t be their Rocky. You won’t channel the spirit of the Eagles this past February. You’re more like the Sixers; going impossibly far for someone in your position, and choking when people are counting on you most. But I get it, these are all the words of a jealous woman, right? It’s not like I’m a twenty-three-year-old millionaire or anything. It’s not like, if I really wanted to be petty, I could throw my weight around as a financial backer for OWA and seriously fuck your life up. It’s not like I’m a sitting world champion who churns out classic matches like you churn out excuses for all your failures. Clearly, I’m the one at a disadvantage here! I asked for this match knowing full well that no matter how the chips were stacked against you, no matter how many signs there were along the road that told you that you shouldn’t actually want any problems with me, that you would persist. You’re not some hero who’s a couple of days from defying the odds. You’re a dumbass lamb being led to slaughter.

I don’t believe for a second that what you’ll do to me at Hardcore Havoc will be equal to being put through hell, but I’ll humor you for a second. I’ve been to hell and back more than once, Savannah, and while I never come back unscathed, at least I come back at all. I don’t know if you’ll be able to say the same after our violent little date in San Diego. Who’s to say the girl who lost part of her career to an unfortunate injury won’t be back on the shelf permanently after I’m done with her? You’re right, I did start this. Determined to take back what I’d given you, I started this, but I don’t start shit I can’t finish. That’s what you are to me; a task to be finished. A loose end that I need to tie up. When I stomp you out, that little chapter that begun on the premiere episode of Kingdom can be closed, and I can move on to bigger and better things. The clouds are rolling in, Miss Sunshine, and if I have to dim your light permanently? Then so be it. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
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Re: OWA Promos!
Post on 5/10/2018, 11:17 pm by Bishop
“Beneath you?”. He stops chuckling silently through the dark, empty space around him.

Why…… In whatever Bizarro fucking world you live in, in your concussed and delirious head…. With whatever, demented, self absorbed, completely, utterly, and absolutely bonheaded, fucked logic you follow…. Would I ever want to align myself with Scott Oasis and Sebastian Monroe?”.

I’d say cut the shit Scott, but you break the first rule of being a total fucking shit eating control freak with millions of dollars and media influence behind him…. You ate your own shit so much you fell into your own ego. You actually by your own Bullshit, you let yourself become so vulnerable and trapped….”. He shakes his head. Smiling. It isn’t a pleasant one, it isn’t a fake, shiteating one for publicity. It’s primal. It’s cruel. It’s the sort of smirk that a predator gives when it sees the Gazelle is crippled beyond the ability to run or fight.
“You didn’t carve out shit, you didn’t innovate anything. You didn’t bridge the gap for MMA fighters to enter Pro Wrestling, all you did was bring some hype and bullshit flash when you walked to a wrestling ring wearing fighter shorts and kickboxing gloves. You’re a mountain of flesh, insecurity, laziness, and overhype. Out of all the insults you’ve said, Me ‘living in your shadow’ as your ‘Second Coming’ was the fucking sweetest. I’m your second coming? Me? I’m not the Second Coming of Scott Oasis, because all Scott Oasis has accomplished is building up so much ‘Destroyer of Worlds and Drug tests’, Only to drop it all so easily, rolling over to people He said he’d beat, said he’d crush. The Beast Incarnate hasn’t been able to contend for a belt in years, and the only one he came close to he got beat by the head star of Total Vixens, THAT’S what I’m following in the footsteps in, THAT’S what paved the road, THAT?!?! Is the SHINING FUCKING EXAMPLE?!”.

“Michael Bishop isn’t the second coming of Scott Oasis, because unlike Scott Oasis he actually had the competent fucking skills to back up being an ‘MMA Fighter in Pro Wrestling’. When it came to taking on people half his size, he could actually fucking beat them. When it came to preparing and succeeding at bouts, he would actually try. When it came to upholding the legacy of Mixed Martial Arts, he didn’t run, duck hide, get beat in perfect fashion month after month, He didn’t roll over when it came to being pinned. Saying I’m following in your footsteps is an Insult, a Black Spot on my record, Believing I’d want to strive to be you is fucking hilarious, it made me fucking laugh….. Oasis all you’ve accomplished is showing the whole fucking world how incompetent you are. At face value, big man who’s got more needles stuck in his ass that St. Pierre. When you look deeper? All you do is destroy the legacy of anyone and everyone who ‘sides with you’ who ‘Stands among you’. You reap off the corpse of their fucking success, as ‘Big Oasis Brand’ suck the soul out of their hard efforts…”.

“Don’t believe me? Well Oasis let’s ask history, and see what it shows. Tell me Oasis how’d your road through pro wrestling go? Came from your short, pathetic sting in MMA where you fought a handful of fights, despite your supposed love of the sport, and you lost almost half of those. What’s next? You join promotion after promotion, The Beast Incarnate gets his hands on belts, only to loose them just a couple months afterwards (impressive, the perfect storm indeed), and whether it was because maybe that chin of yours cracked, or you saw more money in losing that atleast trying to beat dominant. You flopped, you fell, haven’t contended for a meaningful title in years, and got axed like a C - lister contrat. ‘Biggest Draw in Combat Sports’ In-Fucking-Deed. BUT, Surely, through all of your laundry lists of shortcomings, you can pass on your laughably simplistic MMA skills to the new generation, Surely Scott Oasis can atleast hack it when it counts and teach the people who ‘Stand Beside Him’ a thing or two…. How’d that work out for your little Gym I visited Scott? Those people who sadly got caught in the crossfire because you couldn’t grow a set of balls and come out before. How’d it work out for them when apparently the Scott Oasis funded training camps and skills meant nothing in the end? How’d it feel knowing that all it took, was One guy. The same motherfucker you called pathetic, a leech, nothing more than a worm, to walk in, and pummel them, beat them, outclass them even though I was outnumbered more than fucking twenty to one, and make the Scott Oasis Fighting Academy look like a bunch of amateurs straight of of little league boxing? But that’s not all Scott, what about the ‘Champions’ you make, what about the prime examples of your craft? How’d it work out for them?....... How’d it work out for your old friend Nico Borg, when he got his hands on a championship. Got him to win and cash in the briefcase, (truly the Oasis way of doing things when you’re such an up front fighter). What about afterwards? How’d it feel knowing all your hype died, and you failed him. You failed him because you couldn’t help him, didn’t bother to, and he was so unprepared, so under equipped, he fell to a scrawny, bitchy, whiny, and self absorbed middleweight like C. M. Nas. the same caliber of guys who love to chew up….”.

“Is this what Scott Oasis does? Is this the champions you make and build? Sure as shit looks like it to me. You don’t create anything, you use up and throw away. You aren’t a teacher, you’re a failure. Michael Bishop isn’t the leech, you are. In actuality Scotty, It might be hard to comprehend, but do us all a favor, sit the fuck down, and call up that manager hack you pay a six figure salary for to get on the mic before you give any more dyslexic rants. It might be hard for you, to really process….. But I’m not the leech, I’m not living in your shadow, I never needed your help, and you didn’t ignore me because you thought you were better, the truth is you saw what I know, and what everyone else finally realizes. I’m the person you wanted to be but were too prideful and lazy to strive and work to become. I’m the true MMA Motherfucker walking in and kicking ass the same way you wanted to when you sat infront of the TV and watched Bas Rutten and Hughes kick ass on cable. I prove in a years worth of bouts, that I’m more skilled and crafty, than you’ve been in your entire fucking career. You ran from me, you ducked my fight, because you knew that should you enter the same environment we all know so well and dear….. Michael Bishop isn’t gonna be ‘beneath you’, ‘Beside you’, or laying broken behind you…. Michael Bishop is the hungry predator that you left MMA to avoid once you learned Technicality beats strength and bench pressing. Michael Bishop, is the ‘Badass of the Octagon’ who can actually carry his fucking weight in blood and broken bones, better than you ever could even when your hype was white hot. You avoided me…. Because you know as much as you might lie and bullshit about being ‘Acclimated’ and ‘Used to’ the feeling of the Underground, Dark, Dank, Concrete Hell you claim to be the king of…. You were never it’s master, you never belong, you were a fuckin’ tourist in a world that chewed you up, and bitched you out…”.

“Here we stand Scotty…. And I’m not even close to being afraid. I’m not feeling overzealous, overconfident, people might eat up your own hype like it’s candy pouring out of santas ass, but I’m one hundred percent in my mind, in the place I need to be. I’m no longer in that squared circle I was never at home in, I’m in my home, I’m in my element. My blood, my skin, my soul feels alive behind these chains linked walls and the screaming of the blood thirsty crowd, the raw feeling in the air- knowing we’re not doing some circle jerk like with Diamond before I had to take you down and pin you for some bullshit count, I don’t have to stop, I don’t have to acclimate, I’M BACK IN THE WAR I FOUGHT FOR TEN FUCKING YEARS. The Ice Man vs the Dreadknight, in the cage and set of rules I’m all too familiar and comfortable with. I’m not intimidated or afraid by your brand of bullshit Scott, I never cared…. But I do know If the whole world wasn’t aware of how much of a hack you were, how much of an absolute puss you’ve become….. They’re gonna see, once I outstrike you, outgrappel you, outskill you, break your fake mental fortitude, and beat you down so hard on the concrete floor I’ll finally put the man they called the measuring stick down….”.

“Enough talk, Enough Excuses, Enough selling the fucking fight Scott. It’s all you’ve ever been good at….. But that aura of invincibility long wore off you after you showed how weak willed you were. It’s not your roost, it’s mine. It’s not your war, it’s the one I’ve been waiting for ever since my door to MMA closed years ago. This is the fight I’ve needed, wanted, and know everyone is dying to see. So come here Scott. Let’s see how long it’ll take before I shut everyone the fuck up, and prove what I’ve said from day one”.
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Re: OWA Promos!
Post on 5/10/2018, 10:27 pm by Scott Oasis
The time has come.

I knew that this moment would arrive eventually. The moment where I once again am forced to step up in order to defend my reputation; to show the world that I am not to be slighted no matter how long I am out of action. Times like these should be expected for every man skilled enough to make it to the top. Once you reach that upper echelon of talent and do everything there is to do - you get settled in your position and finally get to relax and enjoy the fruits of your labor - the bitter little worker ants begin to nibble at your ankles, calling you out and causing anarchy. These peasants hope to bring you down and destroy everything that you have worked for so they may rebuild it as their own. They wish to take your position because they’ve deluded themselves into thinking they are worthy! These fledglings though, they have no idea what makes one worthy of they seat they desire so much - they are not even close to matching up to the person that they believe to be better than. For months I have dealt with people sending shots my way and for the most part I have ignored them as they are simply jealous insults and really, I’d be validating them and belittling myself by gracing them with a match. Most of the people who shit talk me don’t even have a tenth of my career and have no standing to question me. Even those with accolades have no real standing. Hate on me if you want, pray that I fail if you feel it’s necessary, at the end of the day my spot on the pecking order has been cemented because I put in the effort. What I have created was not luck, it didn’t happen overnight. After years of dedication to this business, giving my life to the sport, taking years off of my life for it, giving up my blood, sweat and tears I have built something very few people in this industry have been able to build. I have built a brand. A dynasty. A KINGDOM! And in that kingdom I have been able to sit firmly on my throne with everyone forced to pay me the proper respect that I deserve! I know you all are sick and tired of me talking about the odds stacked against me and going from rags to riches but god damn it, when you come from where I came from and see the highs that I have, you have EARNED the right to brag - I’ll scream my accomplishments from the mountain tops since nobody else could do what I’ve done. So many people have doubted me in my life and with each point I reached in my career, each barrier I broke they raised the glass ceiling up a notch, telling me that I wouldn’t break it. I scratched and clawed to build myself up to here.

The dues I’ve paid can’t be denied, much like my influence on the industry CAN’T be denied. Now that I’ve made it everyone is looking to me and it’s obvious why. When it comes to big names in professional wrestling I have carved a niche like no other and now everyone wants to hop on the trend and get a piece of the pie. That longing to be where I am, the hopes of copying my path to the top...I notice that envy whenever I make my way through a locker room and it has boiled over to the point that it has overwhelmed some. You’ll especially notice it with one person in particular if you’ve watched OWA any. That one person succeeded where most fail in that he actually caught my attention. I hate having to entertain this, I don’t even want to say his name after how he went ahead and bit the hand that fed him…..but I have no choice at this point. It is time for me to address the man who has been leeching off of the lane I made for myself in a way unlike any other…..Michael Bishop. His name has been all over the headlines lately thanks to his little beef with me and even before that I am certain he was gaining notoriety thanks to me. I remember when he first made his debut on mainstream television my mentions were getting blown up  with people labeling him as the second coming of Scott Oasis. Pfft. *spits* At this point I view him more as a bargain bin clone hoping to cash in on my success. Don’t get me wrong, he’s a good talent, he has a lot more potential than a lot of these guys which is why I was willing to do him a favor and take him under my wing. When I began my negotiations with Omega Wrestling Alliance and heard he was there I WANTED to meet him. I sent Sebastian Monroe out to the OWA Arena early solely to recruit him. I was flattered that someone was CLEARLY inspired by me and following in my footsteps - yes, INSPIRED. He can act like he hasn’t been doing that but anyone with two eyes can see the homage. It’s a shame my positive opinion of him had to go away once I found out he’s just an ungrateful little brat who’d rather use my fame so that he could get clout. I should have known that idiot would fuck up the sure thing I was offering him but I suppose I gave the benefit of the doubt against my better judgement because of how much of me I saw in him. I wanted to be nice and be generous to someone that I practically birthed in this industry. It’s unfortunate things turned out this way. I wish after Bishop showed his true colors that I could have just left it at that and leave him to hang himself, but he has made himself hard to ignore. I can tune out many of the what I like to call “little people” who foolishly diss their superior as many of them are no real threat to me despite their intent. They couldn’t even harm me if they tried.

But Michael Bishop has made actual damage to what I have built - literally. Destroying my gym? Injuring my employees and costing me thousands of dollars? I can’t let that slide. And then you have the audacity to slander me and get the crowd to call me a pussy while I’m in the very same building as you. There you were trying to make me out to be some kind of punk while I was minding my own business and trying to make money, something you’ve never been familiar with in your career. You have a lot of guts, Mike, I told you before. You’ve took things to a level a lot of the kids who say they can take me out wouldn’t even dare to go. You’ve done whatever you could to bring me out of my hiding prematurely. Well, it worked. I have been on hiatus for the past couple of months, returning to my home and resting; watching the landscape unfold rather than getting involved. I knew that no matter how much changed I would still be the one who’d control the environment, but with my presence less visible we’ve got people like Michael coming out of the woodwork thinking my break means I’ve fallen off. I can’t allow these claims to float around without being corrected. Now it is time for the king step off of his throne and draw his sword to do battle once again. It is time to go to war, to fight for my Kingdom! It is time to engage in the same thing that got me my place in this industry…...Blood sport.

I’ve made my living off of these types of settings. A blood stained canvas, gloves around my fists and a rowdy crowd surrounding me. Breaking bones, knocking out teeth, hospitalizing people - that is how I got my feet wet in combat sports. You made your career off following regulations, I fought with no rules, I fought with my life at risk! I’ll say it once again, you’re a great fighter, but that is only relative to the people in your league. Next to me you’re nothing. Garbage. Just another peasant. The only thing separating you from the rest is you actually got close to the castle. That doesn’t mean you’re capable of sitting at the throne though. And you certainly aren’t strong enough to wield the sword that I carry; the role of gate keeper in this sport. You’ve made it far in your pursuit of my spot but like the rest who have made me step up to the plate now will be the point in the story where you must perish. I must get you out of my hair so that I can get back to business and carry on with my brand. I plan on having OWA by the throat very soon and that can’t happen with you breathing down my neck. It’s a shame that it has come to a stipulation like this and that I couldn’t spare you but I know if it was any other match you’d persist even in defeat. The only thing stopping you is taking things to the extreme. Shutting you up by beating you at your own game. If I have to end your career in order to keep you down so be it. Just know when the EMTs are picking your head off of the canvas so they can put on that neckbrace….and the pool of blood is covering your body…..you asked for this at the end of the day. You made me get up from my throne. You made me have to put you down.

You could have been by my side. Now you’ll forever be stuck beneath me.
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Re: OWA Promos!
Post on 5/10/2018, 8:21 pm by Jacob Senn
Gold.

Men lust for it, men chase after it, and men die for it. It’s what has brought forth wars and death among all fronts for the simple greed of this exquisite metal, but no man has been able to resist its seductive siren song. Even I am not exempt from this desire myself as at Hardcore Havoc, I’m going to put my body on the line in a TLC match for the chance to be known as the Omega Heavyweight Champion and hold another world championship in the palm on my hands. That’s my desire that has brought me into this company, a desire to be known as the best wrestler in the world that I’m able to be known for and if Kingdom was any example of the future for Jacob Senn, it’s showing that I’m just that. The same desire that has placed me in bloody wars that has left bodies broken in my wake, the same desire that has ended careers to where they were left in humiliating defeat at the end of it, and the same desire that has brought high acclaim to my career as a legend in this business will be left all in the ring for the entire world to witness and one of my opponents, they have already known experienced this personally. I’ve known the current-reigning Omega Heavyweight Champion for a very long time. I saw his birth into the professional wrestling scene, I watched him grow and evolve himself into this world championship performer that he has become, but throughout all of it… he has yet to show that he can actually defeat me when it all has been put on the line. CM Nas was left exactly where he will be when we step into the spotlight at Hardcore Havoc, when the Omega Heavyweight Championship dangles high in the air, and one of us climbs that stairway to heaven to be crowned the champion in front of the entire wrestling world! Nas, we have a history together that has transpired over this year and we never got the proper conclusion that the world wanted to see. We never got to deliver the promise that we made to the world of standing against each other with the chance to be known as the top name in all professional wrestling and when we meet for that championship that you hold on your shoulder, I make that promise a reality. You might have become a collector of championship gold to where you can manufacture your claim across the world that you’re the best wrestler in the world, but those scraps of leather and metal that you captured from those minor federations… they mean nothing to me. The only championship that you hold that I have a vested interest in, the only belt that you have that I desire to hold on my shoulder, it is the Omega Heavyweight Championship and being victorious shall make my promise to you fulfilled. I made you a promise that you would meet a grand fall at my hands, that you would suffer in the ways that I had suffered before, and it’s pure irony that I get to have that justice on my pursuit for holding championship gold once again. I will show all the eyes that haven’t experienced Jacob Senn in the world exactly the man that they will be left in awe with in OWA. This match will be the match that resurrects the man that made himself a name that was feared when placed up against them for I’m doing absolutely everything that I can do to be known as the champion. Brutalizing you with chairs, ladders, and tables? Flying off of ladders with awe-inspiring leaps to where I shatter someone’s body completely? Forcing the blood from beneath your brow to be bursted out and pour down onto the canvas as my art? There are no lengths that I will prevent myself from taking in order to leave with that championship in my possession and you know that to be the truth, don’t you? That’s why you were so trepid about me being placed in this match when I announced my entry, because you know that I’m the walking armageddon for your reign as champion, and the horns have sounded to declare your reckoning. Mark my words, CM Nas. If you believe that you’re safe when I’m around in this business while you’re reigning as the Omega Heavyweight Champion, you’ll be sorely mistaken because I will not rest until I’ve delivered on the promise that I’ve made to you.

With those that have been introduced to the face of Jacob Senn, there are bold newcomers to this sport that have the courage to tempt themselves against the man known as The Punisher. Miltiades. With the Tres Comas Club at your side, you believe that you’ll be unstoppable walking into Hardcore Havoc and this match will be won for you, right? Reigning as the emperor of your subjects of wrestlers as the Omega Heavyweight Champion? Barking marching orders to where you hope to have another piece of gold added to your faction of men that are controlled by the lust of cash like whores at the beck and call of their pimps? I’m glad that you believe this to be the nature of this match because here’s what will become of Miltiades in this match. No matter the numbers that you will amass to bring into this war, no matter what members of The Tres Comas Club run down that ramp to be the saving grace for your aspiration to being known as world champion at the end of the night, I’ll be more than prepared to slaughter the army that stands in front of me. Do you think that I’m ignorant enough to not be prepared for something of this nature after a decade of wrestling around the world against various men that has harbored the same mentality that you do? To be completely honest with you, I’ve been the same man that you’ve been before and it doesn’t bode well for the man that claims to be emperor, for there will always be a Brutus to dig the dagger that will bring forth your demise. Whether I shall be the man to bring that finishing blow upon you or if it will be a traitorous member of the family that you keep in Tres Comas Club that desire the allure of fame instead of the brotherhood that you believe that you have, there’s always a fall from lofty heights that will be in store for a man of your nature. A proud man that seeks to be the emperor of the world itself through the crowning of championship glory has always become destined for ruination at the hands of those that he finds beneath him. Every great tale, every great ruler, they have all met this tragic end to where you will not be exempt from this. As you grab a ladder to place under the rich prize of the Omega Heavyweight Championship and start your ascension to the top to where you could reach that crowning achievement, I’ll be there to make you fall from the paradise that you’ve made for yourself in the sky and let you hit the ground hard with realization taking over that you’ve been met with defeat. You may desire the world to kneel to the power that you represent, the might that you hope to show throughout this company, but there will be only two men that will be lying on the canvas when it has all been etched into history. CM Nas and Miltiades. Those are the names of the men that will be written into history as the men that were surpassed by a man that will become the most iconic figure in OWA with the championship glittering under the spotlight on his shoulder. Upon that ladder with the world looking up towards me, I shall be smiling with the world in my possession and proud at the war that had been won. This sight will be what I fight for and what drives me to put myself through the worst punishment that both of you could craft for me. This is the moment that I have been searching for, a redemption has escaped me that I can finally reach with just the climbing of a ladder, and I will NOT let either of these men prevent me from being the thing that I have been brought into this company to be.

Iconic.
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Re: OWA Promos!
Post on 5/10/2018, 4:05 am by HENDRIX


The way life can work is crazy, honestly. One minute you’re driving a van going absolutely nowhere, and the in the next moment? You’re days away from the biggest opportunity of your life. It makes you reflect, it makes you question if you’d change anything to get to the place you’re finally at and honestly? I wouldn’t change a damn thing. Sure, the manipulation from Little Miss Sunshine happened. Sure, the drug addiction happened. Sure, these negatives in my life kept happening and happening but you know what finally happened? I overcame it all. I didn’t fall under the pressure! I didn’t succumb to the bullshit, and here I stand with my head held high and I’m proud to say that this Sunday I will walk in empty handed but walk out with that OWA Women’s World Championship.

Jessica Rose, you don’t have it in you! That’s the difference here! You don’t have what it takes to overcome adversity! You crumble under pressure, you don’t bust into a diamond, and baby girl you’re looking at the brightest damn diamond on the entire roster. Hardcore Havoc is the location of the biggest match of your career, Jessica. However… However… However! Hardcore Havoc? Hardcore Havoc is sadly going to be the place where sugary dreams go to die. Hardcore Havoc is sadly going to be the place where we find out that Jessica Rose’ isn’t some bright red flower, no-oh-no. We find out that Jessica Rose’s rose is dry… rotting…. dead. I ended Savannah Sunshine’s dreams of being the first ever OWA Women’s World Champion, and you know how that made me feel, Jessica? I thrived. I lived. I resembled the cat from Alice In Wonderland for nearly forty-eight hours after that bell rang, and that’s because I get off to crushing the dreams of those who can never hold a damn candle to me. It’s an addiction. It’s my addiction.

Hardcore Havoc is the location, and I’ve said it countless times now, but it’s the location where you will all witness the relapse of The Golden Goddess! No-no-no-no, stop the presses, Jessica don’t think I mean actual drugs here. It’s not that kind of drug relapse, no. See, unlike you Jessica Rose, I don’t blow gigantic opportunities. This relapse is simple when I-not if, but when I walk out of Hardcore Havoc as the first ever OWA Women’s World Champion, I’m ending another dream. No, Jessica, not just your dream either. See, there’s this little fantasy going around that you need to “stop the THOT”! There’s this little fantasy going around that Jessica Rose is going to be the hero that OWA deserves! Hooray! Jessica Rose is here to save the day! Funny, I’ll give you all that. Creative, I’ll give you all that. However, if you think for one second that the vision of Jessica Rose standing tall with the OWA Women’s World Championship at the end of Hardcore Havoc is going to be a reality… You really need to go get your head checked. There’s something seriously-seriously wrong with you, and I’m not quite sure what it is but honey-child, please do yourself a favor and go get that basketcase checked. She can’t be this Dark Knight! She can’t be this vigilante hiding in the shadows! Jessica Rose can’t be the hero you all are clamoring for, and why? Behind every single hero, there’s a bigger and badder villain. Ladies and gentlemen, at Hardcore Havoc you are looking at your beautiful Killing Joke.

Locked inside of a Steel Cage, Jessica! Locked inside of a Steel Cage, there will be no way you can depend on anyone other than yourself. Locked inside of a Steel Cage, there will be no escaping this Golden Nightmare from happening. There’s only one single outcome! There’s only one ending to this storybook, and that is Jessica Rose laying in the middle of that ring, unable to move, unable to breathe while I sit atop that cage raising the OWA Women’s World Championship above my head. I will be the first-ever champion. I have to be the first ever champion, Jessica. You… You can’t do what is needed. You don’t have it in you, Jessica. You are too far gone in this sugary bullshit to be the type of example that this division needs. Me on the other hand? See, I’m exactly what this division needs. I am in every sense of the word the one that will lead OWA into the future! Me! Not Aria Jaxon! Not Savannah Sunshine! Not Megan Rain! Not… Jessica… Rose… But me! I will show everyone-EVERYONE exactly what it means to be a champion around here. I will be the gold standard. I will be the measuring stick to show if you’ve got what it takes to be at the very top of the mountain, and when you stretch those arms out and realize that you don’t have what it takes? You’ll get knocked back down that hill with Jack and Jill and you will fall in line to get another shot like everyone else! I will be the Queen Of The Mountain! While you, Jessica… You’ll just go back to carrying bags for Savannah Sunshine, wondering what went wrong at Hardcore Havoc.

The fact of the matter is this, Jessica. Absolutely nothing went wrong, that’s the harsh reality for you. When I walk out victorious, it’s not going to be a surprise, it’s not going to be an upset, it’s going to be expected by anyone with half a brain. You are just too… Let’s just you’re too naive to really make a difference around here. You won’t be the example the future needs, and you’d just be the joke on the record book. So instead of leaving a terrible-terrible-terrible first impression, I’ll just gladly do what was never a doubt to begin with, and I will walk out of Hardcore Havoc champion. It really does bother me though, honestly. The whole “dark horse” comment I’ve heard rumbling around in the back, because honestly if you didn’t expect me to be in this spot? You need to get any preconceived ideas out of that head of yours. This isn’t an Empire, this isn’t the Land of Eli-ew. This is OWA, the land of the future, the land of new beginnings, and most importantly the land of the Golden Goddess. If you can’t picture me in this position, with this golden opportunity, you need to get used to it people because this is never going to change. Jessica Rose is going to learn it first hand at Hardcore Havoc when you step to the Golden Goddess? When you challenge The Golden Gun? You get shot. You die. You don’t respawn. You don’t get a second chance, you show up, you get embarrassed, and you lose. Simple. As. That.

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Re: OWA Promos!
Post on 5/10/2018, 2:16 am by Jessica Rose
Jessica’s Bizzare Adventure 
Chapter 3: Hardcore Havoc

"Humble beginnings teaming with a best friend to now being close to making history in a country where I was a relative unknown just a month ago. From just being signed because who mentor is to now being a fan favorite the crowds here. It's been quite a journey so far." 

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(We begin with the camera rolling inside the Viejas Arena where we see Jessica Rose just looking down from the top rows of the arena as the crew work on setting up everything before the big show.)
 
Like HENDRIX said, I don’t look like the girls that every guy would love to have as their girlfriend, I’m too tomboyish and I don’t ooze out confident like Aria or Candice. Like when this tournament started, I didn’t think I would be in the finals. Against Candice, I thought it would be a nice debut, second round match against Megan I was glad to make it that point and my confidence grew a bit more and then when I beat Megan, I knew I had what it took to end up winning this entire tournament now after so long, I’m confident in myself my abilities in the ring and in the fact that I can be the first OWA Women's Champion. I don’t intend on letting HENDRIX get inside my head and get the best of me this week. Right now I plan on becoming Women’s champ and prove whether not you’re the favorite or an underdog that anyone on their best night can become the best and rise right to the top. Maybe I don’t fit the mold for your female wrestlers, I mean someone with broad shoulders, short hair, and Otaku background doesn't sound like someone who could the face of the Goddess Division but that's the opinion of someone like HENDRIX. And her opinion will be proven wrong this Sunday, it means the world to me to prove her wrong about someone like me becoming the face of this division. 

(The determined look on her face becomes the main focus of the camera.)

I've come far from where I was when this tournament started, I became something a lot of girls can look up to now. This has been quite a journey and it would be the perfect end to a great fairy tale with the underdog shocking the world and becoming the first ever OWA Women's champion. HENDRIX, I don't plan to talk about your past even though I know all about it. I want you to focus on me, right now even on your way to the final, you have to face me in it. No matter how beaten down I am from my matches with Candice and Megan, I'm still going to fight on like I have during all my matches. This is the moment for me, HENDRIX. I think I've proven to be more than just Savannah's new best friend and if I need to show that to you then I'm more then willing to do it especially with the OWA Women's Title on the line as well. I don't expect an easy time especially with the steel cage surrounding us, I don't expect to leave without scars and wounds. This is the biggest match of my career, every bit of it has come down to this moment.

If you plan to walk into Hardcore Havoc and walk out with the Women's title then you're wrong. You're not going to walk out without getting a fight from me, I want that title right now more than anything. This match, it's not for Faye or Savannah or anybody else you can think of. This is for me. To be OWA Women's champ, you have to fight like one and be like one. I've shown that throughout this entire tournament that I can fight like a champion and be one for this company regardless of who I'm up against, doesn't matter if it's a girl with talent in her blood like Candice Blair or a THOT like Megan Harper. I've overcome all that to be in this position and I promise you that this Sunday when the bell rings, you'll be face to face with the best I've got to offer. No matter what tactic you want to try or whatever you can do to stop me, it just won't work against me as I'll still keep doing what I have done since joining OWA and that is to keep pushing towards the finish line. You aren't going to be able to stop me from achieving my goal of becoming OWA Women's Champ, I'm gonna make sure of it during our match.

(Jessica slowly takes a deep breath before getting up and heading out of the arena with the crew still working hard to get the set for Hardcore Havoc finished before this Sunday as the camera fades.)
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Re: OWA Promos!
Post on 5/10/2018, 12:30 am by Isaac Thornton
[After his OWA debut, cameras capture Isaac getting escorted out by the OWA security to the backstage area after what he did to poor Tsuyoi. He has his hands up, acting as if he's an innocent man. He's apologizing, pleading his case that he did nothing wrong ... that it was all an accident. And he actually looks remorseful. A very convincing actor indeed. Since Isaac is now a few hundred feet away from Tsuyoi, security finally leaves Isaac alone. He sports a small grin, reminiscing about what he's done. He's proud of himself. At this point an interviewer approaches Isaac to get a few answers.]

Interviewer: Isaac, I have to ask, what was the meaning behind that? The match was long over, so why did you choose to attack Tsuyoi? 

Isaac: I uh, I didn't mean to, I promise! I mean, I had sweat in my eyes, so my vision was impaired! Everything was a blur! All I remember is my fist slipped and I got carried away. I just couldn't stop, no matter how hard I tried. I know that when I go back to my personal locker room and I look in the mirror, I'll be disgusted by the man l see! So long story short, what transpired after my match ... it wasn't my proudest moment and I sincerely apologize! In fact, I feel so bad that I will even pay for his hospital bill because I'm a grown adult and I take responsibility for my actions! 

Interviewer: Was that sarcasm? 

Isaac: Nope. Some things are bigger than professional wrestling ... like one's health. I just hope Tsuyoi makes a full and speedy recovery. I truly feel horrible about what I did and I can't stress that enough! Look into my eyes! You can clearly tell it's eating away at me! It's driving me crazy! So please, I beg, ask about something else because I'm about to break down in tears. Hurry up! Get my mind off this tragic event!

Interviewer: Okay, sure. So your debut was fantastic, but in the end, you didn't pick up the victory. That went to Christopher Sabertooth. What are your thoughts on your debut match?

[For a split second, you can tell Isaac is seething at the thought of Christopher winning. But that face of jealously quickly disappears and being the actor he is, he isn't going to show he's bothered. Instead, he's about to play the overly corny positive/motivational character. Why? Because he can.]

Isaac: My thoughts are, never give up. You hear that kids? NEVER GIVE UP! CHASE YOUR DREAMS! YOU MIGHT STUMBLE ALONG THE WAY AFTER YOU FACE SOME OBSTACLES OR ODDS! BUT OVERCOME THEM! DON'T LET ANYONE TELL YOU YOU AREN'T GOOD ENOUGH! JUST KEEP SCRATCHING AND CLAWING UNTIL YOU REACH YOUR DESTINATION OF SUCCESS! THE WORD IMPOSSIBLE DOESN'T EXIST! IT'S WHAT?! THAT'S RIGHT, IT'S IM-POSSIBLE! I AM POSSIBLE! ALWAYS REMEMBER THAT BECAUSE ANYTHING IS POSSIBLE!!!!!!!!!!! 

Interviewer: I must say, that was very inspiring. Any words for Christopher, such as congratulations? 

Isaac: Oh, no. He's trash. 

Interviewer: Oh...

Isaac: Yeah, he's very bad. He's not good at this professional wrestling thing. Instead, he should go rob some banks because he's a pro at theft. Stealing victories away from a hard-working, humble young man such as myself ... just disgusting. Way more disgusting than what I did to Tsuyoi. So why would I sing my praises about a thief?!

Interviewer: Oh, I wasn't expecting that. 

Isaac: Yeah, you made this awkward. Brought the mood down. I'm just gonna go...

Interviewer: Oh, yeah, me too...

[Isaac starts walking away, only for the interviewer to walk in the same direction as him, making this even more awkward.]

Isaac: No! The other way! Thanks!

[Isaac walks off into the distance as the camera fades to black momentarily. "Present Day" is on the screen, since this next part is obviously current. Isaac looks to be in a studio of some kind, sitting in his director's chair. He's of course looking dapper in his three-piece suit.]

Isaac: My first week as a professional wrestler is now in the books and overall, I think it went pretty well. I mean, it could have gone better, sure, but it also could have gone much worse. See, I'm a glass half full kind of guy. I glance at the positives and hope to replicate/build off of it in the future. But on the other side of the coin, I study the negatives very carefully so I reduce the possibility of duplicating them. That's what life is all about in a nutshell, right? Learning from mistakes. I mean you look at Christopher Sabertooth's father for example. He had one child, Christopher, and after all of the annoyance and grief he brought into his life, he made sure to never make that same mistake again. Just like when it comes to professional wrestling, I learned to never let your guard down because there will be someone lurking in the shadows, just waiting for that small opening to capitalize on. Again, that applies to life. There are countless people in this world that will step over you in order to give them an advantage in life. Don't worry, I am not one of those people because I am a god damn Saint. Never committed a crime in my life, no siree! What's that? You wanna talk about Tsuyoi? Nah, let's leave that skull in my closet for the time being. So hey, random transition, but I recently decided to torture my ears by listening to Christopher's post-match comments and I must say, I was left dumbfounded. For such a "crafty veteran", he sure does love gloating over the fact he pinned a complete and utter tyro in Tsuyoi. Nah, better yet, for such a "crafty veteran" who has supposedly collected a bundle of success in all his years of making a living in this profession, you would think that after such a small victory, he would act like he's been in the winner's circle before. It reminds me of the memorable quote from the legendary football coach, Vince Lombardi when he once said, "When you go into the end zone, act like you've been there before." Meaning, when you score a touchdown, just hand the ball to the ref, acting as if it's no big deal instead of doing some prima donna choreographed dance routine that will draw a flag and hurt your team. But I get it, the old man comes out of retirement, he gets a taste of victory and he overinflates his ego in the process. Ride that high Christopher. Enjoy as you sit all comfy on that high horse of yours because soon, real soon, I am going to shove you the fuck off, I promise.

I am more superior than you in every way imaginable and don't you dare forget it. I can already sense your response and all I have to say is don't do it, Christopher. Don't let some fluke victory cloud your better judgment. You are playing a dangerous game here, my friend. Then again, ignore it. Ignore the warning flashing lights. Just go on through so when I kick your teeth down your throat, it will be that much more satisfying. See, I have my eyes on the prize here and that is the Spartan's Championship. That's right, even after a "loss", I get the same opportunity as you Christopher, imagine that. And yet, you wonder why? Why was I inserted into this match? I of all people don't deserve it! It's an insult to what you accomplished last week!!!!!!! But tell me, Christopher ... what did you actually accomplish?! Spoiler alert, not a god damn thing. Hell, even the interviewer that was talking to you wouldn't shut up about me and my performance ... why? You would think the winner would get all of the spotlight! What is the meaning of this travesty?! Simple, just like in every role I've been given. I've shined. I shine because I am the real star. I have the it factor. I have the potential to be a cornerstone of this company and cool, you can fold your arms and scrunch your face and try to convince me I'm wrong, but you would only be wasting your time, as well as your breath. I am a lion. You are a jackal. And in the land of predators, a lion never fears the jackal. Just like I don't value your opinion. No one does ... because when you talk, you don't captivate an audience. When you walk down the ramp, their eyes aren't glued to the TV screen. Nah man, they are glued to a different screen ... the screen of their smartphones. Just waiting for your music to die down and hope that a real talent, such as myself is coming out next. 

You overvalue your worth to this company and I accept part of that blame. If I had eyes in the back of my head and saw you coming before you decided to toss me out of the ring and basically take credit for my work, we would be having a very different conversation here. In fact, I wouldn't be talking to you at all because if you lost last week? You wouldn't even be booked in this match. You wouldn't be booked for Hardcore Havoc, period. You would be at home, devouring Funyuns and crying in your quart of Ben & Jerry's, wondering to yourself why oh why weren't you born with my talent and my good looks and my charisma? There there, don't be so hard on yourself! I am one of one. No duplicates, even though there are plenty of imitators. I hit the lottery and you didn't, it's no big deal. Just like you being a part of this match is no big deal. I look up and down at the list of names in this match and if I'm being brutally honest, which hey, I always am, I'd rank you dead last. Actually nah, on second thought, that would go to the stuttering guy, then you. So you're officially the second worst in this match ... congratulations? Yeah, congratulations! Bask in that glory Christopher because that'll be the last time anyone congratulates you this week. But again, like I said, for the time being, ride that high. Pat yourself on the back for that "victory" last week. I'm sure I haven't heard the last of it because if I won a match with Isaac Thornton in it, I'd brag about it too. In fact, I'd cling onto that fact for the rest of my career here in OWA because that'll be the most noteworthy accomplishment you'll ever achieve here. An accomplishment with an asterisk nonetheless. Let's compare our careers in two months and I promise you my resume will blow yours out of the water. Pinky swear!

As for the rest of the competitors in this match, god damn there are so many of you. Can you motherfuckers put some name tags on or something, so you can make my life easier? Ok, thanks. Let's start with Gareth, right? Or is it Gary? Garrett? Nah pretty sure it's Gareth. Whatever, it doesn't matter. Look here you little shit, you don't know who I am?! What a small world, Gareth because I don't know who you are either. This is the part where you puff your chest out and tell me all about your professional wrestling resume. You know, list the guys you've beaten, the titles you've won, as you plead your case as to why you are so valuable to this company,  while I catch some Z's and doze off. Hell, for all I know maybe you have slain some of the nastiest behemoths to ever inhabit this planet, I have no clue, I'm just going off the impression you gave me earlier today. But what I will admit is you have the triple threat. Now from my world that usually means a person is good at acting, singing, and dancing. But you? Number one, you have the most punchable face on this roster. Please, use some acne cream. It will be your best friend. Number two, you have the worst first name on the roster. If someone told me a Gareth was looking for me, I would immediately want to rip your head off and peel it like an orange. And lastly, number three, the hair. Did the barber quit halfway through it? Your presence alone rubs me the wrong way. And no, I'm not usually one of those guys who cares about looks. You just have the image of someone I want to put in the ground so you can help push those daises up. I'll leave it at that. Let's move on, shall we? Correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't you say I have the most to prove in this match, while you have the least? Wow, totally not biased, right? Listen here "sport", I have nothing to prove to you of all people. You aren't some benchmark, get the fuck outta here. If you look at the facts then you will realize that I am the one with the least amount of wrestling experience on this roster, yet I find myself in a title match in my second match ever. A match that is catered to my skillset, that being my nonpareil athleticism. 

However, based off of one match, I should be easy pickings, right? You should have no problem in tossing me to the side like a sack of potatoes as you make your climb to that Spartan's Championship. THIS SHOULD BE A WALK IN THE PARK FOR YOU GARETH! I MEAN YOU BEAT A WORLD CHAMPION OH MY GOD, YOU ARE LEGIT DANGEROUS!!!!! Do you realize how ridiculous you sound now? Does every wrestler on this roster need a terrible/laughable catchphrase? You with your "legit dangerous" and Christopher with his "I am the Alpha to your Omega", or whatever that hogwash he utters. Tell me, why have one in the first place? It makes your tough guy persona crumble at your very feet. Because I feel like I am supposed to perceive you as this tough guy, seeing as how you were giving Bull Conners some shit on the same thing...hey, small world. But you know what? Let's change up the mood. I would like to take this time to say thank you. Thank you, Gareth for wasting your breath on a guy you deem unworthy to be in this match. Makes no sense when you think about it. You think I am a joke, a nonfactor in this match, trying to berate who I am as a person, yet I am one of a select few you went in-depth about. You are sending mixed signals. Make up your mind. Now, I can confidently say that after listening to you speak, I don't get your appeal. And maybe that is because I have only been here for a week, so be it, but I fail to see what makes you special. You think you're the shit. That you're a king surrounded by peasants. When in reality, you are as ordinary as they come. And come Hardcore Havoc, just like the rest of the men in this match, you will not be walking out as champion. All you will be remembered as is a footnote in the career of Isaac Thornton. Next, Bull Conners, you're fat, so you will lose. See? I too can hurl low-hanging insults .. just like Gareth and Nate!!! And then there are what, like three or four more of you to address? Nah fuck that. Just know I am winning the Spartan's Championship because I am me. I have my acceptance speech ready to go and everything, so it's pretty much set in stone. So with that said, y'all can argue amongst yourselves now. Hopefully one of you piques my interest soon ... but I'm not holding my breath. 

[Isaac smirks as the scene begins to fade to black. The end.]
Re: OWA Promos!
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