Kevin Maverick, the man who runs out of the time. It's interesting that you're in this God of War tournament with me.

You know, you have beaten me once, hell, everyone have beaten me but the thing is, I'm a changed man for the better now. I broke Nathan Fiora's ankle and made him tap-out like a bitch he is and I'll do it again to you, Kevin Maverick.

You see, I don't hate you, I never have any animosity towards you, but I suppose I need to make you tap-out in order to show the world that Hans Olsen is truly The Olympic Gold Medalist and a great Ground Zero member. Nate Cage, Donny Dragon, and James Anderson are so kind to me and everything I do to you Kevin, is for them. Not for the fans. Fuck the fans, couldn't careless for them.

Oh it's true! It's damn true!

Challenge Cup Promo 2


(The camera opens outside of the arena at nightfall, where Derelict sits in the shadow of the looming venue with his back against the glass pane of the general entryway with his knees up in front of him as he takes to peeling away at a potato with a pocket knife, letting the peeling drop on the cement nonchalantly as he gives the spud a close shave. He merely raises an eyebrow in acknowledgment as the camera approaches, never letting his eyes break from his handy work)

"Two down, three to go. No losses in the books, and only one draw that I think both myself and Mr. Drake would call a win. We got what we wanted out of one another. No drama, no hard feelings: just blood. Blood pure and simple. I expect Ms. Sunshine will want the same, but I doubt she'll be as generous about donating as Kenny. I have no doubt that Persephone Bane will put up a fight. She's not the one who worries me in that regard, but we'll get to that. I'm more curious as to whether she's ready to have the fight given back to her. Kenny Drake put her down after a hard battle of course, but he couldn't put me down for the pin now could he? I'm not a fan of transitive property in regards to combat because every fight is different, but I do wonder how much of this hard girl persona is show. Me? personally? I don't believe in good and evil. I do believe in broken psyches and bruised egos however, and when I look at you all I see is a little girl who ran away from home to join the circus. Once she found herself under the big top after hours she found things were far more insidious than she'd hoped. You saw for the first time that the world's not cotton candy and rainbows, elephants don't like to preform or live in the center ring, and clowns are some of the most miserable perverts you'll ever meet. So what'd you do when faced with reality of the world for the first time? you did what all good broken carnies do: you put on a mask of danger and intrigue to hide the miserable wreck beneath the makeup. I don't have any ill will toward you Savannah. I think you're pathetic and afraid in both of your forms, but I have no doubt that I'll make this new mask of yours slip. Maybe you'll make it a challenge. Again, you didn't exactly lie down for Kenny Drake and I have the busted flesh and yellow bruises to show just how opportunistic and vicious Kenny Drake can be. Two things are for certain about Kenny Drake though: he's not me, and he couldn't beat me. I still look forward to our encounter though Ms. Sunshine.
We're going to have some fun little sister, even if it's at your expense."

(Derelict studies the half peeled potato in his hand, taking note of it's exposed eyes, flecks of skin, and spots of rot. After a brief once over, he shrugs, and takes a loud bite out of the raw russet. After a moment of studied chewing, he spits out a deep running root, and goes back to work peeling the rest of the skin.)

"Then there's the matter of your other opponent in the bracket thus far. Roni Osborn troubles me quite a bit. She's coming into this tournament a gamer looking to level up her stats after suffering the defeat of her career at Boiling Point. She's not concerned with wins or losses, she just wants to sit under a few learning trees in ol' Block C. She's managed to beat Jake Keeton, which, let's be honest, he's on the same page as her right now. Maybe worse off...Probably worse off...My bad, I suppose. I digress my point that while Jake's quite the good wrestler, his mental state is...shall we say, dubious at the moment? She's lucky that he didn't try to kick her between the uprights or attempt to hit her with a chair. The guy's unhinged, and not in a way that helps him or anyone else. Granted, Roni could use some of that killer instinct herself. I have no doubt that I could put this poor little lady down, but for once I'm worried about going too far. She has no survival instinct left in her. She reached the pinnacle of her career performance at Boiling Point and came back down the mountain empty handed. I call Persephone the little girl lost, but at least she seems willing to fight her way back home. Meanwhile Roni's like a sick dog losing itself in the woods to die far away from everyone that would be bothered by her passing. Well little lady, if you want to be put down I have no problem with being your death doula. I'm not one for mercy killing though. Far be it from me to take such a beautiful and in it's prime yearling like yourself behind the shed and put you down with one loving shot between your doe eyes just because you're a little green under the gills. Ask Jake Keeton if you'd like, I'm not one for quickly putting down Old Yeller. If my sadism could be complimented, and I do wish it were more often, I'd say the end game in my torturing is to make the one I'm raking across the coals feel alive in their last moments on earth. You may not be in the mood to put up a fight right now, but I'm definitely going to do everything within my power to put you in that mood. Quite honestly, it's all I have to offer you anyway. I'm not some great technician of the mat, or some seasoned veteran of the squared circle. I'm a fighter. I fight, and I make others fight too. I'm not here to match wits or exchange holds, I'm here to knock people on their asses and make them beg and squeal. I want to see your body struggle to cling to life. I want to feel your fingernails dig into me. I want to feel the pressure of that tiny frame of yours hang off of my beard in a last ditch effort. Trust me when I say that none of that will work or deter me, but it will be more of a fight than you'll give anyone else in this tournament. You might even throw more at me than you ever did Dulce, and I think it will surprise you when you realize that such effort and thirst for life is still capable of welling up inside of you. In fact, maybe I was hasty to assume I had nothing to teach you in our encounter. I'm going to show you what you're made of, Roni. I'm going to rip your stomach clean from your abdomen and show you that there's always something left deep within it's lining willing to cling to relevance and sustenance. I'm going to put that fire of competition back in your eyes. I'm going to make you hungry again. I'm going to show the world the best you have to offer, because that's what you're going to need in order to walk out of this in one piece. I'll show you that beneath the tripe and the viscus fluid, there's still a hollow pit in your stomach wall where tenacity dwells. I'll make you realize that you haven't given Dulce everything you have, not really. And then after I breathe that life, that fight, that drive back into you I'm going to put down the best version of you that there ever was, but it's up to you whether or not it's the best version of you that there ever will be."

(Headlights suddenly hit Derelict, breaking him from his peeling and pontificating. He guards his eyes and readies his knife as he tries to peer through the bright high beams. As his eyes adjust, a white limousine forms in front of him. It slowly lurches past until the back window rolls down right in front of him.)

Saul Abzu: Howdy, friend! Say, would you know where I can find the interstate exit? My driver's a little tipsy and doesn't know the area all too well.

Derelict: Isn't the help supposed to sit in the front of these things?

Saul Abzu: I beg your pardon, friend. Have we met before?

(Derelict sits up on his knees in bewilderment and rests his crossed forearms inside the car's window.)

Derelict: I think you know that we have, but I'm beginning to question how you keep finding me.

(Saul tips his sunglasses down the brim of his nose and studies the hulking figure hanging halfway through the window frame.)

Saul Abzu: Aren't you that fellow on television? The...heretic? No, that's not it. Ummmm....the Misfit! Haha, that must be it!

Derelict: You know who I am, so can you cut to the chase and tell me how you found me? or how you went from preaching to a congregation of zero on a street corner to rolling up in front of a venue in a stretch limo?

(Saul takes in Derelict's slightly agitated demeanor for a moment, before slipping his sunglasses back up the brim of his nose and turning back to face the front of the limousine. He takes off his fez and begins to speak to no one in particular, like a sinner in a confessional, much to the agitation of Derelict.)

Saul Abzu: One could ask the same about you. Where did you come from? Why are you here? Why do you wrestle if you don't care about the money? and where does that money go? Who are you, Mr. Derelict? I think that's the burning question on everyone's minds. Who are you? and why would OWA hire you?

Derelict: Answer my question first.

Saul Abzu:...which was?

(Without hesitation, Derelict grabs Saul by the scruff of his shirt and yanks him clean out of the limousine window and crashing ass first onto the concrete. The little man kicks and scrambles as Derelict presses both fists against his temples and locks on the Knuckle Sandwich. Through whining moans and weak struggling, Saul manages to gurgle out words of submission while slapping away at Derelict's wrists.)

Saul Abzu: OKAY OKAY OKAY!

(Derelict releases the hold. To his surprise, the tiny little man springs to his feet and shoves him forcefully. Derelict quickly regains his composure and bucks up to him, chest bumping him into the limo door, and back onto his ass. Derelict lifts him off of his feet by the collar of his suit jacket, making sure to twist a handful of shirt in along with it so there's no easy escape for the mysterious man this time.)

Derelict: Talk.

Saul Abzu: YOU'RE NOT HARD TO FIND, GENIUS!

(Saul shoots a hand past Derelict's head and up at the building. Reluctant to look for fear of another sleight of hand, Derelict peers into the lenses of Saul's skewed shades and sees his pseudonym flashing back at him in bright neon lights on the marquee's reflection. Narrowing his eyes in unimpressed and somewhat self-loathing of not picking up on the obvious, Derelict looses his grip and lets Saul fall to his feet.)

Derelict: That only answers one question.

Saul Abzu: You only asked for one question to be answered. The rest will be revealed in time. Until then, I implore you to join me in my rolling soiree for something a bit nicer to imbibe than potatoes and box wine.

(Derelict gives Saul a long and studied stare of curious disbelief.)

Derelict: Who are you to me?

Saul Abzu: All in due time, friend.

(Saul swings the door of the limo open in a welcoming fashion. Derelict looks inside, then at the grinning Saul, and then down at the knife and potato in his hands.)

Derelict: I could just beat it out of you.

Saul Abzu: Good sir, while I was willing to accept your brutish behavior once to instill a trust in you, I assure you that I'm not the only person in this limo. Besides, I could always throw another fire ball in your face.

Derelict: Yeah, but I'd be ready for it this time. As soon as you went for the flash paper in your pocket, I'd lay you out.

(Saul adjusts his crooked sunglasses and gives Derelict a threateningly knowing smile.)

Saul Abzu: How presumptuous of you to think I need flash paper.

(Derelict considers his options once more, weighing the potato and the knife in his hands momentarily, before shrugging and discarding both over his shoulder and stepping into the limo. Saul giddily giggles and hops in next to the lumbering hobo, and slams the door behind them. Before the door's even closed all the way, the limo peels out of the empty parking lot and makes it's way to the street.)

So here we are again. Another big event and I am booked for it, and it is a Triple Threat to determine the number one contender for Dulce’s Goddesses Championship. I feel like this is all Déjà Vu, and I have lived through all of this once before… well not exactly the same, but very, very fucking close. Viola said she had a great eye for talent to Amelia… just like how she told me the same thing. Hell, she even said the very similar thing she told me to Amelia! It isn’t all Déjà Vu though she said something though that really got under my skin, and I mean under my skin. She said she is throwing me in because she is “generous”. Now, I can point out how ironic that statement is and trust me, I can, but that reasoning got under my skin. It was how she toned it almost like she had pity for my failure just like how you have pity for an abandoned dog on the street or a cat in the animal shelter that you can’t help but you have pity for. That is why it got under my skin. I have no need for no one’s pity for I had enough of that growing up and it sickens me. Pity is what you give to a sick child, to a stray dog on the street, to someone who lost a loved one, and so on and so on. You don’t give pity to some, like me, in fact you shouldn’t give pity at all. Trust me, I won’t say that I am an expert in pity, but I have been on my pity party trip as of late. I realize if you wallow in your own self pity, then you will never move forward just like you have only pitied the abandoned dog on the street it won’t get any better because of your pity. It will just stay on the street and eventually die, unless you take charge and take the dog in, give it a good home, and love it only then will you give it what it needed. 

That was something I needed to understand. I had to realize that I can’t just wallow in my self-pity party and take everything to heart and always try to do superficial things. I had to quit pitying myself and understand it is fine to lose and it happens, and as much as I fucking it hate it with a passion! I have began to come to terms with it, which is something I should have learned for a while now, but couldn’t. Though it wasn’t just Viola’s hidden pity towards me that got me there was another person who got to me. I won’t say who it was, but the words he said struck me in the heart like an arrow piercing it and punched me right in the stomach enjoy getting hit by a loaded glove, but mostly because it reminded me of Crowe. I won’t go down that road, as it would be cliched to do so, but I’ll say thank you for making me more determined to win this match.

So here we are now, this is where I break down my opponents, which is clinched, but you know what I might as well do it. First there is Christie Sky, who like Rochelle, I have nothing, but respect for. Hell, you and I are very similar though probably you have higher self-esteem than I do and you probably have all your bearings right while I… while I may be in a better state of mind and not wallowing in my pity. I am still behind you in a manner of speaking. I will say one thing though Christie don’t mistake my kindness for a weakness while I may sing you praise and really can’t say anything negativity just because we are similar and I like your hustle remember as soon as you turn your back on me… well you will soon find out soon enough.

La Dame de la Délivrance. La Dame qui doit nous délivrer et élever OWA dans un état supérieur et le rendre meilleur qu’il ne l’est maintenant. Bet you didn’t think someone like me knew how to speak French, Mademoiselle Baer. I bet you thought I was ignorant, and I didn’t know how to speak your native tongue, but looks can be deceiving. Now, I could talk about your appearance and how you remind me of the people that would look down upon someone like me and give me nothing but pity. I won’t do that as I would be no better for you judging me, but what I will say is that if you plan on fucking me over because I saw you and Viola talking and it looked shady. So if you plan on doing something shady just remember you will have hell to pay from me and maybe even Christie, who knows. I got to say though you know what bugs me the most about you it isn’t you doing something shady or how you remind of those people who gave pity and were generous because of a social status. None of that really gets under my skin, what gets under my skin is the fact you just handed the opportunity without earning it, and have no guilt in paying your way to the top. You see where I am from you had to put in your work to get what you wanted. If it meant working two jobs and going to college to get what you wanted, then you did! Myself personally, I busted my ass training every damn day to get to this point and I will be damned if someone like you comes and throws my hard work all away just so you can live in the glory or add more your status or whatever! Sure, you can say you worked hard to get where you are and everything, but I highly doubt it because you remind me of those people who looked down upon me and while I was busting my ass, sweating day in and day out, and barely making any kind of living there were people like you who were on the top having a good laugh at us, and taking life on an easy mode. The other thing I mentioned as well is just pure sickening because those people who gave me pity were the same ones paying their way to the top or even paying others to keep people like me down because we didn’t “fit in” right because some bullshit. Well, fuck that because if I find out you paid the refs or officials to be real screwy in our match… well I will gladly show you what a true Detroit ass beating is.

So come this match, Christie and Amelia, I ain’t going to do my best. No, fuck that I will give it my god damn all! Even if they stack the cards against me because in the Motor City we pride ourselves for being some of the toughest people and pride ourselves on our hard work! I may have “dead” after my match with Dulce, in a manner of speaking, but just like Detroit I am coming back with a bang and you better be ready for it because I know I belong here and I know deserve to be wrestling among some greats in the business here… and I am no longer afraid to lose and that is a scary thing to think about.

(This one is probably after the deadline because I forgot the timezone difference. Wrote it within an hour because Aren's bitch-ass dropped a second one. Fuck it, I am keeping it up anyway.)

?????
?????
11:23 pm on WEDNESDAY

An empty locker room. All of the lockers stand dormant; empty, save for one. A hoodie hangs from the hook inside, a U of O water bottle beneath it. A red and black gym bag lies unzipped and open. A sweat stained white shirt hangs carelessly from the bag. 

A shower spits to life in the distance. 

A shower room. White and blue tiles form patterns on the walls and floor. Again, the showers are empty and dry, save for one. One in a back corner. The rough water pours out from the shower head, loudly smacking the tiles before rolling to the middle of the room and down the drain. Kenny Drake leans against the wall under the shower. He looks terrible; unrested. His sopping wet hair sticks to his face and the shaved sides of his head. The water flows down his scarred chest and onto the tiles. 

Kenny sighs…

I’m…

Kenny stops and hangs his head.

...I find myself at a crossroads. Do I continue, even though everything has been taken from me...or do I do what anyone in my position would and leave? Turn tail and just...bolt?

I...I don’t know.

Kenny stares up at the shower head.

All I can do is keep on keepin’ on, right? Niki is distraught...hasn’t spoken a word in a week...I can’t… 

Kenny hangs his head...he slowly raises it and brushes the wet hair from his face.

As of right now, I am at the bottom. Rock. Fuckin. Bottom. 

And what does one do when they’re rock bottom?

They climb the fuck back up. 

Nate Cage has taken everything from me...he took my people, he burned my home...he burned down an entire fuckin forest just to get to me… he did what he did for one reason - ONE...to drive me out.

He almost succeeded. I mean...look at me...do I LOOK like a Wolf King?

He degraded my past… he burned down my present… and worse yet, he tried to leave me with no future. Here, there...anywhere. 

Kenny actually chuckles. A small smile finds its way onto his face. 

Key word there is “Tried.”

Because when one door slams shut, a window is knocked ajar… and I find myself entered in the Challenge Cup…

Well whatdya fuckin know…

Kenny slowly pushes himself up and stands. He stands proudly, slightly puffing out his chest.

Looks like I have a future after all...and it starts with Block B…

Kenny turns the handle, and after a few squeaks, the water shuts off. He runs his hands through his hair, pulling the long strands back before tying it off into a bun. 

Derelict...Persephone Bane...Jake Keeton...Roni Ozborn….

Kenny tsks and shrugs. 

Roni...doesn’t believe she has what it takes...doomed to fail…

I’m disappointed in you, Roni…

In fact, I’m almost god damn offended.

What happened to being the “Motor City Daredevil”? You come from a city that PRIDES itself on how fuckin tough it is...you come from a city that DIED and is now rising from the ashes...you come from the SAME FUCKIN CITY that gave us Tarah FUCKING Nova…

And all you can say is, “I’ll do my best.”

Fuck your best, Roni...give it your ALL. Because whether you believe it or not, YOU BELONG HERE. You BELONG alongside the elite of this industry because YOU have scratched and clawed and fought for what you have. How DARE you say, “oh well I’ll probably lose.” With that attitude, you’re GOD DAMN RIGHT YOU WILL…Derelict will decimate you, Persephone will Punish you, Keeton will KILL you, and me?

I’ll end it all. 

Unless you do something about it. Unless you fight...you claw...you show the world WHY you are here, and you be who we all KNOW you can be...you be Roni...FUCKIN...Ozborn…

Or what’s the point?

Kenny spits and cracks his neck.

Jake Keeton...grizzled vet...knows the ring like it’s his living room. Has been in this business longer than most, and has seen the very top of the mountain.

But...you never reached it…did ya?

Cos Jake Keeton is a man who can’t seem to get out of his own way. Jake Keeton is a man that allows himself to fail and falter at every opportunity. I mean, don’t get me wrong... he’s beaten some BIG names here...former Spartan Champions…TV champions...The names in his win column cannot be ignored.

But he’s never beaten a current champion...he hasn’t beaten anyone even still employed…

Because Jake Keeton? Can’t get it done. 

And while Jake Keeton is a man with experience and many strengths...he is also a broken down man running on fumes...and his weaknesses have sirens attached. So Jake Keeton...it really isn’t about finding a flaw in your game…

It’s about narrowing it down to the right one.

Kenny smiles and grabs a towel from a cabinet.

Persephone Bane is an interesting one...a real wild card...a dark horse in this whole shebang. 

Kenny stops and holds back his laughter.

He can’t do it. A loud belly laugh echoes through the cavernous showers. 

HAAAA...it’s good to see that through everything, I still have my sense of humor…

Kenny shakes his head and pulls the towel over his shoulders…

So that brings me to you, Derelict...the only one in this block that actually poses a threat to me. You are...without a doubt... the most dangerous man in Block B...current TV Champion...an all around bad baaaaad dude… 

You. 

Will.

Fall.

Do you understand? Because you, Derelict, like everyone else, seem to think that I am a one trick pony. If I don’t have barbed wire or glass, I have nothing, right?

Kenny nods slightly.

I will admit...that ultraviolence is...mmm...an addictive drug...but what you seem to just...gloss over is what brought me to this dance in the first place…

Above everything else, I am the best Professional Wrestler...on the fucking Planet. 

And I am going to outWRESTLE you.

I might not be able to beat you down...I might not be able to hurt you so bad that you stay down…

But you better BELIEVE...I am going to keep your shoulders on the mat for a count of three.

Because that’s all I need, Derelict…

I don’t need glass or chairs or light tubes.

I just need momentum and three measly seconds.


Because once I win this tournament...I get power. I get an opportunity. I get stroke...and then I don’t have to wait for Nate Cage...I don’t have to ask for him.

I can go and take him. 

Because at the end of the day, that’s what all of this is for...this entire tournament...it’s a way to get what I need. This tournament? It’s now my EVERYTHING...because it will GET ME EVERYTHING.

And that makes me the most dangerous motherfucker in this whole thing.

Kenny walks out of the showers and into a large dark room. He flips a switch on the wall…

And a red inverted neon cross flickers to life beside him. Kenny’s face is lit up blood red, a sickening smile creeps onto his face.

Are you ready?




Wolves…

Aeternum...

It’s late. Probably far past Midnight at this point. The sound of an owl echoes through the woods and the front door is blown shut tightly as Persephone steps out onto the porch. She grits her teeth, cursing the wind as it alerts Hades of her presence. She closes her eyes tightly, cranes her neck a bit as she turns towards the man who sits in a rocking chair on the porch. Hands tucked into the pockets of her leather jacket and she takes a few steps towards Hades as he beckons her near. Reaching one hand towards one ear and then the next to remove her airpods, Persephone kneels down on one knee with her head bowed. One of Hades’ hands reaching forward to lift her chin as he focuses his gaze upon her.

“It is very late. . . Where are you going at this time of the night?” Hades voice remains clear and sturdy as he appraises her with an apprehensive gaze. Persephone finds it hard to think momentarily. But, she holds his gaze firmly. “For a walk. I need some alone time for a little bit to think about what comes next. I won’t be gone for too long. Maybe catch a bite to eat while I’m out.” She nods and he brushes a strand of dark hair behind her ear. His hand resting upon her cheek as she leans into his touch.

“Of course. . . Be careful. Try not to make too much of a mess.” Persephone lets out a gentle laugh, pressing a kiss to his palm before standing. “Of course, my love. I’ll be super neat and tidy.” She brushes herself off, gazing at him for a moment before turning on her heel and heading out into the night. Doc Martens cover her feet as she seemingly speaks to no one in particular. Going through the motions of what was necessary.

“This tournament seems useless. But, there’s never a dull moment around this place. There’s always a certain chill in the air. A certain shift in the sands of time. This moment is no different.” Her hands tucked into the pockets of her hoodie. Something far too large to belong to herself. “A certain moment where the world seems to stop all at once.” She stopped in her tracks, gaze drifting upwards towards the night sky. A full moon hanging high above her as a gentle grin ghosts itself across lips painted a blood red and black color. She closes her eyes, seemingly taking in energy from the moonlight that casts down upon her.

A hand reaches upwards, outstretched as she draws in more energy. Her fingertips glow a faint metallic color. Something resembling of the silvery moonlight that swarms around her. She relishes in the moment. Taking in every bit of it before letting out a dark laugh. “So many wasteful talent in this tournament. So many useless souls to lay to rest. It’s as if it’s an open hunting season and they’ve set me up for life. It’s going to be a pure thrill disposing of each and every single opponent laid before me one. . . by. . . one.” She grins sickeningly, rolling her neck a bit for a moment.

“Every single person laid before me is in for a very rude awakening. Ever since I’ve put down that pathetic, waste of space, known as Jessica Rose? I’ve never felt stronger. These matchups will be no different. The outcomes will remain just the same. With my boot upon the chest of whoever dares step in my path.” She pauses, seemingly mulling over her thoughts. “Or perhaps I’ll ensure they become incapacitated and make sure they stay down by cutting off all supply of oxygen they need to survive.” She lets out a giggle, twirling around in the moonlight that seems to shine upon her like a spotlight.

“So many possibilities. . . So many outcomes. So little time to truly prove how deadly I am. So little time to show what chaos I can truly bring.” She tugs at a strand of hair, shaking her head a bit before letting out a loud roar of something between anger and pure madness. “There will be so much blood shed upon the mat while my opponents cling to false hope that anything they have left in their system will help them in the end. I will stop at nothing to ensure they all fall down. One. . . By. . . One.” She takes a few steps forward, hearing the footsteps of a silly human who has wandered too far this late at night.

“Three blind mice. . . Three blind mice. . . See how they run. . .” Her voice was low, feet carrying her towards the human she would soon make a meal out of. As the young woman caught sight of her, she nearly jumped out of her skin. “Goodness me, you scared me! I seem to be quite lost..” The woman shook slightly, seemingly already frightened by the Demon before her. “Hush now, lost girl. . . You will be safe very, very soon.” She grinned maliciously, jaw coming unhinged and several rows of sharp teeth popping up as she ripped into the female.

For several moments, the sound of ripping flesh and the crunching of bones is heard. Persephone wipes her face with her sleeve, licking over her lips as she picks leftover flesh from her gums with one of the bones of the female. Flicking the bone aside, she continues walking again. “I want to prove what I am truly capable of. I want to leave bodies in the wake of my destruction. I want to instill fear into the hearts of those who oppose me. I want nothing more than to see everyone suffering.” She shakes her head, stepping over the bloody rib cage that remains of the woman. “Just as this poor soul had been left with nothing to her name.”

She inhales a gentle breath, crossing her arms over her chest as she heads back home. “Everyone continues to underestimate me. They think of me as no threat to what they so badly crave. But, that doubt?” She pauses, shaking her head before continuing. “That underestimation? It only makes me work that much harder. Lately, I’ve been pushing myself harder and proving why I’m here in the first place. I’ve been shutting those doubts down without a second guess. I have been proving that I am truly a force to be reckoned with. Nothing and no one. . . Man, woman, whatever you shall be. . . Will stand in my way again.”

2019 OWA Challenge Cup. First 24 people to sign up compete, 1 winner. 4 Blocks, um A?...C?...D? And aaaa.. ah.. B. 6 matches, point systems. Hell, I'm not even sure what the prize is. So complicated. I don't get it, but what I do get is I gotta beat 5 other people to advance. And truthfully, I'm disappointed with how “stacked” Block B is. JD Damon, Stephanie Matsuda, Finnegan Wakefield, Miltiades, Chris Sabertooth, and yours truly, Moongoose McQueen. But what is beyond that? What comes After Block B, when it is almost as if Block B was created to be incredibly difficult for me, almost as if this is all the work of a bitter old man I've wronged in the past. But no, that would be ridiculous. This must all be a coincidences that I would be facing some of the best the OWA has to offer so soon. But alas, Chris Sabertooth is correct. I am my own worst enemy, but that simply means that not one, not a single one of you guys are worthy of the title of my “worst enemy.” If I wanted to make this interesting, I would essentially have to handicap myself. Maybe wrestle with one arm tied behind my back, do it with my eyes closed, or maybe catch a cold to give everyone else a fighting chance. Regardless, I'm planning to beat each and every single of these “big names” in this block, no special treatments, because after all, this, Block B, is the only one worth watching. What comes after, will not get as exciting as these preliminary match ups.


This block of megastars, each name can be used to define the past, present, and the future of this industry, with accomplishments under their belts. Submission Specialists, War Queens, Angry White Boi, I'll let you all figure out who that one is about. But what does that mean for me? Nothing, nothing at all, because the assumption that this will be a close call, down to the wire, or that it can be anyone's game is a joke, when I, Moongoose McQueen can finally be placed in a tourney of some sorts, because it seems like people enjoy the idea of keeping yours truly out, due to the fact that I am the ultimate favorite to win. And sure, times has changed and guys like Finnigan Wakefield, Miltiades, and Chris Sabertooth has time to grown stronger, while Stephanie Matsuda seems to have taken a few steps back of a lately, it would be a mistake to assume that I, myself have not changed and become stronger as well. Just because everyone has been doing something, it doesn't mean I'm just sitting at home, waiting for the next “brilliant idea” that OWA comes along to keep me occupied. I mean, 24/7 title, Challenge Cups, and God of Wars tournament. How many of these do I have to win before they just give me what I want. 8 challengers? 12? 24? Should that even matter, when all I simply have to do is beat former world champions and the top prospects that OWA believes in a single block? Is that not enough? Are you not satisfied?! But alas, it will go to deaf ears and next thing you know, you got your Chris Sabertooths conveniently only remembering the times he ruined my shots, but not the times I've bested him, your Finnegan Wakefields who would choose to forget and pretend nothing ever happened, or your Miltiades who would beat me, only to take such a disappointing outcome in which now, he is facing Udy and for some odd reason is very proud of that. (shakes head)... But atleast you have your Stephanie Matsudas who isn't afraid to admit when they have lost. I'm sure that makes you the better man here, but let's be honest, the only man around here that is letting himself get beat up by another woman is Scott Oasis and Nas, those leading titans of this business , beaten by women. But like I said, Cloud, they are still in denial about that, but it takes tremendous amount of self-respect, or lack of, to give up so easily, and I'm sure the fans and the executives will eat it out of the palm of your hands, but not I. Nope. I'm still annoyed they chose you over me to face Aria at Boiling Point when I had all the momentum going for me, and the last thing I want is some old hack from another place to play filler and stall what is inevitable.


(Revy appears in front of the screen and whispers something in McQueen's ear before Revy steps away from the shot)


Thank you so much for hiring Revy at LAW . If it was a year or two ago, I would had called you an idiot for hiring her, because she is a class action lawsuit waiting to happen, but Revy has been doing better these days, and I should thank you for that... but that don't change the fact your “best judgment” was to hire Carlos, Keelan, and the Wild Boys. You're still an idiot, because Carlos Rosso is just the absolute worse. Like do you owe him something? Did the man save your life at one point and you feel like you can't send him away? Is she black mailing you? Is he your long lost dad and this is you trying to make up loss time with him? WHY DO YOU PUT UP WITH THAT MAN?!! He's insane, irritable... a total buffoon! I GOTS TO KNOW!!


Sorry, sorry. Lost my composure there for a second. Tranquilo... Tran...qui....lo! I'm calm. I'm calm. Breathing exercises. Deep breaths... deep breaths....Ok. What were we talking about again? Ah yes, the OWA Challenge Cup. Why I will be victorious? Simple. Because I am Moongoose McQueen. I alone bring in enough personality, charisma, and charm in block B where everywhere else is lacking. You can't tell me that as you look down that list of 24 participants that the name, “Moongoose McQueen” doesn't stand out or appeal to you? If it doesn't, then you are a liar, and there is a place in hell reserved for you called 'Delaware.' That's where Persephone Bane is apparently from, so you know it's real.


But what else is there left to say. I'm sure we are all hoping to beat each other and advance and win the whole thing. Different way of telling it, same old story, but in the end, only one of us will be right. Sure, take your bets. Pick Chris Sabertooth. Pick Militiades. Pick Finnegan Wakefield , Stephanie Matsuda, and even JD Damon. Meet my boi CASPIAN outside, because he is taking in all bets. In fact, please, pick them. Bet against me. Challenge my conviction and believe that I don't have what it takes. Because at the end of the day, Moongoose McQueen does what he does best, and that is make a believer out of a non-believer. Challenge the status quo. You don't want me, but I'll be there from the beginning to the very end. No one, I repeat, NO ONE, will be getting rid of me. You think you know. You think you got it all figured out, but get ready, because I assume that when I win this entire thing, and they put that crown on me, I don't know, it's not very clear what you win here, you will all bow down to me and remember my name.


If I can summarize what will happen at the OWA Challenge Cup, I'll break it down. I'll win, everybody else loses. Hoes Mad. The highlight reel of this tourney will not the amazing matches and athleticism. No, it will be the amount of salt from the people that will deny what has happened. Trying to explain it, taking their frustrations out, unable to comprehend the possibility that they have been Bam-Goos-zled. Patent pending. I get it. Its sucks. It absolutely sucks to accept that a man named Moongoose McQueen has gotten the best out of you. But with this, an opportunity to do that to 23 other suckers that signed up for this, how can I possibly resist this feast for my ego. How ready I am to feed off the negative emotions that can only be achieved from winning and ruining their score card? Maybe the prize is money, a future title shot, recognition, it doesn't matter, if I can humiliate 25% of the OWA roster that is more than enough to try my hardest to win. This Challenge Cup is mine, and I'll fill it with the tears and sorrow of every loser here. Assuming it's an actual Cup. Once again, the details aren't clear, and who ever came up with this should probably retire to some facility that takes care of the elderly. But fret not, as poorly organized this tournament has been, I will most certainly make the most of it. Dattebayo!

I decided to enter The Challenge Cup because it's a good opportunity for me to add another accomplishment under my belt. I'm an Apollo and Classic Tag Team Classic Winner, now it's another opportunity to win The Challenge Cup not just for me but for The Ground Zero also. Nate Cage, Donny Dragon, and James Anderson aren't on this tournament because they believe in me that I can win this Challenge Cup. 

Interestingly enough, I have shared history with some people in my block. April Song, Jeff X, and obviously Reginald Dampshaw III. Never shared a ring with Boujie Alan and Erufuji because quite frankly, both men aren't worth my time in the first place. Don't believe me? Boujie Alan hasn't wrestled his ass for a long time and in all of sudden he decided to return to in this Challenge Cup tournament. He was, still, and will always be a butt joke. You think you can just showed up and just win this tournament Boujie? Well that ain't happening. Not under my watch.I'll do what I want to do and I'll make you go back to wherever cave you belong to. I don't even I think I have to snap your ankle at all. After all, you're going to face The Olympic Gold Medalist sooner or later. HA!

I do realize I'm not the only one who has an amateur background in this block because I know Erufuji was a kick-boxer but he's still not on my level. Whether it's a pure wrestling match or an MMA fight, I'll still beat Erufuji with an ease. Why? Because I skipped OWT and he doesn't. Good thing though that The Suits decided to give you a chance but the fact and the truth is, they'll think you're too early for a promotions. You'll find out what it's like to go one on one against The Olympic Gold Medalist.

Moving on…...April Song, remember when I beat you and Megan Raine? Yes, I remember it that too. I'll do it all over again. You dare to compare Ground Zero to The Crowe's Nest? Ground Zero is a stable that fills in with talented wrestlers. The Crowe's Nest were just filled in with stupid bitches like you. Ground Zero is here and looks stronger than ever with your Olympic Gold Medalist on the band…..The Crowe's Nest are not exist anymore. I'm flattered that you praise me as a good wrestler because I know I am. I'm The Olympic Gold Medalist after all and you have felt the taste of my skills when I kicked your ass in that tag match. You might never betrayed anyone but I'll do anything and everything to become the success story in the history of pro wrestling. Don't believe me? I became the part of Apollo and Artemis Classic Winner the moment I turned on Nobi by the way. You can try to avenge him for all I care but I suppose you need to worry about being able to beat me first. After all, I'm not a drunken bitch.

Aww boohoo Jeff X, I didn't expect you to be sentimental. Everyone can change for the better and for the worse and I feel to the former category. You see, I don't want to be a broken record but I won a trophy on my very first second I joined Ground Zero. Nate Cage, Donny Dragon, and James Anderson care about me. No matter how many times I rejected their offers, they just kept asking me. It sounds like they really care about my well being. Donny did stab me in the past but it was more of a tough love from his part. Now Jeff, you think I don't have the skills to compete in the pro wrestler? I made Nathan Fiora tap-out since I released all my anger and hatred. Hell even if I don't have a skills just like you said, I'm willing to ditch my dignity. Fuck that shit, I'm going to win accomplishment with my own way and I'll do what I want.

Now Reginald Dampshaw III, I'm flattered that you have a soft spot for me, even offering me a spot in The New Dawn. You're always great in the ring and that Demis Polymeros guy can be a household name in future. But the thing is Reggie, Ground Zero is a great stable and always will be. You could say the only reason Ground Zero won was because of me betraying Nobi but in the end of the day, the moment I decided to the join the devil was the moment I won an accomplishment. You have always beat me in the past Reggie and I have to acknowledge it. Now you know how I feel about losing in the first place. You have tasted your own medicine on Boiling Points but believe me, the worst is yet to come as I'm going to win this Challenge Cup tournament.

Oh it's true! It's damn true!

The scene begins backstage as Christopher Sabertooth and Larry Blackwell are seen talking to each other as the cameraman steps up to them. Sabertooth notices the camera and tells Larry he’ll catch up with him later, before stepping into the center of the frame.

“What’s this about? Can’t a man catch a break these days without a camera being shoved down their face?!” Said Chris, raising his tone as he walks towards the cameraman before breaking into laughter.

“I am kidding!! I got you there didn’t I? Anyway, I am guessing this is about the OWA Challenge Cup starting next week. So, where’s Cori? I gotta finish this interview real quick before I head out to the Casino with the boys.” Said Chris as he looks around. 

“Actually… Cori is busy.” Replied the Cameraman as Sabertooth’s expression changes.

“Busy? With what?! The premiere athlete this company has to offer is standing right here and Cori is busy?! Honestly, this company and its management needs to get their priorities straight. Thankfully, we’ve got the Colonel back in OWA and I can finally not worry about Vernon screwing me over ONCE AGAIN. But that’s not why you’re here… You want to know how I feel about my opponents heading into the Challenge Cup don’t ya?” Asked Chris with a smirk on his face. Presumably, the cameraman nods in response… or not. Not that Chris would care.

“So… Block B. I have been seeing people’s reactions to the blocks online and apparently Block B is being touted as the Block of Death. Not that I would rate any block objectively better than the other, but I see where they’re coming from. Block B happens to have some of the best talent this company has to offer!... and JD Damon.” Said Chris as the cameraman lets out a chuckle to the last statement.

“It would be funny if it wasn’t true. Heck, let’s start with him. Where the fuck was JD Damon all this time? He made news when he returned to join Kenny Drake and the Wolvesden. But… he was gone in about a week? Two weeks? It’s 2019! Are we really meant to take JD Damon seriously?! Either way... I am surprised to see JD Damon, of all people, making a return to OWA in the Challenge Cup. I thought the whole point of this tournament was to decide between the ACTUAL talent that this company has and not has-beens or in JD Damon’s case… a never-was. JD Damon has not done ANYTHING of significance ever since OWA was a thing. So, why would he be featured in such a tournament? It BAFFLES me, to say the very least. Needless to say, I am not a big fan and I don’t think I will be wasting my time talking about somebody who will basically end up being fodder for the rest of us, any longer. JD Damon Bay Bay! More like JD Get the fuck out of this wrong cause you don’t belong here… bay bay!” Said Chris as he chuckles at his own remark. 

“Let’s see… Who’s next?! I know! How about the guy, that recently made his return in OWA, just like JD Damon. I am talking about the Aussie madlad, Finnegan Wakefield. Oh boy, the people definitely missed him by the tremendous reaction he got at Boiling Point. And unlike JD Damon, Finn is no slouch. In fact, he is a former OWA World Champion… A man who never really lost his title. And until that point, his reign was regarded as one of the best this company had ever seen! So, you can clearly understand why I’d take Finn A LOT more seriously than Mr. Damon. I must say, I am looking forward to my match with Finn because it’ll be the first time our paths cross. You see, back when Finn was reigning supreme, I was an upstart, climbing my way up the rank on Olympus. Finn was untouchable… I could not have imagined a young upstart like myself getting even an opportunity to face the man. NOW…. It’s different now! The tables have turned and Finn is the one with a lot to prove. Not only am I a former champion in my own right, I have also CONSISTENTLY been putting out performances that have left the crowd awestruck. I don’t need to scratch and claw my way to the top anymore, because I am ALREADY in discussion to be at the very top of this company. I have been seconds away from becoming Omega Heavyweight Champion… A title that was unreachable not too long ago. I did that by working my ass off EVERY FUCKING WEEK! So… Finn! You might be a tough opponent. You might be a former World Champion, an accolade that I haven’t gotten yet. But you’re not the man that bust his ass week after week for the past few months. I have been part of the 24/7 Title chase, making it what it is today. While other ‘champions’ parade around claiming to be the best, I don’t see them busting their ass off for putting on a show for these people. I don’t see them signing up for this tournament either. Sure, they can claim that they have got nothing to prove… But Finn, you know better than everybody else. Being a fighting champion and CALLING yourself one is very different. You WERE at the pinnacle of this business but you were gone for about 7 months. The wrestling world waits for NOBODY! It evolves every second and you’re out of the loop, Finn. Even elite level wrestlers like yourself will have ring rust, going into this. You’re NOT going to be at the top of your game, even if you say that you haven’t lost a beat. You’re only human! And when I do beat you… Which I will, Finn. I will remind these people WHY Christopher Sabertooth is no joke.” Said Chris with conviction. He grabs a cigarette from his jacket and lights it up as he turns back to the camera.

“So… Finnegan Wakefield. A man that I have never faced before. So, it’s only fair to discuss the former number one contender to the OWA Championship, the woman who put on a CLASSIC at Boiling Point, taking Aria Jaxon to the limit, Stephanie Matsuda. First of all, I commend her on accepting her defeat the way she did tonight. It takes a lot of balls, mind the phrasing, to admit defeat. Well, not exactly defeat cause she didn’t lose at Boiling Point. But… She didn’t win either. Anyway, I will admit, I am not that good at handling losses. I have thrown a fit for far less but Cloud handled it like a pro. Kudos! See, I was on the same boat at Clash of the Titans earlier this year, when I failed to capture the Omega Heavyweight Championship from Jacob Senn. To me, that loss completely changed everything. I was desperate… I was hopeless heading into Final Destination hoping to make something out of the opportunity I had. But that didn’t work either. Which is why, I am glad that I got the fresh start I desperately needed when I got drafted to Kingdom. So, this tournament could be what revitalizes you to the level you need to be to dethrone Aria Jaxon, once and for all! Or ... maybe not. I mean, gotta give credit where it's due. You're one heck of a wrestler and you certainly did not need my validation to know that. But Stephanie…. Cloud, whatever you go by, this very well might have been your LAST chance to get a hold of that title. What will the great Stephanie Matsuda do going forward? That's the question I am left with, after tonight. She's certainly not doing herself any favors by surrounding herself with pests like Keelan and the Wild Boys. I am not too sure if they have her best interests in mind. Either way, Stephanie Matsuda has her mind clouded with doubts, pardon the pun. She's past the state of denial and has come into acceptance. But what she does with it now will define her, going forward. Her accomplishments certainly speak for itself,  but it doesn't mean anything to me. Great, you are the current EWC X-Division Champion! Congratulations! Well, I'm not in EWC so I don't care! You don't see me bringing up the WWH Affliction Championship that I hold at any instance. Not that I am not proud of it…. I just know that in the grand scheme of things, it has no value in OWA. So, Cloud…. You may have all these accolades, but I have something to show for in OWA while you don't. You had an opportunity to do that at Boiling Point and you failed. But your reputation precedes you and I will be cautious heading into our eventual clash. Either way, I look forward to facing the legendary, Cloud Matsuda. And I look forward to BEATING you." Said Chris with a smirk on his face. He takes a puff out of his cigarette before continuing. 

"What's the tally now, cameraman? We're down to the final two! People that I am most familiar with having shared the ring with them on multiple occasions. And coincidentally,  people that have beaten me before. After his performance tonight against Udy and his subsequent attack on Finnegan Wakefield, it's only fair that we talk about Miltiades first. Having shared the ring with him recently at Boiling Point, I know exactly what he is capable of. Tonight was just a reminder on how dangerous Miltiades can really be! Which is why it surprises me that Udy, a man we viciously beat up at Boiling Point, even got an opportunity to fight back tonight. I know for a fact that Miltiades could have ended that match a lot sooner, but he didn't. He toyed around for far too long and it almost cost him the victory. I don't expect somebody as good as him to be making mistakes like this. He got careless and he nearly paid the price. See, we have already talked about how similar we are heading into Boiling Point. But I would never walk away from a match no matter what the situation might be. I would NEVER get that careless. Miltiades has all the tools needed to be the top star in this company, yet he continues to bounce around trying to figure out where he stands. He claimed that Jeff X isn't worth his time because of his loss to RD3… But Jeff X DID walk out of Boiling Point with the Spartan's Championship.  We can blame Udy for everything but at the end of the day, Udy was as much of a non-factor as Dominick Oparta would have been. He was the weak link and it was our job to ensure he doesn't fall prey to anybody else. By the way, props to Udy for getting back after the beating he took. I don't really like the guy but I do respect the guys he showed. Anyway, my point is that Miltiades could be a World Champion right now, but he isn't. And that thought has been eating his mind for a very long time…. Even longer than me. Miltiades got an opportunity to become world champion at the very first major show in this company. Yet…. Here we are! This tournament gives Miltiades an opportunity to show everybody that he deserves to be called the future of this company. That he deserves to be called a future world champion! But will he? Time and time again, he has failed to get the job done when it mattered the most. His reign with the Television Championship was forgettable. And before anybody points fingers at me for my reign as the TV Champ, I cemented it in the annals of pro wrestling by Championship victory when I beat Gareth Cason for it. Even though Miltiades cut my reign short, he fell victim to the same situation at the hands of Carlos Rosso. So…. Will Miltiades walk out of the tournament and ascend to the position he was destined to be at… Or will he continue to be a disappointment. I am at a similar crossroads and I CERTAINLY have made my decision, Miltiades.  I am NOT going to walk down the same path anymore. I will dig deep till I have struck gold, once again. Trust me…. I don't want to go down as a disappointment and I will do ANYTHING in my power to realize my dreams. Now the question is, will you Miltiades? Will you be able to scratch and claw your way out of mediocrity? Time will tell." Said Chris as he stubs his cigarette on the wall before flicking it towards the bin. Sabertooth fixes his jacket as he prepares to leave when the cameraman stops him.

"What? Did I miss somebody? Ah of course! How can I forget about the Shin-SEKAI and their nifty frontman, Moongoose McQueen. Everybody LOVES talking about Goose and how he was able to defeat me a few weeks ago. Do people only process a portion of their memory at a time? Have they really forgotten how Moongoose had fared against me prior to our matchup? As far as I know, this was Goose getting one back to the many I hold against him. At Final Destination, Goose had the match won! But who climbed up and wrapped his legs around steel to destroy his chances of winning the match? I did. Moongoose was crafty enough to walk out of Kingdom as the inaugural OWA 24/7 Champion. Guess who beat him for the title? I DID. So, that victory he hold over me pales in comparison to the countless others I have over him. Whether in the literal or metaphorical way! Don't get it twisted though, Goose is one talented man. He really is! He comes off as a detached personality yet manages to be as captivating as he is. Goose is certainly a one in a thousand talent that the wrestling industry is lucky to have. And I am being as sincere as I can be. To be honest with you, I am not too sure if he even gives a shit about this tournament. Even if he does, Goose will find a way to mess this up. Scratch that! I am going to be petty here but fuck it… I will personally make sure that Goose doesn't get far in this tournament just so I can hold that over him. Goose loves his tongue-in-cheek sense of humor, which is why he loves bringing up my dead friend. I mean, kudos to him. He somehow made it work for once when he finally beat me. But at this point, I cannot take anything that Moongoose says seriously. He wants to become the OWA World Champion just so that he can stick it to Scott Oasis and the rest of the management for keeping him far away from the title scene. I mean, it's fair to be frustrated with your position in the company, but Goose… with a goal like that, you will NEVER be OWA World Champion. And this time it would have nothing to do with me! You're your own worst enemy and at the end of the day, I can rely on Moongoose McQueen to ruin his own chances with his antics. But fair enough, you do you Goose. If you DO find the way to the top being the way you are, props to you! But Moongoose… You never fit the bill and you never will. The OWA World Championship will be mine for the taking while you struggle to make it on the card. And for that, you've got only yourself to blame. Fuck you Goose. You're not winning this tournament…. Mark my words." Said Chris with a smile on his face. He waves at the camera before storming to the exit of the arena. 

(Demigodz - Captain Caveman ft R.A. The Rugged Man plays as images begin showing up as Maggall speaks annoyed.)

White Jesus


SoundCloud Jesus


Black Jesus


Stop that white man music about proud cavemen!

(Music stops.)

Everyone loves Jesus, bitches still waiting on his ass to step out of his little cave to this day. To this day! Lost brothers even worship him like he the top dog. What about the other prophets? Shit you know who I’m talking about! Big man who can’t be drawn! Unlike Jesus he ain’t got people putting his face, or fake faces, all over the place in a vanity project!

I used to be mildly annoyed by these motherfuckers obsessed with Jesus alone, but now I’m getting all the way pissed off. First some crazy ass looking, so called “religious schlolar”, interrupts me when I’m trying to get my damn TV title rematch over some Jesus shit, and now I’m facing the ultimate Jesus’ wannabe, the son of God Allesandro Devione?

That’s some bullshit! I should be facing Layne!

But nah, they be like “Layne can’t find no challenger”, they hyping advertisements to the fans making him sound good “Layne Kurobane is tired of waiting for someone to step up”. Fuck outta here with that! I’m right here! And when I was TV Champ y’all could pull any challenger y’all wanted out of your asses! What was the name of that bumbass kid from Alabama wrapping himself in an American flag? See I don’t even remember, but y’all were comfortable giving him a title match! Now title matches are impossible to give for the TV belt???!!!! Stop protecting Layne! You know he didn’t beat me, he had help from a referee!

And to further prove how systemic and blatant y’all are, if the referee business wasn’t enough, you go and bring back Allesandro and have him use a whole new nickname in “White Dragon”?



Are you kidding me?! OWA too much! I’m tired! I’m a beat that ass and then I want my damn title match! Else I’ll make you bitches meet Jesus alright! Humph, walk on water headass, well walk all you want but don’t tread on me, to use your words!

(End promo)

Nah nah, no end promo, I see that bitchass Carlos beneath me! Thinking I forgot about him I got something for him on the feed!

(End promo)

My first match in the OWA Challenge Cup is against Persephone Bane. My second match will be against Jake Keeton. My third match will be against Hayden Cross. My fourth match will be a main event and I will face The Derelict. My fifth and final match will be against Kenny Drake. Do you want to hear the truth, or do you want to hear a lie? The truth is that I will not win any of my matches, but put on a good show. The lie is that is that I will win either all or some of my matches and may advance to the end and lose there in glorious fashion. 

Right now, I could do the cliched thing and talk about each and every one of my opponents one by one and talk about what I hate, and so forth. In the end, it doesn’t matter really. What can I say that I or someone else hasn’t said before? If I do what I said before then it is no different from what they will do. You could say the way I deliver the wording and the way I present these promos are different from my opponents you can say. I could do an overtime production and speak better and give everyone something new, but that wouldn’t be me nor would it feel right. There is nothing I can do that the others aren’t going to do so I will do the opposite.

I will talk about the match instead. My match against Bane will be an interesting one for apparently her and I are the same side of the coin. I will be honest, I barely know anything about Jake and Hayden so I don’t have much to say except I am looking forward to wrestling those men. I will get to be the main event on the fourth day against Derelict, a monster of man, a Hannibal of sort you can say, the person who just buried me in his promo and I have no way to reply, That last part was a bit of sarcasm and I could reply and pick his points about me apart, but again that is cliched. Our match will be the tale of David vs Goliath in a manner of speaking, but with David losing and Goliath winning. Finally, we have Kenny Drake the Cult of Personality himself the Alpha Wolf of The Wolvesden. Now, I will say this should have been the match that should have been my main event. Even though I will lose this will be the money match as they say just because… well there is a personal reason, but who cares about that. Just know Kenny vs Roni will be the match to look forward to.

Now you may be asking yourself “Why did she enter in this Challenge Cup for if she thinks she will lose?” It is simple. I am doing it for the experience so I can learn from it. Nothing more and nothing less as I don’t expect to win it or even get to the finals, and if I do I will be impressed that I did. Either way just expect me to go out there and put on a show for everyone even though it will be a losing effort at least I can awe the fans. So with that all said, I bid you a good day, or night, good luck, and a goodbye.

Challenge Cup Promo 1: Feel Good Hit of the Summer

(The camera opens backstage at Olympus in a quiet and uninhabited conference nook.  Then suddenly, as if the room were brought to life at the flick of a switch, a hulking figure bursts through the door with five other bodies clinging to it for dear life.)

Derelict: Let me loose, boys! Heh heh! Let me loose!  If he wants it, I'll give it to'em! Ohoho I know he wants it!

Security Guard Riding Derelict Like A Backpack: CALM DOWN!

Derelict: calm down?...Calm Down!?! Hell boys, I ain't mad!

(With that declaration of joy, the giggling Derelict easily whips the two guards flanking his arms across the room with ease, then gets to work double clawing the faces of the two men wrapped around his gargantuan legs.  He digs his fingers into their faces until they finally break their grasp, and then he palms them into the already recovered and approaching guards from his arms.  The guard around his neck starts to tighten a rear naked choke.  The Derelict starts to teeter as the dispatched four exit the room to lick their wounds.  Before the remaining security member can get Derelict off of his feet, he  slams back first into the wall, sandwiching the guard between his massive body and the concrete wall.  The security guard slinks down the wall and to the ground, barely conscious.  Before the other guards can make it in to save their fallen cohort, Derelict charges the door like a wild man and kicks it shut in their collective faces.  Derelict quickly locks the door and warps the knob beyond repair or use with a swift downward ax kick.  He then snaps around to the remaining guard propped up against the wall, still bleary eyed and barely holding his head up.  Derelict approaches slowly.  He squats in front of the fallen security and gently clasps his hands on the man's cheeks to steady his bobbing head.)

Derelict: How many of you were there?

Guard: I doh...

Derelict: Shhh, shhh, shhh.  It's OK.  There were five.  I counted.  I just wanted to see how cognizant you were. I fought off five all by myself, huh? Pretty impressive.  Might be a new record for me: 5 sober men.  Man, that was fun.  It's not going to be as fun as getting my hands on Jake Keeton again, but it was still pretty fun.

Guard: Do-don-don't...

Derelict: No, no, it's OK.  I'll say here with you.  I'll make Jake wait.  He deserves to wait, the shitty little hypocrite.  It's just you and I right now, friend.  

Guard: Ple-plehease...

(The Derelict's sadistically playful smile fades as he tilts his head and stares blankly at the stammering guard.  Quietly Derelict slides up against the wall next to his captive.)

Derelict: There are a lot of chips on shoulders around here since Boiling Point.  A lot of people seem to think they have something to prove.  Everyone wants to be the good guy who comes out on top in their own mind.  So they put their best foot forward against the insurmountable. thinking that it's enough to get the job done because that's what society tells them.  It's funny to see the shocked look on their faces when they draw back a nub.  Jake's not the only shocked amputee either.  Roni Osborn is going through her own life crisis after pouring her heart into her match at Boiling Point and just coming up short.  It's heartbreaking because she strikes me as the type who buys into that whole D.I.Y. lifestyle crap.  She put all of herself into that match with Dulce and all she gained from it was the knowledge that she can't do it herself.

Guard: A-are you gonna...

Derelict: She better watch herself, ya know? She could end up like that Persephone Bane chick.  I hear she used to be quite the sweetheart, but then one day she let the darkness creep in and consume her.  That's how it is with people who can't handle reality though; you present them with the idea that they simply aren't good enough, that fairy tales aren't true, and they crawl up into the fetal position and disassociate from a world that's already rejected them.  I gotta admit though, I do like this bottle goth self-destructive phase.  She could be fun to play with.  Maybe I could even drive her so far over the edge that she gets so disconnected with reality that she goes all the way back around to rainbows and lollipops again.  One wonders how the mind copes with trauma...Well, I mean in your case, it just gets concussed. I'd ask you what your name is to see how bad it is, but I don't see a name tag, and I don't care to look to see if it's sewn into your underwear.

Guard: H-huh?

Derelict: Don't worry about it, friend.  It'll all become clear soon enough.  At least you only have one name to remember. I pity the poor bastard who has to announce every single little nuanced pet name of Kenny Drake or Hayden Cross.  They're a lot alike when you think about it: One's a wannabe bad ass army brat and the other's a wannabe bad ass fresh off the compound with a new batch of electric kool aid.  Both have been indoctrinated to die for something that claims to be bigger than themselves, and both willfully fight tooth and bone for a bitch who wont love them back.  I'd imagine Niki Khan and Lady Liberty would trade homespun brain washing techniques if they were ever to meet. "Maybe a little cream soda on the frontal cortex will get the stains right out?", and then they'd cackle like Betty and Wilma...It must be nice to have someone disposable at your beckoned call that would die for you without question.  I'm not into relationships though, parasocial or otherwise.  I'm not here to die for anybody.  Are you?

Guard: Oh gah-

(The guard flops on his side, as if his body betrayed him in his attempt to make an escape.  His lips purse and bile floods out from the gaps in his clenched teeth.  Derelict regards him with an uncaring lift of an eyebrow and stoically scoots a few inches.)

Derelict: It's a rhetorical question. Don't be rude and speak out of turn.  Yeah, if those boys want to die on a hill then I'll be glad to oblige.  I'm here to survive to the end and deal out as much damage as possible along the way.  People like Persephone, Hayden, and Kenny seem game.  I look forward to knocking the disillusionment out of all of their skulls with a swift boot back to reality...not that I care about their well being or mental health, but it could be fun to make them suffer until they denounce every false idol they've built up in their head.  What will little Savannah Sunshine do when I carve her up like a TV dinner and take that demon base out of her pathetic cries for help? Will there be a 'we' then? or will she realize she's been a little girl lost all along?  What will Kenny Drake do once he's thrown every stick of furniture inexplicably out from under the ring in front of me and nothing stops me from getting my fingers around his face? Will Niki Khan sacrifice herself for a man who believes himself to be her greatest follower? or will she hop on her cell phone to make wake up calls for the next sleeper cell in waiting and go back to the drawing board?  What will Hayden Cross do when he's forced to pull out all of the stops, until even the most jaded American can't get behind the malicious tactics he'll have to sink to just to keep me down for a two count? and what of that little fallen angel Roni Osborn? Has she iced that bruised ego of hers enough to even stand a chance of walking away from our encounter in any condition to even make it through the rest of the tournament?...hey uh...?

(The guard merely sputters as he lays on his side in a pool of his own vomit with his eyes looking at the back of his own skull)

Derelict: It's kind of awkward because I don't think we've exchanged proper pleasantries, so I'm just going to call you Russ from now on.  OK?...yeah...yeah you're unconscious I think....So anyway, what's big in theaters right now? Probably a super hero movie right? I can't say what kind because he-who-shall-not-be-named will try and come after me with some B.S. charge of plagiarism, but I'm guessing some nondescript superhero flick's setting records right?  We'll call it "Popcorn Super Fun Guy"...you know what? Nah, fuck'em, we'll call it "Spider-Man".  Jake can busy himself picking at his atomic wedgy if he has issue with me saying the fucking words "Spider-Man".  Call me "Spider-Man" this tournament, Russ.  Do you know why, Russ? Eh?"

(Derelict playfully nudges "Russ's" ass with his elbow)

Derelict: Eh...eh?.  Okay, I'm afraid you'll accidentally bite your tongue in half if I keep prodding you so I'll tell you why: You can call me "Spider-Man" because i'm going to be...are you listening, Russ?..."The Block Buster".  Get it? It's clever, right? I'm going to be "The Block Buster".  Per usual, I ain't here to win my friend.  No, this is an opportunity to open a few more eyes right before I swell them shut.  I'm the Disenfranchised Franchise of this summer's lineup, and I plan on making numbers every time I'm released.  I'm stacking bodies to the sky, Russ!  The only question is whose going up against me first in our box office? Bane? Drake? Osborn? Cross? Who, Russ? Who?

(Derelict blankly stares at his motionless friend laying in a puddle of his own vomit and drool for an answer.  He patiently stares at 'Russ' for a long period of unsettling silence.  Suddenly a fly zooms into frame.  Derelict watches it like a predator as it makes circles in the air in front of his face, before landing on Russ's glazed over eye.  Russ's body death rattles back to life, making even Derelict jump in surprise.  After the shock passes, Derelict clutches his chest and laughs a breathless cackle, nearly falling over on his own side in the process.)

Derelict: Hhhhhh-he he he.  That was a good one Russ.

"Russ": e'gughuh..

Derelict: Almost threw up in your mouth there again friend...What's that? Oh, well yeah.  I'm sorry.  When you're right, you're right.  I've made Jake Keeton wait all this time without even acknowledging him by name.  Where are my manners? I'm not about that squeaky wheel though, Rusty.  Is it OK if I call you Rusty? I'm sorry, I'm being fatuous. Your silence says it all, friend-o.  I'm ignoring the very reason we're even in this predicament.  Ya know in all honesty I hope Jake does well in this tournament.  I really do.  The poor guy, he needs a win right now doesn't he?  He's been tasked with facing me over, and over, and over again, and he hasn't pinned or submitted me once.  It's gotten to him so much, he can't even let a solid guy like Layne at least try and do what Jake couldn't in over a month's time.  He expects me to be mad about this I think, but I couldn't be more overjoyed.  I just kind of hope...you know...I hope we have a little distance in this tournament, is all.  Don't get me wrong, I can't wait to uh, what do you call it? ah yes; play with his blood, but the poor guy really needs a few confidence boosters before he gets back into the ring with me.  He can't be all gung ho like Roni Osborn and just think he can recoup after a month of being dominated and step into the ring with me again can he? No.  He needs a little build up. He needs to spin his wheels a little while, cry out for that lubricant a little longer, and just find the man who deserves to even stand in my shadow before coming out of the pot all hot and bothered after Boiling Point and expecting to do more than self-destruct further.  I keep asking for the real face of Jake Keeton, but no matter how many layers of flesh I peel back all I find underneath is more masks.  We've got quite the rogue's gallery to get through, and they're not prone to pretending to play wrestler like our Jakey Boy.  These are cold blooded killers we're dealing with here.  Unlucky for them, I'm of the serial variety. I wonder if Jake's just another heat of the moment stab-and-go type like the rest, or if he really want to see six shades of blood on his hands?  He needs to figure that out before we're standing across from one another once again.

(A loud and heavy slam echoes through the room.  Derelict calmly turns his attention to the door to see it's been rocked halfway off of it's hinges.  Suddenly, another loud slam hits the pine and the hinges loose a little more.)

Derelict: Looks like we have company.  Well it was nice shooting the breeze with you man, but I need to be moseying along now.  Good talk, Russ.

(Derelict gingerly slaps his half-conscious companion on the ass and pushes himself to his feet.  He scans the room for an exit before letting his eyes land on an air vent high in the wall.  He sighs and looks down at the unconscious guard one last time.)

Derelict: It'll be a tight fit, but I'm wiry.  Hey, uh...get that thing looked at, okay? and don't let them roll you over either.  That's how Hendrix died.

(The door gives way to the weight of four men in SWAT gear swinging a battering ram.  They scan the room, only to find the open air duct and their downed colleague.  With a snap half of the brigade flanks the unconscious 'Russ', while the other three make their way out into the corridor to continue the search for the still at large Derelict.)

Hayden, Hayden. Hayden. If anything, I like to think of myself as the realest person in the industry. After all, why commit to only one act, when you can be many, as I am a facet of multiple personality. Funny, serious, charismatic, all of the above, but more importantly, honest. I am honest, genuine, when I say I'm excited, I'm excited. When I'm serious, I'm legit serious. When I laugh, I really believe it's funny. This is no mask. I am as real as it gets, and my actions this past week, I'm am upset, I'm frustrated, I'm bored that even the thrill of the 24/7 championship, cash, and being the center of attention doesn't do it for me anymore. To simply put, Mr. Cross, I want more.


No, I deserve more. I deserve better, and when you are someone like myself, it's often hard to deliver. After all, how many would clamor for the opportunity to face the War Queen, Stephanie Matsuda, when I, myself will call it just another typical Sunday Night. I have high standards, and it doesn't take me long to look at the 24/7 Championship, see all the morons that are going after it, and realize, I'm better than this. This is nothing more than a mere distraction. I didn't need this title. I didn't need the extra cash. No, what I need is vindication, and time after time, I'm not getting that. No, I'm kept away from it, and sometimes, it's conflicting. I don't know what it is. Is it disrespect to me, people that truly do not see me as someone worth putting in the top position, or is it fear, fear to a point people don't want to see me in the top position. Because it's like you said, no one knows what type of champion he will be.


One instance, my eyes gleaming with energy and spirit that can invigorate a room with laughter and cheers, the next, the dead look in my eye as cold and dark as the abyss. It's almost as if Moongoose McQueen doesn't know who he is. Sounds a lot like your current situation in regards to your own existential crisis. But no, because at the end of the day, it's not who I am, it's who I want to be. Sure, sure. You can go that cliché route and pick, be yourself, because people are gonna like you just the way you are. But the sad truth is, it doesn't seem like anyone really likes me. So the alternative? Be someone else that people will like, but then next thing you know, I'm just like everybody else, conforming, in which I have to ask, how much of myself do I have to surrender in order to get a real opportunity and shot. It's either everything or nothing at all. Quite the sacrifice, quite the trade-off, but at the end of the day, is it worth it?


Quite frankly, I feel discriminated against as of recent. I work just as hard as everyone else. I'm consistent, I show up.I kept the charades for the 24/7 title for quite some time. I do my job just like everyone else, but because of my … eccentricity, no one trusts me. And I think that is fair. I've done some horrible things in and out of the ring. But did one ever stop, just stop and think, that perhaps I was forced to be the way that I am. That maybe, Moongoose McQueen will settle down if he doesn't get what he wants, making the use of negative reinforcement. Take away, and Moongoose will straighten up, become a class act. Never strike a woman, or commit attempted murder. Review my match at Divine Retribution, 5 stars. But quite the opposite. If anything, not giving me what I want only makes me want to act out more.


This attempt to cover up my potential, after all, I was more than qualified to fight in more than half of the matches at Boiling Point, but I had to sneak myself into a shot in order to appear. I've beaten the Stephen Matsuda and Chris Sabertooth going into Boiling Point. I formed one of the hottest tag teams yet with CASPIAN and have yet to be properly booked to show what we are capable of. And now, they expect me to sit idly by as Finnigan Wakefield returns once more to take probably another shot from my hands like Matsuda did. You know, maybe if he didn't return, it might had been a different story. Maybe if I wasn't in such a bad mood, I would had taken that 24/7 title be do what Moongoose McQueen does, whatever you people expect of me. But seeing these guys who have been gone take up my spot, it's eye opening. I know now, that OWA does not stand by or believe in me. Only I can make something for myself, because I'm ready to give up so much, and what do I get in return? The 24/7 championship? To say this title wasn't catered for someone like me would be a lie. I know what Scott Oasis is doing. He's trying to keep me away from his show, as far from him as possible. It worked, but it didn't last. I caught on quick, when I saw all those other guys devolve into savages, almost as if mocking me. I'm disappointed I fell for it to begin with, but now is the time. I'm not here to make people laugh. I'm not here sit at home and let others work. I'm not here in OWA to get comfortable.


I'm here to plunge the knife into the very heart of OWA and twist it. OWA, you broke my heart, and it's only fair that I react how people expect me to react. As I've said before, “pay them back in ten folds.” They have wronged me, and I, no, Shin-SEKAI don't intend to let this go down quietly. Do you see the kind of man I am, Hayden Cross. I don't have time to wait. I don't have time to clown around with the likes of you. Just because you signed your name on that line that legally makes under contract with OWA, you are still nothing. Just another face for me to crush, that simply delays the inevitable. I will be the one, whether you or anyone accept it or not. I will be the OWA World Champion, one way or the other, that time will come, regardless if they understand me or not. It's more a matter that they don't, or never will, but that should not deny me of my destiny.


To be misunderstood is not a crime. It is simply an injustice, and if I have to resort to evil tactics to right that wrong, then so be it. I will have to, as you said, “beat the sense” out of you and everyone else. But I'll go beyond that. I'll crush your soul and your spirit, drop it on the ground, and stomp it to death until you are unrecognizable. I'll burn you and this entire company to the ground, and from the ashes I will create a even better world. Have no shame if you do not understand my vision. What I am prepared to do is not for the weak at heart, and I can assure you one thing, Hayden. I will not go easy on you. You have done nothing to deserve my mercy, and sure, maybe you'll take that loss this Sunday, and shrug it off, and fight another day. But deep down, know this, at that very moment, you will learn an important lesson. Appearances can be deceiving. Our eyes can make fools out of each and every single one of us. The only real taste of reality is the pain we feel. And on Kingdom, you will get a first taste of the real Moongoose McQueen. You will feel my pain, my anguish, and my wrath. Don't worry. I can tell you right now. Don't be expecting that Ha-ha funny version of me. No, prepare for that ..stab stab funny version of yours truly.

 

Olympus Promo#2: Layman Curobane


(the camera cuts to the mouth of an alleyway just as the Derelict rounds the corner with his bindle over his shoulder.  He pauses a moment at the sight of the camera, and then lowers his guarded posture and slowly makes his way toward the camera.)

"I'm a man accused of saying a lot of things, Layne.  People say I wax philosophy when in reality I don't.  As you said, I'm a simple man of primitive actions.  I merely observe a situation and state what I see.  People say I'm an up my own ass intellectual whose full of hot air and 'book learnin'', when in reality that couldn't be farther from the truth.  People even claim I waste oxygen and time by simply mumbling and grumbling nonsense.  Again, that's not true.  However, I do wonder what you're saying Layne.  You say I'm content with ruling hell...and that's true.  I've stated my driving purpose in OWA, and it's to inflict pain.  Now you did get that right, however you keep talking as if I care about winning matches or going further up this pyramid stacked skill tree that you and others have built up in your head to give your jobs purpose and meaning.  I don't care about that, Layne.  I don't care about the money, or the accolades, the crowd, or the men and women who are called my peers.  This Openweight-where'd it go?"

(Derelict looks down at his waist, over each shoulder, and then inexplicably between his legs for his purloined championship.  As he rises, he slaps his forehead comically.  He walks over to a nearby trash can, lifts the lid, and kicks it over, spilling it's content into the alley.  After a moment of rummaging through the garbage, Derelict yanks the title out of the refuse pile and dusts off the shrapnel that's clung to the strap, peeling off a banana peel and a yogurt cap as he flings the belt over his shoulder)

"So anyway, this Openweight title? It's no more prestigious than any other belt in this company to me.  I imprint no sentimental value or prestige to it or any other hunk of tin hanging off of anyone else's gut.  Like I said, it's not an accomplishment; It's a means to an end.  Then you try to shame me for doing what every other wrestler in this promotion dreams of doing, and that's calling things on my terms? What's there to judge? or are you complaining because your title doesn't come with such a cushy custom caveat? I told you already that I have no problem running this belt through the mud just to get my way, so if the choices are ruling in hell or serving in heaven I feel like I drew the better gig.  Have fun following someone else's rules, my little cherub faced angel."

(Derelict tilts his head and swoons mockingly, before pursing his lips and blowing a kiss before giving the camera an evil smirk)

"Something else you said also misconstrued my words; you inferred that I called you a coward and a phony.  Now I don't believe that to be true at all.  As a matter of fact I believe you're a very brave man who tries his damnedest to push his boundaries and be better, do better, and go further.  You might be the most fearless and ambitious little son of a bitch I've ever seen.  In our tag match you did hand me a few heavy hits and kept me off the apron long enough for Keeton to secure the win over that windbag Maggall, a man you'd go on to win that very TV Championship off of at Boiling Point.  We're not small men, Layne.  We both have about a solid foot on you in height, and at least around a hundred extra pounds of meat on our bones than you.  You have tenacity and intensity. I'll give you that, however  I do find it interesting how readily you were willing to apply the words 'coward' and 'phony' to yourself.  Maybe it's a case of not caring about my perception of you, or maybe I hit a nerve when I pointed out that you haven't risen very far of the ranks in a year's time and that the only motivating force behind you anymore is the fans who believe in you far more than you believe in yourself.  As you said, we're not here to analyze one another, but the ease at which the words 'coward' and 'phony' left your lips smacks of inferiority complex.  Maybe that chip on your shoulder's dug in a little too deep, but I find that self-assessment very troubling.  Are you afraid of me Layne? Are you afraid of me exposing you to the world in our match, just like I exposed Jake Keeton in our encounters?  Despite your misguided attempt at assessing my strategy, I'll have it known that I take no pride in tearing a man down verbally before he even steps foot in the ring.  Quite the contrary, I like the way it feels when they struggle just before I lock my fingers around their skull and palm the back of their head into the mat.  I like riling them up just so I can crush their machismo under my finger tips. Don't tell me you're coming into this match an already beaten man, Layne.  That's no fun.  I want that firecracker pipsqueak who knocked me off the apron long enough for Keeton to be the coward that he is and sneak the pin."

(Derelict holds his title out in front of him and stares into it's reflection as the sun beats down between the alley walls and threatens to obscure his view with a beautiful glint of metal beneath the grime and gunk ingraining itself on the gold.)

"Maybe you're just trying to replace one bad word with two that are less painful.  I'm sure more than one insecure competitor's charged you for being a phony, just as I'm sure that just as many other insincere and yellow bellied bullies that were afraid to get pants'd by the little guy in front of thousands tried to reflect their own cowardice onto you.  I wonder how many people have charged you with being mediocre though.  It's not really even an insult, is it? It's an observation.  It's pure in it's intended definition, and perhaps that what makes it burn like antiseptic when I apply it to you.  I think you'd even agree that you're not a bad wrestler.  I'd go as far as to say you're a good one, but you're not the best are you? You're not a former World or Heavyweight Champion, and some would view your move from Spartan to TV champion as being a lateral one.  You're not the best in the world, the best in OWA, or even the best on the Olympus brand when it comes by measuring your talents on the cast system that you live by.  It pains you to think that after a hard fought reign as Spartan Champion that you moved to another brand to win another title that might as well have a sticker that says 'TV' over your old title's face plate.  You wonder if you're being underappreciated, but I'm here to tell you that you're being appreciated the exact right amount for your talent level.  OWA has even made that indictment by continuing to put you in the middle of the show.  If you weren't so bullheaded to think you weren't better than the championship, or even buying into your gold's own hype, you'd realize you get as much air time as Bull every week.  You're just as associated with the brand as he is.  You are the ambassador of Olympus, but deep down you don't see it that way.  You look around your waist and you see second place.  You look around my waist and you realized we're standing on that same runner up podium. That infuriates you, but what you don't realize is that it's not just you and I with our feet planted firm on the same pedestal: We're all standing on the same level ground, but that doesn't matter to you because you're fine with being lorded over.  You're fine with accepting a little less spotlight.  You don't think you deserve it because, in your own words, you're a coward and a phony."

(Derelict violently throws his Openweight title into the wall, sending it ricocheting off of the brick and careening against the other side of the alleyway before crumpling to the ground.  He stares up in frustration, clasping the bridge of his nose as he winces at the sunny sky above him.)

"You're not mediocre because you're too small, or too soft, or too inexperienced, or don't know every hold or throw in wrestling, or blah de yada yada.  You're mediocre because you let them assign you the label of mediocre.  You accept it like a dumb little kid getting a gold star in class.  Then you frown when you see the other kids get more shiny stickers than you.  You don't get that they want you to want it more! Instead you let it destroy you!...*sigh*...then you show up the next day and accept another shiny little foil sticker and watch in sorrow as the same kids, the favorites, continue to get more than you.  Then you ask me if Ihihihi know the difference between reigning over hell or serving in heaven? HAH!"

(Derelict clasps his forehead and tries to recapture his wind from his outburst of laughter.  He clenches his eyes shut and nods in embarrassment for a moment, before lunging out with both hands and pulling the camera man in for a shaky tight shot.)

"Your heaven is my hell, Layne Kurobane. That's why I broke the halo long ago and fashioned it into a pitchfork and horns.  It's better to torture and enlighten than it is to blindly follow, because there's no fulfillment in trying to serve others over yourself.  No man is my master and no entity rules over me.  You'll learn that soon enough Layne.  Ohoho trust me, you're in for a baptism by fire! my friend...F-fuck-forget the semantics an analytics and mind games.  I deal in flesh Layne, because my game is a skin game.  No matter what house I'm in or what table I sit at; I make the rules.  I dictate the pace.  I say what goes and what doesn't fly.  You're rolling my loaded dice and dealing from a stacked deck.  It doesn't matter if I put my golden chip on the table and go all in because when I step in the bullpen the odds are always in my favor.  Do you know why, Layne? Do you know? It's because there are no odds.  It's a rigged game.  I'm bigger than you, I'm tougher than you, and I'm sure as hell not as subservient as you are.  The ref can say what he wants, but is it going to stop me from doing what I want to do to you? no.  If you don't get it by now..."

(Derelict yanks the camera away from the camera man and shoves it directly into his bearded mouth)

"IF NONE OF YOU GET IT BY NOW!...let me spell it out for you one last time for good measure: I don't care if I win and I don't care if you lose. All I care about is, and sing it along with me: hur-ting o-ther peo-ple.  Now are we done here? Was that straight forward enough for you? Good."

(Derelict grips the camera's long lens like a baseball bat and abruptly swings it into the alley wall, sending the feed into a blue screen of digital death)

(The black screen suddenly jumps and we are shown the following familiar message)

The following message has been paid for by the Dominion

(The screen then jumps to a view of outside of the Tacoma Dome in lovely downtown Tacoma Washington as the camera pans right to show us none other than the "Black Savior" himself, Devon Slayton, standing in a respectable black suit with a rather unamused look on his face)

Devon: A question, Roxy. What was that thing that you posted? Was that a promo or a commercial...because if it's a commercial, then I really don't want to buy what you're selling... and if it was a promo, then I am solely not impressed because you are VASTLY underselling what this match is truly about and what it's about isn't anything connected to the tag team titles here in OWA.

Devon shakes his head before stroking his beard thoughtfully for a moment before shaking his head slowly. 

Devon: What you fail to understand about this match is that Scott Oasis noticed that he had something unique for this week's edition of Olympus in that he had the oldest child from two wrestling bloodlines in you and me...he saw that and jumped on it. Because in one hand, we have you..."Sweet" Roxy Vendetta. The self proclaimed "Queen of the Evolving World" and leader of the Dollhouse herself, the daughter of the Heart Break Gal and Robbie V...a little pink parasite who is really nothing without her favorite little simpering female goon squad at ringside who crave the idolization of being in the saucy shadows of your's, Roxy.

Devon's face slowly turns into a wicked and self-confident smile.

Devon: Against *ME*, a member of fucking professional wrestling *ROYALTY* in Devon Alexander Slayton. The man known as the "Black Savior", the "Angel of Dirt", and the "Right Hand of *HATE*"!! A man who has spent the last almost twenty years in this sport earning every single thing that he has gained who walks with greater devils and demons than you could ever imagine and while you've got that little prancing pony in DiVa at ringside in your corner...I've got Wrestling's Anti-Christ in Ethan Stryfe watching my back, a man that I know who has my back because of hard earned trust and respect.

Devon motions over at the Tacoma Dome with his head and the camera turns just enough so that we can see the arena over the right shoulder of Slayton.

Devon: Roxy, what I think that you need to right now is stop with the games and the jokes because you need to take our match at Olympus very seriously because all it will take in one and I do mean *ONE* slip up on your part and that's all will be written for you and that's not bragging but a simple fact because while you are under this delusional belief that I'm talentless and unimpressive, you might want to go back and re-watch my match with James Anderson from before Boiling Point for a bit of reference.


Did I lose that match, yes, but in the end his gloating was quickly ended because in case you remember he wasn't able to go onto Boiling Point and because of that, Nate Cage had to wrestle twice that night...while James had to sit it all out.

Devon's smile disappears as he tilts his head to the left and looks at the camera a bit quizzedly.

Devon: Do you understand, Sweet Roxy? He kept throwing that he was this big, bad, and unstoppable thing and when everything was said and done, he didn't even realize what I had done to him. Yes, I lost the match but there was a smile on my face as I watched him collapse because his poor little leg couldn't support his ego bloated fucking head.


The question now becomes two fold with one part being how will you, Rosanna, take that very statement of mine? Will you assume that I accept that I don't care if I win or lose as long as I can get some kind of petty little revenge out of it all *OR* will you look at it as something that you really need to be worried about because if I did that to Anderson's leg without Anderson realizing it... then what will I do to *YOU* and that perfect little body of your's, hmm?

Devon then allows himself a smile for the merest of moments before it disappears again, his face once more the very image of intense determination.

Devon: The other part of the above question is simply what do you think that you can do when you step into my ring in two days? Do you really think that just because you throw up some horrendous pink neon lighting, accuse me and my partner of being Logan Paul fans, and claim that just because you're the flavor of the moment that you're going to be eternal?


*HA*!


You're not the "Best", Roxy. You are a mistake that happens to keep getting lucky as your two little running buddies run on the dogmatic coattails that is your career but understand that when the time is right, DiVa and Jonetta will abandon you, savage you for the meat bag that you are, and then leave your stripped skeleton behind to bleach in the unforgiving sun...and I will be there, smiling because I will *ALWAYS* be there because unlike you, I am a true *PROFESSIONAL* and I make it my job to put an end to pathetic little jokes like you.

Devon then stops talking and looks serious for a moment as he regards the arena in the distance for a moment before turning back to the camera.

Devon: I won't deny it though, Roxy, I was once like you. I bullshitted the choice cuts of this business in my rookie year the exact same way you're trying to bullshit me, Roxy. My ego, like yours, was bloated exponentially, it was the size of Niagara falls even though I couldn't lay claim to earning anything worth merit.


Then I just happened to be tossed into a battle royal that nobody expected me to win and I did and with it a chance to challenge for the promotion's world title...which I won that as well, all within my first SIX MONTHS of the start of my career. 


I tried so hard to convince men like Dan Lea, Bryan Buchanan, and Zell Hunter that I belonged in that same level of greatness that they had as the world champion there. I wanted to swim with the sharks but I was nothing more than an itty bitty paltry crustacean floating aimlessly in the tide only to be devoured by men that at the time took me behind the proverbial woodshed and lashed me until I was sporting multi-colored welts the size of footballs.

Devon takes a moment chuckles mirthlessly for a moment before shaking his head slowly.

Devon: You see, I took those beatings because within them was a dire lesson that I needed to learn. I needed those beatings to complete me and send me skyrocketing towards heights I never thought were achievable. These experiences were vital towards my development and I don't hold any ill will towards the men that tried to destroy me early on in my career.


Because they didn't...because when everything was said and done they *COULDN'T*!

Devon stops shaking his head and thrusts a finger out, stabbing it in the direction of the Tacoma Dome itself.

Devon: They tried though, oh boy did they try. As they sat comfortably in their ivory towers and sent their most violent and bloodthirsty men to take me out of the equation. To them, I didn't belong; I was a chain smoking rat, destined to burn myself out and live the rest of my life in extreme destitution, begging for spare change from my vastly more successful father while vanity driven and vainglorious overly pampered brats like you and DiVa that never spent a day in their lives in the trenches pop ecstasy pills with little smiley faces embedded on them inside the walls of a shit-smeared nightclub bathroom because she's rebelling against the "unjust" stereotype of her shut-in lifestyle of the rich and famous that's been used against her by society ever since she was yanked c-section style out of her mother's gut!

Devon closes his eyes and fights to regain control of himself as he lowers his right hand, slowly breathing the fire out of his veins before he continues...once he is ready, he opens his eyes once more and focuses them on the camera, his tone not filled with the same anger that it was moments before, but is much more calm and focused.

Devon: Now before you get the wrong idea, I'm not perturbed or envious of your ever so sumptuous lifestyle because it doesn't matter who you because by the time that I'm done with you at Olympus, you'll be getting your ass out of my ring while I'm being declared the victor faster than DiVa will know what hit her because I don't need to "try" and make you cry like a little girl because your brazen defensive hot takes about who you are now as to who you are now as to who you were then speaks volumes in itself.


This whole "Dollhouse" pile of bullshit noise is nothing more than a little heartfelt hoo-rah disquisition of how you apparently turned over a new leaf and what stands before me is not the woman who eventually turned her back on her best friend Mia Marie Vega that would eventually stands before me as an evolved version of Sweet Roxy is proof in the pudding, it's nothing more than an unconvincing window dressing to beef yourself up, to stand up to the big bad Devon Slayton. 

Once more the mirthless bark of laughter escapes the Dominion's Assassin as he jabs a finger once more at the arena in the distance.

Devon: That is not a fucking toy showroom to hype up your pathetic neon lies, Roxy. That is a mother fucking *TEMPLE* to the blood and sweat that a *REAL* wrestler like myself has built because unlike me, who has busted his ass for nineteen fucking years in this sport, travelling all over the world and *EARNING* five world championships and SEVENTEEN tag team championships...you'll always be an ostentatious air-headed barbie doll who routinely got a free magic carpet ride to the top via influence with her riches and her parent's legacies.


Talk to me when you actually fucking produce something of value instead of blowing hot air out of your ass.

Devon then lowers his hand and he chuckles once again, but this time there is a hint of dark, remorseless humor in his action as he allows himself to smile that dark smile of his.

Devon: If my words to you fall on deaf ears, Roxy, I don't give a shit either way because pride always comes before the fall, ladies, and if DiVa decides to shove her nose into *MY* business then I will take both of you haggard bitches on. I'll fight fire with fire and give you the war that you think you've already won, but remember this: If outright war is what you seek then my primary objective for this match is not to die for my own honor,


But to make you two slugs die for yours.

Devon takes one more last look at the Tacoma Dome before turning back to the camera, that dark smile still on his face.

Devon: See you soon, Sweet Rosanna.

(The screen fades to black as Devon leaves the camera's view)

I always got the same question every day after Boiling Points.

"Why did you join The Ground Zero?"

And I'm little tired to answer it because I always have a same answer….*sigh* gotta say it again: 

I'm already a winner in just matter of seconds the moment I joined. I mean true, the ring announcer only said Nate Cage and Donny Dragon as the winner of the match but I'm a part of Ground Zero myself, so it made me automatically as the winner of Apollo and Artemis Tag Team Classic winner myself. Glory is something I've been chasing for so long and I'm just one step closer to get it the moment I joined Ground Zero.

I am what I am and I do what I want to repeat the success story I had in Amateur Wrestling. I'm going to translate it in the pro wrestling soon enough.

Honestly, popularity doesn't mean a damn thing for me. Whether you like me or not, I have cemented myself as an American Hero because I'm The Olympic Gold Medalist. I betrayed Sweden once and if the rest of the world hate me for joining Ground Zero, then so be it. I'm the devil now. I'm the danger. I'm the one who knocks the door and I did it for the first time ever in my pro wrestling career at Boiling Point.

I didn't sell out after all, I sold in. Nate, Donny, and James Anderson care about my well being. No matter how many times I rejected their offers, they still opened the door for me once I knocked it. It's a prove that they want me to be better and I really can't thank them enough. 

What fans has done for me? Cheering me? It didn't help me to win matches. I suffered a lot and not any single of you tried to help me out.

What about Nobi? Poor naive Nobi. Always pretending to be The White Knight while in reality he was the one who inserted himself into the situation. He's going to be back to Hollywood after all and probably going to return again during a Clash of Titans match as a surprise entrant and disappeared again just like what he did.

He doesn't work hard as much as I do and as far as I'm concerned, he's a Mickey Mouse corporation product. Spending his time trying to be an elite for so long and as much as I hate to admit it, he earned it.

But OWA isn't all about being Elite. OWA is all about surviving. That's why Nobi comes and goes as he pleases, using the excuse of being a Hollywood actor.

That's why he'll never survives here. I never needed his help. He's weak as the so called Elite wrestler. Fuck outta here Nobi boy, bye.

My opponent this week is similar to Nobi in a way. Yes, I'm talking about you, Nathan Fiora. You tried so hard to be a musician and quite frankly you're not talented in it. Your high-pitch whiny voice is so annoying and fortunately, I have an opportunity to punch you in your stupid face, Fiora.

I can't take you seriously. Your so called best days are behind you now. You're one of the OWA originals and yet, you never achieved anything here. What's up with that? Because you're trying to chase your dream as a musician? That's fine. I can help you out to make you quit this company by snapping your ankle. I'm a fair person after all. That way, you can stop pretending to be a wrestler and chasing your dream as a musician. That's my way to support you, Fiora.

After all, you are a coward aren't you Fiora? You like to run away from your opponents and that makes me sick. You like to cheat on your matches and honestly, I have no problem with it but running away from your opponents? It's disgusting Fiora. 

So consider this as a challenge. If you don't like with everything I said then we can sort it out like men. Of course you could always walk away if you please. Doesn't make a difference to me. 

All hail Ground Zero.

VOICEOVER,
STEFANI's VOICE,
-- / RUCHY






AUGUST 01st, 2019 | Los Angeles, CA


- // We are in a club where we can see Stefani playing billiards with some people. Novak slowly begins to win the game, until finally her opponent begins to cheat and Stefani has noticed this act, and she sticks his hand to the table by a cue from the billiards, and then she wavers and sticks his cheek with a stick. The opponent loses his teeth, and Novak begins to aim at him with a stick.




JOAN: I'm sorry madame Novak ... But there are two versions ...


STEFANI: Relax, Joan, maybe it is better. Both will be skinny!


- // Joan quickly brings two easels with posters, and Rasputia removes the curtains.




STEFANI: HAHASHSHASAHSHAAHAH! Oh God.. We had to wait for one and a quarter of the season for that such a skinny poster. Oh my god.. Girl ... RIP to the hoes dyin 'to be me. HOES MAD? THAT'S RIGHT! For some words, half the roster, or even most of the people here and the official, do not digest me. Well, but you know what Anabelle? I DO NOT GIVE A FUCK. KAJKSAHAHAHAHASSKSKSKSKSS! You must be visibly handicapped to think that someone like you, Ann, can win with someone like me.


STEFANI: Pst, pst .. Cameraman.


CAMERAMAN: Yes, Ms. Novak?


STEFANI: Ann?


CAMERAMAN: Nooo, noo Ms. Stefani. Your opponent's name is Amelie Baer.


STEFANI: Malaria?


CAMERAMAN: Well ... Amelie.


STEFANI: Bitch, what do I pay you for? Okay, except this. I need to give you some babe tips. To be such an incredibly skinny person like me .. You have to go to sleep. Get up in the morning. And like me, for example, I was not going to look skinny right away. Well, it happened. You'd better do something earlier because now I do not want to. But I'm a terrible hyena, and in two weeks at Odyssey ... Fuck, I'm not a hyena, because the hyenas are dirty and they remind me of some diseases that are chronic. I do not touch shit, so please wash yo ass before our fight, though teeth, or I will buy you a mousse. Today's people are very troublesome. Not only sellers, fans, people, family, Lil Tay, Cardi B, Hannah Montana, R2D2, Smeagol from The Lord of the Rings, or Amelie Baer herself. Girl! I think you're finally calling it? Really, to apply for my attention? Do you know why I do not say so much about you? Do you want to really know? Because i don't care about u too much, nothing draws my attention. I do not care about unnecessary people. Recently, I played in the spillikins with Joan and Rasputia, and I think I decided that I prefer to play in this because this is more difficult than you in the ring. And this is not a treasure, it's trying to put you out all the time, I can not. Shit does not burn. Jeeezzz, girl. Before our clash, I have to find some information about you, Angelina. I will send someone right to your home town and ... Joan? JOAN? JOOOOANNNNN !!!! WHERE THE FUCK YOU ARE BITCH? JOAN !? Ion. Joan. Do not make jokes, where are you? YOU GOTTA BE JOKING ME?!


- // Stefani calls his servant. This, unfortunately, is failing. Suddenly, we have an approximation on Rasputia, and then on Stefani's eyesight. The camera zooms in on the Rasputia again as the sweat from her forehead and swallows her saliva. 


STEFANI: RASPUTIA !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


RASPUTIA: I do not know her. Sorry.


STEFANI: Uhm, okay, sorry ma'am. Does not matter.


- // Rasputia makes the sign of the cross and escapes from the club.


AUGUST 1st, 2019 | Market in Boise, Idaho


- // Suddenly, a woman accosts Stefani on the street,


FORTUNE TELLER: Hi young, beautiful, interesting lady, what's your na-


STEFANI: Ugh, do not touch me sucker. I only have a card.


FORTUNE TELLER: Can we get to know each other? Come here, come on. Give me your hand, come to my oasis.


STEFANI: Um.. What? Wait, wait, wait. I know it all. No no no no. Stand back! U do not know with who u fuck with, girl. Sis get yo ass away from me.


FORTUNE TELLER: Please, let me. I want to tell you, show the future more.


STEFANI: Girl, i do not give a fuck about my future. I'm only interested in what is happening now, take me out of the way.


FORTUNE TELLER: Well, go. But the bad aura will be on yo-u-r ...


STEFANI: NAH! NAH! GIRL STAPH! OKAY AND WILL! YO BITCH! HOW DARE YOU ?!


FORTUNE TELLER: I invite you. Come into my humble steps of a woman.


>>> Skinny Legend agrees to prophecy and enters the room of a fortune-teller.


FORTUNE TELLER: Give me your hands.


STEFANI: Just be careful, Mary Kay cream.


FORTUNE TELLER: I feel ....


STEFANI: My cream? Thank you, just bought it.


FORTUNE TELLER: I feel aura ... Something amazing. Something that will surprise you in the beginning of the new year ... You will do something impossible for someone new in the herd.


STEFANI: OHHHHHH Girlll i like that! Tell me more.


FORTUNE TELLER: You will soon get fat by 10 kilos ...


STEFANI: Bitch no, thank u, next.


FORTUNE TELLER: It will be some gold around the waist ...


STEFANI: Awwwwwwww sis! I know what it can be.


FORTUNE TELLER: MOMENT! WAIT! I SEE SOMETHING BAD!


STEFANI: * frightened in the eyes * GIRL! IN-A-NAH!


FORTUNE TELLER: Oh mother. I see something. Something terrible will happen to you. What is your salary?


STEFANI: I do not know, I'm just spending money.


>>> Stefani takes her hand.


STEFANI: GIRL !!!!!! Staph !!!!!!


FORTUNE TELLER: WHAT HAVE YOU DONE ?! You never can take your hand!


>>> Stefani again gives her hand, but the fairy suddenly begins to make of high-gives compilations with her, and finally with the thumb and middle finger shoot, at the end they points at each other.


STEFANI & FORTUNE TELLER: GIRL!


>>> The FORTUNE TELLER takes off her robes and turns out to be her old buddy from the university.


STEFANI: Ashley ?!


ASHLEY: Stef? GIRL LONG TIME NO SEE! I have one prophecy for you.


You.


Will.


Beat.


Amelie.


Baer.


STEFANI: I KNOW! But staph. She is in a sense like me. I gave her time to think about it. What will come out of it? I do not know. Time will tell. She still has a few days.


ASHLEY: Woah, like Samara Morgan from The Ring, SSEEEVEEEEN DAYHSSSSSSSS BITCH.


STEFANI: Girl u weird. Anyway. It's time to show. What is in the ring stays in the ring, what is on my nerves remains in my nerves, and what is on my goal, is on my goal. TIME FOR THE CHAMPAGNE! PERRRIOOOOODDDT


>>> Stefani and Ashley go to the exit, Ashley goes sideways because unfortunately she is overweight, Stefani is pulling her hand so that she can leave the passage.


STEFANI: Girl, you have not changed.
 
AUGUST 1st, 2019 | Amelie's home country.


>>> We are on a certain village, Novak says it is a family place of Amelie Baer. She is wearing expensive fur, LV glasses. There are fields for plowing in the background.


STEFANI: God, this village, stinks here with mud, cows and Amelie Baer. I can manipulate people so that they think I'm nice but I'm not really.


>>> Stef walks in and accosts a random person.


STEFANI: Wassup girl ?! How u doin ?!


???: MOOM!


STEFANI: YAAAAAAASSSSS MOMMY SNATCHHHHHHH YO WIGGG SIS!


MOM OF ???: How dare you mistress?


STEFANI: HOW DARE ME? HOW DARE U? U ARE NOT SKINNY! BYE BITCH NOW! Omg, how many villagers here, it must have been the Amelie family. Let's look further.


>>> Suddenly, a fan jumps out from behind Stef.


FAN: OMG STEFANI NOVAK!


STEFANI: Who are u?


FAN: Your fan !! Can i take a photo with u?


STEFANI: No photos, thank u, bitch.


>>> A sad fan leaves Novak.


FAN: (in the background) Good luck with Amelie Baer ...


STEFANI: WAIT BOI! U know her?


FAN: Well, i do not know her, bye.


STEFANI: COME BACK HERE LIL CUNT! TELL ME EVERYTHING!


FAN: (turns back) Girl bye.


STEFANI: Damn hoes mad.


AUGUST 1st, 2019 | Stefani Novak's apartment