The Ballad of Misery (Part #6)


(FLASHBACK: Date - 12th of August, 2018)

Scott sits within the confines of his living room, playing 'Bloodborne' on his PS4. More specifically, the DLC of the game, which has universally been credited as being the 'best part' of the game. The game, being his escape from what has been his reality these past few weeks. Not just the loss of his Spartan's championship - which, and this *might* come as a surprise to some people, is actually one of the *last* things on his mind at this moment. Nor is it the impending announcement of who the next challenger to Finnegan Wakefield's world championship shall be. He already knows his claim to that title. 

He hasn't seen the need to make it any further. To convince anyone, of what has already been revealed. Of just what credentials he has for the belt. Rather, it has been more the 'Adams Enterprises' side of things that has been taking up most of his thoughts. Or more so, the pending deal regarding the theatrical release of 'Blades of Destiny' - the movie starring long time friend Emily Browning, alongside a list of cast members that includes himself and names like Corey Harris and Marshawn Bryers. Y'know, two of the most renowned actors in Hollywood. 

A movie, that is being produced by not just Adams Enterprises - well, the 'Hollywood Division' of the company, but also TFX entertainment; is slated for release on March 21, 2019. With filming scheduled to wrap up on September 13, having been the main occupant of his time over the past six weeks. Well, when he hasn't been competing for OWA, or doing other engagements on behalf of Adams Enterprises, that is. Sighing to himself, he defeats an enemy on the game (a wolf-like creature), before turning around a corner; pausing the game to allow himself time to gather his thoughts. 

Time, to ponder the best route to take. Not just within the scope of the game - but also within the scope of his life. The decision trees that have been presented to him; the passages they open, have all been laid bare. Each one, with their own perils. Their own risks, that to a 'lesser' man, would bring about their demise. The loss, of their very sanity. Not Scotty though. Well, not in the sense of 'losing' his sanity - he's transversed this very road many times before. Signing, he glances across the room,feeling the thoughts pulsate within his mind. 

Letting them all fester within himself, before he gently places the controller on the sofa's seat to his right; uses his palms to elevate himself to a vertical base. It is then, that Bianca comes walking into the room. Beaming smile across her face; her Galaxy s8 loosely clutched within her right hand, as she places her left hand within Scotty's palm. Almost as if to hurriedly pull him towards his room.

"What's up babe?" he questions, a slight smile peering out of the right hand corner of his mouth.

Bianca: *calm, yet visibly excited* Rebecca called me just before -.

"Hm?" he ponders to himself. The first thing coming to mind being that it's 'probably' about the movie. Or even the new clothes they have in development, but why would Bianca be excited to hear that? 

"What was it?" he remarks, almost as if he was thinking aloud, but making sure that Bianca could hear him.  Turning to glance at him, Bianca leans up; gently placing a kiss on the right side of his cheek.

Bianca: *smiling* Vernon called her earlier - you're officially the number one contender to the World championship!

Softly laughing, Scott feels his eyes begin to shimmer as a smirk crosses his face. Not because he can't believe that he is the one chosen - he had a feeling that Finn would pick him. That he would want to give the population the match they had craved, but more so because he decided to pull the trigger *now*. 

"Ah, nice," he softly comments, heading into the hallway before pivoting his body right. "Tell them I'll be there in like thirty, okay?" his words gentle, Bianca nods, as she dials in Vernon's number, to inform him of the news. 

"It's all beginning to fall into place," Scotty utters to himself, making his way down the hall. Knowing that now, the *true* battle can commence. That soon enough, the plans he had set into motion, will all come to light. It is now, that we fade.
---
(Present Day)

(We see Scotty, sitting within the darkened confines of what appears to be a miniature studio. complete with tripod cameras set up and a "green screen" that is designed to give the illusion of being in Hollywood. Of course, the footage is actually being shot in Chicago, which is where Scott currently situated).

It all ends here, Finn.

All of the barbs exchanged. All of the words spoken; all of the evidence we have provided - it has all led us to *this* singular road. To a moment, that *will* define both of our careers. One, that will go down in the annuls of time as being the *true* final frontier.  You know it, as much as I do. You see Finn, for me - this has *never* been a matter of 'respect'. This has never been a matter of "do I respect you" as a competitor. As a person. Because the answer to that, as I have said all along, is yes. I *do* respect you Finn.

(Pondering his words, he allows a dull honeycomb spotlight to shine upon him, as he slightly brings his hand up to his jawline).

I know *exactly* what you're capable of in the ring - but you don't need me to reinforce that to you. You don't need me to tell you about your talent, because each and every time you've stepped into that ring; with that belt you hold on the line. Your opponent gunning to strip it away from you, you've gone out there and *proven* why you are the champion. Why you *are* the best wrestler in the world today. You've found a way to keep that belt draped around your shoulder. Something that should be admired. Something that has earned you the perch on which you stand. This week, however, it *all* rolls to a close. 

You see, Finn - this isn't another ordinary challenger. This isn't just another match. Another opportunity for you to add a 'feather under your cap' so to speak. Rather, this is the time where you and I *must* look into the mirror. Look deep into the reflection that glances back at one another; see the other standing there. Smiling. For you and I, are the *same*. We are identical reflections of one another, both inside and outside the ring. The path you forged throughout your career, reminds me of my own path. Of my own road, journeyed throughout the passage of my career. 

(Slightly stroking his jaw, he allows a slight smirk to peer across his face, the intensity burning through his eyes).

The striking ability you hold, is very similar to my own striking prowess. Yours with your feet, born from a light-footed nature in the ring and an ability to use your limbs to your advantage. Mine, from a combination of my hands (born from a background in boxing) and feet (born from time spent in MMA training as well as my athletic background on the soccer/football field). The heralded grappling ability; the prowess when it comes to submissions. 

They are all qualities that we *both* share.  

They are, what define us both. 

As much as you mightn't wish to admit it, you know deep down - I was *right* when I told you that this was the only choice you could have made, when the time came. When you were enabled to select who you desired to set foot along this journey with you. 

(A holographic image for the two men walking along parallel passages is shown, up to the point where the paths intersect, whilst Scott's eyes continue to burn).
 
Who you wished to put your crown up against. Anybody else, and it's merely another 'means to an end'. Another match, that serves no purpose in the grander scheme. Against *me*; you are offered the chance to validate all that you hold. To finally remove all sense of doubt that you are only here. That you are only champion, because *I* was the one that crafted this passage. 

How? 

It's honestly simple; a question, that deep down - I *know* you already have answered. That you already have figured out but for those who don't quite comprehend it. For those who cannot see the forest beyond the trees, I shall enlighten you. Before I came along; before *I* redefined everything that this realm had become, it was unfathomable. Inconceivable that a person who didn't fit the mould. Who wasn't seen as being some 'larger than life' body. Who wasn't built as if they were a walking bodybuilding advertisement would be able to become anything more than another name. 

(Softly laughing, Scott thinks back to the times when he entered the industry. The times, when people called him too slight for the industry. When they considered him to be too average looking to make it big, despite his consistent work ethic).

Another face in the crowd. No matter the natural gifts they held. No matter *how* good they were in the ring. That was, until *I* walked through the doors. Is this arrogant? Sure, but that doesn't mean it isn't truthful. Deep down, you know I'm right too. This business lived off the supposed 'image'. The persona, that was stronger than others. That the average person wouldn't want to confront in the street, simply because back then, that was perceived as being 'right'. 

As being the "heroes" that people wanted to see. A mould, that *I* didn't fit. A mould, that you don't fit either, Finn. Yet we are wrestling's counterculture. We are the ones who go out there; show just *why* you don't have to fit the looks mould. Why when you strip away all of the 'poison'. All of the pollutants that have seeped into the industry - you get people like us. Those, who treat wrestling for the pure athletic showcase that it was *always* designed to be. 

A door that *I* swung ajar.

Yes, you have your family's in ring history. Their prestige to cling to, which I didn't have that luxury. I never had that generation to guide me. To help blaze my trail into this industry - I didn't need it, either. You see, Finn - that's the thing with me. More so than anything else. Everything that I have done. Every iota of success I have had within this industry, has been based off my *own* foundation. My own core, just as I have always desired for it to be. 

People can *never* claim I "leeched off the success of my family"; that I'm only here because of my name. To do so, would be to flat out *lie* to yourself. Yet with you, they have that string. They have that barb they can throw your way. What if you 'weren't' a Wakefield? What if your family *didn't* have the credence in the industry that they do? 

Would you still be here? 

Would you still be atop this perch? 

I'm not saying you wouldn't be, because in *my* eyes - you would. Your skill set, independent of anything your family holds. Your in ring talent, would hold you in good stead. Irrespective of the name that you hold, but deep down: You know people doubt that. You know that is something that lingers, each time you set foot inside of the ring. That bothers you, doesn't it, Finn? 

That makes you wish to prove them wrong. It motivates you to stand upon your own wings. To show them, that you have been the manifestation of your success. That everything you hold, has been of your own creation. Your own design. That's what this match offers you more than anything else - that *vindication*. However, it shall not be delivered. Instead, it will all crumble around you - seeping away, as the hourglass runs dry; your time meets its point of expiration. It'll all be at *my* hands. 

You are right though: I *do* want control. I do crave the feeling of watching my foes squirm. Knowing that every single fear. Every single moment they suffer, they're falling further and further into the abyss. Helpless, as I merely smile. As I only deliver the fate that had always been destined for them. The difference between me and everyone else who claims to seek control. Who wishes to hold the power of fate within their hands is - I have the means to actually fulfil the task. 

The methods, of striking beyond the core. I know what I plan on doing, once I have that control resting firmly in my palms. They *didn't*. Or well, they *don't*. They only seek the concept of control. Of holding the power; knowing what it tastes like. What it feels like, yet they know nothing of what it entails. 

They're clueless, as to what they desire to achieve when they have the control. I *do*. I know exactly what it is that I shall do, with the world nothing more than a marionette. With you, playing right into my game. That is what scares you, isn't it? Knowing that above all else, you are staring into a being that is not just in control, but has the plans. The machinations in place for what shall occur once it all falls into place. 

This isn't like Hardcore Havoc, where you had to confront three men who were aimless. Yes, they wanted the gold, but did they really? Or were they just claiming as such, so that they could convince themselves they were worthy of it? 

This isn't your match with Keelan, who although a friend of mine - was on his way out; merely wanted an escape route. Merely wanted you to liberate him. To 'set him free'. 

This isn't Isaac Thornton, who used you as leverage. An attempt to prove to himself that he *had* made it. That his goals, had all been achieved. 

This isn't even Maelstrom - who simply wanted to hurt you; harboured no emotional connection. Harboured no purpose within his quest. 

No.

This is, and not to be cliche or anything, your *greatest challenge yet*. This is you, standing before a man who doesn't just want or need your title. Because just like the Spartan's belt - my legacy is all but sealed. This is a man who is wrestling for a cause. A reason that runs deeper than you can even comprehend. A cause, that transcends everything that you see. You are the vassal of that cause, Finn - you are the *only* person who can prevent the flames from consuming all that is cherished. From burning, everything that this realm stands for. Yet, it is also what has brought you to your knees. Come Sunday, I shall bring about the mercy you seek - I shall free you from the burden you wear. All it will take, is a simple glance at your reflection as it all goes down in flames. 

So, take your shots. 

Arm your weapons and show me you are this 'marksman'. That you have the ammo to shoot me down - because soon you'll see - it was all for nought. 

I haven't even scratched the surface of what I can reveal. 

Welcome to Scott's game.

[The scene opens to Isaac’s office in New York. He has two offices. One in NY, the other in LA. The reason why he’s at the NY one is that he has to be in Philly tomorrow for Kingdom. Make sense? K cool. Isaac steps into frame in comfy pajamas and a robe. He has some kind of wrap around his neck, as he goes to sit in his massage chair while placing his cup of green tea on the arm of the chair. Isaac pulls out his phone and texts someone. A few seconds go by and one of his representatives knocks on the door. Isaac signals for him to come in.]

Rep: Yes Mr. Thornton? You wanted to see me? 

[Isaac gets his phone out again and texts him.]

Rep: You’re saving your voice this week? Why is that? 

[Isaac texts another message]

Rep: Saving it for next week for your big match against Aria Jaxon. Yeah, makes sense. But that still doesn’t explain why I’m here? Oh, the three dots appeared. You’re about to respond. Cool. You have a match against JD Damon. Yeah, I’m aware. Oh, you wrote down what you have to say to him on the piece of paper in front of you. Okay? And - you want me to read it in front of the camera? I can’t. I can’t fill the shoes of you, Mr. Thornton. Oh, you’re texting again. “Do it or your fired!” Not to be that guy but it’s supposed to be you’re, not your. 

[Isaac, who is trying so hard to relax, gets visually upset as his face turns a little red. The camera cuts for a brief second and we see a new representative sitting next to Isaac. He’s sitting in a regular folding chair next to Isaac’s nice massage one. So what happened to the other rep? It’s fair to say he’s been let go. The new rep gets his reading glasses out and clears his throat.]

New Rep: “Dear John Dorian Damon..” Haha, I get it, because JD. Like the show Scrubs! 

Isaac *quietly whispering*: Keep reading please and thank you. 

New Rep: Right, right. My bad. “Dear John Dorian Damon, I apologize in advance for what I’m going to do to you tomorrow night. The pain I will cause you will be because of Vernon and Aria, not me. The blood is on their hands! Just remember that. I shouldn’t even have to be in a match this week. I should have time off, like Aria these past few weeks. She is getting an unfair advantage heading into our match and Vernon should feel bad for treating me bad.” Yes Isaac, yes he should. He should feel really bad.

[Isaac gets his phone out again]

New Rep: Ooooh, a text! Oh, you want me to edit it and put really in front of bad? Ok, will do. Let me say it over. “She is getting an unfair advantage and Vernon should feel REALLY bad for treating me bad.” Yeah, that sounds good. “I outta sue you, Vernon for not treating me like the star that I am. I mean I don't think you have any idea of how many sacrifices I make for OWA on a weekly basis. How could you understand? You're ordinary. You come to work and you go home each week - that's it. Rinse and repeat. No fun whatsoever.  Nothing special about it, just like there is nothing special about you. But back to me because this has always been about me. I schedule around for this place. I should be in LA right now, enjoying a nice candlelit dinner with Scarlett Johansson, but I canceled it.” No way, you know Scarlett? Of course you do, sorry. Just two A-list celebrities enjoying each other’s company. But back to what you said. “I fly out for these Kingdom events each week. I put my busy life on hold. So I expect that when I make it to the show, that you have something important planned for a very important person. It would only make sense. But, your brain cannot connect the dots. So now my fist must connect with JD's jaw. You are only wasting my time, Vernon. In back to back weeks, you have forced me to go up against some dude I can't even remember the name of. I think his last name was Nelson? And now, you have me facing JD goddamn Damon. I mean no disrespect towards you, JD. It's just, you're trash. Filth that belongs under my shoe. Again, no offense. That's how no offense works. I can say the meanest of things and follow it up with no offense and by rule you can't get mad. If you do get mad, then you're an asshole, not me." Yep, that is how it works. It's in the fine print. You're right, Isaac. 

Isaac *whispering*: No shit, keep reading. 

New Rep: Yes, Mr. Thornton. "I don't respect you, JD. Nobody does. Even Wolvesden has to be questioning your worth after your pathetic showing from last week against some other random no-name guy. The only reason why they would still want you around is because simply put, you're a body. Well, a nobody to be exact, but you still have a body nonetheless. You help with the numbers game. Sure you are worthless, but even a set of worthless fists can cause a little bit of damage after fifty weak ass punches. Wouldn't be surprised if they make you carry around some brass knuckles to help you in this area. You are also around to act as a shield. For example, if they know they can't get the upper hand in a situation, they just throw your body in front of them and escape. And if your health takes a major hit because of it, meh, at least nothing of value was lost. But I truly do like Wolvesden. I like their dominant style. Their brotherhood is admirable. Something you don't really see in this selfish era. It's just that, I am calling it like I see it. You are the weak link. You are nowhere near Kenny or Nate's level and you never will be. And you can only dream about coming anywhere close to my level. You say you're the last of a dying breed. It's a shame you didn't die along with it. How you have survived this long is puzzling. Almost as puzzling as OWA signing you in the first place. You bring nothing to the table. You don't move the needle. You don't get people in seats. No, you have the opposite effect. You cause them to leave their seats to go get something to eat or drink, or to go to the bathroom. Or go watch paint dry. Anything is better than watching you fail as a professional wrestler. And I know with some of these remarks that I am spewing, it sounds like this matchup is personal to me. But it's not. You are just another casualty on my road to success and I get that. What does piss me off is that I was at the top not too long ago. Rubbing elbows with the likes of Finnegan Wakefield. Beating him once, almost twice. Challenging for the OWA world title. And since then, I've been demoted. All because of one match. Now I have to face the likes of you and that Nelson guy. I don't belong in this position. I deserve more. I deserve to be OWA world champion. I deserve to walk on a red carpet everywhere go. I deserve the world, JD. And in my world, you don't exist. You barely exist in this one, anyways. You are basically like this chair I am sitting in. Just collecting dust most of the time. Doing nothing of importance unless being the lapdog of Wolvesden is considered important, then sure. I don't want this match. I don't want to face you. I want to go toe to toe with Aria Jaxon already. I am foaming at the mouth for that match to begin. And I could take this time to further belittle her like I did last week, but I might as well save it for the time being. Speaking of Aria, I hear she will be at ringside for this match. Giving her another excuse to show her mug on camera. I mean just last week she uttered, 'I REALLY did not want to come out here tonight but...', see? If it wasn't for me, she wouldn't have even been a part of Kingdom last week. Just like this week. If it wasn't for my match, she would have nothing to do. She would just be sitting in the back, twiddling her thumbs, not knowing what do next. But being the great person that I am, I stepped in, and I gave her a purpose. Just like by just being on this roster, I give Kingdom a purpose. Some people - actually no, the vast majority label me as some egotistical, selfish individual, who is only here for himself, but that couldn't be any further from the truth. I mean sure, I want some accolades, sue me. Doesn't everyone? But I am also here to give back. To give this new company some star power so they can compete with the more established shows airing in the same time slot. So long story short, you're welcome, Kingdom roster! You're welcome for putting food on your table. You're welcome for that expensive sports car that sits in your garage. You're welcome for not living in poverty. Most importantly, you're welcome for Isaac Thornton!" Yes Isaac, thank you for being you. You are the greatest!

Isaac *whispering*: I know rep, I know. Now turn that camera off, or you're fired like that last guy. 

[The rep quickly gets up and shuts the camera off, the scene fades to black.]

Hey, Jon Boy. Long time no see, talk, etc. I mean, the last time I saw you, Kenny Drake took us to his office with that creepy look on his face,… that grin…. That rapey look in his eyes…..the way he wrapped his arm around our shoulders, saying something like, “this will do.” And then we….. uh…. Uh… (Camera zooms in at the Goose as his eyes widen and he trembles.) ..WE DON’T TALK ABOUT THE WOLVES’ DEN. WHAT HAPPENS IN THE WOLVE’S DEN, STAYS IN THE WOLVES’ DEN!!
 
Apologize for the outburst. It was a part of a much darker part of my life. But speaking of darker, why yes, I have gotten a darker complexion. Working out more outdoors, getting tanned in that….. Philadelphia sun light. Sure.  And I see you are still in the never ending rivalry with the sun, you ashy pale son of a bitch. For a second, I thought I saw a ghost, but what I got is the UK spin off version of Colonel Mustard all up in my case. What would that be called in the UK? Minister Horseradish?
 
You’re quite the detective, Jon. I mean, to put together that I, The Goose, and Moongoose McQueen were one but the same person. You got it! It’s almost as if I wasn’t trying to hide it and already shouted it out a hundred times in front of a camera. Wait! Your Sherlock Holmes impression was…. WONDERFUL!! Round of applause for the McAdams.  *clap clap clap*
 
Ok, compliments and praises are over. Let’s begin to handle this like adults now. Man to Goose. Jon, the last time you and I fought, I beat you, or did you forget that? No, you didn’t. Good. Atleast you are honest there.  And this Dustin Duke fellow that has been giving you trouble, I took him out in an instance while you are still struggling to get the man on his back long enough for 3 seconds. Once again, your correlation of name vs entity mis-guides you. I mean, it’s not like I’m going to say, oh look, Great Britain is controlled by a queen, so the rest of the UK must be pansies. Granted, I can’t remember a time where the UK ever won anything, but it’s a bit of a stretch for you to conclude that simply because I am going by the alias of “The Goose” that I’ve gone mental. If anything, I’m more enlightened than ever. I can see clearly now. Heck, the future is so bright, I’ve started wearing sunglasses everywhere now.
 
Because you see, Jon, with age, comes wisdom. Funny how you look like you can be someone’s creepy ass uncle, yet I, can maintain such a youthful look. Bless genetics for that, but don’t forget that I am a seasoned veteran of this industry. For ten years, I’ve seen it all, and I’ve done it all, and now, time, this business, it’s all leisure to do whatever the hell I want, while here you are, throwing a tantrum like always about how it should be this, or I should be that. Like an impudent child, but son, I am a grown ass man, and if it’s a spanking you want, it’s a spanking you gonna get. Even the missus isn’t that lucky. I mean, how many times does a man have to lose and fail before he comes to term about his strengths, his weaknesses.
 
I already know my own weakness. Some will tell you the Goose is too arrogant. He doesn’t consider the consequences of his actions. He’ll say and do whatever is on his mind, and believe he is unstoppable. But what is that one weakness, when you are a man oozing in charisma, talent, strength, confidence. And when I look at you, where the hell is it? It’s like trying to find Waldo on a blank white canvas, but the charisma, talent, strength, confidence, it’s not there! So why are you acting so smug and arrogant, essentially sharing the same flaws as myself, but once again not having anything substantial to back it up?
 
But I suppose there is some good in being a nobody, Jon. It means you always have the advantage to catch the world by surprise, where someone like me, even if I win, nobody is going to be surprised. Nobody is ever going to consider me an underdog. Nobody is going to put me in the same pool as you, because each and every person knows that behind the name, “The Goose.” There is a winner. There is a man that believes in his own ability and hype. But what is “Jon McAdams?” Lasted I checked, it’s a borrowed name because you were adopted and in the end, that family didn’t even wanted to invest in the name, however, that is more or less, the story of your life now, isn’t it? Always chosen, only for people to pull back any form of investment and belief in you, because Jon McAdams brings nothing to the table. People walk out on you, while people follow me.  
 
I might be opening shows, but guess what? During that time, when you and I fought I was closing out shows more than you ever had, and it won’t be such a surprise when it happens again, after all the current stuff going down is done. I mean, you and Dustin, the Spartan Title, Scotty vs he who I should not name. It’s but a matter of time when the Goose is put in the spotlight, and Jon McAdams is once again, push to the side, because at the end of the day, nobody wants to see “Jon McAdams” for who he is. No no, You got pushed to fight someone like RRS for the hardcore title because swinging around a bloody chair was probably all you were really good for, but boo hoo, I didn’t want to do it. But you know what? You did. You are a slave to your own lack of identity, and to this very day, since or last encounter, you are still trying to put your name out there and figure out who the hell you are. And I’m not surprised one bit.
 
At the end of the day, Jon, you probably never well. You were just an orphan boy, raised to be aggressive, but you were always passive, but I see the internal struggle. Hell, we all see it. I watch you, I don’t see a man going all out, but rather holding back. What the fuck do you really want to be? A King? A Main Eventer? Or somebody that someone actually wants to keep? Sure, the first two are possible, why not? But the 3^rd one, that’s kind of asking for too much. Because at the end of the day, it’s not hard to steal a crown. It’s not hard to get the top guy’s attention and put yourself in the center stage for attention. But it’s harder in this business to have people accept you for who you are, and quite frankly Jon, this is where I am the king. I can get away with being “The Goose.” I can get away with changing my look. I can’t get away with saying and doing whatever I want, because unlike you, I’ve have for a long time grown to not give a damn what people think or expect of me. Where you, Jon, are still letting people create your own damn legacy and failing spectacularly at it. I mean, sure, let’s throw you a bone for making that one decision you made of picking a fight with a country boy. I’m sure that’s a huge step for you. Baby steps. I mean, 2 years might be a bit slow, but hey, people grow as different paces, and I’m sure in 10 years, you’ll be what you set out to be. After all, I’m sure someone out there has a fetish for submissive, indecisive, namist, that’s if you discriminate based on name, trademark pending, man child with an over inflated ego  that can only be matched by his own loath for himself.
 
But tell you what? Stop beating yourself up. Stop pointing out the past where you messed up. Beating you is my job, but atleast put up a decent fight this time, will ya? Like, I’m going to need you to take all the energy and aggression you have of Dustin Duke. Take that level 2, and turn it up to 11 for me. Don’t bring that weak ass shit in the ring. Will it help if I said something racist like that Dustin Duke, there fellow? I mean, I’m really trying to see why someone who thinks so highly of himself like Jon McAdams would waste his time on a country hick, and I must assume that maybe, Jon must really hate racists.
 
I mean, this a man, who starts off talking about me, assuming my ethnicity, like a man can’t be white, Asian, samoan, and native American in one instance? Is this why you hate yourself, Jon? Are you racist? Does that make you mad? Last time I checked, nothing gets a white man more angry than being called a racist. But let’s not make this a race issue. At the end of the day, you just hate certain people, or more specifically, you hate people that are more successful than you. And I get it, Jon, I get it a lot. I have it all going on, but make no mistake. I’ve earned my success and popularity. I’ve earned my position putting up with shitty situations and managing to turn it into something great. The Goose, is like magic. Everything he touches, turns to gold, but don’t get your hopes up. Because when I put my hands on you, if it didn’t work the first time, and you still suck, I never said I can perform miracles. But you want my advice, Jon?
 
If you want to be liked, get your ass off my show, Kingdom, crawl your way into Olympus, get as far away from me as possible. And go punch the biggest dick on that show, and maybe, just maaaaaaaaybe. Someone will like you. After all, that man beat up Nobi. What do you even have to lose? But then again, it’s Jon McAdams. He’ll mess it up one way or another. Just take the cheap pop. Just take the easy way out, like always. Find someone that will fall for your bullshit, but unfortunately for you, I have dealt with guys like you for over a decade, and I know. Oh, I know everything. Don’t mix up insanity with omnipotence. You simply cannot comprehend what I know. You cannot comprehend The Goose in any shape or form. As always, Jon, I’m on a different plane of existence you can only dream to be a part of, and after this Sunday, that gap between us is only going to get bigger. But hey, maybe from a distance, I’ll mistaken you for a star. Not because you have a bright future or anything. It’s because …. Well…. You make Vanilla Ice Cream go “dayuuuuuuuuuuuuuum!”

 
When I found you, you were lost. You had become the laughing stock of the Godesses, an easy win for whoever wanted to prop up their meaningless record. Ha, records. That’s all anyone cares about, isn’t it? Every time TyAnna Jupiter makes an appearance, it’s not just “TyAnna Jupiter,” no, it’s always “The Undefeated TyAnna Jupiter,” she’s a woman who has become defined by her record. TyAnna, I didn’t take Diantha under my wing so she could go on a tear and win match after match, I did it because I knew she was a killer.
 
Our own work on Odyssey speaks for us. Ask Serenity Scorpio, ask Megan Harper. We are here for the express purpose of taking that title from your grasp…why? Because we can. In your hands, that title is a trinket. A fashion accessory that you feel validates your existence. You worked so very hard to procure that gold that you’re now the one woman everyone wants. And oh do I want you. I want you in my hands as I choke the life from you, remove your soul and wear your broken spirit as a badge of honour.
 
At Vindication, you’re staring down the barrel of a gun with each eye, a Cage on one side and her deadliest soldier on the other. Whoever wins is irrelevant, just as long as you lose. Maybe the one who doesn’t walk away with the belt can take the Odyssey Women’s Title when that’s unveiled? Why not? It would only continue to prove that Wolvesden are unstoppable when they’re truly focused.
 
But that’s Vindication, we have an Odyssey main event to worry about yet. TyAnna Jupiter, the OWA Women’s Champion, the woman everyone is behind. And Azumi Goto, your tag team partner. Oh Azumi, has your confidence been knocked, darling? Natasha Night made you look like a joke in your last match and now your confidence is shot. I can see it in the way you walk, the way you talk. You’re usually so bright, so beautiful. A flame of energy. But what are you going to do tomorrow night? You’re teaming with the woman who holds what you crave. Your opponent for Vindication sitting at ringside.
 
That pressure is something you have to deal with. At Budokai Tenkaichi, you sent Diantha on her downward spiral, it wasn’t until she found me that she learned you’re nothing special when we strip all the elements back. Who the fuck is Natasha Night? I don’t see her in title contention. I don’t see her challenging for the Ring of Opportunity. Didn’t matter, she still kicked your arse. Azumi, I am so profoundly unimpressed with your strong style bullshit. You hit hard? I’ve been taking hits my whole life. The fact that you’re sharing the ring with me is frankly a farce, a pity offering from a management team who plays favourites.
 
TyAnna knows all about this. She’s a woman who looks down on others, puffing herself up as the hero so many must adore. Yes, you are champion, but was it worth your pride? Your soul? You’re an empty woman, TyAnna, it’s plain as day. When everything you have is gone, what’s left? When we break your little streak and snatch away your precious…what remains of TyAnna Jupiter? Was there ever anything there to begin with? I swear that people like you are bred in a lab. Built from the ground up to be success stories. I’ve heard it all before.
 
Serenity Scorpio was supposed to be hot shit, I put her in her place and she’s yet to even register a victory here. Because that’s what I do, it’s what I’m good at. Cages do not coast on their reputation, we are a family of action! Odyssey is where we shall do war, and we are beset on all sides it seems. Savannah Sunshine was so fed up of my brother slapping her around that she thought she could run away from Wolvesden’s reach…oops. Azumi wants to have a little bit of momentum before Vindication…oops. TyAnna though, you’re the crown jewel of it all. The final piece of the puzzle in our crusade. You hold the keys to the kingdom, and you will give them to us. Know this: after myself and Diantha run through your little makeshift tandem on Saturday night, we’re coming for the whole pot. I cannot promise that you will walk away from our encounter in one piece, but I can promise that you’ll learn a valuable lesson from your experience. That lesson is to never hunt what you can’t kill. Wolves work in packs, and you’re faced with impossible odds now.
 
I am a reasonable woman though, so I’m going to give you a sporting chance and let you know all about what I intend to do. In our little tag match, I’m not going to play nice. I will not be fair. I will not be just. I will do whatever I can to make your life miserable. I will take every avenue that I have to inflict punishment on your person. Everything I do is by design, every advantage I create is what I wanted from the start. Diantha now knows this, and she is ready to show the world. The decimation of Megan Harper was only the beginning. When the dust settles and you’re wondering how things may have gone differently, I want you to remember the faces of the women who made you suffer. The women who shattered the illusion of the Protector of Beauty. Because when you are remembered, you can never truly die. And TyAnna…they will forget you.
 
 
Awaken, my little wolf cub, we have a fresh kill to make.
 

(The Goose has his back turn against the camera, and slightly turns to the side to show that he is on the phone.)
 
Honey? Oh I just called you tonight …when we got the heat turned up to 97 degrees, and the sweat starts bead off my nose…drip into your mouth and all over your eyes … and I pound away at ya… like a pioneer woman… trying to churn butter…When we’re finish… I’m not even gonna cry, no, no, this will be the first night you and I …. Make loooooove without tears. Oops, gotta go, wasting precious word count here. Say hi to the boys and kids for me. Love ya.
 
(The Goose hangs up and looks directly at the camera)
 
Well well well… look what the pizza rat dragged in. Monolith, the OWA Spartan champion. Sorry you had to catch there, calling the good ole missus. After all, they say the small gestures can go a big way. A simple phone call, beating Scotty Adams for the title, Tomato, To-maa-toe. Because yes, Killian, you cool if I call you that? Monolith is pretty stupid. Doesn’t matter. I do acknowledge you as a threat, because guys like you, monsters, don’t exist in this industry these days. I mean, this is pro-wrestling, where strength could and should play a big role. But the reality of the situation is, they can’t keep up.
 
Oh to be born big boned, muscular, ..hairy, you probably considered this a gift. But with how angry you are, nah, you were probably bullied as a youth. I mean, in society, you couldn’t put your hands on anyone without being scrutinized as a bully. This “monster” that I’m sure you are going to tell me that “We” society created, and the cliché, “we” are going to pay for it. Well, scratch that from the record, son. The Goose doesn’t see you as a monster. The Goose isn’t afraid, he isn’t intimidated, The Goose has gone toe to toe with many monsters and men who boast their strength. Each and every single one threatening to break me, strangle me with their bare hands, and what were the end results?
 
Nothing. They amount to absolutely nothing. Because at the end of the day, that’s all you buffoons are all about. Just muscular strength, and you know what they say, the harder you get, the harder I get. You choke me out, the Goose gonna tell “choke me harder, Dainy.” Competition motivates me. The more force you exert on me, the more encouraged I become. Killian, I’m going to make you believe I can defy physics. You can bend, twist, drop, slam me, any damn angle your twisted mind can imagine. I’m not going to snap. My body, this body, a masterpiece, I’ve conditioned to put men like you to shame. That’s right, my presence alone is body shaming ya. But not, you aren’t dealing with the average perfectly toned male body. You dealing with one that contains spirit and charisma out the wazoo! You dealing with the Goose.
 
Monolith, you gonna come at me with everything you got. You better believe that anything you can dish, I can serve on a damn silver platter and smack you with it. Bitch, you done with appetizers now. You dealing with the main course, and I damn hell hope you made room for it. I don’t give a damn that you got 80lbs on me. I’ll rip off your limbs and wrap my arm around your waist, raise you into the heavens, and drive you straight down to hell if I have to. And you know what? It will be a piece of cake. I know you are use to throwing people around like a rag dolls, but on Kingdom, I’m going to pound you like a pioneer woman churning butter, and believe me. Beating you, wiping the floor with ya in front of the OWA universe, the OWA Spartan Champion, is about as small a gesture as it gets.
 
Everyone is gunning for ya, but after our match, you won’t even be an afterthought in my mind. Have fun defending your precious title. Hold on to that one defining trait of yours because intimidating monster isn't working for ya. I've seen bigger, badder, and more abusive pieces of shit. I won't name names, but people know who I'm referring to, and compared to them, you're a vanilla midget. Appearances are deceiving, people can lie, but I can look into your eyes, peer into your very soul, and color me not impressed. For such a big man, I sense no real presences. How disappointing. 

[The following scene occurs right after Isaac's match against Jon McAdams from last week's Kingdom. He steps through the curtain with a few of his representatives helping him to the back as he holds the back of his head with his left hand. He's clearly shaken up, but the physical pain is minuscule compared to the anger he is feeling after he got "cheated" from a victory. Some rookie interviewer approaches Isaac because he doesn't know any better. He stops Isaac and his reps in their tracks. Isaac shoots daggers at him with his intense stare. The interviewer's smile quickly disappears as he nervously begins to shake, with the microphone going all over the place, almost dropping it numerous times.]

Interviewer: Hi, I am here with Thor-Thornton. Isaac Thornton to be exact. Coming off a painful loss - how are you feeling at this time? 

[Isaac is about to blurt out an answer to that ridiculous question but catches himself. Biting firmly on his tongue. He is trying to not make a scene. Trying to remain calm, so he doesn't blow up and have this video end up on TMZ later tonight, since he's a Hollywood "star" after all. But it's no use, Isaac can't pretend to be this nice guy because he's not. Instead of bottling up his frustration, he lets it out.]

Isaac: How am I feeling? This dude just asked - HOW AM I FEELING?!?!?! Clearly, I am just dandy. Everything is peaches, man. It's not like I just lost a match I had no business in losing. IT'S NOT LIKE ARIA JAXON PUT HER HANDS ON ME!!!!! IT'S NOT LIKE WE HAD A REPLACEMENT REF COME OUT AFTER THE OFFICIAL REF WAS LAID OUT BY MY OPPONENT!!!! FUCK REPLACEMENT REFS! THEY RUIN EVERYTHING! NFL, NBA, NOW OWA!!!!! Nah man, this isn't happening right now. Where is Ashton? I know he's hiding back here somewhere! This has to be some cruel prank! Yeah, it has to be! That's the only way this makes sense! Where are the hidden cameras? Where is he?! SHOW YOURSELF!!! Oh - okay, then. No Ashton Kutcher, huh? He's too busy making that shit show that no one watches on Netflix, huh? Yeah, he actually asked me to be on that show after Danny Masteron turned out to be a huge piece of shit! But I turned it down though because I was working on a brand new project and that is here, in OWA. Look - I DON'T HAVE TO BE HERE! UNLIKE EVERY OTHER WRESTLER HERE, I HAVE OPTIONS! I could be on any movie set in the world right now. Rubbing elbows with the likes of Leonardo DiCaprio and Tom Hanks! I could be in so many commercials. I could be on Broadway. I could even release an album. But I put all of that on hold because I wanted to challenge myself. I wanted to help OWA gain more viewers due to this face and from the talent I possess. So it's fair to say that I have made my fair share of sacrifices to just be here. So tell me, Mr. Interviewer person, where are my thank yous? Where are my pats on the back? Hell, why are none of you throwing roses at my feet as I speak? Why is no one concerned about my health right now? Why is Vernon not here beside me, trying to smooth things over with his top star and draw? Why is Jon McAdams not already suspended for putting his hands on a ref? Why is Aria Jaxon not in handcuffs? Hell, why is she even on Kingdom in the first place? Because she says she wants to be on this brand and is granted permission? Is that how it works? Because what just transpired out there could be the last straw! I could very well go to Olympus. They at least have security there! ALL OF THIS COULD HAVE BEEN PREVENTED!!!

Interviewer: To be fair, Isaac - you did attack Aria first tonight. Some are saying you deserve it...

[At this point, Isaac is just so enraged. His face is getting redder by the second as veins are popping out of his neck. Isaac looks like he wants to kill this interviewer and his entire family. Isaac takes a step closer towards the interviewer, but his reps stop him from doing something he will later on regret.]

Isaac: First of all, who are these people you speak of? 

Interviewer: The fans..

Isaac: That's preposterous. The fans love me! Every single one of them!

Interviewer: But when you hit Aria with that superkick and cutter, they were chanting, "F you, Thornton!" 

Isaac: No, no they weren't. They were saying "Thank you, Thornton!" 

Interviewer: I don't think so, Isaac... 

Isaac: Are you saying I'm wrong? Because let me tell you, I am always right! Plus, why on earth would they back Aria? Do these people not watch SSW? Actually, I don't blame them if they don't. They don't have Isaac Thornton on their roster, so they trash. Anyways look, this is all on Aria, as far as I'm concerned. Two wrongs don't make a right. Yet she tried it anyway. She could have seriously injured me tonight. And say she put me out of action for a few months. Then what do my fans have to look forward to during that difficult period of time? Seeing me do my thing on Kingdom is the highlight of their week. It gives them hope and happiness. It puts a smile on their faces! And Aria tried to take that away from them. She hates people, especially kids, confirmed. Therefore, she is an awful human being and I am going to go out of my way to stop her. You're welcome, world. 

Interviewer: That's uh, that's very nice of you, Isaac. So I got word that next week you will be taking on Will Neilson in singles competition. Thoughts?

Isaac: Who? 

Interviewer: Will Neilson. 

Isaac: Willy Nelson? 

Interviewer: No, Will Neilson...

Isaac: Who in the fuck is that? Is that you? Are you Will Neilson? Please, tell me you are. Gonna punch that stupid combover off your head. 

Interviewer: No, he's a Kingdom Alpha, like you. 

Isaac: Like me? There is no one like me. Fuck you for thinking overwise. But Will Neilson? You made that name up, didn't you? Classic banter. Good stuff, see you later. 

Interviewer: No, he's a real person. 

Isaac: Yeah, riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight. 

[Isaac limps off with his representatives acting as his crutches. The scene fades to black.]

Hugh Jass is seen following somebody with a microphone as he struts down the OWA locker-room corridor.
 
“Chris…. I mean, Christopher. Please can I have a word? Chri- “Said Hugh but Chris interrupts him.
 
“WHAT?” Screamed Chris.
 
“I… I just wanted to know why you just left Roy River’s office.” Said Hugh hesitantly.
 
“First of all, it is Mr. Sabertooth to you…. What was your name again?” Asked Chris.
 
“Hugh Jass, Mr. Sabertooth.” Said Hugh.
 
“Hugh Ja… Is this supposed to be funny? Don’t ever say that in front of some feminist or she might make a fuss about it and post it on YouTube for harassing her. For fucks sake.” Said Chris as he has a look of disappointment.
 
“Duly noted, Mr. Sabertooth. But what about my question?” Asked Hugh.
 
“Ah... To answer your question Ass, it is very simple. You must have seen the list of announced matches for next weeks Olympus. So, you must know who I face. I just went in there to thank Roy Rivers for finally making a decision that I agree with. You must know Ass, that I don’t see eye to eye with the management here. They have made a ton of questionable decisions in the past but I particularly enjoy this decision. And you might wonder why…. Ask me Why, Ass?” Said Chris as he waits for Hugh to respond.
 
“Why…. Mr. Sabertooth?” Asked Hugh.
 
“I am glad you ask. So, you must be aware of a company called Strong Style Wrestling, yes? You must also know how I am the greatest professional wrestler in the world too and how I haven’t been pinned or submitted here in the OWA. As much as I would love to say that I am undefeated in SSW…. Well, I am not. And it’s not because SSW is on a different level from OWA like Virgo would have you believe. We already know how that turned out for him at Burning Sky. Like I was saying, Miles Taylor is the guy who ended up beating me. We can get into the details of it because everybody knows that Miles isn’t even on my level. So why the loss you ask? Matthew. An asshole who thought he could get away with stabbing me in the back. But I will get to that nobody and end his pathetic career at Event Horizon. Regardless of that, Miles Taylor has something to claim that nobody in the OWA can. And that’s impressive if we keep the details out of it. So, I will give him that. This is something that he can hold on to for the rest of his career because frankly, I don’t see him getting any other accolade anytime soon. So, next week I got to right the wrong that was done and I cannot be more excited. We clear now, Ass?” Asked Chris.
 
“Yes… Mr. Sabertooth. But my name is….” As Hugh began to speak, Chris was already half way down the corridor. Hugh just shakes his head and walks away.
 

Later that night.
 
Chris is seen in front of his huge ass TV. He is seen watching something with a lot of attention as he continuously fidgets around with the remote control. As the camera pans out, we can see that Chris is watching his match against Miles Taylor from few weeks ago at the Best In The World tour, SSW. He keeps rewinding the moment he tapped out to Miles’s submission and has a disgruntled look on his face.
 
“Losses…. It’s a part of life. They say, you win some you lose some. But that’s something a loser would say. I won’t lie to you. I haven’t been a winner all my life. As a matter of fact, life has been pretty tough from the get go… handing out L’s like the way Tarah Nova is used to. But loss after loss… I was reaching a breaking point in my life. I couldn’t look in the mirror for the fact that I never wanted to see myself as a loser. But times were tough, so I had to get tougher. Even though wrestling came easy to me, I had to work twice as hard. I had to learn how to carry myself better. I had to learn how to be a worthy champion and I did. I did all of that and more. Nobody starts off on a pedestal. You have to make your way to the top and that’s exactly what I did. I was at the top for the longest time. I had stopped taking losses. I was a changed man. A man I was proud to be. Christopher Sabertooth was a brand I made by sheer hardwork. You would know that wouldn’t you Matthew. I heard something similar happened to you when you went your own losing streak back in Alpha Wrestling. You picked yourself up! You changed your demeaner but too bad that you’re still a loser.  But let’s get back to talking about things that are important. Where was I? Ah yes….There’s a reason why I am so cocky. There’s a reason for why I say the things I do. I have been through a lot of shit…. And yet I still stand here, better than ever. So, when people like Isaac Thornton or Scotty Adams or Jon McAdams or even Tarah Nova… When they claim that I am just all talk…. It amuses me. It’s amusing to see people who have L’s engraved on their forehead… People who reek of failure, say things like that about me. So, when Miles Taylor trapped me in his submission. It wasn’t the pain from the hold that was killing me inside. It was the fact that I lost that hurt the most. Regardless of how it all went down… Regardless of Matthew sealing his fate for certain doom… The history books will not show how it all went down. There will just be an ‘L’ next to my name. “Chris looks disappointed in himself as he watches the finish of the match again.
 
“Now, there are two ways I could handle it. I could cry and bitch about it to the management asking them to overturn the decision because of clear outside interference. That’s what the old Chris would have done. That’s what people like Isaac and Jon and Tarah do. They complain about having a loss to their name just because it came through nefarious means. But that’s not what I am about. Fine… I did lose. Miles Taylor did submit me in the middle of the ring. I did tap out. But that chapter stays in SSW. That chapter ended that night. I went back home furious by what had happened, but then cooler mind prevailed and I knew what had to be done. Matthew’s fate is sealed for Event Horizon and he can do all his Protocol … System not found 404 error bullshit or whatever he’s doing. He knew he fucked up the very next week when I hit him across his back with a bat. He is done for… But as for Miles Taylor. What shall we do with this man? I would ask for suggestions if I was not just simply taking to a camera. Not that any of you would have made any suggestion worthwhile. Roy Rivers just handed redemption to me free of charge. Miles Taylor vs Christopher Sabertooth at Friday Night Olympus. It’s a rematch of sorts but this time there won’t be any Matthew coming around to save his ass. No… Miles, you and I have some unfinished business. While I can predict what you’re about to say leading up to our matchup this coming week. You’re going to boast about having a win over me and how you already have beaten me once. I don’t blame you though. If I had a victory over the best wrestler… In fact, the only REAL wrestler in the world, then I would be ecstatic as well. But I can’t do that since there’s nobody better than me. This isn’t going to be like last time…. The situation is completely different and now I am out there for some sweet revenge. You took advantage of the distraction created by that prick…. Now, you will have to pay for the consequences in blood. On a normal week, I would just be looking at this as a stupid match not worth my time. But you are a special case, Miles. Brag about all your victories. Brag about all the momentum that you have leading up to our match. Have fun with it for as long as you like because, Friday the 7^th…. It is all going to come crashing down when you face the reality of being in the ring with the one and only Christopher Sabertooth at his absolute best.  And that’s a nightmare for anybody in that locker-room. When I beat Virgo at Burning Sky, I was expecting to be handed a title shot. I believe that’s how things work here but I have to face you Miles. A man who absolutely detest. You can call on your Phantom Troupe buddies to help you out but this is OWA. Nobody wants to face the consequences of interfering in my business. Virgo faced it for interrupting me when I staked my claim for the Omega Heavyweight Championship. He paid the price…. Now, imagine what a frustrated, hungry for gold, Christopher Sabertooth is going to do to a guy who stole a cheap victory over him. You don’t want to know…. But you are going to find out this Friday.” Said Chris as he lets out a smile. The smile turns into maniacal laughter.
 
“Oh boy… Miles mate. You are fucked. So, might as well blow your horn as loud as you can leading up to this match. You need to get all your shit in. Plug your wrestling schools if you have any. Plug your merch if anybody’s stupid enough to buy it. Plug all your shit because all eyes are on you. The man who holds a victory over Christopher Motherfucking Sabertooth. They want to see if you can take the ball and run with it. They want to see what Miles Taylor has to offer in the OWA! But it ain’t going to lead to anything because you will be wheeled out in a gurney hoping that this nightmare ends. Hoping that you never faced me in OWA or SSW. Hoping that you never took the chance and pulled a quick one on me. But it’s too late for that Miles. You’re waist deep into trouble and there’s no Matthew to pull you out. You bring you stiff strikes. You bring all your submissions. You bring all your grappling prowess. But frankly Miles, nothing is going to be enough for what I have in store for you. But being an enthusiast for this business, I seriously suggest you to take time and work on whatever you want to say. Take all the time to brag about how you in fact did beat me. Take the time to talk to Huge Asshole and the crew backstage and gloat about being the best wrestler in the world. Because after this week, people will never talk about Miles Taylor again. Sure, you caught me off guard before. But this is OWA. This is my house… This my Olympus to rule. This is my ring. The history books may continue to mark an L next to my name but the people will forget about what happened at SSW after our match this coming week. All they will be talking about is how Christopher Sabertooth relentlessly destroyed this man… You are not ready Miles. Nobody is.” Said Chris as he smirks at the camera.

[The scene starts with Isaac sitting in some high tech massage chair in his office because Isaac clearly deserves nothing but the best. He is in his own little world at the moment as he dozes off. Probably dreaming about winning all of the Oscars and Emmys. That or murdering lions with his bare hands because he's tough as fuck. One of his assistants tries to wake him since a cameraman is here and it's pretty creepy how he is just filming him sleep. After a few nudges Isaac moves, signaling he isn't dead and takes off his sleeping eve cover.]

Isaac: You woke me from my slumber. Why is this? 

Assistant: Um, the cameraman is here...

Isaac: Oh, you let him in without my permission? I was vulnerable in this chair you know? He could have stabbed me or some shit. And the blood woulda been on your hands, Mr. Assistant Man. You would have been the main reason as to why a once in a lifetime megastar died in cold blood at such a young age. Tragic it would have been. Tragic is also the word I would use to describe how you do your job. Therefore, I have come to the conclusion that you're fired. BEEEEEEEEE GOOOOOOOONEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!

Assistant: Yo-you can't do this!

Isaac: Just did, bitch. Plus I have like fifty assistants. I need to downsize. Was thinking of having a series of fights to the death to help solve this epidemic, but firing people the old-fashioned way is cool too. But yeah, bye. 

[Isaac tries to get out of the chair but he is far too comfortable as he now sips on his glass of wine.]

Isaac: Mmmm, I like wine and it appears that so does my opponent. Well, the other kind of whine, that is. Jon McAdams, is it? Ok, cool. So like, who pissed in your cheerios this morning, huh? You're so tense and worked up, that the shade of your face matched your hair and outdated mustache. Only creeps sport mustaches by the way, at least, that's the stereotype. Such as pedos, and by no means, am I calling you a pedo. It's just ironic how you talk about how you want to help build and mold "young" wrestlers into superstars. That's all. But you see, I think I know where your temper stems from. Actually, it branches out into a plethora of reasons but let's focus on the one most relevant this week and that is our guest referee, Dustin Duke. Correct me if I'm wrong, but you two don't exactly get along, no? Huh, imagine that, someone not liking an unlikable person, such as yourself? Just crazy! But hey, let's not beat around the bush here because you accused me of doing nothing but rambling when I have this camera pointed towards me and that's fair. I suppose I talk a little too much, but hell, when you enjoy something, you want to do it as much as possible, yes? And boy oh boy, do I love to talk...yeah, spoiler alert. But anywho, I just find it odd how you cry about me rambling, when you are guilty of committing the same crime. Book em Dano! So...I suppose that makes you a hypocrite then? The wrestling world sure needs more of those. Sarcasm, Jon, that was sarcasm. Just had to point that out since wrestlers aren't exactly known for what's between their ears. Which is fair because we get dropped on our heads a lot. Some more than others and I think you fall into that category. Judging by the flimsy arguments and outlandish opinions you decided to spew and think was good enough for me to listen to, that is. Very disappointing, might I add. But then again, that sums up your entire stay here in OWA. So I think it's quite fitting. 

But let's go back to your rambling. I notice you regurgitate the same old same old each time you speak. At least, when it comes to the most recent times. Yeah, I don't usually keep an eye on you because well, you aren't usually doing anything of importance. Unless you consider sitting in a corner and twiddling your thumbs while the likes of me blow past you when it comes to opportunities, then sure, very exciting stuff. So earlier today I sat and listened to what you had to say about me, as well as your words directed at Aria from a week or two ago. Plus maybe a backstage segment or two when the remote was out of my reach when watching the show back because I am just that committed to my work. So your whole thing is you wanted to help the inexperienced young guns become seasoned stars and household names. In all honesty, I don't remember any of this, besides you trying to treat Dustin as your guinea pig, even after the fact he beat you. Is that how it works? When some new guy beats you, you want to surf on their wave of momentum because you are incapable of creating any sort of buzz on your own? Because that is what it feels like. I just love the fact that you see yourself as some gatekeeper. That you have this ability to turn water into wine. Or turn no names into stars. As if you have the Midas Touch. I must be missing something here because you are as ordinary and as cookie-cutter as they come. That you are destined to be in the middle of the pack for the remainder of your sad, stagnant career. It's true, I don't know much about you, so thank you for giving me a brief rundown on what you have accomplished up until this point. It's very much appreciated. But I get the impression that as you rattled off your accomplishments, that it was meant to strike fear into my heart. To cause my legs to shake, to create doubt in my mind...to the point I shouldn't even bother showing up for this match because I could never compete with someone like you. But in reality, it did the opposite. All it did was make me feel sorry for you. 

And I will happily explain why. What I took away from it is you have already peaked in your somewhat young career. That sure, you won some mid-tier championship at the place we aren't supposed to mention as we stay in our little safe bubble and pretend the outside world doesn't exist...so you did that, you won that title, you beat these so-called "legends" and now you have arrived to OWA...meaning you either didn't like it at your previous employer or you got kicked to the curb because they viewed you as what you truly are and that is expendable...but anywho, you did all of that, come over here...and you have accomplished, what exactly? Seeing as how you are this "legend slayer", you should be at the very top at the moment. It should have taken no effort either. It's something you should have accomplished without even breaking a sweat. I mean, since you are undefeated against Finnegan Wakefield in singles competition, you should be the one with the title and not him. And yet here you are, empty-handed. A man that is a shell of his former self. A man that was expected to take that next giant step as he signed his name on the dotted line of his OWA contract...and you haven't done shit. Stealing money from Vernon's pockets, nice. I can only imagine that Vernon wanted the likes of you to take the ball and run with it until you scored a touchdown, but all you've been doing is fumbling opportunities away left and right. And then when you try to claw back to relevance, you only get the Heisman stiff arm by your more talented opponent as you fall back on your ass. Then again. it's as if you knew it yourself that you have peaked, that you had nothing else to offer as a wrestler, so you took a step back to take on a coach like role, a yoda type of life. Trying to pass down some wisdom and knowledge to the rookies, when the fact of the matter is, we don't want that shit. We don't even extend our arms to catch it. We just let it hit the turf aka where it belongs. I mean how are you going to give away these secret tips on how to make it to the top of the mountan...when you haven't even reached that point yourself? The way your brain operates...it's mindblowing. It truly is. 

And in these ramblings, you stick to the same two bullet points. One of them I have already mentioned, which is wanting to teach the youth some valuable lessons and the other is how you are going to turn it around...to resurrect your career from the dead. And each week you say you will get back on track...that this week won't be all doom and gloom, that there will finally be sunshine and rainbows for you Jon, but it still hasn't really happened. You are still standing directly under the dark cloud that hovers above you. And I am that dark cloud. Look into my eyes! You aren't getting a key victory over me this week. You aren't getting a shred of momentum at my expense. Because the way I see it, we are in somewhat similar situations. We both have to prove ourselves that we are ready for a bigger workload, to go back to main eventing shows on the regular. And I know I am ready. I know I am capable of doing much more because I actually still have potential to tap into, while you have shown your hand. We have seen your best and your best just isn't good enough. In other words, you are a finished product. While I still have plenty of room to grow. Because when you think about it, I am still adjusting. I mean, I am just some Hollywood actor that decided to make the transition to wrestling because I thought I would be good at it. And I was wrong...I am GREAT at it. I still don't think I have even wrestled ten matches yet and I already have a world title match under my belt. Sure, I didn't win it, but it was a learning experience. Because when you are coming off a bitter loss, it's up to you whether you want to learn from it or not. And you have clearly decided not to as you continue to be stuck in the muck. Next, I could go into my style of offense, something you wasted so much time talking about, but what's the point? Your mind is made up. You don't think it's effective. That it will only cause me to be in a wheelchair before I turn thirty. Again, I could easily refute these points, but why should I when I can show you tomorrow night? But then again, I might not need to, given the referee situation. I might not even have to lift a finger and that is fine with me because being the bigger picture kind of guy that I am, I don't mind resting up for matches that will actually matter. Matches that will help elevate me and my career. And this match right here ain't it. Just being honest.

So yes, let's raise our glass, ladies and gentlemen...and pour one out for the soon to be fallen, Jon McAdams. May his forgettable name never be forgotten. Oh wait...

[Isaac smirks as he puts his sleeping eye cover on and enjoys the massage once again. Camera fades to black.]

The scene opens up to a cemetery on a bright Saturday afternoon.  Tombstones are lined up in perfect order for what seems like forever.  Every one of them the exact same height, shape, and shade of white.  The only difference between them besides the names are the flowers that some have placed on them.  We soon see why as a huge monument sits in the center of the cemetery that reads “Coastal Carolina State Veteran’s Cemetery”.  Every single person that lies underneath these memorial markers was once a member of the United States Armed forces.  The place is completely empty except for one man walking down one of the many rows of graves.  The camera begins to zoom in on him and we see that it is OWA Superstar, Jeff X.  He’s dressed in a scuffed up pair of work boots, a dusty pair of Levi’s jeans, and a black NASCAR #3 Dale Earnhardt t-shirt.  His camouflage Realtree hat sits perched atop his head and the dog-tags hanging from the chain around his neck sway back and forth as he walks.  He’s carrying a six pack of Bud Light cans in his left hand, with one missing from it (presumably the open one that he carries in his right hand).  He stops at one stone in particular and looks down on it, smiling ever so slightly at it.  He places the now five pack of beer on the grass by his feet and takes a long swig from his open can as a bead of sweat drips down his forehead from the blistering summer sun.  He begins to speak with that familiar, light southern accent of his, but he never looks at the camera, or breaks his gaze away from the stone in front of him.


“I, along with the rest of the Kingdom roster, have had the last two weeks off of work.  The Olympus brand took center stage last week and rightfully so, as they all put on a damn fine show at Burning Sky.  I was on a lengthy hiatus before coming to OWA, so you’d think after the last month of matches that I’ve been putting on each Sunday night at Kingdom, that I’d be grateful for the small vacation.  But to tell you the truth, I was just restless the entire time.  I didn’t know what to do with myself.  You see, there was a time in my life where there was no such thing as time off.  Not even a second of being “off the clock.”


Jeff takes another big swig out of the can and apparently finished it, because he crushes the can afterwards and lets it fall to the grass below him.  He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a pack of Marlboro Reds, sticking one in his mouth and lighting it before continuing.

“You see after high school, I decided against pursuing a football career.  I didn’t want to play college ball and have to go back to school.  I was sick of sitting in a classroom.  I wanted to do something else.  Something not many people get to do.  The Marine Core offered me that chance.  They took me away from my home, for the first time in my life, and I was thrilled about it.  I mean, sure, it wasn’t always fun.  I got my ass chewed out so many times that it isn’t even funny, but they are the ones that took a small-town kid from North Carolina with no real goals or ambitions and gave him a purpose that would in time lead me to the wrestling ring.  They gave me a family for the first time in my life.  Once a Marine, always a Marine.  But they also taught me how to fight.  They taught me how to kill.  These are skills I would need when they put my ass on a plane and shipped me and my unit to the middle of the fucking desert.”

Jeff takes a long drag from his smoke and then reaches down, ripping another of the cans from the six-pack rings and then cracking it open.


“I don’t regret any of the time I spent over there.  Sure, off time was never a thing.  There was always a constant threat looming over you that all of us had to be ready for at any given time.  Things weren’t always easy and a lot of shit happened that I’m not going to go into right now that will always be permanently etched into my brain.  But my country called on me and I, like the rest of us, answered the call.  Sometimes ugly shit has to be done and somebody had to do it, so no, I regret nothing about my time there…even if not all of us made it back.”


Jeff wipes the sweat from his forehead and takes a sip from his can as he looks down at the grave which we can now see is marked…





“Loss…loss is always difficult.  I’ve faced a lot of tough losses in my life and my career, but I don’t think any of them was tougher than the loss of my best friend.  But it was that loss…that devastating, tragic loss halfway around the world, in the middle of fucking nowhere that made me want to do everything in my power to never suffer another loss again.  It’s why I take this wrestling craft of mine so seriously.  Losing…losing just isn’t a fucking option for me.”

He pauses to sip from his beverage and take another drag from his cigarette.


“The grief, the heartache, and the pain that come with loss…that’s just something I’ve dealt with enough in my life and I’m done with it all.  Somebody else can deal with that shit, because it sure as fuck isn’t going to be me.  And tomorrow, that somebody is going to be Aria Jaxon.”

Jeff hits his smoke once more and flicks it off, out of the camera’s view.
 
“Aria Jaxon…the ‘Queen of OWA’.  I’m not going to lie.  I know this is probably my biggest match in OWA to date.  After all, Aria has been right in the thick of the main event scene since arriving here several weeks ago and boldly calling out some of the top superstars in the Kingdom locker room.  And, who knows, maybe she is better than every one of the men on her little list and maybe she can defeat every one of them.  It’s not as if any of them are particularly impressive anyway. But the name that wasn’t on her list is mine.  That’s because Aria knows deep down in her little black heart that she can’t defeat me.  She knows that she can’t beat me.  She knows that I am bigger, stronger, faster, and more athletic than she is.  But, hell, that goes for most of her opponents.  She typically still finds a way to be successful by using her intelligence and experience.  She’s been around the block.  She knows her way around that ring better than almost anyone on the Kingdom roster…almost.”


Jeff takes several gulps from his beer before continuing.

“Aria there is no in-ring knowledge that you have that I do not already possess.  I’ve been around this industry long enough to have seen every trick in the book from men twice as crafty as you could ever hope to be.  So you can come out each and every week and talk about how you’re the ‘Ruler of Kingdom’ and how it’s only a matter of time before you become the OWA World Champion…but unfortunately for you, the powers that be here on Kingdom have decided to place your scrawny little ass in the ring with me and I have to imagine that the inevitable loss to me tomorrow night, will certainly derail any sort of championship aspirations that your delusional mind may have.”


Jeff takes one big swig from his brew and crushes it, dropping it to the ground to join the other one.  He bends down and rips yet another beer from the rings, cracking it open.

“The OWA World Title…the thing every single person on this brand is after.  Everything Aria has been doing since coming here has been all about that belt.  It’s funny the extent that Aria and some others here will go to just to try and wrap championship that around their waist.  You see, Aria, it’s not about that for me.  I could care less about the World Title.  I didn’t come to OWA to claim a fucking belt.  I came here to cause pain and misery to every single person in that locker room.  I came here to make all of you feel some of the loss that I’ve felt during my fucking life.  To make all of you feel everything that I felt while watching my best fucking friend get blown up 7,000 miles away from his god damn family.”


Jeff pauses to compose himself as his voice had been rising and his fist was clenched.  He closes his eyes for a moment and takes a long drink, relaxing a bit before going on.


“If I do that.  If I keep going out there week after week and punishing every opponent they put in front of me…making them taste that loss…just like Kai Stevens and Callum Valentine did on the last episode of Kingdom…then the accolades, the titles, the championships…they will all take care of themselves.  I have very little doubt about that.  Hell, after I embarrass you tomorrow, management may very well decide to throw me into the championship picture and throw you back where you fucking belong…competing on Saturday nights on motherfucking Odyssey.”

Jeff laughs to himself for a moment before gazing back down at the stone before him and his smile fades quickly.  His cold blue eyes stare at the words on the stone and it’s impossible to tell what kind of emotions are running through the man’s head.

“I really don’t even know what you’re doing here in the first place, Aria.  I mean didn’t they give you women your own show?  Shouldn’t you be in Chicago today competing on that?  I can guarantee you it would be more fun for you than being slaughtered by someone who is both physically and mentally superior to you in every way imaginable on live TV in front of a tough Philadelphia crowd that already justifiably doesn’t like you.  You have 24 hours until our match, Aria.  For your own sake, reconsider your brand allegiance.  Go back to the Goddess division before your career takes an extremely sharp turn for the worse in Philly tomorrow night.  Because if you show up and walk down that ramp, into that ring…I will show zero mercy on you.  You will feel every single thing that I’ve said you will.  Woman or not, your pain and misery will be inevitable.”

Jeff reaches down and grabs another can from the ring, cracking it open despite already having a near full one in his hand.  He turns it upside down and begins pouring it out directly in front of the grave.

“Cheers, brother.  Happy birthday.”

With that Jeff turns his open beer up and chugs it, while simultaneously still pouring the other out on the grave.  He finishes drinking his and emptying the other at almost the same time and crushes them both.  He slides what remains of the six pack over so that it sits touching the grave of Jeff’s fallen friend.  He then throws another smoke into his mouth, lighting it, and picks up the empty cans that he had left on the ground.  For the first time he looks directly at the camera.


“See you tomorrow night Aria.  Semper Fi.”


Jeff reaches out and touches the grave one time before turning his back and walking out of sight.

Outside the frame,
Is what we're leaving out,
You won't remember anyway.
I can go,
With the flow.
But don't say it doesn't matter anymore.








“They say that absence makes the heart grow fonder.”


A broadcast transmission from myself to the public via Omega Wrestling Alliance's various platforms has not been heard in quite a long time. Not out of pride from holding this Spartan Championship, and not from shame of losing to Kai Stevens, once again showing that it is possible to pin my shoulders to the mat for three seconds to the world. An infallible creature, I have never claimed to be. But it is not about the losses in my record. It is about the wins I attain when the chips are down.


As far as I am concerned, that is a pair.


The first, is the match I won against Michael Bishop to first throw my hat in the ring for the Spartan Title. That, even with its misgivings, was when the powers that be knew my potential as a top threat in this company. I had, in the parlance of our times, arrived.


The second, is the crowning of a new champion. The start of a voyage that has its first opportunity to meet its demise this Sunday against Layne Kurobane. A man I have watched closely since it was first revealed that he would be my initial challenger.


Very closely.


“But I have not been as absent as my match record may suggest, Layne. As you took notice of, I have been keeping myself busy in the arena, watching your every move. Analyzing what is my first official claimant of this gold I possess.”


Shined and mounted above the window to the outside world, I use this belt as a symbol of what I have taken as my own from the world below, but leave it just above that window as a reminder of what is left out there for me to prove. When your ultimate goal is total societal shift, the little reminders keep you from becoming complacent.


That being said, I have taken this new-found platform and used it to bridge a gap between myself and those in the position I was not long ago. The people on the street who could not buy a cup of coffee, let alone an opportunity in a conventional world, need inspiration, and I am the man who can give it to them. Let them know that the conventional methods rarely work, as we live in an unconventional world. No, now the only way to get ahead . . .


Is to forge your own path.


“But beyond just that, I have been analyzing something else. My solitary nature has always been very important to me. The thought that, if you cannot achieve something on your own, it is not worth achieving, is central to my cause. But I have realized that my success can be something of a catalyst amongst the people who used to see me as their peer. They can witness the success that I have come across and go forth and collect their own successes, not for me, but for themselves. The pride I can attain is minimal, but at least I know I will not be the only one deconstructing old beliefs that a wallet and a name are what set people apart.


What sets us apart is our determination. And never have I been more determined than with this gold on my mantle.


The same could be said, I am sure, of you, Layne. You, no doubt, are as determined as ever to prove that our decidedly large size difference does not matter to the outcome of a contest in which skill and wits can be just as important. But you really do not have to prove that to me, or anyone with a brain. We all know that my stature is not what brought me to the dance in the first place. No, it was a sheer disregard of well-being. Both mine, and my opponent's. I am the man willing to take the extra step, utter the extra word that will break both your body and will. And, if you are not of the strongest constitutions, the same can be said about your mind.


Although, if you continue to speak of championships you do not possess with such throwaway talk of the World Championship when you have not stepped in the ring with the holder of either, I am not sure I really need to do much in the way of worrying about your mental faculties.”


Finnegan Wakefield is viewed as the top champion by longevity and prestige of the title he holds, that much is true. A competitor by every measure, he has defended the belt at every turn and represented himself and the company at the highest level. But to ignore the Spartan Championship's importance in the structure is to ignore the fact that while Finn will be seated at ringside to witness Scott Adams compete against Will Neilsen, I will be defending my prize in the branded OWA Arena.


The place where Omega Wrestling Alliance fans call home, I will be the one who puts their title on the line for the every man. Think about that. While Finn's title has the name . . .


Mine has the pulse of the people.


Content with that? Contentment is an interesting concept. Am I happy with this title? Yes. Does that mean that I have stopped pursuing other ventures, other prizes? Of course not. Layne Kurobane has made the time-honored mistake of mixing up my dedication to keeping the prestige that comes with a hotly contested championship with the same complacency I have sworn against time and again. But, alas, there is a time and a place for myself and Finnegan Wakefield, should he be the possessor of that top prize. This Sunday, the time and place is yours, Layne.


Instead of analyzing my desires, maybe you should be considering yours. Because if it really is your wish to lose your quality of life and meet your end at a rate half that of the average man . . .


I have no problem arranging that.


“You claim you will take everything from me . . . and more. Hyperbole aside, rest assured that you will be taking nothing away from me, Layne. You will step into that ring with me, throw everything you have at me, and you will end up lying on the mat. All of the hail, snow, sleet, torrential rain, thunder and lightning you could metaphorically bring with you, all of it will be for naught. This belt is going to stay around the waist of the machine who is bringing the men of favor and esteem to their knees, and if you think this belt is everything to me, you are sadly mistaken. For I am much, much more than a title. I am the harbinger of a revolution that you are stepping in front of. One with no plans of stopping for you, or anyone else. That title does not make me who I am, and I do not make that title what it is. We are two separate entities whose paths are currently working on the same course.


Onward and upward we both move. As for you, Kurobane, I am afraid I must tell you that tomorrow . . .


Tomorrow is never going to come.”

The Ballad of Misery (Part #5)

A meme?

Seriously, is this some kind of practical joke or something? You *really* want me to go out there; act like I'm supposed to take somebody 'seriously' when that person doesn't even take themselves seriously? 

(shoulder shrug). 

Okay, you know what - it *is* a nice 'week off' for a change at least; really shouldn't burn all that much time. Like a good old 'In and out' job. Let the kiddies have their fun, let Will have some fun as he realises that all he represents, is the decay of our very culture. Of the descent, into short lived, 'flavour of the month' identities plaguing this realm. Each trying to feed on their own fifteen minutes of fame, yet being nothing more than a cheap attempt at a few laughs. 

Not even the good sort of laughter either - this is the sort of humour that would be more akin to an elementary school than anything else. Y'know, the sort of people who would *enjoy* that brand of comedy. 

(Laughter can be heard, as we see Scott sitting atop a honeycomb coloured office style of chair, within a setting that should be familiar to the viewer. After all, it is his own personal 'office' - well, rather, the Adams Enterprises office). 

I must digress though. Maybe you *will* be a challenge. Maybe you have some 'talent' in that ring that we haven't been able to see yet. After all, you have been put up against me for a reason and I shouldn't "count my chickens before they hatch" seeing as that would make me a hypocrite, wouldn't it now? Nor am I somebody who 'phones in' showcases. Who half asses anything he ever does, seeing as after all: Why should I half-ass anything? 

What message does it *really* serve at the end of the day? That goes both in life and in wrestling. I'm a perfectionist - everything I do, must be laid out to the very last moment. Until you have no choice but to realise the fate that awaits you. All at *my* design. As much as you are really a 'joke', you are also the perfect exhibit for it all. 

The perfect marionette, to unveil just what awaits Finn when he stands before me. When his crown, becomes nothing more than mere ash. As much as I *could* simply show up, take the win and then get back to dealing with more important things. 

Like A- planning for December 22nd and finally sealing it all and B- the impending match with Finn, I *shall* indulge you. I shall saviour each wince that leaves your lips. Each realisation that as much as you might wish to believe the people are on your side. As much as you might desire them to give you the cheap laughter. 

The moment where they can all rally behind you, that just like all 'memes'. All aspects of "pop culture", it is fleeting. It is a mere moment of euphoria, as it all crashes and burns around you. As you slip further and further into the mire. The prison, of the facade you have enabled. 

Hey, at least you got your moment in the limelight, isn't that right? 

(Another shoulder shrug, as Scotty mockingly pokes his tongue out, before laughing). 

You know, this is actually legitimately fun. Almost as fun as when Bianca and I went to the nightclub to 'let our hair down' yesterday. First time we've been able to do that in a while and whilst I'm not a big fan of nightclubs - it was somewhere to simply 'unwind' and allow myself to be immersed within the music. Interact with people and spend some time within the community. Engage with those, who more often than not - only get to see us in a 'professional' light. 

Who may not otherwise get the opportunity to see that behind the 'aura'. Behind the veil that wrestling provides, we are just like them. We are just fortunate enough to be able to live out our desires. To be able to enact our causes. Our wishes, upon the grand stage. Yes, I don't *agree* with the culture. 

Yes, I am crafting the world within the image that has been desired. That has been craved for, but that doesn't mean at my roots, I am some robot. Devoid of all emotion. Devoid of any sense of reality, because it is actually the *reality* that has become the catalyst for my 'purge'. It is people like you Will, that fuel my cause. My desire, to bring about the true purity. To wash the slate clean; unwrap the wool from the eyes of those who have allowed the lights to blind them. Who cannot comprehend, the poison that had infiltrated all that we once cherished. 

You see, you represent that 'wool'. That poison - flowing through the skin, decaying the inner fibres and perpetuating the whole 'gimmickry'. The illusion, that wrestling - no, once again, this is about *life*, is some sort of prostitute, that gives you what you want. That 'pleasures' you in return for the sole act of throwing money at it. As much as you and those who continue to ride that passage might believe that's the case - you're sadly mistaken.

(Sighing, an image of a temple can be seen manifesting itself behind him, as the rest of the setting remains the same). 

It is people just like you. Just like the sheep who 'buy in' to your schtik, that have made it this way, Will. You sit there and claim that you want what's 'best' for wrestling. That as a medium of entertainment, a 'soap opera' that we *should* embrace gimmicks. That we should take it for the experience that it is. It is that mentality, that has led us down the passage to where we lie today. A passage, that has left the industry up in flames, with people believing that just because they can relate to the people. That the people can relate to them, that they are deserving - or rather, that the perch that they find themselves atop, is warranted. 

Newsflash: It's really not. 

Again, you need to remember that people are sheep; will only claim to support you as long as you continue fuelling their beliefs. As long as they can align with you - use you as their 'shield'. The moment they can no longer do so, you'll find yourself on the curb. Abandoned and left to wonder just *why* you allowed them to control you. Just like those 'memes' you cherish so much. 

(Smirking, Scott reclines further within his chair, as various 'memes' and social media messages flash upon the screen).

Soon, you will be just like them. Lost in the annuls of time, only remembered for the fleeting moments *you* were the 'flavour of the month'. Just remember that, as it all burns around you.
---

(After a brief fade, we re-open to Scott in a slightly different setting, though no less familiar to us. After all, it is his usual Philadelphia residence - well, the spare room that is annexed to the residence anyway, where he is laying atop a king sized bed, a gentle smile across his face).

It's all turning around. It's all starting to become truly *right*. I never thought I would find bliss again. I never thought, that I would ever be able to *truly* claim happiness, but here we are. Knowing that everything is finally starting to rise - knowing that Amelia *will* be coming over with Jane in November; she will be able to see the fruits of my promise to her back in 2015 come to life. That she will see the inauguration of the 'Community Centre' I promised I would build in Key West. In fact, I've specifically moved the opening date to the 11th of November so that she *can* be here to see it. 

I just wish that I could say the same about Chili. (Slightly dropping his head, he feels a small tear begin to run down the left side of his face). I just wish I knew *how* to save her. How to free her from the prison. How to make it all vanish - yet I can't. No matter what I claim. No matter what I try, I just cannot seem to be the light she craves.

You may not realise it now, but your presence alone is guiding her. I can sense it within, each time I look into her eyes.

Oh how I wish that was true, Joely. 

It is. You may not feel it, but she's slowly getting stabler with each tick of the clock. She's slowly finding herself. She admires you Scotty. You know that.

(Slightly smiling, he feels a relaxing breath leave his lips).

Yeah, I know. I just wish it was never this way. That she didn't have to go through all this, but I trust you Joely. You know her better than anyone else would. (Another sigh). I know that some day, she will be free again. She will be able to know that the warm embrace, has always been there for her. Just as her embrace; her light has always guided me. I know she'd be proud to know about Bianca and I finally committing. *Finally* deciding to eternally secure her bond - even if she is only there psychologically. Just like you, Joely. 

This is why I still fight. This is why I am continuing to craft the pure world. The world, that we *all* should desire. Even if that means watching this one burn in flames; setting it alight with the gasoline of finality. Even if that means I myself, must burn with it.

(Feeling his traditional half-smirk appear, he lets out a gentle laugh).

Yet they still don't understand. Maybe they never will - though soon enough, they will have no choice ---.

Maintaining the Focus

I did it.

I actually did it.

Honestly, it's surreal to me. Yes, I went into that match with the intention of winning but Serenity's a 2nd generation superstar. Her name is on the marquee and her prestige is something I could only *dream* of achieving. Especially this early into my career. Especially when for all intents and purposes, I'm still "dipping my toes into the water". But I went out there, took a deep breath and managed to find a way to beat her. To prove not just to all of you out there, but also to myself that I *do* belong here. That I *can* make it in this industry. 

I know, I shouldn't get too far ahead of myself just yet - it is still just one victory. One match, that I don't even know if I would be able to replicate if we were to do it all again but I'm just so proud of myself. I'm just so excited that I actually managed to pull it off. It's just as Aris told me when I called her to thank her for all the training. All the effort that she had put into the week. All the things that she taught me in the lead up to this match: 

"You have the talent. It's simply about how you focus; now you have to keep going," along with remarking "Can't fall into the same trap you did against Kaleisha" which is true. I understand that; know that the first win was the 'easy' part of my quest. The hard part, is figuring out how I plan on capitalising on this moving forward.
-*-*-*-

[Kiara can be seen, within the confines of the 'Caramel' district 'hub' of sorts (well, a community centre), atop a plush azure nylon seat, a broad smile across her face. She's here to meet with Chelsea Hopkins, who had been recommended to her by Emily - and is renowned as one of the best psychologists in the area. Yes, we said a psychologist. See, this *isn't* actually for any mental check up or anything like that, but rather: more of a general chat. A way for Kiara to 'train her mind' to focus more on one solitary aspect, rather than the myriad of thoughts that run through her mind at any given microsecond. 

Something, that has led to her having the oft-mentioned and discussed 'concentration' issues that she does. Issues, that have followed her throughout her entire life. Even right now, she's imagining herself dying her hair; looking into a mirror as the light reflects off her shimmering blue eyes. Staring out into the distance, as people scamper around the centre, looking for either their next appointment, or even just hanging out and talking to one another. Watching, as she awaits her name to be called.]

Kiara: *to herself, whispering* Okay. Just remember what Emily told you. Take deep breaths and use a notepad if you have to jot down what she tells you. It'll be fine - plus, it's a way to sustain the success. To best manage to replicate what you did against Serenity.

[Gently sighing, Kiara glances around, making sure that her name hasn't been called yet. Or at least, that she *didn't* miss it if it has been, before nodding to herself as she notices that the receptionist is busily engaged with another patron (a male, who looks to be in the 23-28 age range, with 'dirty' auburn hair and a black t-shirt). 

Inhaling, Kiara turns slightly to the Television screen about five feet in front of her, which is currently playing one of the various 'soap operas' that are usually on around this time of day. Much like it was back home in Australia, which elicits a soft laughter to leave her lips.]

Kiara: *thinking* Seems like that doesn't change, no matter where you visit.

PA System: Kiara Roberson, to room 32. 

[Hearing her name, Kiara uses her hands to push herself upwards; begin to make her way towards the corridor on the other side of the room, knowing that now, her attention must turn to absorbing; digesting all of the information that Chelsea shall be throwing her way.]
-*-*-*-

Like, this week - I am taking part in my first match where it's *not* just me and my opponent in a one on one setting. Something that I'll admit, I didn't even do in training, but I *do* have experience in this setting. Albeit on a completely different scale; on the track instead of within a wrestling ring. So, I really don't know what to even expect from this match up, or well, anything about Belle Hughes or Roni Di Vii. The two, who are my opponents for this week. I know, I probably *should* learn a thing or two about them, so that I'm not *completely* in the dark about what they can do, which I have at least done a little of. 

I *do* know that Roni is known as being ruthless and malicious towards her opponents - much like Kaleisha and that she will always have the support of her boyfriend Damien Grimm at ringside. Something that I cannot allow myself to be distracted by. Or even let play into my though processes going into this match. Even though in the corner of my mind, I know he might see fit to aide and abet Roni in her quest of winning. After all, Ricki and Emily both told me that most managers have no qualms with getting involved to help their 'client' get the victory. 

Almost as if it was some sort of customer service. At least, that's how I envision it being. So, I know I'll have to be mindful of him - and her as well. Again, she is *very* dangerous in her own right from the tape I managed to watch of her. 

Belle on the other hand, I only know about her rodeo background. Nothing else. Like, I know she has tricks from rodeos and that she won't be an easy challenge, just like everybody else - but otherwise, she is a complete unknown to me. Emily and Ricki weren't able to help out either when I asked them. As they told me there wasn't any tape on Belle, unlike Roni, who they luckily *did* have footage on. Oh well, I guess I'll learn more about her in the ring, I guess. Just like she'll be learning about me in the ring. As will Roni. 
-*-*-*-

[Looking across the freshly polished oak table, Kiara notices Chelsea sitting atop a black office style chair (much like the one that has been set up for her to sit atop), looking at her desktop computer screen. Typing in details about a separate client, or at least, that's what we *assume* she's typing about at this time.]

Kiara: *gently* Hey Chelsea. They told me I could come in.

[Chelsea looks up and smiles, softly laughing as she notices the slightly nervous expression upon Kiara's face.]

Chelsea: *gentle, smiling* Yeah. *Motioning to the chair about four feet in front of Kiara* Sit down hun. Kiara, isn't it?

[Kiara nods as she sits down atop the chair, a slight smile beginning to arise across her face.]

Kiara: *softly* Yeah.

[Glancing at her computer, Chelsea nods as a slight glance from us at the screen reveals that she has a 'dossier' of sorts that had been sent to her by Emily. Hovering over it, it contains the basic information once would expect from a dossier (occupation, hobbies, reasons for being here) as well as a brief breakdown on what Emily hopes Chelsea can get Kiara to achieve.]

Chelsea: *calm* Emily was telling me that you tend to lose focus a lot; that you want to try and mitigate that, in order to advance yourself as a wrestler. Is that correct?

[Kiara simply nods, humming an 'uh-huh' in accompaniment to affirm that statement.]

Chelsea: *calm, more of a ponder* It also says here that you tend to 'drift off' into your own space during training and film sessions. *thinking* I can work with this. It's actually a lot easier than some of the clients I get [gentle laughter].

[Once again, Kiara nods, as Chelsea quickly writes that down on a new word document. More so that she doesn't forget it when doing her recaps than anything else.]

Chelsea: *more stern, professional* Alright. So, from what I can gather - you tend to allow your thoughts and outside plans interfere with what's directly ahead of you. 'Daydreaming' when a narrowed focus is required. It's a problem a lot of people have; especially athletes and one that is also easily fixed. We'll start off by using some breathing techniques.

Kiara: *curious* Like?

Chelsea: *slightly laughing* Just the basic stuff to begin. You know, inhaling and exhaling deeply, in order to clear your mind and just let yourself absorb the moment.

[Chelsea takes a deep inhale, then exhales.]

Chelsea: *calm* Like so. Now, your turn.

[Kiara follows the instruction, feeling her mind begin to clear as flashes appear before her. Well, internally they do at least.]

Chelsea: *smiling* That's good.
-*-*-*-

There's also the additional factor of Viola Diamond being at ringside. Watching us. Making sure that we prove to her, that she was *correct* to invest in us - another thing I have to be wary of going into this match. I can't allow myself to be worried about that though, because just like when I was on the track: trying to impress too many people at once, ultimately leads to failure. Leads to the burden, weighing us down. 

So, all I have to do is go out there; be myself. Let my flower sparkle as I dance through. As I show Roni and Belle just *who* I am inside of the ring. Just why soon enough, I plan on truly blossoming. Chelsea's helped me in that regard a lot this week; I know that I just can't let her down at Odyssey. I can't let her effort go to waste. I won't let it happen either. So Belle, Roni - Good luck. Because I plan on making sure it is my name up in the lights when it all comes to its conclusion.