The Ballad of Sorrow (Part 3)

Hush now, my child. I'm just here to tell you a story.

(We hear these words, as we open to a child, sitting atop a park bench. Cold, alone with nobody visible around them. Well, nobody holding a book, that is. So, just what is the origin of the voice? The one, who claims to have a story to tell?)

It's a story about a man who lost everything, all so that he could bring about a new world.

(The child looks around, but still doesn't see anyone. Even as a slight rustle can be heard from the trees around him)

A world, where nothing else but purity reigns supreme. Where the ignorance; the gimmickry that this world has wandered down, is reduced to nothing but ash.

(The child looks around again, only able to catch a glimpse of a shadowy figure, standing about two feet behind the tree that had rustled. His cloak, hiding his identity.)

Don't worry. Nothing's going to hurt you. I promise you that, my child. I am just here to 'save' you.

Child: W-what? I don't need saving.

(Attempting to stand up, the child feels almost a magnetic force dragging him back down atop the chair. Causing him to stay, as the figure begins to step forward.)

Now, now. Don't you wanna hear it?

(The child shakes his head, even though he realises he has no choice. That he is going to have to listen to this tale, whether of not he truly wishes to. That this figure, isn't gonna let him escape until the tale is told.)

Good ---

(The figure makes his way to the bench where the child is sitting, as we slowly fade - coming to the realisation that we were *never* actually at a park; there was *never* actually a child Well, that's not entirely true. There was a child and a figure, yet they were never within our confines. Which is a vacant, abandoned room within what we were told is the "Old Philly Tower" when we arrived here. 

But rather, it was a clip playing upon a TV screen in the far right hand corner of the room. A TV, that seemed to 'magically' turn off as soon as the word 'Good' floated into the air. Panning around, we see that the only light source, is a dull bulb that is swaying from left to right, lighting up very small segments of the room at each moment.)

Don't be afraid --- I didn't bring you here to hurt you. Trust me. 

(The voice, coming from a far corner of the room, is oh so familiar. Yet this *isn't* the sort of scenery we would expect the person to surround himself in. We mean, we know he's into psychological warfare and gritty imagery, but this. Especially with the statements being made, just doesn't ring true with us.)

I can sense your fear - I understand you're afraid. I understand you're just lost little sheep, wishing to find out why we are here. Just *why* I would come here, instead of filming this in more familiar surroundings. Don't worry, it shall *all* become clear with time.

(Yes. It's Scotty. That much we *do* know. Even if he is able to side step and remain 'hidden' even as the light swings towards where he is standing.)

Have I gone insane? Did I lose my mind, when it all turned cold?

(Shaking his head, he finally steps within the line of the light, allowing it to shine upon him; reveal that he is wearing a cherry red shirt, his (now) traditional jet black/azure basketball pants and white/navy New Balance sneakers. A slight smile is also evident upon his face.)

No. The words of a genius. The machinations of those who can truly comprehend the notion, are seen as madness by the blind. By those, who wilfully ignore the truth that encapsulates us all. 

(Pausing, he allows those words to echo around the lighthouse, as a frame about five feet along the chiselled stone wall to the right of where we are situated catches our attention. It's a rusted, metallic frame - the metal used in its construction appearing to be titanium. 

Yet that is *not* why it has caught our attention. Rather, what caught our attention is the fact that it is empty, yet has the glass atop it. Almost as if it once held a picture, yet as of right now: It is just there. Acting as  if it was another mirror. Another way, to glance inside the soul of whoever cares to walk that passage.)

You see, that is what people don't understand. That is what people don't realise. *Everything* within this realm, occurs for a reason. There is always a method, behind the madness. Just like the loss to Finn, was merely a means in order to enhance the cause.

(Smirking, Scotty makes his way over to the "mirror", allowing the soft orange glow to continue manifesting itself within his eyes.)

It was, merely the catalyst for when the ascent. For when the purity, truly begins to rise.

(Laughing, a holographic silhouette appears in front of us. Designed to give the illusion of being Aria Jaxon.)

An ascent, that truly began against Jack the Ripper two weeks ago. Where, just as I promised him I would - I led the chorus to his final song. To the moments, where his facade was truly unravelled before his very eyes. Just like I shall do to Aria this week. 

(The hologram slightly flickers, as Scott slowly walks over to the left hand side of it.)

Ah, poor sweet Aria. You really think you can do this, don't you? You truly believe that you can walk into the realm. The field of destiny and survive? That your own "star"; your own fantasies are enough to guide you? That all this will be, is validation that you made the correct decision in choosing the SSW side for Civil war?

(Laughing, Scott shakes his head.)

I do not care about the concept of petty "who is better?" pissing contests that SSW and OWA wish to have. The whole narcissism of it just makes me chuckle and exposes the core for what I have always told it as. This isn't about OWA trying to make you regret your choice. If it were, I would not be the person they chose to fulfil the deed. 

This is about making sure that people realise that Paradise Zero is upon us.

This is about making sure that you realise that when the vultures call for your deliverance. When the hands of fate, call for you to be delivered before them for your sins. Your own pride. Your own self-indulgence, then you shall just be another piece of the puzzle. Another card, to fall at my hand.

(The hologram morphs into a picture of a card. The eight of Diamonds to be exact, as he slightly places his hand under it.)

And soon, the world will see that until I get what I desire - the flames are going to continue. That your "Paradise" will merely become Paradise Zero, as it burns within its grave.

(With that, we fade into nothingness, the last words/sounds heard being that of Scotty laughing.)

Mace, you may be an impressive, upcoming competitor, but you don’t have what it takes to defeat El Capitan.  I made easy work of Kai Stevens last week, and possibly the same will be said for a man like you. I’ve been watching you and your colleagues since you first walked into this company and may I say, I’m impressed.  You’ve easily built yourself up into a main hombre of the roster; someone who ese viejo Vernon can depend on. You’ve fought with some competent competitors, but this week will present a whole other challenge in me.  I’m not some roided up MMA fighter, pero I can put you to shame with my uncontrolled violencia. You’ve trained so hard to make it to this point and so have I, but you’re in a position where you shouldn’t kill others.  I’ve had too many people fall to my unrelentless power and aggression, but I have no shame in what I’ve done. We’re all here in a food chain, where we either eat or are eaten. Some like to play with those who can consume them and pretend to be surprised when their so called “friends” stab them in the back.  In our core, we are animals and we love to compete for dominance, without thinking about what others may think. People call me wicked, pero I’m just embracing what others attempt to resist. Why make a facade when you could erupt and let your inner beast out? I’ve had no mercy for any man or woman’s life I’ve taken because I know they would do the same without a single thought.  Kevin Devastation didn’t even stagger when he tried to bury me alive, acting like some man of justicia. I, in the other hand, said I will not hesitate in terminating this pest, messing with my current position in the roster. Now, I’m aiming for the world title scene, devouring my opponent’s will and momentum and growing in prestige and authority. Now I may have lost in some cases but I’ve made damn sure to keep a hitlist in those who got lucky in defeating me and come back for them in an ideal time.  I prey on those weaker than me and drag them around like dead puppies around the ring. Don’t like it? Become better than me. Sadly for those who want to be better than me, I’ve got some news. I’m only getting better in time and getting up in the card, aiming to be the leader of this brand. When I first started, nobody thought I’d ever make this far, but I’ve outlasted my competition and those who have prevailed against me are on edge as the rest of the roster is on their tracks. I just wait for them to be a weak fool, exhausted by their blind approach to success and not strategizing their ascents.  Once they’re not able to run, I take them out of their misery, sending them back to the darkness and continuing my way to success.

Mace, you’re too green to know what I can be capable of and you’re way out of your league.  While yes, I complimented your efforts so far, I don’t think you’re in the right place. You need to go back to playing with your lower tier amigos.  Don’t consider this as me underestimating your abilities, rather me knowing that I am better than you in every way that you could imaginar, nino. Hit me with your MMA move and I’ll just start stomping on your neck, taking your breath and will at the same time.  Try to wrestle with me and I’ll throw you down and make you submit in record time. Make a mockery out of me and I guarantee you’ll be leaving the arena in a stretcher. I think you shouldn’t show up this week at all and go surf and drink with your pea-sized brain amigos.  You have no place right now to be in a ring with Honduras’ Hero; I should be in the ring with Aria Jaxon or Isaac Thornton again, proving my losses with them were merely flukes. Everyone and their mother keeps getting chances at Finnegan while I’m sitting around and decimating the weaklings this roster offers.  Por el amor de Dios, he was losing to that nobody Dustin Duke a few weeks ago. I would’ve made huesos y guacamole out of that perro. After defeating a legend in Kevin Devastation, I’ve been DEMOTED somehow and watching people I could easily defeat get the glory by consuming others. That’s why I’ve created my own opportunities and possibly, I might just make an example out of you Mace.  Si, you seem like the prime person for me to inflict my frustrations and capabilities onto. I promise I won’t give you some gnarly scratches, bro; I’ll crush your soul and body until you can’t say a word. Don’t take this as all talk because I’ve always kept my promises when it comes to causing pain to others. Why don’t you ask every single person I’ve fought thus far and they’ll say the same thing.  As far as who the victor will be, there’s a 100% chance that yo voy ser victorioso. Narcisa believes that every time I come out to the ring and since I’ve hired her services, she has satisfied me in many ways. Some of the ways she satisfies me are none of your business, but overall, I’ve blown up in the entire world of wrestling. I’ve received offers from elsewhere, asking me to ditch ese viejo Vernon and to win world titles like candy, but I refuse.  I want to see the look on that perro’s face when he sees me holding that world title. And if I had to be honest, OWA has become my new playpen; a castle I want to conquer, and trust me, this whole company will be mine soon enough. Narcisa has truly opened up my potential to levels I’ve desired for so long and while she may have some control over me, it’s not all safe for you Mace. When she sends me to sick you, pray to whatever god you worship. It’s been nice knowing you mijo.  I expect to see your response very soon because I will be extremely disappointed if you don’t say anything. If that’s the case, I’ll beat you out of your silence then send you to sleep. Buenas noches, nino.

(The Goose is standing there, sunglasses one as he looks to the sides as the Interviewer looks towards the camera.)

Interviewer: Ladies and Gentleman, I am here, with the Goose, who last week on Kingdom, attacked Mace while in search for a new nemesis. While it’s still not clear exactly why he chose to attack the man, but we are hoping to get some answers here. Goose, is there a particular reason why you did what you did?
 
The Goose: All and due time, my chummy friend. The mystery will unravel soon, but let’s talk about a more treacherous act for this week, and I’m talking about Reggie’s social feed. Now I don’t know if the man is a psychopath or not or he just hates animals, but the Goose. The Goose loves all living things, the birds, the bees, even Reggie as well, but know it’s because I love you, that I’m gonna be honest with you. I’m going to hurt you, because it’s not just the ass whupping you need, but the ass whupping you deserve. Now in case he doesn’t get the response, because I know the Brit’s have just a dry wit and weird sense of humor, experienced that first hand with Jakob DeLion. It’s a broken pinky finger, because I know how classy and fancy it is to extend it out when one fancies himself a cup of tea. Get it? You got it, right?
 
Interviewer: No, but now that you explained it, it makes sense.
 
The Goose: Good. Yeah, because that wasn’t a joke. I just made that up just now. It was more a legit threat of “I’mma snap your finger.” While I’m sure posting a picture of a beaten up, desecrated bloody goose  was meant more as a joke, I suggest you take what I posted seriously as I am going to take your so called “threat.” After all, I made that mistake before. I didn’t take you seriously at all. Remember the whole Pickle thing? Nah? Don’t worry about it.  Point being, I’m still angry, I’m still annoyed, and now, I’m disgusted and hope that PETA gets all up in your nasty ass grills. Legit, Your Teeth, Nasty!
 
I mean, time has not been kind of you. You really let yourself go. I mean, did I even consider the thought of you potentially being a nemesis of mine, and truth be told, “nope.” The Goose finds you, Sir Reggie Dampshaw Redemption: Electric Boogaloo, the sequel unfit to even tie the laces of my boot. You are still an absolute bore to a point that the only reason I’m fired up is because I don’t care about you, but that goose. Perhaps you were trying to get into the spooky season and trying to scare me, and maybe you had the right idea. Maybe that goose is a picture of myself, bloody, beaten but the lack of success of my recent stint and run in this industry. But look at me, and look at you. You’re broken, you’re cracked, you’re worn down, while I am still the arrogant son of a bitch that goes around living the life, embodying the spirit that gave the world the Pickle Moongoose, The Boys, and the gift of .. The Goose. I am simply the man that keeps on giving. Don’t take advantage of my generosity, after all, the last time you did that, your fizzled out fairly quickly, and I have to say, what a damn waste. You beat me once, you think I’m just going to let you beat me again and attempt to jumpstart a career that is about as dead as that Goose you posted? Nah, now that it’s clear as day that you ain’t anything special, I’m not in the giving mood this week.
 
I’m more in the mood for Vengeance. For myself, and for that Goose. I mean, what the fuck is wrong with you posting that? Don’t you know I got boys using the social media, and it hard enough to protect them from Carlo Rosso’s tweet, but I don’t expect this kind of behavior from you. Animal Cruelty? That’s worse than the brutality on white women that are on Carlos’ feed. Well, this one is for them.
 
(The Goose raises his fists In the air and looks upward. The Interviewer looks at him confused)
 
Interviewer: What are you doing?
 
The Goose: Geez, where are my manners?
 
(The Goose extends out his pinky fingers as he continues to raise his fists in the air)
 
The Goose: Gooses all over the world! Lend me your energy! So that I can put this vile piece of shit in his place. Do it for your fallen breathen .
 
(Images of Gooses all over the world standing up and flapping their wings are shown)
 
The Goose:  Yes… I’m really feeling it. Can you?!!
 
Interviewer: You know what? I think I can!
 
(The Interviewer raises his hands up to give energy, before the Goose quickly swats it down!)
 
The Goose: I said this was for the Gooses, you idiot. Nobody asked you for your energy.
 
(The Goose continues to raise his fist in the air as the interviewer steps backwards and slip aways. The camera-man follows the interviewer, from the background, The Goose can be heard.)
 
The Goose: What is that? I’ve never felt so much power! YES! YES! YES! I CAN DO THIS! I FEEL GREAT!

 
Diantha: What about what she said?
 
 
Natalie: Who?
 
Roni: Roxy.
 
 
Natalie: The child? Remind me again what it was that she said.
 
Diantha: That you’ve destroyed Wolvesden, that you’re a detriment to our team.
 
Natalie: Ah yes, I briefly recall something like that. She really is an entertaining little scamp, isn’t she? Precocious to a fault. Youth may be fleeting, but it must be nurtured.
 
Roni: But is she right?
 
Natalie: It’s not a question of right or wrong. It’s a question of perspective. I can see Roxy’s point. She is part of a team united by a common cause, we are simply the ones who have been selected to stop them. She sees the strength of that cause as strong enough to overcome whatever obstacles they meet along the way. It’s sound logic from where she sits. Sadly, she isn’t sitting at the adults table. I feel sorry for those women. TyAnna, Azumi, Savannah. I mean sure, they’re all on eggshells with each other as it is, but to hang around that juvenile delinquent? Fuck, are we even allowed to beat her up on Saturday or would it incur criminal punishment?
 
 
But you have to see my perspective, it’s the only perspective you need right now. She is too busy focusing on Wolvesden, but we know that there are bigger things at play. Wolvesden is a family and families fight, this is unavoidable. The reason I’ve took you ladies out of there is not to drive a wedge between anyone, it’s to bring us closer together. Wolvesden as an entity will forever be strong, but we are not faceless tools. We are our own women. We are powerful beasts who wield the instruments of fate, we need only submit ourselves to fate’s will. Roxy has made the critical error of believing what her and her teammates are facing is a fractured Wolvesden and not a renewed trio with an axe to grind. I’ve never felt closer to my sisters. I look at the two of you and see something greater than any singular force. I see a union of strength, power, cunning, tenacity, efficiency, and ruthlessness.
 
I do not have the same feeling when I look at our opponents. I see disrespect, randomness, bitterness. We’re dealing with opponents who are playing all of this by ear. Roxy has every right to boast, and I’ll allow her that. She is a former champion, she does have this business in her blood. Truth is that I don’t care. None of us do. Do you know how many people I’ve seen who hang their hats on such meaningless boasts? “Oh, my parents are legends!” So fucking what? My parents are nobodies, we still work the same job, Roxy. “I was a champion!” Yeah, so was Hendrix and she’s disappeared off the face of the planet. The past will always fade. It’s all about what’s happening in the here and now. Roxy will never be over losing to TyAnna, it’s the only thing that’s driving her to continue at this point. She keeps on going in the faint hope that she’ll reclaim her prize down the line. Vindication is already in the back of my mind. It was a minor blip on a tapestry that we are weaving at this very moment.
 
History is permanent, but what’s coming is whatever you want it to be. Roxy is so preoccupied with reminding us of how irritating she is that she can’t even see that we consider her to be worth the dirt beneath our boots. Champions come and go, it doesn’t mean anything unless you’re the one holding the gold. And TyAnna’s impressed me more in the last month than Roxy has since she reached voting age.
 
Diantha: But TyAnna is the enemy!
 
Natalie: And you must always, ALWAYS respect your enemy!
 
Roni: So you respect Roxy?
 
Natalie: Roxy isn’t our enemy, is she? An enemy is someone who poses a genuine threat. Not someone who hopelessly flings childish insults at the wall in the hope that they’ll get to us. TyAnna, I’ve come to realise, is special. She’s a rare breed. Selfless, talented, beautiful, and has a killer instinct. In another reality, we’re probably friends. In another reality, she’s sitting in this vehicle with us right now. But we do not choose our reality. We make do with the hand we are dealt. For the third time, we will be crossing paths with TyAnna Jupiter. It’s 1-1 with all to play for. She is confident that she has assembled the right team for the job. While I question her judgement, I will never question her will.
 
She is right. This is a battle to honour a great woman. Brody Sparks is the reason the three of us are sitting here having this conversation. Tyanna’s seen the light, she gets it. She gets that there is sometimes more nobility in fighting for the memory of someone than for any prize.
 
Diantha: Then why even bother fighting them?
 
Natalie: Stop the car.
 
 
Why indeed. Why fight the women who fight for a cause greater than our own right now? Because that’s what must be done. Fate works in ways we can never understand. We must take her guidance and follow it as well as we can. Fate has made things clear: take the fight to these women and show them that there are greater things out there than them. Show them there is a world beyond championship gold and petty rivalries. If they truly cared about putting their own spats aside, Roxy wouldn’t have thrown her own team under the bus, would she?
 
Diantha: No.
 
Natalie: But she did, and you know why? Because she’s covering her own interests. Because she knows that when they lose, she can look to three different resting spots to place the blame. She can tell herself and the world that her teammates weren’t watching her back. Would we make such an excuse for each other? Never. And that’s what separates us and them. Roxy can’t see a true bond because she doesn’t know what one is. She’d have sold out her “legendary” parents already if not for the fact that she’s biologically obligated to love them. This is why I’ve told you to never hang your hat on a family. Loving someone because you have to is not healthy. I have chosen this love. I have chosen to be with you two. That means so much more than pre-conceived notions of familial unions.
 
 
Drive.
 
 
 
Natalie: Can anyone? Four massive egos. Four individualists with agendas. They need all the confidence they can muster for Civil War. TyAnna says that the number one priority is fighting in the name of Brody Sparks, and I think she believes it. But deep down, everybody wants a win just a little bit. We’re human, winning is what we do. Winners get to dictate the future. TyAnna always wins, it’s what she does. I don’t know if she’s even mentally prepared for the possibility of losing. Her optimism and confidence is both her biggest strength and weakness. A walking contradiction. A woman who it is impossible to imagine as anything but a winner, but as someone who we know damn well that we can beat. Isn’t that such fun?
 
 
We’re here.
 
 
I’ll do the talking, Aphrodite Marie is not a woman who you want to get on the wrong side of. But with the addition of her to our ranks, who are we to be questioned? This union can only forge stronger bonds, and letting in an outsider is not necessarily a bad thing.
 
 
Trust me. When the world sees us all standing strong, it will have no choice but to admit that we’re on the right side of history.
 

Getting On the Right Track

[Kiara is seen, sitting inside the living room and atop a caramel two seat sofa within the home she is renting currently. Or rather, that she recently rented, so that she had somewhere stable to call "home", rather than moving from hotel to hotel as she had been ever since her arrival to the United States. To the OWA.]

You're right Rochelle. 

Luck *hasn't* been on my side lately. I can't deny that at all. Three straight weeks, I have lost. First to Eris. Then to Natasha Night. Then last week to Roxy, even if her method of victory wasn't necessarily something people would call "decisive" or "clean". 

Though as Emily told me on the phone after the match "Sometimes, that's how wrestling goes. You need to be aware of *all* potential circumstances," Which I admittedly wasn't. So, I really can't blame Roxy from using that to her advantage at all, because I would've done the same thing if the roles were reversed. 

[Slightly laughing, Kiara wriggles her body, attempting to find the absolutely perfect sitting position.] 

I don't think anyone can argue that they wouldn't have, because we've *all* looked to take advantage of certain situations. Tried to mould things so that they're what favour *us* over anyone else. Trust me, I've had experience with that. 

[Winking, she slyly smiles, leaving it up to those who know her to decipher what she means with that statement.] 

I'll let those who know, figure out who I am talking about though. 

[Curling the right corner of her mouth up, she slightly laughs, before resting her back against the cushion.] 

Back to Rochelle though. You and I are similar. For us, this is our "big break". Our opportunity to shine and show the world that we *can* as they like to claim "make it". Defy the odds. Though you *do* have more experience. You've cut your teeth more than I have in this industry, as I'm sure plenty of people would be willing to point out. 

[Smiling, "tweets" and other social media posts appear on the screen, pointing out that Kiara is still "raw" in the industry.] 

Don't let that fool you though. Because all that means to me, is that I still have a long way to go. A lot of work to do, in order to prove people wrong. A lot more that I can learn, each and every time I step between those ropes. Each time i step into the gym with Aris. Each time I push myself beyond limits that I didn't even know that I had. Even if that means taking your shine. Your spotlight away from you and letting it sparkle around me. 

[Her eyes slightly closing, she allows the thoughts of her sister and family to float through her mind, before she returns her focus to the camera.] 

I promised my family. I promised Miranda that I would go out there and do her proud. Show them that we *can* hang. That we can blaze our own passage through the industry, no matter what. This week, will be another exhibit of that, 

Rochelle. I'm sorry - I know you're "Thick Momma Pump". I know you've been known as the dominatior in distress, but this week, my flower is the one to break through. This week, I make sure I get back on the right track. 

[We fade, as Kiara shoots a final smile in our direction.]

 
They call me crazy. I hear them. I hear the way I’m talked about. It doesn’t upset me…nothing does. I get it, really, I do. People do not want to hear what I have to say. They are repulsed by the methods I employ. I’ve learned the hard way these past few weeks what it means to have the entire world against you. Losing at Vindication was not an easy pill to swallow. Lying there on the floor, unable to move and save Diantha from the pin still eats away at me. She didn’t fail me. I failed her.
 
I told Diantha that the world was hers if she just went out and took it. We had our golden shot to make our mark and walked away empty-handed. War taught me that not every battle can be won, but it doesn’t make defeat any easier to cope with. My brother…he…he abandoned me. How did he cope with losing? He left. He fucking packed up shop and left Heaven’s Den. We’ve not seen him since. While he’s busy focusing on himself, marching through opponents on his quest to become God of War, he’s forgot about his family.
 
What kind of a brother leaves his own kin to the mercy of someone like Niki Khan? I thought I knew Nate, perhaps I was wrong. The punishments I devised for myself and Diantha were more than appropriate.
 
 
My face bears the markings of failure. Every time I look in the mirror, my loss will be remembered. It’s what I must live with. But Niki? Oh, that wasn’t good enough for her. What she put me and Diantha through made me realise something: I have no family. Nate was my family. I thought Wolvesden were my family. But it’s all one big joke. I’ve got my own flesh and blood leaving me to fend for myself against some psycho bitch who’s just been waiting for her opening. Family is meaningless.
 
You don’t choose your family, but I’ve chosen who I decide to be with. Diantha and Roni are the only friends I need in this world. And that’s exactly what they are: friends first, Wolvesden second. Many would say I’ve perhaps become disillusioned. Maybe it’s true. Maybe Wolvesden isn’t what I needed. Maybe it is. I don’t even know anymore.
 
Diantha is the light of my life. She’s the reason I keep on fighting. Everything I do is for her. I might be a little cruel sometimes, but it’s all for her betterment. Diantha is stronger than anyone truly knows, even more than she does. She looked up to me to lead her to the promised land and I didn’t. I take full blame and do not expect her long-term forgiveness. But when I was down there in that pit, going through Niki Khan’s trials, she was right there beside me. We went through it all together and came out still standing. That is the bond we have. It is a bond stronger than Wolvesden. Stronger than family. It is something you cannot manufacture. It is a true, raw, cosmic union of two wandering souls. Love plays as big a part of it as hatred does.
 
Roni…one of the newer recruits. In her I see greatness just waiting to unfold. She cares not for niceties, she exists to fight. I see a lot of myself in her, I was the same back in my army days. Roni’s fire burns bright and it is my job to keep that fire going. If it is snuffed out, failure has struck me down yet again. The world hasn’t yet seen what Roni De Vil has to offer. With my guidance, it will become abundantly clear.
 
Which brings me to the outsider, Aphrodite Marie. Can’t say I’ve talked to her before. But the enemy of my enemy is my friend, and we all know that friendship is what I care about at this present time. What can I say about Aphrodite? She’s beautiful, of that there is no question. She might just be the single most beautiful creature I’ve ever laid my eyes on. But you all know that I look beneath the surface. I know what the world sees when they look at Aphrodite Marie. The world can only take things at face value. It sees a woman who exists to please herself, who only has looks to bring to the table. They think that her beauty will fade and that that will spell her doom. They are fucking idiots.
 
I’ve come to learn in my short time here that this is all one big game. At its heart are politics, backstabbing, secrets and lies. Aphrodite knows exactly how that game is played. She knows damn well that her beauty is her greatest weapon. She knows that in using it to get what she wants, she will always be one step ahead in this game. I admire that in a person. Anyone who can identify the best method with which to attack and utilise it to its full effect is a soldier. Aphrodite does not need traditional weapons. She requires not rifles or swords. She has a face that could stop an army dead in its tracks and lay down its arms. THAT is a strength far greater than regular folk could ever know. To have her on my side is a privilege, because there is power in controlling the entire spectrum of the battlefield.
 
Then there are our foes for Saturday. None other than the supergroup. The team who will lead the charge come Civil War. You all fight for a noble cause, of this there is no doubt. Brody Sparks was and is an icon, an influencer, someone who left a mark on this business that most women only hope to achieve. So yes, your cause is noble, and your pride is tantamount. For you will be taking on the very best that Strong Style Wrestling has to offer.
 
That…that is where our views on Civil War part ways. TyAnna, I respect you. I mean that. I know you won’t believe it and I don’t blame you. But you beat two women in the same match to prove you’re not all talk. But if there is one thing I have over you, it’s tactical prowess. And I must question the team that you have assembled for Civil War. As individuals, it makes perfect sense on paper. You’ve got yourself, the champ. Azumi Goto, current Queen of the Ring. Savannah Sunshine, inaugural Queen of the Ring. And then of course, Sweet Roxy, the longest-reigning OWA Women’s Champion in history.
 
Quite the formidable line-up, I must admit. But where’s the cohesion? The continuity? There are cracks in this foundation before the building has even commenced. I do not see differences being put aside for this team to work. SSW are a promotion based on teamwork. Everyone has a set, everyone belongs somewhere. You have a faction of loners who are all too self-absorbed to work together.
 
I mean just look at the history here. You beat Roxy to win the title, capping off a horribly bitter rivalry that saw blood spilled on both sides. You two hate each other, you said so yourself. How long can that alliance hold? I don’t even see you making it as far as Civil War, not with us standing in your way. Azumi Goto is quite possibly the worst pick of them all. She can take you on whenever she wants for your title, you’re gonna be constantly looking over your shoulder when you’re out there. She had Roxy dead to rights for the title at Boiling Point and got screwed. You think she’s over that? Not in a million years. And then there’s Savannah, the woman she took that Ring of Opportunity from. Little Miss Sunshine had her shot at championship gold ripped away by a woman you now expect her to partner with. And Savannah isn’t exactly a testament to tag team brilliance. The Sugar Girls imploded because of ego, Savannah was unable to even keep her best friend because of a ring. What is she? A Hobbit?
 
Yes, I’m looking at a field of talented women, all of whom have a link to the other in some fashion. All of you have every reason to beat the shit out of a peer at any given moment. And you’re stepping up against women who only have each other. We’re more than just Wolvesden, we’re the three women inside of it who have to stick together to survive. Every time you see us, we’re fighting for our lives. We will not consider the fact that you need your confidence at a high to win at Civil War. If it means teaching you that you were foolish in your team choices, we will gladly beat you and let SSW get the glory at Civil War. Aphrodite knows that our cause is to remind the world that Odyssey isn’t the TyAnna Jupiter Show. You might like to think that it is, but you’ve done nothing but lessen opportunities for others. You’ve surrounded yourself with the women who threaten your spot, in a transparent bid to hold onto your title that little bit longer.
 
It’s as plain as day, and we aim to expose it. Azumi can take advantage of you whenever she likes. Roxy never got her rematch, which I imagine would lead to a lot of resentment. And at this rate, Savannah Sunshine’s opportunity of becoming women’s champion is fading slowly out of existence. This will be the last stand for all of you, I hope you don’t take it too personally.
 
 
Sorry to keep you waiting, friends. We have to go an meet up with a certain Goddess of Love to discuss further plans.
 

Finally.

The Blind Bandit was about to make her debut in the OWA. Sure, disposing of an OWA worker through the liberal application of the pointy end of a Swiss Army knife - aimed and launched at a speed approaching that of sound - to their head could've been somewhat of an issue but, since she had enough blackmail material about that worker she could've single-handedly driven him to suicide if she only wanted to, it had been quite easy for her to convince him to ignore the whole accident once he woke up.

Her opponent would've been dispatched just as quickly: that discount Wiccan got nothing on her. Nothing. The Blind Bandit was not the best - not yet - but she felt like she was on the right track. Circus freaks and vapid models, that's what the OWA was. She would enjoy climbing over their steroid-addled bodies to reach that belt like no other thing in the world... and Ms. Pixie Dust was the first person on her hit list, or so it seemed.

Wait 'til they get a load of me.

Kai Stevens, so you think you can defeat me?  You are everything but strong enough to pin a man like me.  I was in the main event, destroying Isaac Thornton while you’ve been hanging around with the chumps.  Pero hoy, you will be in the ring with a star. Unfortunately, you won’t be winning anything this week because I’m going to stomp your head into bloody and boney mush.  I’m going to make you tap like you’ve never done it before because I’m ese cabron puto. I will get what I want and after I’m done putting you to shame, I’ll be at the same nivel that Finnegan Wakefield’s at.  You may think that you can beat me, but I’m someone who personally care about your safety or your livelihood. I don’t give un pedo about your parents, siblings, or anything that you care about. All I care about is me and my Narcisa, so what I’m trying to say is: Don’t expect to win.

 
I am a fraud. I know that isn’t how a good tale should start, but it’s the truth. I am a fraud who lives a constant lie. This lie is not something I can run from, and so I embrace it. As a child, I wanted to be an actor. The romanticism of it, the glitz and glamour, it was all so tantalising. I knew that I was destined to be a star, to have my name up in lights. Movie posters around the globe would display the name “Isaac Thornton” above an image of myself. My name and face would generate hundreds of millions of dollars. Critics would hail me as the next Daniel Day-Lewis. I would have so many Oscars, Golden Globes, SAGs, BAFTAs and Emmys that it would be enough gold to make Midas blush.
 
It all started when I came to Hollywood, I was swept up with the hustle and bustle. I looked to the streets and saw failures dressed up as Spider-Man and Wonder Woman, tricking hapless tourists into taking their picture with them. I told myself that that would never be me. I was gonna be the one who made it, I had more talent and charisma than them. I was going to have studio execs begging me to be in their movie.
 
I started out the way any self-respecting actor does, I did extras work. I’m not ashamed to admit that, it’s not a dirty word. I had to make ends meet while I built up my network of contacts and waited for those juicy roles. The money was consistent and kept the lights on. I’d wait for my agent to give me a call with something better. Maybe a speaking part. Maybe a character who actually had a name. 

Nothing.
 
The days turned into weeks, the weeks into months. You know where this is going. I’d become what I’d mocked. A struggling actor in Hollywood, hitting the ceiling of extras work. You all know what happened next, I’m sure. Professional wrestling wasn’t anything I’d ever had my heart set on, but I had quite the knack for it, I thought. It wasn’t before long that I found myself signing with a start-up national promotion. In an ironic twist, I found myself on national television every week. People knew my name and I had a solid gig.
 
Before long, I was challenging for the world title, that would have helped sell the lie. Truth is that my acting career was still in the mud. I was a professional wrestler in the eyes of talent scouts, so I needed to be at the top of the food chain to convince anyone that I was worth a damn. Then I lost…I lost the biggest match of my career in the most pathetic, gutless way possible. I tapped out. I gave up my entire manhood with a few motions of my hand.
 
 
The lie only grew more from there. I had to save face, had to tell the world that I only tapped to protect my brand and my people. What brand? What people? The entourage that are just fellow jobbing extras from my agency, who I throw a portion of my pay check to so I still look like I mean anything? I’m a God damn screw up! Nobody cared about Isaac Thornton after that. I tried to pursue some sort of “rivalry” with some bitch who only embarrassed me further. I’d hit rock bottom, there was nothing. Nothing for me to do but wallow in self-pity.
 
That’s when I get the call, the call that I am to be in a tournament, the first of its kind. I was in too deep now. The realisation was sinking in: I’m a wrestler who acts, not an actor who wrestles. What now? I want to win this tournament so badly, but the world can’t know how desperate I am. So I did what I had to do and feigned indifference. If the world thinks I don’t care, they’ll never know the lie. First round and I win. Main event match. Maybe this is going to work out? Maybe I’ll be alright? I’m making good money, I’ve advanced in this tournament, I can take on the world!
 
Then I realise what awaits me.
 
Nate Cage isn’t someone I can truly understand. He is an aggressive, hostile individual. He sees himself as some sort of embodiment of war itself. He isn’t like me. He never aspired to be anything other than a man who hurts people for a living. And I’ve managed to piss him off before even stepping into the ring with him. What do you say to a man like that?
 
All I have is the lie.
 
The lie is my sanctuary, it shelters me from the ever-impending truth. Winning this tournament, it could be good for me, right? I could convert it into maybe some work in a recurring role in a TV drama. Because I’m simply too far gone now. The stardom of Hollywood has slipped through my grasp. I have allowed myself to become defined by a world that I don’t belong to. How long before my knack for wrestling catches up on me? I can only coast on surprising ability for so long. And I fear that my luck runs out when I have to take on Nate Cage.
 
His words to me made me consider every choice I’ve made up until this moment. I didn’t know what to say. He threatened to put me through pain that I cannot imagine…how do you respond to a man like that? To a man who wants you gone for good? I did the only thing I could and deflected. Told him I didn’t care, that he’s trying too hard. The reality of this situation is that I’m not trying hard enough. I can’t fool him, I can’t fool anyone much longer. I’m scared. This man is built to cause misery, I barely made it through my first stage combat class in one piece.
 
Through clenched teeth, I harped on about how I didn’t care about this tournament, how I’m the only one worthy of headlining a show. I told Nate that I’m the only reason we’re main eventing, ignoring the fact that he’s main evented plenty of times…including against the man I beat last week. But that’s all I have, isn’t it? Lies. I lie to myself and I lie to others. The illusion I have created falls apart under scrutiny, and Nate was right to call me out on it. For the first time in my life, I feel truly defeated. If I lose again, what am I? I can’t be a failure as an actor and a wrestler, that wouldn’t be fair. That would be a punishment from life that I could not take.
 
I look towards the future and I don’t like what I see. I don’t see a palatial mansion that has to have round the clock security to keep my adoring fans at bay. I see a shitty little suburban home. I see me struggling to get out of bed in the morning because of the Hell I’ve put my body through. And it all starts with Nate Cage. Of course, I WANT to beat him, everyone wants win, otherwise they wouldn’t be there. Can I, though? Self-doubt was something I was taught to ignore as a child. It was hammered out of me and yet it’s creeping in now. Winning last week doesn’t do much for my confidence, when I’m looking at a man who wants to kill me.
 
Nate Cage is anything but elegant or graceful. He’s a brute of a man who mercilessly beats down those who defy him. And I’ve dug a hole too deep to climb out of this time. I’ve provoked him with my big, stupid mouth that I can’t shut. It’s always been a problem I’ve had. I can never shut the fuck up when I know what’s good for me. I’ve poked a sleeping bear, I’ve spat petty verbal jabs at someone who doesn’t care whether I can nail a complex dialogue scene in a single take. No matter how much I talk about “projects” that I have in the pipeline that will never see the light of day, no matter how much I pose as someone who’s truly made it, he can look past it all. I have nothing to threaten this man with, he simply lacks the capacity to care about anything other than achieving his goal.
 
The last time I lost, it was to someone half my size. The last time he lost, it was to a giant that he took to Hell and back. I’ve seen this man take punishment that I don’t ever want to think about approaching. Thumbtacks through his skull, driven through walls! The lengths men must go to to keep him down are lengths I can never reach. I’m a damn coward, is what I am. Beating me is as simple as derailing my gameplan and knocking my confidence. Beating this guy without dropping a damn grand piano on his head seems like some kind of otherworldly task.
 
So I will march into battle and I will lose, but at least I’ll have my prid-
 
…I can’t even finish that sentence. What pride have I got? What do I have to show for? A joke of an acting career with a brief flash in the pan of wrestling notoriety that was quickly snuffed out by someone who’s better than me. I don’t have pride, not really. I have the lie. My only possession. I have the lie to bring me comfort when I fall down my pit of despair. I’m going to get my ass kicked and there’s nothing I can do. Nobody will want to work with me, nobody will take me seriously. I…I’ll be forgotten.
 
 
PICTURES! GET YOUR PICTURE TAKEN WITH SPIDER-MAN! ENJOY THE AUTHENTIC L.A./ EXPERIENCE! HOW ABOUT YOU, M’AM? YOU SEEM LIKE A FINE WOMAN! PICTURE WITH SPIDER-MAN!
 
 
I’m a fraud. No good tale starts with that, but my tale isn’t good, and it is about to end. My life, my legacy. It is nothing more than one of tragedy. Misery…
 
Suffering.
 
 
And scene.
 
 
Oh, you’re too kind! Too kind!
 
 

[We are once again back at Isaac's office in New York. He is holding some kind of meeting with his representatives and new agent as they go over possible projects that could be in the works. The meeting wraps up as Isaac sits alone in his comfortable massage chair. He sees the cameraman waiting outside his door and signals him to come in and he does.]

Isaac: Hey you! Yeah, you! The one holding the camera. Did you schedule an appointment? 

Cameraman: Well, no...

Isaac: Can't you see I am a very busy man? I am in the middle of something. Get outta here. Go talk to the receptionist. You two work something out. 

[The cameraman walks out and talks to the receptionist to schedule an appointment. He sits down. Two seconds later...]

Receptionist: Hi yes, Mr. Thornton is free to see you now!

Cameraman: What was the point of that? Oh well, thanks!

[Isaac is now looking dramatically out the window, contemplating a lot of things because he is a very sophisticated man who does sophisticated things. He begins to speak with his back still turned towards the camera for the next few minutes.]

Isaac: The reports of my "downfall" have been greatly exaggerated. Some said that if I lost to Aria at Vindication - which I did sadly, that would be the final nail in the coffin. That "Isaac Thornton: The Professional Wrestler" would be canceled. Well, I lived bitch. The same was said when I lost to Finnegan Wakefield at whatever pay-per-view that was. Was it Boiling Point? Shit, I don't know, maybe. But the point is, I was able to recover from that as well. I land on my feet. I don't get discouraged when things don't go my way, especially when I am new at something, such as being a professional wrestler. I knew that when I originally signed, that there would be some struggles. That there would be some hiccups - some bumps in the road. It wasn't going to be some easy stroll in the park. Nah, as I said, I KNEW I would face my fair share of challenges along this journey, but never once have I thrown my arms up in frustration and given up. Never once have I thought about quitting and leaving OWA behind for good. Because I can't walk away, not now. You see, I have unfinished business here. I have many goals to achieve and many accolades to collect. Don't you see? I am just getting started. I am just now drying off my wet feet - which is kind of scary, right? I am not seasoned. I am not some crafty veteran who has been wrestling around the globe for the past ten years or more. And yet, I have surpassed most of you. I have passed you by without even trying. Without making many sacrifices - if at all. Shit, wrestling isn't even my true passion. This is like a side project to me. Something to do when I am bored. I dedicate about fifteen percent of my time and energy on OWA. While to everybody else. this is your everything. This is your only source of income. This is how you put food on the table for your family and to make sure they have a roof over their heads. You don't have some backup plan. Nah, you put all your eggs in one basket because you people don't make good life decisions. Hence why most of you decided to become a professional wrestler in the first place. None of you had any true talent or life skills. So what did you do? You decided to get punched in the face for a living. I don't blame you however, because getting physically hurt doesn't mean much to you since you don't have much to live for in the first place. But I do. I have plenty of people depending on me. Whether it's my representatives, my business partners, or my fellow cast members - THEY ALL DEPEND ON ME! But they can rest easy knowing they have placed their money on the right horse in this race. 

Because I am a horse. A goddamn workhorse, that is. Think about it - just about each and every week, I am competing in high profile matches. While the two "faces" of Kingdom, that being Finn and Aria, sit on their asses before Kingdom starts, and once we are live on the air, they appear on the screen and just talk for a few minutes, collect their paychecks and leave. You gotta love their effort and dedication! And this goes back to my comments on my supposed "downfall". For the second consecutive week, I find myself in the main event. And somehow, people argue that I am damaged goods and Vernon should release me from my contract because I am just going to keep declining. WRONG! That's a shit hot take that the likes of Skip Bayless or Stephen A Smith would spout. Tsk tsk tsk, you should know better. Because I have plenty of value. Plenty of stardom. I know my worth. And I know that it is only a matter of time before I am officially recognized as the true face and ace of the Kingdom brand. And no, that isn't my ego doing the talking, like my opponent for this week thinks - that is just me being honest. Calling a spade a spade. And for now, those might just be words. When it should be treated as gospel. I guess time will tell then, huh? And just know that when I do prove myself right, I am definitely going to remind you that you were wrong every single time I talk directly into this camera! But that's in the future. I am all about the now and in the now, I am facing Nate Cage in this God of War tournament - which I remind you, is something I never asked to be in the first place, but I shrug and say what the hell, as I go on to win it, in a few weeks. 

Nate the not so great, why the hostility? Threatening my career, even going as far as saying I will die in this match, just why? What did I ever do to you? Have our paths even crossed before? Because I am going to be honest, just like most people, I don't even think about you. Except for this week obviously, since you are my opponent, but once our match is over, you will go back to being an afterthought in not only my world, but everyone's. You know, you talk too much for my liking. You should work on that. Just pipe down, alright? Where's the off button on this clueless muttonhead? Or is there some command I say to make you shut the fuck up? Kenny, if you are listening to this, let me know. Since you are his master, I know you have it. Be a pal and share it with me, thanks. But I am sure your retort will be "MAKE ME!" Which I will gladly do when the time comes this Sunday, but I am just talking about right now. There is nothing I can do. I am over here in New York and you are probably shitting in the woods somewhere with the rest of your Wolvesden brethren, which is kind of ironic since you will shit the bed in two days against me, but I digress. Again, I don't understand the hatred you have towards me. Besides the blatant jealousy that is? Because if anything, you should be thanking me. Thanking me for the fact you are in the main event this week. Thanking me for getting more eyes on you. For giving you your shot under the spotlight - don't get too nervous, now. Because unfortunately, you won't be able to hold Kenny's hand during this match, but I am sure he will be there to help you to the back after this is all over. But let's go back to this being the main event, again. It's not because of you, obviously, since Vernon didn't put you in the main event last week. That would be me. Had nothing to do with CASPIAN. Oh god no, Just like over on Olympus. They have their GOW match between Bull and Miles, and that isn't going to be in the main event either. So as you can figure out, when it comes to main events, I am the common dominator. I am the only star in this rather pointless tournament. A tournament I didn't even care about winning at first - that is until the likes of you acted as if winning this tourney would be the greatest accomplishment of your life. I want it now. I want to take it from you, just so you can't have it and so I can hold it over your head. That's what you get for trying to make this personal. Because it's not. It's not personal, at least to me it's not. I don't have any strong feelings towards you one way or the other. I am indifferent. Meanwhile, you want to "snap my spine" or "crush me into dust." This dude actually serious right now? 

God, you are forcing this. Acting as if this is some bitter rivalry when it's not. It's embarrassing. It's like you just want me to notice you. Hi, yes, I am giving you attention right now. That's a win in and of itself. Like you even said, you're a tryhard. You talk this big game, right? You have this loud bark and you think you have a deadly set of chompers to match. But spoiler alert, you aren't going to cause any major damage. All you're going to do is gnaw on my ankle. Being a little nuisance, forcing me to roll up my newspaper and hit you on the nose. BAD WOLF! I get it, you didn't want to face me. All because you wanted to get your revenge on CASPIAN. Well tough shit, Nate. I don't give a fuck what you want. You get me instead because I am by far the superior talent, deal with it. And the same goes for this week. I am once again going to wrestle circles around my opponent. I mean, you are lesser than me. Surely, you don't disagree with that, right? Which is why it puzzles me when you bring up Finn and Aria and try to shine light on my shortcomings. When you are also coming fresh off a loss at Vindication, at the hands of Scott. Didn't even know you were allowed to compete in singles action until that night. Huh, the more you know. But like I was about to say, you are nowhere near Finn's and Aria's level. And those two escaped me by the skin of their teeth. "But Isaac, you tapped out like a lil bitch against Finn!" Like I already stated, people count on me. OWA isn't my everything. This place needs me a lot more than I need it. What was I supposed to do? Let Finn break my arm and by doing so, force me to put everything else on hold, like a certain production I can't get into much detail about? It's about the bigger picture, Nate. Sure I didn't win the world title that night, but my time will come. I am sure of it. While yours? It never will. Especially not this week. You ain't ready to graduate from the kids' table. 

[Credits roll]

INCOMING TRANSMISSION.
Okay.  I’m gonna ask that everybody take a step back for a moment...you, sir, step back..ma’am, please..everyone just get back...'cause we’ve got us a badass over here.  Gareth Cason.  Hot damn!  Kid, you read my ass for filth; and truth be told, I enjoyed every second of vilification.  C’mon, by a show of hands, who got a hardon from that?    Don’t be shy, raise 'em high (just me, oh, okay then).  But on a more serious note, I was surprised by you.  You pulled no punches, you brought the fight, and truthfully that’s all I ever wanted.  An encounter with someone who could light a fire under my belly; and you’ve done that.  Kudos to you.  If at all possible, I implore you to keep that same energy you were channeling in your rebuttal for when I see you.  So that when I punk you out in front of the entire world they’ll know that this ‘punching bag’ as you chose to refer to me as, unlike the one you were laying into, punches back -- and punches back hard with the intent to kill.  Now, in those ten-some-odd-minutes, you mentioned a lot of regurgitated filth that I aim to spoon feed you in time as the day grows old.  So open wide, here comes the choo-choo-train.

‘Throwing rocks from inside a glass house’, that’s something I try not to ever do.  I can see where someone of your short IQ would make that assumption; however, that isn’t what this is.  Credited to my confidence to speak comfortably and openly among an ocean of peers and fanatics, those of insecurities and a fragile ego (like yourself) who’re easily intimidated will assume it comes from a place of arrogance.  When, contrary to their belief, it actually comes from a place of pride.  'Cause I made it!  I started beneath the bottom.  I was hissed and spat at by the likes of the Heart Break Boy -- a man I admired almost as much as I admired D4L.  And I told myself, that would not become my legacy.  I can -- I will be the Megastar that no one saw coming!  Through determination and sheer persistence...endless work to be the man that men would follow which meant being the first through the doors when ‘the boys’ are setting up and the last out when they’re packing it up and constantly proving myself night after night (even to this day).  And I’ve done it...I’ve fucking done it!  I won’t say it was by ‘some stroke of luck’ or by ‘the grace of God’ because let’s face reality here, they didn’t have a damned thing to do with it!  That was all me.  Me, pushing myself through the pain.  Me, taking those bumps.  Me, doing the work and honing my craft.  All me!  I’ve got the right to boast of the things I’ve done and bitch about the things I wasn’t allowed to do; because I fucking earned it.  A fact I’m proud of.  The plaques, the trophies, and the titles that are taking up all the wall space in my study back in Austin, are all highlights of a near-decade-long-career that I am immensely proud of.  Which is why I wasn’t at all offended by a single thing you’ve said; only someone lacking in confidence would be offended by someone who discredits their life’s work with shallow remarks.  That was simply you reacting to the fact that I don’t think five defenses (one of which was against a girl who wasn’t nearly your height or weight) is very impressive specifically because the Oh Dubya Aye is still in its infancy.  There are more Champions to be had and far more history to be made.  Okay, you hold the record for the most ‘successful’ defenses, whoop-dee-doo!  That’s all fine and dandy.  But there are two things you haven’t taken into account: (1.) How often the other titles are defended.  As I doubt CM Nas will defend the biggest prize on Olympus nearly as many times as you’ll defend the Television Championship in five months.  (2.) Quality over quantity.  Out of all the five defenses, the only match I’ve heard referenced as ‘good’ or deemed watchable was your match with Tarah Nova.  So, what are you patting yourself on the back for?  What legacy have you ‘forged’?  What questionable names are you mentioned among?  (Spoiler alert!!!  In 3...2...1...)  You stroke your own ego 'cause outside the Television Title -- or these walls that make up the Oh Dubya Aye compound, you have no identity.  The ‘forged legacy’ surrounds it and without it you have absolutely nothing.  And the only names you’ll be aligned with, are the three individuals I’ve already toppled.

History and the analysis of what portions of it is relevant and irrelevant, is a slippery slope.  But I’ll describe it like this, when you fill out a resume do you not list your work history?  When you’re filling out a lease for an apartment do you not list where you’ve lived prior?  When you storm into a bank asking for a loan do they not check your credit history?  That’s because history does matter.  You may think my history doesn’t...to you, the fans, or the Oh Dubya Aye, but it seems to mean the world to the figure heads of this company otherwise I wouldn’t be here, now would I?  They practically hired me over the phone; offering me everything but a seat at the table and as is evident on the latest card, there ain’t an ounce of regret in ‘em.  So apparently this ‘has-been’ has more clout than you care to acknowledge.  Rightfully so.  I’ve performed all over the globe; developed a fan base that - much like my wrestling - knows no bounds or date of expiration.  I suppose when you really get down to it, legends really don’t die.  And judging from the pop I got, the rest of the world agrees.  I could stand in the middle of the ring in my underwear and ratings would still skyrocket.  So believe me, this match ain’t for my benefit.  The people know that I can still throw down like nobody’s business and I can’t wait to show you first hand.  The supposed Most Dangerous Man in the Industry could never measure up to The Baddest Mu’fucker on the Planet.
END OF TRANSMISSION.

Cementing My Place

I knew this point would come in my career. Especially when at the end of the day - this is still Year One of my career. This is still me adapting; adjusting myself to the rigours of wrestling. To figuring out, just where I plan on getting to the pinnacle. To rising; finally shining like I promised that I would. 

Yes. I've lost my last two matches. The first being against Eris, the second being against Natasha Night and I'm not going to make any excuses. I'm not going to blame that on anything else other than I just couldn't get the job done. I wasn't able to shine. 

I wasn't able to break through either of them. As Ricki told me when I called her last night, it's "all part of the learning curve,". All part of the journey - the "bumps" along the way as people like to call them. That I can't allow myself to "bow my head" and get too far down because of this. No matter how hard it might seem. 

She knows that better than most so, so when she says something like that - I really have no choice but to listen. But to sit back and absorb it all and use it in order to fuel me next time I step between those ropes. Just as it's always been. Just as it *always* well be. After all, I know this is the cream of the crop. That these are some of the best wrestlers going around in the world today; that ultimately, their accomplishments far exceed anything that I could have hoped to achieve. 

So, to some, even competing in the ring and "holding my own" has been an impressive accomplishment. That nobody expected me to be anything more than another "fish out of water" who thought that my athletic background would be enough to fuel me. Enough, to make me thrive in this climate. Something that if you know me, you'll know is far from what I have believed. Far from what I have ever felt. 

It only gets tougher this week. This week, I have to step into the ring with a prodigy. With someone, who has this business running through her veins; won the woman's belt in only her second ever match. "Sweet" Roxy. Someone, who thanks to her immersion in this sport since birth, was able to pick up on little tips. Little tricks that accelerated her development. Tips and tricks that I'm still learning about right now.  Things that even though Ricki and Emily taught me, I never truly grasped or understood until I watched her. 

Until I saw every little thing she did in the ring, to not only elevate herself, but make it known that she wasn't the "green" wrestler they had assumed. That even though she was new, she had the background. She had the lineage to succeed - luxuries that I *haven't* had. That doesn't mean she isn't dangerous. She is. 

I know that, and believe me: I'm just as nervous to step in the ring with her, as I was against Eris. For different reasons. I honestly admire Roxy as well - I could only dream of being in her position. Holding the acclaim that she does, but I know that if I can beat her. If I can walk out with the win this week, then I will be a long way towards proving myself. To proving that yes, I *do* deserve to be on this level. That I can hold my head up high and knock off some of the brightest stars that Odyssey has to offer. No, that the wrestling business as a whole has to offer. 

I don't blame you for seeing this as a "step down", Roxy. That's just truth. Coming from being a consistent fixture at the top of the company. Competing for the woman's belt and being the pinnacle that we all strove to become, to having to face me is a downgrade. I won't deny that this means more to me, than it does to you. That I *need* to beat you, more than you need to beat me. Again, that is indisputable. 

But I don't doubt myself. I don't hold any fear, any sense of doubt when I step between those ropes because deep down: This is all part of the process. Of figuring out, just how I can put it all together. How I can allow myself to truly blossom and shine. Just like I did against Serenity. Just as I did against Roni and Belle. Just like I plan to do against you, Roxy. Chelsea taught me this week that it's all within my head. It's all about me truly acknowledging that yes, I don't have the background. The history and lineage that you do but that doesn't compensate for the energy. 

The passion. The motivation that I hold within myself. Whether that was on the track, in the long jump or now inside the ring. Those haven't changed. They have just taken on a form that I have needed to switch on. To truly channel into. 

This week, I *will* be doing just that. So, please - keep sleeping on me. Keep trying to talk as if this will be another walkover victory for you. That this is your return to form. Come Saturday, you'll see that my sparkle, is what will shine through. That my light, is what shall guide me to overcome what you see as insurmountable odds. That I truly belong. Good luck Roxy.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
One down.
 
 
You know what surprised me the most about last week? How easy it was. Jeff X was someone whose toughness I never doubted, but he was not able to handle the pressure I exerted. I didn’t want to just beat Jeff, I wanted to hurt him. Making him suffer was my top priority. Where are all the people who claim I hide behind my men now? I went to his shit hole hometown without my men, I marched into the ring without my men. I submitted Jeff X without my men.
 
I’ve never hidden behind anyone, I just know when the moment is right to strike. Jeff X simply lacked the mental fortitude to continue in the God of War Tournament. And now…now he is another name on the roster. Just some guy who floats from place to place, desperate for an opportunity. I am but two victories away from taking my rightful place as the God of War, two victories that I will savour greatly.
 
Isaac Thornton, aren’t you just precious? You’ve achieved a lot here, haven’t you? You were the first person to pin Finnegan Wakefield in the OWA. You headlined Boiling Point for the OWA World Championship. But then what happened? You got your big opportunity and allowed it to slip through your fingers. You tapped out to Finn and you tapped out to life. Aria Jaxon has a little list of names. Alphas that she wants to take out. You were on that list and unsurprisingly failed to stop her. What happened to the young man who was brimming with potential? The one who was getting world title shots and being held up as the next big thing?
 
I’ll tell you. The same thing that happened to Jeff. Pressure. Pressure…it can make diamonds, but it can also bring great pain and destruction. You are not a diamond, Isaac. You are simply the shiniest piece of glass in the display window. On the surface, you’ve got it all. Good looks, athletic ability, charisma, a movie star presence…but beneath that you are hollow. You are a vacuous man of vanity and pride, qualities that do not lead to success or fulfilment.
 
You see Isaac, I love the movies, I really do. Anyone who’s seen the attire I wear at a big event or who picks up on the references I use when I talk will know that. Movies were my escape. I grew up in a world that didn’t accept or understand me, but the worlds of movies allowed me to live in freedom. I’d watch anything and everything, it didn’t matter. I don’t get hung up on trivial matters like a film’s age or its genre, good stories are good stories. Then…then it all changed.
 
Prior to the 1970s, a “blockbuster” wasn’t really a concept. Sure, popular movies existed, but there wasn’t a word for them. Then came 1975, Jaws broke all kinds of box office records. It’s still one of the top ten highest-grossing movies to this day. And it deserved such success. It’s a timeless classic that singlehandedly ushered in the modern era of filmmaking. We’d have no Spielberg without it. Fuck, we probably would have never got Star Wars, either. The world changed because of one movie, but not necessarily for the better.
 
You see, the blockbuster formula was something everyone wanted. Studio executives would sign off on whatever could bring in money, regardless of whether it was actually creative or had the potential to be good. It was harmless at first. I love those macho 80s action flicks as much as the next guy, and we got some solid popcorn fluff in the 90s, as well. But look at where we are now. Everything that isn’t a superhero movie is a remake, reboot or rehash of something else. Bottom feeding gutter trash like Transformers can rake in over a billion at the box office. It makes me sick. Anything that is original or creative struggles to get made. And when it does get made, it struggles even harder to make enough money to warrant the initial investment.
 
This is you, Isaac. You’re not Jaws. You’re not a classic. You’re a shameless knock off. The Hollywood stardom that you proclaim to possess is not a boast that one should be proud of making. You are excess, you are creative bankruptcy. The fall of modern storytelling correlates perfectly with your brand of entertainment. You give the people safety. Everything they expect from you is met. And it doesn’t matter if they enjoy the ride or not because you’ve got their money anyway. To a certain extent, I do respect your hustle. But pulling the wool over a wolf’s eyes will only get you bitten.
 
It won’t be long before everybody is fed up of Isaac Thornton’s sanitised Hollywood offerings. You’re spinning your wheels to cling on to fame, and that is why you can’t be allowed to progress any further in this tournament. It takes a Nate Cage to make people realise that they don’t have to accept the status quo. I do not exist to please, I exist to challenge perspective. You look at me and I know what you see. You see a try hard. An overly edgy gimmick. A mentally unstable man who rambles on with meaningless diatribe about how he’s going to rip an opponent limb from limb.
 
But I accept that that is how I am perceived. I accept it because I know that that is not who I am. I am simply a man who wants better for people, even if I have to break them to get there. Life becomes so much easier when you leave your ego at the door and just accept that you are not liked. That you fall into a category in people’s minds. Isaac, your ego is out of control. It has blinded you to the truth of who you are. I think you really do buy into your spiel sometimes. Maybe you’re just that good of an actor that you’ve convinced me you’re a pompous cunt…but somehow I doubt it.
 
I haven’t wanted to hurt anyone in this company more than you. Every week, I see your smug little face as it brags about successes that are fabrications, and I gleefully imagine snapping your spine. Come Sunday, I won’t have to imagine anymore. In a somewhat ironic twist, I’ve got you in a match under circumstances I didn’t want. I wanted CASPIAN. I wanted my first.
 
 
CASPIAN handed me my first real loss here, and I’ve obsessed over the returning the favour every day since. Amazingly, Isaac, you found a way to make me hate you even more when you snatched away my opportunity for a rematch. I wanted so badly to beat that man into the ground to make my way to the finals, but now you’ve fucked up.
 
You should have let him beat you, Isaac, you should have been smart. Because the usual hatred I feel for you when I remember that you exist has just been severely amplified. The moment that bell rings, I will not stop until I have took all of your pride, ego and vanity, and crushed you into dust under its pressure. My chance at redemption against CASPIAN was taken from me, I do unspeakable things to people who take from me.
 
You personal well-being is now in more jeopardy than ever before. I am making my masterpiece, you are the leading man. “Isaac Thornton: A Portrait of Suffering” will change the creative landscape, but a great sacrifice must first be made. Your finest achievement is coming, and it will be by my hand. It’s just a shame that you won’t live to witness the aftermath.
 
 
I’m ready for my close-up, Mr. Thornton.
 

INCOMING TRANSMISSION.
If my inaugural monologue wasn’t a testament of my devotion to enhancing this brand, surely, after last week’s performance, there’s no question as to how committed I am to seeing this through.  It’s a shame that Larry, Moe, and Curly had to be used as pawns for me to advance across the board.  Perhaps in another lifetime, I would have found their spectacle amusing...maybe even entertaining; regrettably I wasn’t brought here to dick around with the unwashed masses.  I was brought here to save their jobs, save their homes from foreclosure, and feed their families..seeing as the men who possess all-gall and no-talent to call themselves Olympians have proven themselves incapable of fulfilling such ‘demanding’ obligations.  Regardless, I’ll be sure to keep the trio in heart and mind when I apply the game-ending stroke that puts the top guy (whoever it may be in the near future) in checkmate (and maybe intensive care).  As pertains to the this week, after securing a few pawns, I’ll move on to seize a knight.

Gareth Cason has made a modest amount of loot and generated quite a buzz by billing himself as the Fighting Champion that Olympus may not deserve but certainly needs.  I like that.  I mean, sure I’ve seen it done hundreds of times before -- better, in fact.  Hell, I, myself have done it.  It’s one of those things in life we see so often that we come to expect it; we’re not exhausted or impressed with the idea any longer, we’ve just come to accept it for what it is like...yet another lackluster Kevin Devastation run.  We know that in the morning the sun will rise, Donald Trump will make another outrageous fictitious claim, and that in some Wrestling Promotion somewhere in the world there will be someone who thinks of themselves as a Fighting Champion.  What strikes me as interesting about Gareth Cason is, in the couple of weeks that I’ve been around to capture the essence of this company - this brand in particular - I have yet to see him do anything that would lead me to think he is anything other than a loudmouth with a belt who gives himself more credit than he deserves.  Prime example being the events of the last two weeks: Christopher Sabertooth sabotaged what should have been an exhibition to re-generate interest but in the end fell flatter than Mariah Carey live; but rather than hunting him down and beating the dogshit out of that sleazy sumbitch as a message to the entire roster, in addition to an exhausting verbal back and forth that left many in the audience with whiplash, he gives him a title shot!?  The fuck!?

Albeit, I’ve been out of the game for a hot minute...but that doesn’t sound like the characteristics of a Fighting Champion.

When I think of a “Fighting Champion” I envision someone of integrity -- of uncompromising morals, who sticks to his principles win, lose, or draw; no matter how the odds are stacked against him.  Someone who is courageous; willing to hock and spit a nasty loogy in the face of danger.  Someone who feeds on the excitement and pulsating thrill of a good back and forth.  Physical traits would include, but not limited to, around a mid-six feet in height..shaved head..goatee..and large build...someone like, well, like me.

Whether you’re a fan of mine or his, you’ve gotta own up to the fact that there ain’t a more worthy challenge for Gareth Cason than the man present.  My track record speaks for itself.  Everywhere I’ve come and gone, I was considered ‘the man’ because I could bring the best out of every man I stood across; despite whether our clash ended in their demise or my own, there was no denying the feeling of  intensity and passion every viewer was succumbed to.  Rewind the tapes and take a second gander at my Fatal Four Way (that might as well have been a Handicapped Match) from last week.  Not only did I sweep in and steal their thunder with just one Devil’s Plunge, but the entire crowd fell into a trance.  Like a spell out of a book or a serenade from the strum of a guitar; they were mesmerized and those ill-prepared fools didn’t know how to react.  They’d never been in the ring with someone of my caliber and after that match they’ll likely never get that chance again but I digress.  My point being that I’m at an altitude in my career that those like Cason are shooting for...so few of them have what it takes to get here and even fewer will achieve it; and in this point in time, his status as a Fighting Champion is being questioned more than ever.  As we speak, people are beginning to doubt him and those investors he cares so much about are beginning to lose faith in him.  Will their uncertainty be proven plausible or not?  That all falls on the following match.  His chance to prove he is all that he says he is, this badass-MMA fighter-turned-Pro-Wrestler who’ll take the fight to any and everyone he steps in between the ropes with or a flash in the pan with all sizzle and no steak?  I am the deciding factor.  I am what separates those who can and will from those who can’t and won’t; and I’m determined to validate him as one of the latter.  He may not be anything like the Stooges I’ve dealt with in the past, but frankly neither am I.  I’m going to make him regret leaving the octagon for the squared-circle by taking the only thing he has of value, that being the Television Championship.

In closing, let me say to Sabertooth, you’d better hope that your support is enough for Cason to pull off the upset of his career; because if not, he may have just promised you a match you’ll never get at Civil War.  I think it goes without saying but I will anyways considering how illiterate some of you are, if I am to walk out as TV Champ I will legally have no obligations to defend at Civil War against a long-haired pretty boy with a split personality.  Thus making the promises made by the former null and void.  So you’d better pray to God he comes through...for once.  #TheRevolutionWillBeTelevised
END OF TRANSMISSION.

 
How about I fix you up a real drink, mister?
 
 
Another one of your finest iced waters will be fine, barkeep.
 
 
Heard you had some strong winds up this way, mate.
 
Is that supposed to be fucking sarcastic?
 
Just an observation I’ve made from all the strewn about wreckage and crying families I’ve seen
 
 
You ain’t from round these parts.
 
 
What gave it away? My haircut?
 
So why are you here?
 
I’m looking for a friend. You might have seen him. Pretty tall, muscular, denim jeans, construction worker beard and a strong jawline. Looks like he’s never worked anywhere other than a workshop?
 
Mister, you just described 90% of our clientele.
 
His name’s Jeff.
 
That doesn’t exactly narrow things down.
 
 
You’re a funny fucker…uhh, what was your name?
 
Randy.
 
You’re a funny bastard, Randy. You should ditch this job and pursue stand-up…any comedy clubs left standing here?
 
I don’t appreciate your tone.
 
How much do you make a year, Randy?
 
That ain’t none of your goddamn business.
 
 
How. Much.
 
 
Umm…uhh…twenty grand…I’d say…before taxes.
 
How long have you been a working man?
 
Forty years.
 
You’ve been working for forty years and all you have to show for it is twenty grand annual salary? Ha, you and Jeff would get along.
 
I don’t like that you feel it appropriate to judge me.
 
I don’t care what you think.
 
How much do you make a year, then?
 
More than you. Anyway, I’m asking the questions, Randy. And I want to talk a little about Jeff. Jeff’s a lot like you…content. You’re content with the fact that you never broke through the working class position you were assigned at birth. You’ve lived with it for decades, and when you die, nobody outside this town will know about it. Your obituary will be populated by other, equally forgettable names. Hell, a few of them will probably be called Randy as well. Jeff’s very much the same. He’s resigned to the fact that he is a perpetual failure, and rather than listen to sound advice, he ignores it in favour of whatever the fuck he’s doing.
 
I’ve told Jeff what I think of him, man to man. But he doesn’t listen, why did I think he would? He’s preoccupied with drowning his sorrows in booze and self-loathing. Jeff is fine with his lot in life. Complacent. Lazy. There are people who adore him, does he care? No. He has a son who should be looking up to him and he’s so caught up in his “woe is me” pity parade that he doesn’t want to be a father figure. If Jeff actually took the positive energy that surrounded him, he might be somebody. But much like you, he looks around at the squalor that he’s grew up in and goes “Yeah, this is alright, this’ll do.”
 
What does Jeff have to show for his efforts? I point out his lack of success and he agrees with me. What kind of passive bollocks is that? I wanted to bring out a fire in the man, wanted him to show me something, and I get exactly what I expect. Jeff gives me everything I always hear. He thinks I’m a fraud, he thinks I’m a coward, that he is somehow legitimate. Whatever that means. Would you say those things about me, Randy?
 
Mister, you’re scaring me.
 
Oh, grow a pair, Randy. I’m not here to hurt you, I’m here to educate. Jeff’s from round here, he’s seen all this shit go down and it hasn’t helped. Imagine putting that pressure on yourself and failing. Imagine telling yourself that it’s on YOU to lift the spirits of the people and not being able to deliver. It’s alright for Jeff, though, because he has old faithful: the bottle. You know what? Give me that.
 
 
Disgusting muck.
 
 
Damn, I hope they don’t take that out of your salary, I doubt you’d be able to take the hit.
 
 
Hey, uh Randy, can I get uh-
 
You’ll get your fucking drink when I’m done talking, cunt.
 
The fuck did you sa-
 
 
I swear to God, I will cause so much pain to you that you’ll be wishing for another hurricane.
 
 
Let him go! Please!
 
Seeing as you asked so nicely.
 
 
Is everyone here so…weak? Now I know where Jeff gets it from.
 
 
You know what there are too many of, Randy? Antiheroes. You know what that is?
 
Uhh, ain’t it like a good guy who does bad things?
 
That’s what I LOVE about this place! Everyone’s answers are so…simple. You don’t mince words, do you, Randy? You’re a straight shooter. Not too bright, but sharp. An antihero is pretty much that. It’s a traditional hero with some villainous traits. Someone you’re supposed to root for, but they’ve just got that little bit of edge to them. I’m sick of antiheroes. They’re a plague in everything. Film, television, books, fucking video games. And in my line of work…boy are there a lot of them. Jeff hates the fact he’s a good person. He cannot psychologically afford to admit to himself that he’s a good person. Because as soon as he does, the weight of his sins will crush him. So he has that edge, you see. He drinks. He curses. He has that oh so original “I don’t give a fuck” persona. Everyone look at Jeff, isn’t he cool? He fights for what’s right but is reluctant about it, let’s buy his t-shirts and cheer when he insults us!
 
Pathetic. It makes my blood boil. The world doesn’t need this wishy washy, is he good or is he bad bullshit. I want good and I want evil. History is a tale of those two forces clashing. That is exactly what Jeff needs to embrace. He’s not evil, he doesn’t have the stomach for it. He doesn’t have what it takes to do the fucked-up shit that appals people. I have no such reservations. I accepted long ago that my path is not one of being a good person. Jeff fights against his true calling, and that is why he fails. I think what amuses me more than anything, though, is that he thinks my threats ring hollow. Randy, my good man, do I seem like a man that doesn’t follow through on his word to you?
 
 
Looks like you’re smarter than Jeff, it seems, not too hard though. Jeff’s fallen into the trap of thinking I just say I’ll hurt people…clearly, he’s not very familiar with my work. He thinks I don’t know war? The scars on my body are a tapestry of conflict that he wants to conveniently ignore. It wasn’t but a week ago where I was fighting a fucking ogre of a man and getting drawing pins stuck through my head with high velocity. Oh, but I don’t know pain, I don’t know suffering. The blood I’ve drawn from other men could probably save a few of the people mortally wounded by the little gust that came through your town recently.
 
 
Heard you were having trouble, Randy. This the guy?
 
Yeah, that’s him.
 
Alright, fun’s over, you have to leave, sir.
 
Don’t you want to see my identification, officers?
 
 
I suppose so.
 
 
Uhh, Randy, I’m afraid this is way above our pay grade. Sorry but…we have to get going now.
 
 
I’d best be leaving as well, it’s been a long day, and Jeff’s right about one thing: I have to prepare for war. Part of me wishes my army were with me to witness what I’m going to do to Jeff, but this is something I have to do on my own. I hope he’s got plenty saved up. Maybe you can get him some work here? Ha!
 
 
For your cooperation.
 
 
Oh, that’s right, forgot my knife. Thanks, friend.
 
 
Ever hear the one about the guy who walks into a bar?
 

Soy victorioso.  That pinche viejo couldn’t take down the mark of the one and only CASPIAN!  He’s the one sleeping and rotting away for good while I prove why I am ese cabron, esse!  This is another win that nobody was expecting me to take, thinking I would lose to some old bag of bones.  Sure, he gave me a hell of a fight...if this was one of those staged Halloween fairs! Where I come from, we fuck up pinche chingones like Kevin who try to touch my family, my girl Narcisa.  I’m vicious and better than ever now, preparing for my next challenge in a guy who took a biiiiggggg pinche L, guey! Isaac Thornton is blessed to be in the same ring as me this week. Not only that, but he’ll be playing second fiddle to me as I grace the main event stage once again!  Why am I facing este fracasado when I should be facing someone like Aria Jaxon, who got lucky a couple weeks back when she beat me. Unlike you and me Isaac, her and I have unfinished business and we’d tear the house down again. I saw her beat you in the middle of the ring with that 1-2-3 count you definitely dread more than anything.  So much for Vernon Tressler investing into an embarrassment to this business. I see he has an obvious interest in you but this is where he’s going absolutely wrong. Then again, should I be surprised that he’s choosing garbage wrestlers to represent MY brand? He should be focused on me, an asset who could easily make him billions a year.  Yes, I did say billions, while you’ll probably make him and yourself a few thousand with your straight to DVD releases. I’ve been destined to be a star and whenever I have the chance to, I’ll shine bright above any other talent you may see on the roster. You need some “manager” while I’m sure you found him in some street somewhere and are paying him to hype you up.  My woman, Narcisa, hypes me knowing that I am money. My men know that I’m going to cause a revolution in this company very very soon. I am known around the world while you’re some guy who wants to be known and tries his hardest for people to take you seriously. I proved why I should be taken seriously last week while you showed me you’re not competent enough to lace MY boots.  I can’t even believe you were facing Finnegan Wakefield not too long ago. Look where you’ve gotten yourself into since then, loss after loss as others around you surpass any success you had in Kingdom. With this opportunity I have this week, I’m ready to put you to shame, mijo. This isn’t going to be any regular kind of loss, this’ll be one that will send you right into the ground, just like Kevin Devastation.  Sadly I won’t be able to exhibit absolute torture to you, but I’ll definitely be confident enough to call myself the reaper of your lackluster career. I am going to capitalize on my name with an absolute massacre on the current OWA roster. Here’s a message to the entire OWA roster: I don’t care who you may be or what you’re planning to accomplish, but I’m going to stomp your maldita cabeza to mush if you dare stand in my way.  Fuck ese puto Isaac and all his fans in attendance tomorrow night. They can all chupar mi pito while my hand is raised in the pursuit for glory. Call me el futuro Dios de Guerra because this isn’t the first or last time I’ll be in this position. I’ve been at war with this system ever since I first debuted in OWA, but this will all culminate when I face off against whoever I need to for the finals! Mock me all you want, but when your smug faces turn into faces of shock, I will be absolutely pleased.  That’s how I do things; I’m not one of the most successful billionaires in the world for no reason, I am in this position because winning is the only answer I know.


You have no talent, Isaac.  Wait, let me correct myself.  You’re really good at sucking ass when it counts the most.  If you really had unlimited talent, you would’ve pulled all of it in order to beat that pendeja but guess what, you didn’t!  You truly care about the people’s opinions on you because that’s the only way you’re going to be a world champion here. Senor Thornton, I call you a bandwagoner because merely, you’re just a trend.  Another white boy who feels frustrated that the world isn’t treating him like mommy and daddy do. Boo hoo, you can’t become the biggest star in Hollywood because you don’t have the chops to do it and now you come curse us all with your presence.  And just like Hollywood, you’re suffering with box office failures when you have to deliver the goods. My track record in main events have been significantly better than yours. I’ve defeated the undefeated Nate Cage, I was sadly screwed in my match with Aria (which I had in the books, but due to Chet’s mierda refereeing I lost) and I’ve beaten the Spartan Champ Monolith.  Have you managed to do any of these things in your time here? I highly doubt you have and ever will, sir. I’m made for this high intensity environment and whenever I have a small hiccup I return with a wrath that can’t be compared to anything else you’ve ever seen. When El Capitan is angry, the ground shakes in fear and the people learn to bow and respect my name. However, in America people think it’s smart to mess with someone like me.  You guys love playing characters, but I’ve lived everything that I say I have. I’m not pretending to be some cartel leader, I am a goddamn good leader who has caused tons of blood to be shed throughout the world. I could be arrested for that statement, but if you think I give a flying fuck about your pansy ass culture, you’d be dead wrong. El Chapo has nothing on me and what I’ve done in my lifetime. Soy ese cabron in the business and if you thought what I did to KD was too much, you should see what I can do without this business censoring me.  A lot of the stuff I’ve done would be way too much for one of your budget films, Isaac, but only 100 dollars can produce you a YouTube video from 2007. Oops, I guess you don’t like disses because you can’t come up with any of your own. You have to pull from a deadbeat rapper who isn’t even in his prime anymore to insult me, but I just pull the words from my own mouth. I don’t need no ghostwriters coming up what I have to say every week on the mic because I say whatever the hell I want. Fuck you and fuck these motherfucking bitches who don’t like what I have to say.  Keep the PR for the wonderbreads who cower away from their true feelings from the fans. Most importantly Isaac, fuck you and keep trying to be some movie star. Maybe you’ll hit Tommy Wiseau status eventually, making so much shit that it sticks. El Capitan habla con venganza y sin temor, y te recomiendo a tener miedo, perro.