I had already believed Darkane to be a man of insanity for the type of matches he decides to place himself into create this cult of bloodthirsty vagrants screaming for the blood of his enemies and even his own to be spilled within the ring, but he has taken his hysteria to a whole new level with his deranged preaching from the pulpit of vanity.

Darkane is truly mental.

Do you think I need an army of hate to stand beside me when I walk through the flames of Hell to meet you for the chance to provide torture beyond your mortal comprehension? I don’t need a legion of followers to stand behind me, screaming for me to do what I need to do inside of that ring against you, Darkane. I just need me and me alone. Do you think I need the empathy of these people and actually have people root for me? You misunderstand the objective of sharing the harsh upbringing I had provided to you, but it’s understandable considering your pride and vanity continues to blind you from the truth staring right in front of you. Deciding to pluck your own understanding from my words, twist and contort them until they are bastardized from their original meaning, until you do what you proclaim me to do and create a narrative to make sure your cult harkens to your words with admiration instead of disdain. Trust me, I’ll rectify this to make sure you are able to know the true meaning behind the tale of my childhood that was delivered to you. You think of it as some sort of way to be able to make it relatable to you, but why the fuck would I want to relate to the man I want to see nothing more than a mere charred corpse before my eyes in this Inferno Deathmatch? Do you think I’m doing this unto you to fill some sort of gaping void within myself, some sort of daddy issues that I have, or because I’ve lost my mother or loved ones and need something to make that whole again? Ha, don’t make me laugh. Maybe before I had accepted the pact of paramount darkness to provide the bloodline of kings unto me, when I was the man who had been sitting in the shadows for my former brothers to be the spotlight of The Dynasty, maybe you would have been correct in that assumption. Maybe before the shackles had been released and this malicious devil of vile intent was not released from the very depths of my soul, I would have desired that to be the case where these people admired me or you were able to relate to me on some sort of level. Now? You’re a worm beneath my feet and the people who I would have probably wanted to admire me? They are nothing but sheep who are waiting for the moment when they are sent to the slaughterhouse for their demise. I stand out for the reason simply I have something men only dream of, power men aspire to have and never are able to reach, and the expertise I have gained through my work in this industry sets me above any other who dares attempt to take this Immortal Heavyweight Championship, which include you, if you don’t get that. The Dynasty was initially created to restore prestige in this industry that was found lacking, my own personal desire to prevent the fall into obscurity for myself and those around me who I felt were so close to succumbing to this fate unjustly, and would be on the verge of meeting poverty once more. The only vacuum around here was the one in the void of those with prestige carrying championships and even though you had a reign to outshine all of those around you, the lack of prestige was still felt and why? Vanity. Pride. Greed. Sinful and selfish desires corrupted the entire company and every single champion who placed their trophy upon their shoulder as a testament to those cardinal sins, they degraded the foundation of this industry and salvation was needed, but I came to a realization in those months of isolation after I was forced to take a plunge from the heights of The Doomsday Triple Cage. What success did The Dynasty have in taking upon this mission of prestige’s salvation? What happened to The Dynasty who had essentially taken it upon themselves to be men of not prestige, but vanity? Men of pride? Men of greed? We became what we had sought to slay and I saw the emerald sin within the eyes of Matt Miles, Kazuya Iwade, Elijah Hampton… and I see them right now within your own eyes, Darkane. Everyone had resigned themselves to choosing themselves instead of The Dynasty and in the moment of isolation where the whispers of darkness spoke to me, I had the revelation that would be my own personal salvation from the shackles of being the shadow behind men like you. If these men only have vainglorious desires of pride and vanity, why do I need to be the example to stand above the rest and be behind him instead of marking my own path to make sure my legacy remains immortalized in the industry of professional wrestling? Why allow these men to simply take what they want from the business and shove me aside from being able to share in the glory of prestige by placing me in the shadows when I could be the one to stand above them all as the Immortal Heavyweight Champion? I had originally wanted to see the ascension for men such as Matt Miles into the future world champion he should have been in this company, to see Kazuya Iwade meet the mark of the potential future of this industry, to see Elijah Hampton gain everything his heart desired by making himself the best he could be, and you… I loved to see you were able to gain the chance to be the champion you were meant to be that EAW wouldn’t allow you to be. The destructive champion, crushing every person who stood within your path, and being the crown jewel you were meant to become and once you lost that championship, I would have done everything to make sure we could get you back to world champion whether it was OWA World Champion or Immortal Heavyweight Champion… but all of that was before the truth was laid bare before my eyes.

As much as I would devote myself within The Dynasty to bring forth this era of prestige and honor where all of these futures would be realized, it dawned upon me in my isolation that none of my so-called brothers had the same devotion or desire to do the same for me in turn and would continue to leave me shackled and left in the shadows.

That’s why when The Dynasty was chosen as the necessary sacrifice to awaken this darkness within my soul, the tribute needed to bring about the most ruthless and sinister version of Jacob Senn forgotten to the world, I happily accepted because I shed the pride and vanity I had for this brotherhood and saw the truth in the false narrative manufactured for it. The Dynasty had become me using all of my power and might to make these traitorous renegades into something when I should have done everything in my power to make Jacob Senn remain a figurehead in the industry and keep his legacy immortalized. That’s why I had to make sure you were aware of the harsh upbringing I was forged from in my birth because I didn’t tell you that story for some sort of sympathy to be had from these people, I didn’t gift you the knowledge to inform you of this because I wanted something for us to bond over between us, I didn’t tell you that story either to give you some rags to riches heartwarming tale despite the black tar coursing through my father’s veins in some alleyway, but it was to give you the knowledge of two things: adaptation and loss. Throughout my entire life, I have been able to adapt to the surroundings and change myself into someone that is able to have the tools needed to survive the environments I have been placed within and the ability to overcome the obstacles standing in my path from the desire I had in my heart. Whether that was graduating from high school, winning my first wrestling match, becoming a world champion, I’ve been able to adapt to anything that has been placed in front of me and this match that we are bound to have at Final Destination, it will be no different from every other adversity that has stood before me in this industry. I have walked through the world with various different titles and ideologies, fought with different styles and techniques to achieve victory at any cost, and all of it for the necessity of adaptation in the face of adversity. I adapted the moment I sacrificed The Dynasty to be a new man, transform myself from a shadow in the background to a darkness in the forefront as champion, and become the malevolent antagonist in the eyes of every person within this company as the doom it never thought would be actualized. I became what I have needed to become not only to be the person standing before you as the Immortal Heavyweight Champion at the throne of divine prestige, but to be the entity of malice and destruction to rival even the one who has become known for his carnage within the ring in Darkane himself to make sure when the inevitable desire of retribution and vengeance came, I would have adapted into something more than prepared to take you on. Loss is the other part of the story to allow you to know that with every loss I have endured throughout my life, I have remained resolute and steadfast in my desires to have my legacy immortalized to the point of no contention to be had of Jacob Senn being the greatest professional wrestler to ever set foot inside of these ropes. The loss of a mother, the loss of a loved one, any of the humiliating and disheartening losses I have suffered in my career, they were an impetus to the unflinching motivation I had to make sure my name would not be left into the void of obscurity. Their heartbreaking losses only kept the fire stoked within my soul to push me to the point where I broke boundaries I never assumed I would break, commit acts of violence and atrocities I would have never done until I was pushed to that point, because their loss provoked me to that point. You may be right that my mother may not be proud of some of the methods I had undertaken to get to this point within my career. Forging a pact with darkness to produce a form of Jacob Senn no longer to be eroded through corrosion of time, sacrificing those once considered brothers on a pyre as tribute to be able to secure the Immortal Heavyweight Championship on my shoulder by accepting this pact, and many other treacherous or malicious acts that I have played part in throughout my career after her unfortunate death, but do you know what? She is not here. She does not need to bear witness to what I have done to make sure this legacy remains immortalized and if she is not proud of what I have built upon the bones of those who had stood in my path of making this legacy a reality, she would either have a change of heart for the riches provided with what I have done for that legacy or she would have become another sheep who only knows fear for something as grandiose as the legacy I hope to create with my own two hands. These are the lessons I had hoped to impart upon you, but your mental state corrupted by the vanity and pride drowning in your mind because of your obsession for vengeance by stealing this Immortal Heavyweight Championship away from me, it blinded you from those truths. This newfound blessing from the pact of darkness I have created for myself, it will remove the veil you have placed upon yourself to prevent you from seeing the truth staring across from you when Final Destination has arrived. Once you have been exposed to the truth and the cleansing fire has washed away the sins from your body, it will have already been too late for you, Darkane. You will have fallen just as Matt Miles did when I left him as a bloody corpse backstage at Olympus and left him for only you to find as a warning for what you would become should you choose the path of vengeance against me. You will have been met with a disheartening defeat just as Kazuya Iwade did when I broke his body in ways he didn’t expect me to be able to do to him as I transformed the man I created to be the future of this industry into a mere shattered husk lying in the middle of the ring as an example for what you will suffer at Final Destination. Not only has the eleventh-hour passed upon your need to see the truth before your eyes as salvation from the carnage you will have inflicted upon your body and soul, but I gave you two proper warnings for what would come if you dared to stand in my path for the Immortal Heavyweight Championship. I left your former brothers lying at your feet to make this message clear, I sliced your body and left you lying in a pool of blood to make sure you got the word of caution to stand clear from me as I make my legacy remain immortalized with this championship on my shoulder, but your unyielding pride would never allow that. It wouldn’t entertain the idea for a second of letting the sacrifices I made simply wash away and move on to potentially chasing after the OWA World Championship to get your throne you desired as I did when you became Omega Heavyweight Champion, because you feel you need to avenge your brothers who fell within The Dynasty? The same people you discarded every second you got and never gave a single shit about? The people you felt you would have been better without in the first place instead of being locked down in a faction? You want to now preach the word of The Dynasty and how you wanted it to be the premier stable here in OWA? The time for that has passed, the time for The Dynasty ended when all of you decided to choose self-serving pride instead of the covenant to restore prestige as we demanded, and you only need to blame yourself for what has happened.

I sacrificed The Dynasty for my own desire to claim this championship, but that sacrifice was not only self-serving, for you were brought freedom from it. I forced those shackles to be freed from you and the funny thing is, you hate me for it. I’ve made it to where if there is one thing you hate more than yourself for what you have done to get to this point, you hate me.

I want the wrath of Darkane to be at a fever pitch at the point he enters into Final Destination to see me standing across the ring from him. I want to be as mad as humanly possible and let your anger be as searing as the flames we will be surrounded by. For every step you take into making your wrath reach the heights you want it to reach to make your vengeance realized, it takes you every step closer into being a more predictable opponent when I stand against you. The more predictable of an opponent you become for me, there is an increased chance that you’ll make a mistake when you fight against me because every motion of yours will be calculated to the exact motion you perform before you take it. When you make that mistake that will be the one to make everything you have worked towards for this match be left shattered because of it, you know I’ll be there to capitalize on it and make sure you never recover until you are left as the charred husk of a body I intend to leave you as at Final Destination. If none of these words have been able to stoke those flames a bit more and make sure to bring forth the angst, the bitterness, the fury that you have inside of your soul to release inside of our match, let me give you a reminder of all the reasons why you are mad at me. Think about The Dynasty and how I was able to systematically destroy it from within. Think about Matt Miles and the state I left him in. Think about Kazuya Iwade and how I humiliated him when he thought he could take this championship away from me. Think about how I fileted your skin in the middle of the ring and left you lying as a sacrifice for this championship on my shoulder. Think about how I aligned with a man who has literally been the bane of your existence for this year in Graham Baker to achieve my personal glory. Think about all of those things before you make your way through the gates of Hell to stand across the ring from me.

Think about all of that to stoke your rage and anger as you look to stand against almighty before you are made to pay penance to The Goetial King with your flesh, blood, and body altogether.

Typical, of course, there'd be a deadbeat "father" capable of trying to come into a girl's life after he witnesses the work of what her mother raised and wants to feed on his adult child.

It would be no different than when some star athlete or musician has their father crawl out from under their rock and suddenly want something to do with their famous child. Men like that are parasites, attracted only to success and what can benefit them as they gaslight people into thinking that they now require the missing support they never needed in the first place to get where they are!

Banshee, don't ever allow yourself to be taken advantage of by some former adopted oaf of a parent you had. He wasn't around when you needed him. He wasn't around when you took your first steps here in OWA. He didn't introduce you to spotlight and fame. He didn't make you the most dominant force in OWA history like you were when I had you under my control. No Banshee, that only ever occurred under MY watch and supervision. I am the only parent that you need.

I made you, and I will destroy you.

Without me, you're already weaker. When was the last time you were capable of destroying a swath of people, Banshee? In fact, after we destroyed Team Aria and you were done massacring people left and right by my orders, have you even won a match since being "freed" from me? All I remember is a loss to Diantha and me stabbing you right before you let a twig-like Filth get your corpse over the ropes. At least I've won matches since then. At least I still inspire fear and respect into the hearts of the many who walk this company! At least everyone in this damn company knows that neither April, Filth, Grace, Hana, nor Stephanie have ever pinned me and their claims to my world title are invalid! Without me, you've gone back to being your old embarrassing self, and these fans only cheer you on because they hope they can hop onto a prosperous bandwagon, not realizing that they destroyed that very bandwagon as soon put their fatasses on it and broke you Banshee. These people you call your Horde and all sorts of nonsense are the ones that are you undoing Banshee. They have made you feel emotions. They have made you believe that there is right and wrong in this business! But no Banshee! In this business, there is only success and failure, only those who can do harm and those who are harmed! There is only the strong and the weak.

I don't even know what the Rift is, let alone care enough for your comparison with the Dollhouse. Is this some sort of pet project you haven't told your mother about? As for how my girls are doing? What a strange question. What are you trying to prove? Rosanna and I are the tag team champions of PWN. And while I am aware that PWN is no OWA partner, and what matters most is what happens here, I will stay say that at least PWN championships have shown up and been defended in OWA before, compared to this "Rift" of yours and the fact you've never been a champion in OWA. I know you haven't been a champion in JET, WW, SSW, nor SWWS. I don't know about PH, but I'm fairly comfortable assuming you haven't. So what makes you think your career has been better than any member of the longest-reigning Tag Team Champions in OWA history and current champions in a company in OWA's orbit? Rosanna even managed to become OWA Women's Champion, a feat you haven't accomplished and LAW's champion. You're only on DiVa's level, and even there, you're a step behind. Am I supposed to act like that's not the case just because they've gone from the company? It's very strange how the bandwagon turns on people as soon as they step away, you do realize that all careers eventually end right? With your fickle logic Banshee, which I can't deny is popular, you'd be forgotten after I bury you alive in the last match you're even seen it.

Banshee, if there is one last lesson I will teach you before I bury you for good, it will be that you need to learn how to make your tales believable! It doesn't matter if you stretch the truth a bit. It doesn't matter if you become an egotistical menace. You still have to have a small kernel of truth, else no one will take what you say seriously! Not only does not one care about the Rift, but no one believes you were the reason for the success of Azumi Goto, Stephanie Matsuda, or Alyssa Grace! No, you have to take someone floundering and as foolish as yourself and then take them to levels in the spotlight they have never had before. You don't see me trying to take credit for Stephanie Matsuda being a world champion here after all her time or say I'm somehow the reason Filth won the Clash or that Hana took Team Llorona's dominance all the way to the top. No, people would see through that. But I can take credit for you and Revy getting into main events. I can take credit for having Odyssey main event PPV with my name value alone. I can take credit for being part of the greatest female faction and greatest female tag team that this company has ever seen and will ever see! Really, I'm disappointed your brain is still this underdeveloped after all these years that you have been capable of watching me and able to learn from my example. This is why having a child is so difficult. They always let you down. There is no church in the wild Banshee, no royalty, no higher powers, nothing supernatural, only the might of an animal and the numbers in a pack. A lot about power relies on belief Banshee, people have to believe in kings, champions, and even Ivory Dolls, or else the masses shall rebel. Some people believe monsters are like beasts in the wild, and that is false, a monster is just an emperor by another name without a throne. Banshee, you're a monster, so you especially need to rely on the suspension of disbelief on this roster, you can never tell obvious lies! For once they see that the monster has no clothes, you become no monster at all to them.

And of course, I'm the only one around here who has seen you without those clothes Banshee, I knew you and introduced you when you were Morrighan, and I nurtured you as your master when you were the Banshee. You were under my control 24/7, Banshee, how could anyone know how your body works better than me? How could anyone have had more time to experiment with you and test your limits than me? Banshee, you were powerful under me because I had the brains to put your inhuman tolerance for pain to use! You were next level because I knew how to utilize that wreckling ball of a body of yours! Without me, you're just a brainless punching bag that know how to talk! Sure you can take more hits than the average person, but at the end of the day your body is still made of matter and it breaks down when it's hit enough times and you do stay down for count. You certainly can't be buried under dirt, that's for sure! Don't try to play these mind games with me young girl! If I truly thought you were unstoppable, I wouldn't have had you destroy Team Aria ONLY that one time! No, I'd have sent you to take out the entire roster and put each and every single one of them away, but no even I knew you had limits to your immense power and I shouldn't waste what you had carelessly. I know your limits!

Banshee, I found a way to control you. Banshee, I found a way to make you disappear into smoke in the middle of the Clash. Why do you think I don't have the resources to get to you again? Come to think of it, I know that's why you've been so obsessed with me lately. You don't care about your fake mother that you dispose of. You don't even care that I was mean to you when I took you over. I mean, it's as you said, I was always a thorn at your side, I was always the mother that brought you into OWA and someone you hated for beating on you so much. It was only after I fully took over your body did you become this crazed about me to the point you target my property and feel the need to hound me without rest. Your real problem is that you know I'm the only one who has ever uncovered the secrets behind the Banshee. You know that I'm the only one in OWA who can unravel the monster when I put my mind to it and decide to make my daughter kneel to her superior. You want to be an adult who can leave the nest without being dragged right back and having your fun ruined by your master and guardian! You think you're all grown up and don't need me! Well too bad, Banshee, your going to be my pet monster, my kaiju in a bottle, and my slave as your legacy when I prove to everyone at Final Destination that you belong to me! You will never get to live a life free of me in OWA, and since you insist on trying to resist my dominance over you…..I have no choice but to end your career.

Banshee, I'm a hunter, a poacher extraordinaire. Do you truly believe I do not have the tools to take you out at Final Destination? Even after I've bought books and daggers to bring you low constantly? Oh, sweetie, you're more naive and easily baited into a fight you can't win than I thought. Don't you know how many arcane artifacts exist in this world, let alone Japan? And the dark arts are filled with immoral people willing to sell their wares, just like your "family." Even the dumbest of beasts are once bitten twice shy, but you're twice bitten and show zero improvements. You truly do take a lot of teaching to learn simple little things like Jonetta Stone is always prepared and the odds on favourite! You're really making me look bad as a mother, so untrained, so uncivilized, just another reason why I have to get rid of you. Banshee, you have no idea what hell awaits you, but when you experience it you'll be begging me to put you into your grave. And naturally I'll comply with your final wish, even if your mouth never utters it, mother will hear your soul scream for release and mercy! And your one and only matriarch will put you into her arms and lull you into that deep slumber that relieves you from in being this world that poor creatures such as yourself cannot find peace in.

We find ourselves on the top balcony of Epic Manor, the home to none other than “The Ultimate Disharmony” J.D. Damon. The large doors on the very top of the home that lead to his bedroom are open, as he leans against the railing of the balcony. The home sits on top of a hill within the gated neighborhood, as Damon looks out across the entire area. Hundreds and hundreds of thoughts racing through his head. Damon re-playing scenarios in his head. “If only I had done this differently.” “If only I had actually cared about winning this match or that match.” A hundred and one what-ifs all have lead up to this moment in history… to this point in time.
 
 
Another year down, another season in the books. The end of the long, winding road, if you will. Final Destination is finally upon us, folks. The biggest show of the year. The grandest stage of them all is only a couple short weeks away. And where do I find myself this year? Not walking into Final Destination the Spartans Champion that’s for sure. However, I am walking into Final Destination up against two self-centered bastards… at least last year I only had to deal with one. Heh. After last year’s Final Destination it was all down hill for me from there. Me losing the Spartans Championship to only have Aria Jaxon retired the fucking thing two weeks later. Me entering the Dark Kingdom tournament to re-claim the championship that was rightfully mine… to only be eliminated in the first round by Azumi Goto. What the fuck, right? Most people told me that that was the best year that I’ve had in a long time. And it all ended within a blink of an eye… It was all down hill from there. The majority are telling me that it’s time for me to call it quits. That… it’s time for good ‘ole J.D. Damon to hang up the boots and take a job somewhere else. Maybe backstage? Maybe on the commentary both? Who knows. You know what I have to say about that? They can all go fuck themselves. J.D. Damon isn’t going anywhere. J.D. Damon is staying right where he belongs, despite what the majority says.
 
Damon recollects his thoughts for several seconds. He clenches his jaw tightly before continuing.
 
You know… they say the most dangerous creation of any society is the man who has absolutely nothing to lose.
 
Ponder that for a second or two. Hell, I will even re-word that statement for you, just in case you don’t fully grasp it. A man… who has nothing to lose - NOTHING - is the most dangerous creation within any society.
 
Damon pauses for a few seconds, as he lets the quote fully sink in.
 
That relates pretty damn well with this upcoming match, now doesn’t it? I have nothing to lose when walking into Final Destination.
 
NOTHING.
 
TO.
 
LOSE.
 
I don’t care what happens in this match, but the one thing that MUST happen… is me leaving Japan with championship gold wrapped around my waist. Whether Kyle helps me with winning the match or not… I will gladly run through both Christopher Sabertooth and Jeff X by myself if I have to. I don’t give a FUCK. I don’t. I don’t care that they are Triple Crown Champions… Grand Slam Champion… future first ballot Hall of Famers… two men whose moms question their sexuality on a daily basis. It honestly doesn’t matter to me. Because honestly… when everything is all said and done… the smoke begins to clear… I will be standing over both men like the absolute fucking GOD that I am. I realize that it’s not something that the two of you will like. I get it, I truly do. You two aren’t used to having this scenario played out during your careers. You know… it’s going to an enormous pill that the both of you will have to swallow, so… TIME TO CHOKE THAT BITCH DOWN!
 
Because whether you like it… or not… I am walking out of Final Destination… I am leaving Japan with one of those goddamn belts around my waist.
 
Damon pauses for a few seconds, before continuing.
 
You see… this isn’t about the OWA World Tag Team Championship. It has never been about the World Tag Team Championship, because honestly? I don’t give a rat’s ass about those titles. Do you… do you think that when I was little… when I was sitting in front of the family television watching professional wrestling as a little kid, do you think that I was dreaming about having to carry another person in order to win tag team gold? ABSOLUTELY NOT! Little J.D. Damon was busy dreaming about being the World fucking Champion, that’s what I was doing. I was dreaming about living the good life. But HERE WE ARE! It’s fine, it’s fine.
 
Like I was saying… this isn’t about the tag team titles. This is about ruining the lives of both Jeff X and Christopher Sabertooth. I know how much those titles mean to them. I know that they love being a tag team. That they love everything that comes with carrying those belts around. That’s exactly why I have to win at Final Destination. It’s not a want. No, no, no. NO! It’s a MUST. I must win. Why? WHY?! Because I need to remind both Jeff and Chris what it feels like to hurt. What it feels like to have something that they love ever-so dearly ripped away from them. And what better thing to rip from them… than those precious tag team titles that they hold. I had my shot a few months back with Jason Long… but, we all know how that faithful night ended, don’t we? Jason decided to go into business for himself. He knew what we were supposed to do. We were supposed to end Jeff and Chris right then and there, but he failed. He failed miserably. Now… now I need to do it myself. Kyle can tag along if he chooses to show up. If not? Then I have no problem whatsoever doing it myself. Just like the saying goes… if you want something done right, do it yourself.
 
Damon shrugs.
 
Jeff… you and I have quite the history together, eh? I voluntarily joined you and the rest of The Frontline to go into battle… no, WAR… two years ago during what will go down in history as “The Great War.” A war that we were victorious in. A war that we thought would help change the landscape of Kingdom. Oh, it change it alright. It definitely changed it… just not for the better. You had one job as World Champion, Jeff. One job. And that was to protect Kingdom. What did you do instead? You somehow allowed Arata Asakura and his goons to run it into the fucking ground. Perhaps that was your plan all along. Perhaps you really didn’t give a fuck about Kingdom. Perhaps you didn’t give a fuck about anything other than yourself. Which… now that I think about it… makes perfect sense. All of that…. has lead to this very moment. This moment in time where Jeff X only cares about one person and that’s himself. You never cared about Kingdom. You never cared about The Frontline. Everything that has oozed out of your suck hole has only been lies.
 
Damon pauses for a moment or two as he stares off into space, before continuing.
 
Jeff… will you please do me a huge favor?
 
Please?
 
SHUT THE FUCK UP!
 
 I am sick and tired of hearing you trying to rationalize why you decided to join forces with Christopher Sabertooth. I’m done, man. “Earned your trust on the battlefield?” Are you fucking kidding me? And then try to compare him… to me?! Just remember, Jeff, during The Great War… it wasn’t me who tried to destroy the very thing that we were entrusted to protect. So don’t even attempt to try to tell me about how much you trust him… how much you respect him, because as far as I am concerned… Christopher Sabertooth is nothing more than a piece of trash.
 
Oh! I’m sorry, Jeff. I know you don’t like when people say mean words about your best friend, but sometimes… the truth hurts.
 
You’re right, Jeff. You are absolutely correct when saying that I could have chosen anyone to be my tag team partner, but for some reason I chose Kyle. Do you not watch our own show, Jeff? Do you not pay attention? Do you honestly think for one second that I would have chosen Kyle?! Now… don’t get me wrong. Kyle and I go back pretty far, but unfortunately he just isn’t… up to par. Maybe it’s the fact that he is more weed than human? I don’t know. But it really doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter who my partner is. Whether it’s Kyle… Theodor Pavel… Michael Bishop… or Jason Long. It wouldn’t have mattered. Regardless who stands next to me in that ring… I am going to make sure that you two… Murder, Inc… does not leave Japan with those belts around your waists. You two can laugh at me all you want. I don’t blame you. I haven’t had the greatest success this past year. But you know me better than most, Jeff. When the odds are stacked against me… when my back is up against the wall… that’s when J.D. Damon shines the brightest! You want to talk about magic happening at Final Destination? You claim that you and Chris are going to make magic? The only magic that is going to happen at Final Destination is when I make those championship belts - those tag team belts - disappear from your possession. POOF! They’re gone.
 
Do you think I’m afraid of getting hurt, Jeffrey? Do you honestly think that I’m afraid of entering… what did you call it… this “slaughterhouse?” You claim you know me pretty damn well, but apparently you don’t. I have a very long history of getting hurt.
 
Damon removes his shirt and tosses it to the ground.
 
Do you see these scars? GET A CLOSE LOOK AT THEM! These scars that cover my chest, my back, my arms. I wear these scars on my body as if they were badges of honor. I collected these scars during many, MANY death matches. The majority of them being with Kenny Drake himself. Kenny and I would beat the living hell out of each other until the canvas of the ring was soaked in our blood… and then we would do it some more. So if you think for one solitary second that I’m afraid of getting hurt… that I’m afraid of some bitch ass slaughterhouse that awaits me at Final Destination… then you are a stupid motherfucker, Jeff. Mentored by Kenny Drake? Once again… WRONG. It was me who made Kenny Drake into the person that he is today. If it wasn’t for me, he would still be talking to some stupid voice in his fucking head. But, instead… I helped mold him into the absolute monster that we all know Kenny Drake to be. I was the evil genius that brought Wolvesden into fruition. Unfortunately for me… it’s Kenny who gets all of the praise. It’s Kenny who gets all the admiration for a lot of the shit that I did. But all of this isn’t about what I have done… what Kenny has done… what Wolvesden has done. Nah. This isn’t about Wolvesden. Wolvesden may live on forever. Even when Kenny and I are dead and gone, a new generation of Wolvesden will continue on in our place. But all of this. All of this bullshit… it’s not about any of that. What I am going to do at Final Destination is about me being J.D. fucking Damon. I am going to prove to both you and Chris that I’m not riding anyone’s fucking coattails… that I’m not stuck in anyone’s shadow. That I am my own fucking person. I don’t need Wolvesden, and I sure as hell don’t need The Frontline to help me in MURDERING you two at Final Destination.
 
Damon clenches his jaw tight as he balls up his fists. A snarl comes across his face, as the thoughts of shedding his opponent’s blood runs through his head.
 
Christopher Sabertooth… did you really feel bad about all of the bad shit that YOU caused? The lives that were lost. The careers that were cut short. Did you truly feel guilty for all of the bullshit that you caused?! You can say it all day, Chris. You can say it until you were blue in the fucking face, but I highly doubt you feel any remorse for everything that you did. You can try to blame it all you want on Havoc, but I feel like you had more control than you want to admit. It’s okay, Chris. You can keep playing the dumb card all you want, your little secret is safe with me.
 
Damon runs his hands through his hair, as he stares out into the darkness that is his neighborhood.
 
Chris… Jeff… I understand that you two are two of the best wrestlers that Kingdom has to offer. Future Hall of Famers in your own right, so I’m not going to take this challenge lightly. I completely understand what I am up against. I am up against two former World Champions, two men who have walked into every single Final Destination and tore the house down. But, I question whether you two fully understand - FULLY GRASP - what you are up against. Kyle may seem like your ordinary stoner, but that kid is no joke. And me? Well, you both know exactly what I am capable of.
 
Final Destination Four… I am going to walk into our match and rip you two limb from limb, and there isn’t a fucking thing that you can do to stop me. Do you both understand me? I am going to damn near MURDER you both on live television… and I’m going to smile while doing it.

Oh, so now Nobi knows how to get passionate and give these long-ass speeches. Where was this energy during our tag team title defence?

Oh, so now the White Knight is back and thinks racism doesn't need to include power and privilege. Where was all this when you were in the crib with us dealing with the gypsys and all the whites we been whipping around the last many months?

Oh, so now Nobi is all tight about trying to put people on fire? Where were your morals when Bad Boy Know was trying to put bullets into people? Stop lying Nobi, you don't the cops because you know your ass would be in jail with us, of course you'd only do half the time since your complexion would get you off a little easy. 

See what white supremacy make a bitch do? Have em switch up and acting brand new to get more support from their fellow crackers and cracker adjacent, and they tell me you Emping Indonesian crackers are especially bitter. 

You love a pity party Nobi, but we don't cry together on my watch, I meant it when I say I won't show up. 

And of course you ended up Wrestleworld European Champion. I remember that place and it's titles, that's the only championship in Wrestleworld history where there have been no people of colour to win it. It might as well be the face of racism and suppression of coloured voices, but everyone should have saw it coming when it named after the most evil continent on the planet. And you're proud of it. I have to ask a question, why is that title the only one there without a gimmick name? The Japanese got "Shogun", Americans got "Dream" added to their name, and the Mexicans got some shit no one can even pronounce, but only you European devils got a title with no cute little quirk in the name to go with it. What were they too scared to name it the "colonizer championship"? I think it would have worked, you know how you colonizers love to make other nations submit to your wills, it would have fit perfectly.

Well congratulations to you, I was fired from there on Juneteenth by that evil witch you called a sister when she targetted the one black man in the group when we failed against your crew. Man that's how I should have known I couldn't trust you, how you gonna fight someone and still call them sister? You never pick a side Nobi, you always trying to play both groups and be everyone's friend, you're a follower! And now you're following Nate Cage and your Italian ways into a fight you can't win, this isn't the old days where the mob mattered. 

Nah the only Italian people care about these days is Mario, and considering they gave that role to Chris Pratt, you know they don't even bother to respect your biggest icons. No one will cry when we get rid of you two.

3:31 AM…

(DT The Ruler is shown, huffing heavily in his training clothes while sitting at a weight bench. He just dropped two 100-pound weights to the ground and sat in a thinking pose with both hands covering his face. In the room was just him, one of his older personal trainers, two other assistants setting up the machines, an empty ring several feet away, and an array of equipment near a punching bag)

Trainer: You’re working through this like shit! This is the easy part. You got a big match in a week. You gotta get going. What’s going on?

DT The Ruler: (breathing heavily) Nothing’s wrong. I’m good.

Trainer: Nah, I don’t believe you. I don’t believe you one bit.

DT The Ruler: I told you I’m good.

Trainer: You’re halfway through your workout and you’re already struggling to breathe.

DT The Ruler: I TOLD YOU I’M GOOD!

Trainer: BULLSHIT. Look at you, already posing like you wanna quit, looking like you’re ready to fly to Japan and go out like a sucka. (The trainer walked over to DT and looked him in his eyes) You think those scallywags care how tired you get here? Huh? You think anyone you’re facing gives a shit how exhausted you are? I’m trying to get you physically prepared because I THOUGHT you were there mentally. Looks like those whores were right about you: insignificant muscle.

DT The Ruler: They’re more than wrong.

Trainer: Are they, Don? Are they? (The trainer turned towards the walls DT was facing, eyeing the mirrors along it) Look at yourself, Mr. Sophistication and Class, Mr. “Bad and Boujee”. It’s like you forgot what made you a World Champion before, and you let your image make you soft! You may see a better man in that mirror over there, but all I see is a dog pretending to be a wolf. You're gonna let a bunch of back-alley whores and some KPOP pantywaist tell you who you are, or are you gonna be who you need to be?

DT The Ruler: The fuck you NEED me to be, then?

Trainer: I NEED YOU TO BE A GODDAMN MAN! (The trainer slapped DT The Ruler in his face and made him rise up in anger) WHAT’S THE MATTER WITH YOU?! What are you scared of: being called toxic? Being seen as lesser than? Let me tell you a very well-known secret, Donny: they don’t think much of you already! Your past glory, your skin color, your wealth, your win-loss streak, all the fancy suits and cars and watches: THEY DON’T GIVE A FUCK EITHER WAY! You go out there, posing like some GQ modeling sissy, and all they see is Terry Crews waiting for the signal to cut a jig. The only way they’ll change their minds is when you beat them to submission. And after you win, you beat the next person, and the next one, and the next one. And even then, if they try and talk about you, they’ll have a lot less to say before you beat them again.

DT The Ruler: …

Trainer: Now pick up those damn weights; we aren’t done here. Looking mad don’t mean nothing…





10:55 AM…

(The camera pans in on DT The Ruler’s head taking a deep breath through his nose while sitting upright again; he shakes his head and tries to get himself mentally prepared for the coming Final Destination 4 contest while sitting in his office at his Seattle, Washington location. DT The Ruler is still shown laughing lightly for a moment and wiping under his nose)


I let my expressions of anger and frustration marinate the past few days, let the rage that’s been building for the past five months stew a bit longer in the pot before I make my travels to Japan for Final Destination 4. A little over a week away before one of the Survival of the Fittest scenarios on the card happens, one where The Ruler faces five others from both Kingdom and Odyssey looking to step closer to greatness in the current-day.

And as much as I hate where I am now, I love this. I love the fact that at least one person gets what’s going to happen in this contest and how to really, TRULY prepare for a challenge of this magnitude that includes The Ruler of Men. I love the fact that at the last PPV of the season, at the last big show of OWA’s fourth season to determine who gets to experience grandeur, I get the opportunity to be unhinged without complaint. But yet and still, I know the match that I’m entering is just as mental as it is physical. Going up the ladder for opportunity is as literal as it is symbolic, and I understand that pretty well. But as one of my trainers attempted to reinforce through my skull that this being many have seen over the past few months, this being I’ve presented to everyone to take as an example cannot go to Final Destination as he is. Did I wear Armani suits and splash on Louis Vuitton cologne for the sake of impressing OWA personnel? Absolutely not. It’s just part of who I am at this state in my life. However, considering the circumstances, that man who actually takes care of himself and lets his appearance match his worth has to be put aside.  

But for some reason, some unexplained reason though, I have a feeling that when it comes to this war that is going to happen at the Japan National Stadium, some of these people do not fully comprehend how hard I will make it for them to even get up one rung. After a point, though, that’s not something I should be concerned about. Much like in my past wars, whether or not my opponents comprehend how much Hell they’re going to be put through is not something I need to constantly remind them of. After a point, they should just know.

(DT The Ruler picked up a bottle of whiskey and took a shot of it straight, shaking his head after swallowing it)



I sat back and let the chips fall where they may with my initial thoughts- and it felt so good to let a lot of that out- and so far, it’s starting to work a smidgen. The goal, though, is not to inspire, as much as I like beating people at their best. But even still after wanting to see my opposition’s thoughts better match the nature of this contest, I have some straightening to do, some idiocy and hypocrisy to iron out, because before I let go of logic in order to get an opportunity due to me, I will make sure each and every person I am facing knows not just what to expect me to do to them but what NOT TO SAY AND THINK BEFOREHAND. After hearing the words of Ms. Diantha, I had a feeling of all the people going into this fight, she would be the most willing to prove me wrong about my assertions about the Thotessey bunch, but thing is: I already singled her out as an exception from the depravity displayed on the Pink Brand. She’s trained to endure physical Hell just like every Tiger-blooded Rosso. She- like me- was born to expect Hell just by the contents of our skin. And to gain her accolades, Diantha traveled through Hell for them. However, what Diantha won’t do is speak wrongly about The Ruler. I do like that she is willing to Fight Without Honor, battle without restraint, and claw and scratch to become a briefcase holder. I love the fact that she is willing to go Fight or Flight Mode- not Playoff Mode- to ensure her chances are better compared to past circumstances.

(DT The Ruler looked at the bottle of whiskey once again and poured some into a glass. However, after looking at it for a moment, he decided to just drink it straight once more)

For me, I don’t delve too much into previous events hoping to re-enact them, nor do I look at the past as a place where my best days will stay. They did help mold me into the man I am, but it’s not a place to be cooped up. Let’s start with the past event mentioned: my CWF World Championship loss. After being International Champion one time, I went on to be included in a Six-Pack Challenge that had five of the strongest competitors in the company. And I won. I then went on to The Wrestling Classic to face a man who simultaneously stood as my only friend in this business…and foe….as champion: Carlos Rosso. Not only did I win at that end of the year event, I beat him again at the next Pay Per View. It wasn’t until the third time did Carlos Rosso manage to overthrow me.

And I was devastated.

I was younger, just cleaning up some of my life, getting back on track, and the biggest victory I experienced at that time was then taken away by The Fighting Tiger who stood as my only friend and foe, at least in my mind he did. It broke me because when you reach the mountaintop for the first time and descend, you have to relearn about how excruciating the climb back up is. A once doable task feels like there’s barbed wire fences, snake pits, and railroad spikes to crawl around and through. And after a period of depression due to that loss, I did climb, and I became a champion once more in the Alpha Wrestling League, starting from the very bottom in that company and destroying everything in my path to make it.

Diantha, I applaud you for wanting to fight in this coming match as if you won’t get to eat and drink if you lose. But you’re making a big mistake already. You became a World Champion in OWA, and that is great, but you will not disregard my accomplishments against greater foes just because YOU did it in the Omega Wrestling Alliance. Whether it happened last month, last year, or within the last 3 years, it is in the past that you made it. And as strong as you pose, fact of the matter is you are not coming to Final Destination laced in gold; you are just as naked as I am. You are just as naked as JoJo, Rin, and Liz heading to Tokyo. Your successful climb to the mountaintop in OWA is in the same place as everyone else’s : in the past, so the bragging rights for succeeding there don’t matter. And you for certain do not get to pick which parts of the past matter and which ones do not.

And that mention of my past confirms for me that the monster I know you can be is still not manifesting. You’re trying to put logical spins on things you know little about, and as much as your brother defeating me left me broken and ashamed, you better ask him how it felt to be close to the top of the mountain and repeatedly kicked down by a rival many in the business felt he was all-around better than. This Ascension to the Heavens contest coming is going to have a bunch of desperate people included alongside yourself in the present, with a few of them who've been in OWA longer than myself and have crumbs to show for their efforts. For the biggest event of the year for this organization, you better do better than that because what you said about me was an incredible reach. Disrespecting past greatness is something I’d expect from JJ Reddick or some Gen Z YouTuber, but you know should know better.

The man you see now is no longer Mr Opinion, the same man that faced your brother; that saga came and went, and Carlos is not “The Goku Button”. I don’t stop moving forward due to that L; I am not Ronda Rousey. And like everyone else, you will find out I am ABSOLUTELY NOT past tense.

(DT The Ruler laughed a bit more to himself  but then looked at the messy desk in his office of various paraphernalia and alcohol)


I will admit: I was keeping it lighter before, and the more I think about it, the more I realize I shouldn’t. Rin Asakura, I knew before you even said a word that you weren’t a person I should show a modicum of respect to, but one thing I was absolutely certain you were from the get-go was delusional. As much as you try to do the same routine as everyone else and throw me in as irrelevant, as much as you tried to disrespect the BOB Games participants when you have even LESS accomplishments than a bunch of them, I’d like to ask you a very serious question…

IS THAT ALL YOU GOT?!

Is that all you’re bringing to Final Destination, child? AMBITION?! Why should I take you seriously when the women you faced already that are in this contest can’t even do that themselves? What makes you believe that your ambition will mean a damn thing when you have five other wrestlers that are just as ambitious as you are to get that briefcase? As young as you are, child, I’d think you’d know better than to think big muscles = small penis like some 90’s sitcom addict. Matter fact, I’d expect an even lesser degenerate like Rebecca Filth to low blow someone that can break her back in more ways than one. But this is no surprise, considering the brand you fight from; it’s obviously corrupting your mind. But to be real, to keep my head in the game and not get caught-up in low hanging fruit, you best to think better than that when it comes to this match, because intelligence only goes so far in a ladder match where a majority of your competition can break you in mind and spirit without having to be technical. When you get in the ring and I pull a Mike Tyson when I bitchslap you so hard that your whole bloodline feels it and your brain gets so scrambled that you forget what your Plan A and B are, I want you to roll your tiny little pancake ass out of the ring, pull out a whiteboard and marker from under it, and think of something else. Go get Myojin to help you roadmap it, too. Go right ahead. And the man you believe is too blinded with happiness and contentment to surpass wrestlers he KNOWS he can beat, will get the chance that is due to him twenty more feet above where you deserve to be: below my feet. Your time is going to be extremely miserable, and no nice little pats on the head from your father will protect you from that fact.

(DT The Ruler lit an off-brand cigarette out of frustration and started smoking, reclining in his chair while looking at the Seattle sky through his window)

Ms. Elizabeth Karlson is looking to go into Tokyo National Stadium next weekend and do more than just be present for her ass whooping. And that’s real nice; real cute. I would not want it any other way. But like Diantha Rosso herself, what she will NOT get away with is spitting nonsense, believing she can cast misconceptions about her Master and Ruler. Lizzy: do you really think I worked all my life JUST to have the privilege of wearing suits and bossing people around like some sock puppet for a political party? Do you REALLY BELIEVE I spent a good chunk of my life slaving away to escape my past conditions just to pose around like Geese Howard and Rugal Berenstein? And be honest, too, because I have a feeling you’re also placing your mind in bad sitcoms just like that Rin girl! I didn’t come back to this business in particular because I wanted people to strictly fear me, no. I came back with the stance already established that when you see your name “vs. DT The Ruler '' in ANY capacity, THAT YOU BETTER PUT UP THE FIGHT OF YOUR LIFE TO GET BY. Not dominate or convincingly beat; get by. I tell all of the competition that’s worth a damn to come correct when they’re coming at their Superior, and you especially better because when I hear you say that “strong attitude will only get you so far” while at the same time speaking like you can’t let people down anymore tells me that you’re not thinking realistically about this contest IN THE SLIGHTEST.

IS ANIME TROPES ALL YOU’RE GIVING, KARLSON? YOU REALLY TRUST YOU’RE GOING TO DATTEBAYO AND POWER OF FRIENDSHIP THROUGH THIS ORDEAL?! I can tell your attitude is still not where it should be when you got one of the most heartless wrestlers in all of OWA willing to come as close as possible to throwing out their humanity and putting you near your death bed if it means getting that damn briefcase for the chance to stand over everyone. And you have the audacity to try and summarize YOUR SUPERIOR as just a three-piece suit and charisma. You are not going to be going in the ring against a politic-playing snake like Graham Baker. I am not some Trust Fund baby like Remington Ivory Prescott. This is not going to be a Twitter battle with Elon Musk accompanying Donald Trump. You will see that while I am a businessman, I am one who doesn't mind getting his hands dirty, that doesn’t mind getting his three-piece suit dirty either, and definitely doesn’t get squeamish at the sight of blood. Because for me to reach my current status financially, I DEFINITELY DID. And I am going to Tokyo with a list of objectives, but at the top as number 1, 2, 3, and four is getting that briefcase. The fifth is definitely making sure you and everyone else feels that impact.

Especially you, Myojin.

If there’s one thing I noticed about those in Ascension to the Heavens connected to Arata the Terrorist, it’s that both him and Rin seem to understand the least about what they’re dealing with. I find great irony in you bitching and complaining about how you were “cheated” out of a chance at the briefcase last year, despite your antics over the past few months, despite the antics of the rest of your little squad to everyone else. It’s interesting how nuance during matches only counts when it’s against your favor. (Laughs) You can’t cry foul now about the past, kid; you got to take your Ls like the great Champion of Kingdom you claim to be. Under normal circumstances, being a champion going into a fight where you can gain even more to top off being a champion currently would be something to applaud and admire, like when we saw the Prestige Champion, Mr. Mark Michaels, in the Clash recently.

But we know the truth.

Overall, this does not surprise me one bit; it’s par for the course when you let yourself be led around by someone demonstrating that very same philosophy of delusion. What does surprise me is how now you want to be a savage against people who’ve been that way all their lives. Fighting in other sanctioned settings doesn’t prepare you any better than someone who’s constantly met those with murderous intent all their life. And yet you have the audacity to even suggest that this environment is one you’ll just waltz through. Being slick won’t get you very far. That level of arrogance you display is as hilarious as it is pathetic! You don’t have that dog in you at all, Myojin, and you know it, and you specifically are going to get exposed as the front-runner you are, no different than your leader! I can see the bitch in you from a mile away, and as much as you say you held Kingdom up, the rest of the brand can see it, too. You want that briefcase just as bad as me. You, however, have even less places to hide from my wrath, because with us all aiming for the same destination in order to win at Final Destination, you can’t and won’t run far from where I’ll be. At first, this was just business. Now, you made it more personal than it should be.

And in the end, I will get what I want.
I looked in those mirrors in that gym this morning, and finally witnessed what I felt was happening. The very man that returned to wrestle in OWA looking to change these uncivilized barbarians into model professionals… doesn’t matter. “Tough Love” in order to better the standards around OWA cannot be administered to cretins who don’t believe what they are in general is wrong, while at the same time are rewarded for rolling in their own filth. I’m more than convinced now that my Mask of Sanity is not needed. Why be tame? Why try to “contain yourself” when the asylum doesn’t force anyone to keep on their straight jacket? If I have to break these people in order for them to learn who their Master and Ruler is, then so be it. Final Destination isn’t the end for The Ruler.
 

[Seconds bled into minutes, which bled into hours, months, and so on. To his surprise, the ring he trained feels as natural as a bed. Salt clings to the wall in the form of sweat, and without a student in sight, Santiago’s given the peace to sit on the ring apron and basks in the one place that feels like home, in the Industry training camp’s home gym, in the home of the Red Wings. Jet black combat tights and boots are the attire for this late evening. Wearing a sullen expression with slow breaths, eyes half-lidded, and without a care in the world, his calm, rough voice speaks.] 



I know this is where demon Drago is expected to breath hellfire and brimstone into the mic, and use his words to talk that sweet, sweet cash shit with the same fire he brings in the ring. 


[A deep inhale leads the slow exhale behind it, and the man throws his hands up, to slam both down on the apron.]


Screw it. 


Screw wasting the breath. Screw threats. By the time thoughts like that cross my mind, the jobs are done. By the time I’m done talking my shit again, my predictions are recap. 


Driving into ‘The Industry’ raining camp for another day of teaching the next generation of fighters how hot the stove is so they don’t touch it like I did, under the school owned by my mentor Semion, my mind wanders. Driving on autopilot, I go through the class I’ve done a thousand times before, I teach the drills I’ve taught a thousand times before, and I drill the experiences I’ve picked up into others as best as I can, and it hits me like an eighteen wheeler. My blank, absent eyes catch the gazes of the students’. Can they tell if I’m present or not between feeling soreness in places they didn’t know existed? Iunno. Still, their resolve to be there sinks in at a deeper level for me. 


In styles with tosses, you don’t learn to throw until you learn to fall. You get fucked up from a suplex? You got nobody to blame but yourself. This camp’s got odd numbers and we’re crunched for time, so a student gets paired up with me. He’s put on his back before he realizes he’s in danger. New face, no grace. Planted into the ground, he rises like the most resilient weed. Again, center of the mat, bam. He stands again. It starts fucking with me a bit; staying down and learning from it is a guarantee to live to try again tomorrow, but it hits me. He ain’t a student in the way you think about students. When my city tests you, no one’s talking about number 2 pencils when they mention lead. 


School wasn’t gonna be my way out. Family wasn’t gonna’ do it for me. If I wanted to get out - FUCK - if I wanted to be able to stay outside when the streetlights turned on, I had to pave my own way. Santiago created a future for himself that he couldn’t see, and because of that, students compete to follow in my footsteps. The training camp Santiago once participated in as a student, he now teaches, and guides those after him to places further than he could ever reach. 


The moment I caught this student’s glare as he dragged himself back to his feet, I realized I forgot myself. Losing myself was easy, and I needed to find my way back. 


[No matter the heaviness of the words weighing on his shoulders, he doesn’t show it. This gym is his Northern star. Surrounded by a giant wall covering mirror he’d seen shattered in a rage of disappointment, to the water machine that got fucked up when ‘J Dilla’s newest tracks were being debuted on his hometown stations, to the ring Santiago’s personally taken a bump or bruise from every inch of the thing, he is at peace.]  


They are who I once was, not who I am. They’re not stepping into arenas with their names in lights. They don’t have video vignettes displaying their successes over the very long career they won’t shut the fuck up about. They don’t make excuses when things don’t go their way - they don’t have the fucking option to. Out here, if you ain’t wearing a suit and tie, is another day you can be dressed in a bodybag. 


Therefore, one must bring themselves to do something done so rarely, it’s always noticed when it happens. 


OWA faithful, allow me to both apologize and to thank you. 

I don’t care about numbers games.


I don’t care about being in booking purgatory. 


I’m too fuckin’ grown to carry a chip on my shoulder from other federations.You all deserve better.


Screw the Icarus belt. Screw championship gold, screw clashes, screw it all. I’m not wasting time about a special entrance on the big show, the theme music hits and Drago’s hitting the ring in his ring attire, give or take a floral shirt and a lei because you chuckefucks got me in my Ezra Miller arc. 


There’s not enough succinct words to describe how much I care about small, petty whatevers to boost my ego but ultimately contribute nothing of value to the people I care about most, so I’ll use numbers. 


ZERO FUCKS GIVEN.


Those who step into my gym and line the mats with sweat, blood, and tears are all that matters. The gates of opportunity were slammed shut by their zip code, but sometimes, you’ve gotta close a door to open a window. Ultimate X is a vehicle to get to my destination that is practically shin-height compared to how high I’ve gotta climb in service of where I come from. This is a me or them scenario, where hesitation means death. To raise the ceilings my students will once pass, blood has to be shed. Bones have to break. Lives have to be shortened. 


To whatever complacency I had with having my ego fed, with having a perch juuuust close enough to the top to see it without being there, I bid you adieu.  A ship in harbor is safe, but that is NOT what ships are built for.


Instead of rambling about all the tools I’ve got under my arm, I’d rather talk about the biggest tool we’re gonna’ see in the ring. 


[In an instant and turn on a dime, while still wearing his permanent scowl, his face goes flush with anticipation.]


Ryo Sakazaki. 


How do you like your coffee? One or two lumps? 


[Holding an invisible cup, Santiago tuts]


How can I make sure your experience of finally, FINALLY getting onto the Pantheon is worth how it’ll feel back at ground level, faced with climbing back up again? I cannot IMAGINE how this feels for you - the conundrum of what happens when the dog finally, FINALLY catches the car, I mean. What does it do with it now? Drago Santiago was promised a match for the belt by you if you pried it from its previous owner, so what about El Landerson calls you? Forget scaling an ultimate x and clutching a belt, his involvement is a lifeline for you to cling to because he’s your way out. You exist to prove Stephanie Matsuda’s a beauty in the ring, but even when handled by an artist, lipstick on a pig is still lipstick on a pig. Let’s not downplay your accomplishment of winning the belt, because it’s huge! Do you know why? 


Because it’s you.


Wrestling, like any sport, isn’t static. We perform within a range of ability, so beating Matthis on his worst day during your best day still means something, because so far, it’s all worst days with you. It stings knowing the Icarus belt is a consolation prize, after you got kicked out of the God of war tournament. Shit, because Thunderdome, God of War, and title matches handed out like cotton candy to you, I can’t hype you up too much, because one good performance four times a year won’t cut it. Every month, every week, and every day, you’ve gotta work to make sure that on your worst day, you can beat your opposition twice on their best. “Is it oochie wally or one mic?” When its Ryo, it doesn't matter.. Consistency is how fighters raise both their floor and their ceiling, and your batting average ain’t high enough for this ‘i told you so’ tour. If you were a baseball player, you’d be benched. If you were a horse, you’d be glue. But since you’re a fighter, you get ONE opportunity to prove yourself, before having to pick up the shattered glass of your reputation with your bare hands. 


Speaking of reputations… Corey Matthis. 


[Anything even remotely resembling a smile in the crook of his mouth is tossed into the void, as serious business comes with sitting up straight, squaring his shoulders, and a stroke of his jaw.]


Some fighters are fast, some fighters are smart, and some fighters are strong. For some, the only laws they abide by are those of Newton. “Real power doesn’t go to the strongest or fastest, but to those who are willing to do anything to achieve it” is an overstated, underrated idea in this sport, but you are likely the biggest proof of its importance. Let’s give you a break from ‘you are the biggest proof of its importance’ and your name only being mentioned in conversations about Roe v. Wade, for once, yeah?


If Baker is the football God Tom Brady of sly shit, you’ve gotta be Tebow at minimum, right? Sticking with sports, your performances remind me of a natural enemy, the classic New York knicks. Good enough to belong at the top, but not good enough to dominate. Their approach? Doing ‘anything that it takes’. No one would dare to go into the paint with them, and through sheer ruthlessness, they could ascend into the heavens!


You know, that is, until the talent gap became too wide for their underhanded tricks to suffice. Talent is built through repetition, hard wired by chemical interactions at the synapse of your neuron. I could hit an armbar in my sleep, but I’ve decided to test out kickboxing, because being left handed creates fun opportunities with strikes that’d make Bas Ruten gag. 


Will I ever be a mixed martial artist? 


[A laugh unlike any other escapes him, as both tapping the side of the apron and shaking his head no both fail to capture the wave of sobriety running into him at the mere suggestion.]


Unlikely. No Paul brother's putting me on a Nyquil commercial for a check.


But there’s a point where you’re no longer getting your return on investment doing the same old, same old, and it becomes detrimental. The tools you have determine your perception of the world - the architect designing the house perceives it differently than the civil engineer who builds it - and being a submission artist is useful until it’s the only thing you can do.


In your sleep, you’re good enough to be in Olympus. But being the natural talent everywhere you went ruined you! 


People like you don’t know how to recover when they fall, all they know is sprint. You don’t learn from losses, because you do the same lip-service everytime you lose, but nothing ever sinks past the surface. Respecting your opponents is beneath you, learning from failures is impossible when you can’t stand to see yourself get beat. There’s a word for that.


[One finger’s raised, and with a brief pause for guesses, Santiago lets the imaginary jeopardy theme conclude.]


Perfectionist.


Olympus presented an actual challenge, and like a perfectionist, you found the one tool to let you feel perfect for the sake of perfection. But now look at you. Ryo putting you on your back is a fluke for him winning, but proves how cheating so often became your downfall. The sword you once cleaved heads off with is functionally a crutch. In an honest contest, you can’t get it done anymore. Impotent? Can’t perform while others are watching? Who knows. 


It took some Biiiiiiiiiiiiiig Baker Balls to shoot the Brand down, but you’re still built in his image. He huffed and puffed about abusing his power to get the last spot in the Clash after earning his way in last year, and he lasted as long as one Chef Boyardee’s ravioli in the microwave. But he has tangible power and authority to rely on! Whether this match or six months from now, you’re going to come crawling back to whoever can build you up. Back me into a corner and you get an animal fully aware that the only way out is through you. You look for the cheap way out. You will fold. Winning ‘at all costs’ comes with a heavy price to pay when it’s all you do. No matter the personal history between us, I respect you. I think you’re talented. I also think you’re addicted to winning, and despite your first instinct, that’s not a compliment. 


Have you ever heard of the ‘big red ball’? Before I knocked off the blow, NA classes would mention how if all you think about is the big red ball, you’re going to catch it the moment it presents itself. If all you think about is blow, you’re going to relapse. All you think about is winning, not because winning is important, but because it’s easier to read from a cue card each time then get back on the same horse than it is to find meaning in losses. Thanks to this addiction, after the only ‘clean sweep’ we get out of you is in your L column, you’re going gladly to eat a mile of shit to kiss Baker’s or Oasis’ ass, again. 


[With more than enough sarcasm in his venomous smile and tone, he forces out something resembling compassion.]


But let’s blame the drug, not the user.


I promised I’d spend as long talking about Landerson as he’d be conscious in the match, so this sentence is already breaking the rule. Luchador masks are supposed to be earned in the ring, so what are you? The thing could be better used as a prop. In case we have to go on lockdown again, it’d serve better as TP than its current usage. Corporations are massive. Japan might have Party City. They might have Spirit Halloween. Wherever it’s from, let’s find the receipt for the damned mask lest you be buried in the thing. 


James Diamond… a fresh face makes things interesting. Did a lil’ research. Coming out of Chicago, IL, is the guy best known for his technical style, his signature Go 2 sleep, and his pepsi plunge. You present an obstacle we don’t encounter a lot. Any other occasion, I’d welcome the chance to sharpen swords by clashing them, but this isn’t that type of party. In this business, some fighters win by being as quick as lightning. 


Some win by being shredded like Greek Gods. Some, like Diamond, are shredded like cheese. 


Six feet one, two forty pounds without a muscle in sight? I’d wonder about this skinnyfat chucklefuck, but he’s technical enough to make the cut for Olympus, so he passes the vibe check. In any other circumstance, I’d slip a tryout for The Industry if you proved worthy of a tryout, but this is a knifefight. Therefore, I regret the occasion - fresh out of headlock high school, you joined the PhD program and believe, believe, Santiago Sallie Mae is coming for that tuition.


In this business, there is no standing still. I bought into the attention, the money, the fans, and allowed myself to stagnate and fall behind before realizing the disservice I was doing to my people by forgetting the entire fucking reason I was able to get here. What will you do in an Ultimate X match, when the future of wrestling grabs you by your ankles, kicking and screaming? If Corey can get past the perfectionist complex, or at least supplement it with self-confidence, he is the future of wrestling. If Ryo can make the performance he put up against Corey his minimum standard on a weekly basis, he is the future of wrestling. 


El Landerson - Nevermind. 


In fighting, you’re either moving forward, or sliding backwards. Your technical skills were taught to gain points, or to have a referee declare the fight over. My style made sure anyone putting me between their crosshairs didn’t have a finger left to pull a trigger. WE ARE NOT THE SAME.


Nobody’s bashing the skills to survive. Being geriatric isn’t an accomplishment, and being old isn’t a personality. Cut that ‘REAL WRASSLIN’ basuda when OWA has men like Wakefield, women like Dulce or Matsuda or… MYOJIN’s… you cant gatekeep or gaslight your way to the top, girlboss.


Keep up this trajectory, and there’s no Icarus title in your future, but only confusion about the beef between you and Matsuda when fans see the headline ‘old man yells at cloud.’ If you’re really committed to being the metaphorical college graduate coming back to the high school to show how cool he’s become to all the girls he couldn’t get when he was their age, you’d make an excellent UK wrestler, but not a champion. This ain’t a matchup of leg sweeps and wrist locks.


When the Reaper calls, he calls collect. This is a battle where we’re paying our limbs and our lives as the price of admission. 


This is turf war. 


So good luck yapping all that ‘ready to die for it’ shit, everyone - when the lights shine bright, I’m willing to kill for it. Let’s explore our mutual interests. 

A cell phone crashes against a wall, sending non-descript pieces flying in various directions. The camera zooms out, slowly revealing a familiar, dimly lit training facility. As it pans away from the wall, it reveals James Diamond standing, with his back to the camera, in his full ring gear, slowly and methodically trying to put his hair back to its normal, slicked back position. He sighs and places both hands on his hips, looking up at something just off camera. James turns slightly, as if noticing the camera for the first time.

"Ultimate X. Final Destination. A match that includes the likes of my old pal The Landerson, Corey Matthis, Drago Santiago and, of course, the top contender for the title of King of Paper Champions himself: Ryo Sakazaki. Let's talk about that paper champion, shall we? You see, it's pretty easy to gauge the intelligence of somebody in this business simply based on how they do things. Mister champion thought it was a great idea to mention my name while he was preparing to defend the title against The Landerson--who I already beat the week before, just so we're all on the same page here--so I had to give me a little, friendly piece of advice should he wish to continue walking and eating on his own. It would seem that my advice stuck, at least as a nagging little reminder in the back of his little head, because I see him get in front of the camera after some independent show and I sit there and I listen to him talk about whatever he was on about and notice that he only chooses to mention my name once. Maybe I'm giving Ryo too much credit though, thinking that he actually heard and understood my message to him prior to my second match, and subsequent victory, here in OWA. Needless to say, I didn't catch anything else he went on about and I had to force myself to sit through that whole thing a second time--and we'll get to that, I promise--but as I sat there realizing that in the ten minutes or so he wasting oxygen he only ever said James Diamond one time I have to admit that it made me smile a little. It warmed the cockles of my heart, Ryo, to see that you were using precious air time to promote Final Destination and you dared only mention me once.

This time, James turns his full body towards the camera. The scowl is gone; in its place is a wide, mischievous grin.

"Maybe you're smarter than I gave you credit for, Ryo. I suppose anything is possible if The Landerson is getting multiple title shots just because and everybody is just fine with that. But, well, then I watched it for a second time and forced myself to pay a little more attention to everything else. I think I caught myself laughing out loud--that's right kids, it's a thing people actually do not just a throw away text message reply--within the first fifteen seconds. You're being serious now, are you? What has everything else been to you, then? Is this some sort of game to you? Is this just some passing hobby to you that you got into because boy, gee, golly it looks fun! It's no wonder the Icarus Championship means absolutely nothing. And, on top of that, you're not going to rant and rave. I mean, let's face it, Ryo. We're fifteen seconds in and not only am I bored out of my mind, but you're proving yourself to be an absolute joke. I'd rather sit through two hours of The Landerson promos than listen to any more of the fluffy and bullshit. But, alas, I'm nothing if not a slave to preparation. So I sit and I struggle and I listen and try to figure out exactly what you think you are in order to decide who you really are. I gotta say, Ryo, what you really are doesn't amount to a whole hell of a lot. The fact that you even consider it to be a true state that you were put here just to make others great is utterly laughable and probably certifiably insane. In order to make somebody great--and for you marks at home consider this a peek behind kayfabe--and give them the rub, so to speak, you actually have to have some semblance of greatness yourself."

James looks around the room, as if seriously looking for something. He slowly turns back to the camera and gives a clear you've got to be kidding me look before sighing and shaking his head.

"Ryo, son, I've taken shits with more greatness than you. You want to sit there and rant and rave--ironic, right?--about Asakura and Azumi Goto and poor, little mistreated Ryo Sakazki without taking a moment to step back and actually assess the situation. You should be taking a good, hard look at yourself and then ask yourself why people think all things, and more, about you because, quite frankly, it's all true. But why is it true, Ryo? You lack greatness. You lack the basic, fundamental it factor that takes you out of the ranks of the jobbers and nobodies and puts you up on the biggest stages this industry has ever seen. Let's see here: you beat Landerson--fantastic, what an accomplishment--and before that you beat Corey Matthis--kudos and bully for you--and before that, what? I broke my damn back to get to where I am because I was sick and goddamn tired of watching punks like you get a free ride and think it was based solely on their own greatness. You would have been better off wrestling an invisible opponent in some high school gym somewhere; at least that would hold more weight than bragging about beating those two. Besides, if you already know that you're a grubby little bitch, why are you sitting there bitching about it? You're not going to change anybody's minds with a rant like this, Ryo, because you just come off as an inexperience, green, fresh-faced little rookie that's upset at the entire world and decides to blame everybody else for all the problems that they've created for themselves. Look, kid, you want respect? You want the respect of all those guys in the back, including me? Then step up and earn it. Stop crying about not having it, shut your damn mouth and show everybody. Blah blah, gun metaphor, blah blah burns us all to the ground, blah blah prove this and prove that, respect me, respect me, respect me. Shut the hell up and do it already. Otherwise, you're going to be just another irrelevant footnote on my rise to the top of OWA. Right there beside Landerson. Oh, and for the record, I'm sure you really earned your position with Matsuda, Ryo, truly. But, just remember, if she gets up immediately afterwards and doesn't need a few minutes to catch her breath and collect herself you probably didn't do it right."

James smacks his lips and gives a knowing look to the camera.

"Speaking of not doing things right, let's touch on the big brain of Ryo, shall we? Let's jump around a bit in Corey Matthis' allotted time and get right into the meat of what he did wrong. I don't know if he's been tuning into some Fox New-esque wrestling site or he's just too stupid to comprehend simple things while simultaneously believing that he's somehow the cleverest person in the room. Corey, buddy, you realize that I didn't pick the stipulation for this match right? You straight faced asked the world why I'm in this match, so you must know that I didn't, right? You also know how a contract works and employment in a professional wrestling promotion works, right? You understand, and must have heard by now, exactly what I think of the Icarus championship and it's current babysitter so here's a serious question for you, and I'll go slow, if I was able to put myself in any match why would I pick this one for a meaningless title in a ridiculous spot-monkey match? Are you really that dense or have the quack OWA doctors failed to properly diagnose your full blown CTE? That's chronic traumatic encephalopathy..."

James pauses, searching for the right words to effectively get his point across.

"That means too many head bonks, causing Corey brain to no work good. I know OWA has some absolute Einsteins under contract here, but surely this isn't a genetic thing and you've just been on the wrong end of beating after beating for far too long, right? You can't even use reason and logic to put together an informed sentence and you're a former Icarus champion? The legacy of this hunk of gold just keeps getting right and better. Okay, this is the part where I shoot on you, Corey, so try and keep up."

He pauses.

"No, no. Don't get scared. I'm not actually going to shoot you, there's no real gun, it means I'm going to verbally tear you apart. Didn't mean to scare you, little guy. Now, mister wannabe two-time Icarus champion, I like that you went right to the low hanging fruit. It's the simple, obvious path for you to take here with somebody of your... limited brain capacity. First and foremost, I assure you that the retirement home I was found it was the best. They had a television and bingo and I got to hang out with all my friends all the time. It was so much fun."

James looks directly at the camera and rolls his eyes in the most sarcastic and slow way he could muster

"But in this narrative you're spewing, considering something else. Aizen came and found me, not the other way around. Aizen sought me out and offered me whatever I wanted just so that I would come to OWA. Were you personally sought out by Aizen, Corey? No? Curious. See, contrary to what sounds your mouth makes I am a commodity in the wrestling industry and you're... what? A former Icarus champion who lost to Ryo. Yikes. You claim that you met me on at this past Olympus show? Kid, I thought that was a meet and greet for some charity that worked with the mentally challenged. I remember the drooling and a weak handshake, but other than that it really wasn't something that stuck out in my mind. But if that was you and you can sit there and claim that I'm not a wrestler, I guess the old adage that it takes a wrestler to know a wrestler rings true. I mean, you wouldn't even know a wrestler is he slapped you across the face... though I suppose I'm going to be able to put that one to test very soon, aren't I? Either way, you still decide to plow forward and make the blanket statement about the modern wrestler and how much I don't appreciate it. Son, it's not that I don't appreciate it, because obviously there are some that can do it well. What I don't appreciate it the flippy shit, as you quoted me, just for the sake of flippy shit. Where's the psychology? Where's the in-ring tactical thought and planning? Half-catching your opponent with a cross body and expecting that to be the move that gets you the three count is ridiculous. At least in the old days the a move connected. It had meaning and there was a reason behind it. It wasn't just to see all the little cell phones flash and hope you end up getting a five-star match rating from some creepy ass older man sitting behind a keyboard who couldn't put together three moves to save his life, much less the flippy shit that gets him off.  The fact that you think old school professional wrestling is nothing but chin locks shows your ignorance to the fundamentals of this business. That's a knock on you, son, not me. See, I believe that there can be, and certainly is, a perfect marriage of the fundamentals of professional wrestling and the higher risk moves, or flippy shit if you want me to continue to make it simple and easy for you to understand, but it takes a certain kind of professional to do it. That professional is, of course, not Corey Matthis. You're too busy using a played out Simpsons references, believing you're clever again, instead of being in a place like this and honing your craft day in and day out. So if my personal invitation from Aizen was a sign that OWA needed saving from pathetic wannabe kids like you? Then, okay, I guess I am here to save professional wrestling. Though, I don't know how a fence is going to save anything. Wouldn't that just give kids like you and Landerson something else to jump off of and do your flippy shit?"

James shakes his head, knowing what Corey was eluding too but refusing to give the ridiculous comment any more air time than that.

"I do like the comment about if I show up to Final Destination, though. Are you scared already, Corey? Hoping against all hope that I won't show up? Are you kidding me? I'm already in Tokyo--sorry to burst your bubble there since it's pretty obvious to me that you want me to just stay home. I guess that means that you'll get the chance to finish what Father Time started though--hell of a professional wrester, that Time--right? You will get that opportunity to test that young knee against these old bones after all, how exciting for you. Speaking of the good old days, doesn't Dick Dust sound like some 1980s wrestler, but nobody really got what it meant? Not even the promotion that gave him that name? I'd bet that he'd be an adonis of a man, with one hell of a close line to finish off his opponents. I mean, good lord, the low hanging, cliche fruit you just went right out to try and get yourself over. Even the idiot marks sitting at home know this schtick is played out and tired. What's confusing me though is I can't tell if you think you're the first to make all these derogatory age comments or you just think nobody will notice. But I guess that's the story of your career here in OWA, so maybe it's apropos. Oh, and World War II ended in 1945. If I'm going to have any flashbacks, a more accurate gotcha would be Afghanistan, which was some years later. I know math is hard. Oh... oh wait. My bad. You were being clever again weren't you? Shit, I didn't mean to ruin it for you, little buddy. Well, either way, I suppose I can comfortably play to your little old school versus new school, absolute revolutionary commentary at Final Destination. After all, I'd really like to see what sort of flippy shit puts me in my grave. I bet it has fourteen twists and a backflip, right? You'll get that recognition you so desperately desire after that, no doubt. You'll be on the cover of every magazine, win award after award, earn those five stars and maybe even get a title shot at the big one. I swear everybody in this company gets the same set of cue cards. You're just as bad, if not worse, than Ryo. I suppose worse is a better way to describe you since you lost to him, though. The difference between you and me, Corey, is staggering. But let me boil it down to a few key points. See, I don't care about validation of you or the marks that pay to sit in the arenas or watch at home. I don't are about star ratings or awards and I certainly couldn't care less about the Icarus belt. What I care about is showcasing that the other guys in the ring these days have gotten sloppy and complacent. They spend all their time on trampolines to get their flips just right that it makes people pay attention to them instead of figuring out how to tear their opponents apart piece by piece so methodically that the three count is all but guaranteed. So, yes, I will be at Final Destination and yes, you can try your best to knock my teeth out--and whatever other threat that fell well short of being threatening--because I damn sure be trying to do the same to you and everybody else that OWA stuck in this match. Just know that when you inevitably wake up in a Tokyo hospital, dazed, confused and unable to feed yourself anything that doesn't come out of a straw that you chose the wrong old man to disrespect."

James looks dead into the camera, just for a moment, making damn sure that Corey Matthis understands and takes to heart exactly what he's gotten himself into. He sighs, as if finally getting to a task he's got no interest in.

"Speaking of disrespect--or I guess things that don't deserve any respect--has anybody seen Landerson? He keeps showing up to take a beating but other than that, nothing. Somehow we're tied together, here at the dawn of my OWA career, but I still have yet to even hear him speak. Well, no, I guess that's not true, this bane of my existence did make a sound when I caved his face in on my debut match. But I guess it was more of a whimpering gurgle than words. So where the hell is he? Why does OWA insist on putting this mini-man in match after match, much less title matches, over and over again. Why not just cut him from the roster and move on. Less is more, right? Well, okay, not in Landerson's case, but the point here is the match isn't going to benefit from his inclusion and it certainly wouldn't even be noticed if he's not involved. You can take his contract money and adopt a puppy instead, at least it'll be using the money for something that would matter. I'm still absolutely in awe that this is what passes as a top contender in OWA. I mean, he must be if he keeps getting title shots handed to him? My win over him must not have mattered. Ryo's win, such as it was, must not have mattered. Is he the nephew of somebody high up in OWA? Is that why he's getting spoon fed everything? It's disgraceful. Do everybody a favour and go help that dog instead, OWA."

James cracks his knuckles, and his stance changes. His entire aura seems to shift, right in front of the camera.

"Now, I wanted to touch on something. Just as a warm up, just as a teaser. In this match we have a paper champion, a wannabe with CTE and a mini-man who's not even worth the paper his contract is printed on. But there's one more in this little dance that I've had my eye on: Drago Santiago. He's be quiet since this match was announced and finalized. I know he signed on the dotted line and I have no doubt that he'll walk out from behind that curtain when the time comes. But what's got my attention and curiosity is just what is he doing right now? I bet, and maybe you should take some notes Corey, he's in a place very similar to this kicking the hell out of heavy bags and training. See, in a match like this these with the men that OWA has put up against me there's really one one that interests me. Drago, even disregarding the ridiculous name, is one of those guys that I had mentioned earlier to my little buddy that looks like he could successfully blend the old school and new school. I've watched his matches and I know that he's not holding anything back. Drago Santiago is somebody that I can see myself respecting when this is all said and done. After all, he might be the first serious professional wrestler that OWA has put in front of me. Granted, I have yet to hear anything from him so maybe my impression is off the mark, but out of the group of lacklustre wrestlers he's the only one that I see as an obvious threat. Oh, and yes, Ryo and Corey, that is one hundred precent a shot at both of you. Your fragile egos might not be able to handle it, but it's just the facts here. Santiago might have what it takes to give me a real match, even within the confines of this ridiculous spot monkey stipulation. Everything that I've seen and heard about Drago Santiago tells me that he just might be the real deal. Another actual professional wrestler in a sea of entertainers and hacks. It's got my hopes high and the blood pumping for the first time in OWA. You might say it's giving me flashbacks, right Corey? If my previous match with Landerson was any indication, he's a non-factor. Ryo and Corey are two peas in the same shit-pod. They're one rung above jobber but not enough to make a real, meaningful impact on the match. They're going to talk a lot, obviously, and it's going to be cliche and meaningless but when it's time to show up and back up the words they're going to vanish into obscurity. But with you, Drago, there might be a hope of giving this match more relevance and significance than just me walking into OWA, by personal request of Aizen, and running through the bottom of the barrel competition as I move my way up the proverbial ladder. There's an opportunity to show the back, the marks, the world what professional wrestling can and should be. What real completion is and what two men at the top of their craft are capable of. While, incidentally and simultaneously show that same group the actual worth, or lack thereof, of guys like Ryo, Corey Matthis and The Landerson. I truly hope that you don't disappoint, Drago."

James turns his back to the camera and looks up at something again, just out of the shot.

"This match, such as it is, is not booked in my favour. Not because of Ryo or Landerson or Corey or even Drago. No, it's designed to be a spectacle of sloppy moves, falling off things that have no business being part of a wrestling match, and crashing into opponents with the hope that you've daze them long enough to be able to climb back up to those stupid ropes to the center. Why OWA let the marks pick this stipulation--that's right Corey, I didn't pick this match. Just incase you've forgotten that I mentioned this earlier.--is something I simply can't understand. I guess the pay-per-view buy rates weren't high enough last time so they wanted to try some other angle to get people to tune in. But, with all that said, instead of play the pity card or cry about something that's not in my favour, I think I'll go a different direction..."

The camera zooms out further, revealing James Diamond's full sized ring. As the angle changes and the lens adjusts, familiar, steel structures position at each ring post become clearer. As the camera pans further still, it shows that these four structures are connected with a large "X" rope and an old, busted championship belt hangs from the center of it. James Diamond's eyes flick to the ring and then back to the camera.

"What? You didn't think I was going to come into the match unprepared, did you?"

He grins--one of the most calculated and devilish grins imaginable--at the camera before turn his back to it again and climbing up to the ring apron. He looks up, surveying the structure before stepping inside the ring as the picture fades out.

 

The camera opens up in a small clearing in rural Japan, where a dark dusk has settled in. Surrounded by tall timbers and suffocating foliage, the camera fixes on a structure in the center of the clearing: an old, crumbling stone well. A loud shriek suddenly bellows out from inside the well, as the camera zooms out, revealing that the clearing and well… are on TV, as it appears this is a prerecorded video. A figure then emerges from the well, her face obscured by her long and dark hair. The figure begins crawling backwards towards the camera, her movements very stilted and unnatural. As the figure looks directly up at the screen, it’s revealed to be The Banshee, the camera suddenly zooming back in, The Banshee snarling with rage. She then shrieks loudly, which is followed by a large lightning bolt striking the well, shattering it into pieces of old rocks and earth. 
 
This was supposed to be a tribute to the popular Japanese horror film Ring, or Ringu… but the time for elaborate set pieces and storytelling is over… Besides, if there’s one Japanese horror film that better represents our story, it’s definitely Ju-On: The Grudge, because there is no one that I hold a grudge against so deeply as I do for you, Jonetta…  
 
Jonetta, it’s morbidly perverse that you actually have the nerve to consider me your “adoptive daughter,” because it’s obvious that you have as much maternal instincts as a venomous snake… Hell, you make Joan Crawford look like Mother-fucking-Teresa… Furthermore, Jonetta… NEVER, AND THE BANSHEE MEANS NEVER, EVER… MENTION MY MOTHER TO ME AGAIN! HOW DARE YOU EVEN BREATHE HER NAME! KEEP HER MEMORY OUT OF YOUR NASTY, FILTHY FUCKING MOUTH, BITCH… I’M GONNA RIP YOUR GODDAMN LARYNX OUT YOUR FUCKING THROAT, YOU COCKY CANADIAN CUNT! 
 
The Banshee looks behind here at the shattered well, reaching down to pick up something nestled inside the now-broken foundation… pulling out a cracked and weathered skull, glaring back at the camera. 
 
Do you know what I find interesting about older Japanese structures, including this old well… or a centuries-old castle? It’s the fact that they used to practice an ancient act referred to as “hitobashira,” which is loosely translated to… “human pillar” in Japanese…. This barbaric and gruesome ritual involves the sacrificial burying of someone in the structures of important buildings… Oftentimes these “human pillars'' would be “assimilated” into the structure foundations fully awake and cognizant… in other words, Jonetta… they were BURIED ALIVE, in some cases just to ensure that a small bridge won’t crumble over a creek!  


 
Take the fable behind the construction of Maruoka Castle, for example... Maruoka Castle is an old stone keep, surrounded by hundreds of Yoshino cherry trees…. Already a bit misleading with the beautiful annual blossoms this place is currently known for… since this castle's beginnings are much less flowery... According to local legend, back in the 16th century, the lord over the Maruoka domain attempted to build a new castle at its current location... Yet, once the stone walls were completed, they would then collapse a short time later… These setbacks led the lord to conclude that something more “effective” was required: a WILLING human sacrifice… A nearby widow named Oshizu then came forward to offer herself up, asking only for her son to be elevated to a samurai in return... She was thus “buried alive” under the castle’s central pillar; Strangely, no further construction issues occurred afterwards, her “sacrifice” apparently ensuring the castle’s completion... However, the lord never honored his promise, and that’s why… according to locals, the castle moat overflows every April… because the moat is overflowing with Oshizu’s tears… Like Oshizu, you’re destined to become a part of Japanese legend… when every local wrestling arena floods on the anniversary of your burial…
 
Although “hitobashira” was common from ancient times up through the 16th century, it’s obviously an act that’s considered cruel, inhuman, and uncivilized… BUT for ONE NIGHT ONLY… fans worldwide can witness this ancient and brutal custom performed by my hands… as I make Jonetta Stone my sacrificial “human pillar,” ensuring my foundation in Odyssey stays rock-solid and prosperous for years to come! 
 
You suddenly seem so interested in me, Jonetta… Where was this interest two years ago? It wasn’t just you… everyone ignored the lonely Morrighan McDonnell, who just wanted acceptance…Yes, Morrighan complained that she got so few opportunities, blaming it on shit like not being as “pretty” as the other Odyssey sorority sluts… or the upper-office’s disdain with her “street fighting” background… but answer me this, Jonetta… 


 
You look down upon the fans with such disgust and contempt… why? Even you can recognize how there’s real power to be found in numbers… Just look and laugh at your Dollhouse sisters, who aren’t even a current footnote in Odyssey’s storied history… 
 
Tell me, how’s DiVa and Sweet Roxy doing these days? Still being as absolutely irrelevant now as they were a couple of years ago? You speak of your little Dollhouse as if it was a legitimate stable deserving of all the respect and accolades you sadly throw at it… Let’s face it, the Dollhouse’s history isn’t any more storied and epic than the Rift, which was far superior to your little Malibu Barbie Dream House… 


The Demo Corps wasn’t piloted solely by you, yet you were solely responsible for its demise…. You just never could play well with others… You crave the spotlight too much…
 
You dare to chastise me for standing with The Banshee’s Horde… making it obvious that you’re jealous of how The Banshee achieved something that Jonetta Stone failed at: forming a meaningful connection with the OWA faithful! Fighting for my fans is the first meaningful thing I’ve ever done on Odyssey... It’s what I needed all this time... I never needed a mentor, friend, or teacher… I just needed the fans to believe in me, and when they finally showed support… it changed things… It changed me…
 
The Banshee then shrieks, causing the screen to go black. Moments later, the screen transitions to inside the OWA production truck. The Banshee sits perched atop a pull-out desk, sitting next to the live-show editor. Three other OWA staff members, meanwhile, all huddle together in a corner, scared out of their minds as their eyes never move from The Banshee. The editor pulls up the video feed of Jonetta’s latest promo.
 
So you said plenty this week, Jonetta… so much, in fact, that you actually believe the shit spewing out from your mouth! However, I need to set the record straight here… I just can’t, in good conscience, let you consistently portray lies as the truth… Besides, you also said some pretty hilarious shit, and a good laugh is always worth taking a second look at…
 
 
Is this the part where we call “jinx,” because you now owe me a soda! After all, it’s obvious that we both desire the same thing… 
 
Remember this too, Jonetta… The Banshee comes FROM BEYOND THE GRAVE… You’re stepping into The Banshee’s Realm… A place of chaos and pain, bloodshed and brutality… But you’re right about one thing, Jonetta… Odyssey isn’t big enough for the both of us… Your star has definitely faded, giving you as much current appeal to the audience as spoiled milk has to Santa Claus… and your expiration date has long passed, not that you offered much, even in your prime… 
 
As for comparing yourself to Dr. Frankenstein… Jesus, you clearly gave yourself way too much credit for bringing about The Banshee… especially since you DIDN’T CREATE THE BANSHEE… you just facilitated my arrival to Odyssey… 
 
Have you actually read any of Mary Shelly’s novel, or is everything you know based on Universal’s Monster movies? Despite your privileged upbringing, sucking on maple syrup while choking down poutine… I’m willing to bet every Euro I got that you’ve never even cracked the spine on a Stephen King novel, let alone a classic literary piece of fiction like Frankenstein… 
 
As for the creation of The Banshee, I think The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde is a far better comparison to use: Dr. Jekyll didn’t intend to bring out his powerful, inner-evil when he accidentally “created” Mr. Hyde, a dark and sinister character that shares the same “body” as Dr. Jekyll… Two completely different personalities, brought together by a common thread… Jonetta, you ARE the common thread here, and not just for The Banshee, either… 
 
The lights in the production truck flicker off, then back on… now revealing MORRIGHAN MCDONNELL, still in the same place and perched position that The Banshee was in earlier… Morrighan looks right at the camera, flashing a quick smile as she begins speaking. 
 
That’s right Jonetta… The Banshee isn’t the only one who HUNGERS for revenge… and neither is Morrighan, for that matter… 
 
The lights flicker off and on again, once again showing The Banshee back in place, no evidence that Morrighan was ever present, aside from the four eyewitnesses inside the truck. 
 
Wow, there’s still so much to analyze here, but let’s take a look at another misinformed point where you claimed that you are creating future stars like a factory assembly line… Face the facts, Jonetta… NO ONE has “created” more stars on Odyssey in the last two years then Morrighan McDonnell and The Banshee! What’s that? Are you asking for some proof, Ms. Stone?  
 
Very well… Let’s look at just some of the ladies who have crossed our paths, some just as fresh as me, where some others were already storied competitors looking to capture further glory… Without doing another career deep-dive, here’s just a small sample of those who found great or continued success once they met us in the ring.. From legends to rookies, the likes of which include… Azumi Goto… Alyssa Grace… Rebecca Brookes… Diantha Rosso… Hana Nakajima… NAMI… Stephanie Matsuda…  
 
Running out of breath yet? Because I’ve already run out of patience explaining this shit to you… Yes, some of these ladies were already established players and icons in the industry before I arrived… but look at how much they all accomplished AFTER meeting me in the ring… 
 
So ask yourself this, Jonetta? Who really is creating superstars… I’m the one that’s increasing everyone’s fame by proxy… including yours, because that’s how parasites like you survive… without remorse… 
 
Remember those two words when the bell rings… “without remorse,” for I will have none when I finally get the chance to collapse my fingers around your throat… 
 
 
It’s amusing how you question my “humanity,” especially since you are the one hated and despised by the fans… I can chuckle at the amusing irony that the “village mob,” with lit torches and sharpened pitchforks in hand, would rather chase after you than the “big bad monster.” However, I know that jealousy bubbles underneath your Ivory skin like a busted oxygen tank underwater… 
 
You may call me a circus, but people enjoy going to the circus… they get to experience and see things that fall outside the realm of normalcy, including… death-defying acts! And you’ve been trying to defy me, the incarnation of Death itself, for months now… meaning that the final curtain will be falling on you soon enough… after a few dozen pounds of fresh dirt cover up your newly-rotting corpse first! At FD IV, there will be NO ENCORE for Jonetta Stone’s burial…
 
And how long has it actually been since Jonetta Stone was the “talk of the town?” Certainly not recently… Your Living Nightmare has seen to that successfully… Revy may largely be the reason you lost your title in the Promethean Chamber, but she’s nothing more than a headache compared to The Banshee… No one else has cost you so much, and left you with so little… 
 
You flew too damn close to the fires of Hell, Icarus… your wax wings never stood a chance… just like you… Your outdated claim that you will be “envied” at the top of your “Ivory Tower” is both a laughable lie and a sad sign that you continue to cling to your past glory, clearly becoming just like your former Dollhouse Playmates… a fading and unpleasant memory… because one cannot “rule” over a pile of broken rubble… 
 
Take another look, Jonetta… I ALREADY DESTROYED THE IVORY TOWER! YOUR NECKLACE? GONE! YOUR HOME? AN EXPENSIVE PILE OF ASH! YOUR LEGACY? THE FINAL CHAPTER ENDS WITH YOU… BEING MANGLED AND BURIED ALIVE BEFORE A SOLD-OUT CROWD… ALL CHEERING FOR THE BANSHEE TO MURDER YOU SAVAGELY, JUST BY CHEERING MY NAME…
 
You do have a valid point, Jonetta… There have been many bitches foolish enough to tempt fate by mocking the Queen of the Monsters… usually these same ones also recycle the same old tired clichéd insults and uninspired quips… How convenient these small pockets of mockery and disrespect only occur whenever my focus is elsewhere… Should I remind everyone just how dominant I was in the Clash? Regardless of false courage found from a distance, their opinions matter very little to me… All that matters to me now, Jonetta… is making sure that you suffer for every atrocity you put me through… You claim that I should be grateful to you for making me a monster… but you know, I am grateful, Jonetta… I’m very grateful that I get to be your Harbinger of Doom…
 
Do not concern yourself with my relationship with Diantha Rosso, because she’s no longer a part of this two-person tango… My dance card will soon be empty, however, so Diantha’s delusions of ruling over Odyssey will soon be properly addressed…So don’t you worry yourself with business that doesn’t concern you… Diantha’s day of judgment will come at my vengeful hands, rest assured… but remember that she was NEVER once someone I viewed as being my pet, servant, or whatever… I always saw and treated her as an equal… I gave her something that you incessantly demand… yet never seem to receive… some proper fucking respect… 
 
The Banshee looks over at the editor, showing a bit of impatience on her face. 
 
Hurry up, Point-Dexter! Play the next clip!
 
The editor quickly ques up the next clip from Jonetta’s promo, clicking play upon maximizing on the monitor.
 
 
Credit collectors cum themselves when they think of the excessive debt your soul has racked up in The Banshee’s eyes… Six feet… sixteen feet… six-hundred sixty-six feet… there is no depth in the ground where you could be put… For you are already damned, regardless of what punishment I physically put your body through… 
 
No more warnings, because it’s clear you enjoy touching the hot stove… being too fucking arrogant and stupid to realize that you’re only burning yourself… You were never my mother… my guardian… my friend… 
 
But yes… you are correct about one thing… for the brief time that you took away my free will… that time you enslaved me… I was forced to call you… master… You called me your pet, your daughter, your “creation,” but when we meet in Tokyo, there’s only one label that will matter in the end… I’ll simply be… the very last person that you see alive, right before your world cascades into eternal blackness and endless suffering!
 
Don’t think that you hold the monopoly on mind games… Who do you think wrote the goddamn book on it? You see my face, even when you close your eyes… That's the kind of fear and influence that money can’t buy! In other words, Jonetta… GAME OVER…
 
Use your poacher connections for this one, Jonetta… Get a hold of your black market arms guy, your crossbow vendor, your elven blacksmith… call them all… cash in every favor you can… get the most experimental weapons your boney fingers can buy… It won’t be enough, a fact you already know… but refuse to accept… 
 
You can attempt all the submission holds you want… my bones won’t even crack, but yours will be too damaged to attempt anything so idiotic… and I’ve already proven that your Cross Check won’t keep me down for long… Are you ready to hear the Cry of the Banshee? 
 
 
Do you hear that, Jonetta? Have you been listening to the whispers getting louder these past few months? The Banshee’s Horde is the loudest movement happening in the world today… all those collective voices… roaring together in unity… all calling for one thing: your blood! How does feel Jonetta, knowing that The Banshee… formerly that same young rookie you met named Morrighan… is now one of the top stars on Odyssey today… despite never having won a single championship during my entire career in wrestling… That’s how I know that you’re destined to lose… You can’t bury immortality… 
 
The four crew members all suddenly stand up and stare straight ahead. They all then slowly pull out Banshee masks, the same which have begun recently selling officially by OWA to overwhelming success. The crew members continue to stand, unmoving, as one finally speaks:
 
I am The Banshee…
 
The next crew member then speaks the same sentence, followed by the third, then finally the fourth crew member. The Banshee then looks directly at the camera, flashing a sinister smile.
 
That’s my greatest weapon now, Jonetta… The Banshee is not alone… for it’s not only that I am The Banshee…
 
The Banshee then stands up, screaming at the top of her lungs, the four crew members all joining in unison.
 

The screen then cuts to black.

JoJo. Destroyed.

DT the Ruler. Overruled.

By now, the constant success as Outlaw Champion was no longer a surprise to anyone- even MYŌJIN's greatest detractors were silenced, forced to accept, and admit that despite their tactics- they were an exceptional wrestler. Consistently growing toward being the greatest Outlaw Champion of all time after another well-earned defense, especially right after emerging victorious over Azumi Goto.

While it was satisfying to the smug, young ace of the Golden Dawn… It wasn't enough. Not for the Shining Star.

Initially winning back their prized possession and being a fighting champion had been MYŌJIN's main priority, which they had now done for 130+ days. Though once they had gotten a taste of power, a taste of being on top in that one moment in Kingdom's main event… The blonde had grown hungry more. They knew that they were capable of much more as they rose up the ranks with each match, being on an unstoppable winning streak every time they competed.

Thankfully, MYŌJIN finally had been rightfully given the opportunity they have been waiting for. A chance for the Ascension to the Heavens briefcase. It was more than just bragging rights, more than another accomplishment to add to the list, it was a tool that created some of the most well-known OWA stars in the last years: Alyssa Grace being evidenced of that given her use of it. Winning that briefcase would give the Shining Star what they had wanted for the longest, finally completing their goal. However, there was just… one… problem.

Five other competitors. A few names to not simply scoff and shrug at, either. It was going to be a hard fight, much more than MYŌJIN would have initially anticipated. But that didn't matter.

Nothing would stop them. Not this time.

They sat, meditating in the courtyard of the Golden Dawn dojo- a place that had quickly become their home since joining the group's cause. Eyes closed, legs crossed, as they thought to themself silently. Contemplating their actions in the soon future.

“Look at you, you've been given a big step-up from BOB Games last year, haven't you?” The voice of Jack Daito, right-hand man of Arata Asakura, spoke. MYŌJIN opened their eyes, turning toward him with a neutral expression as he stood to their side. “As I told you back then, joining us was the smartest choice that you've made in OWA, after all- the proof is evident, given your status and where you stand now.”

“Right, that is true.” While they kept it to themself, smart enough to hide their honest emotions- They didn't like what Daito insinuated, that all of their momentum in recent memory was because of Golden Dawn. It was not due to them. It was simply due to embracing the inner hatred, the darkness, and the brutal teachings that they were given at such a young age.

A few moments of uneasy silence passed. MYŌJIN could tell, despite Daito's friendly tone, there was no comradery between the two: He didn't trust them. Not fully, at least.

“...So, what will your plans be at Final Destination?” Daito asked, tilting his head. MYŌJIN looked out at the sakura trees in the garden nearby.

“Well, I will win, of course.”

“You would deny Arata-san's daughter? Is the Outlaw Title not enough?”

“It's a competition. I will not lay down for her, just as I will not lay down for anyone else. I'm going to do what I must.” They spoke in a matter-of-fact tone. Of course, Rin would play an interesting factor in the match. One that made MYŌJIN have slight distrust, not sure of what would be done if it came down to them choosing themself over her.

Daito went silent for a little while, before speaking again. “...And let's say if you do win the Ascension to the Heaven's briefcase, what will you do, then?”

Finally standing, the Outlaw Champion turned toward Daito sharply. Eyes narrowing as their jaw tightened, “Why are you asking me such pointless questions?”

“I am just curious…” He began pacing around MYŌJIN slowly, eyeing them with a cold and unreadable glare. “...Because we both know what that briefcase is capable of, don't we? …We also know that there are limits to our reach, yes? Lines that are not to be crossed.”

“Get on with what you're trying to say.” They spoke, growing increasingly irritated.

“I am saying that the World Championship rightfully belongs to only one, and that is our leader, Arata Asakura. That it is only his for the taking. I am only strongly advising you that, if you were to win that briefcase, to remember that. Remember it well.”

A small, bitter grin grew on MYŌJIN's face as they looked Daito in the eyes. “What, you don't trust me to make the right decision?”

The two stared at each other. It was almost like the calm, gentle breezes had stopped. Replace with thickening tension.

“After what you had done the first time we allowed you within our ranks- You were the last person that I would have trusted, I wanted revenge on you. When Arata-san told me to bring you back, I was confused. Disgusted, even. I could not understand what he saw in this traitor that was worth recruiting… But he sees something in you, I suppose he was right, given how well you've fared. I am not one to doubt his insight.” Daito took a slight step forward, his voice lowering to a more hostile tone. “...But ever since you've been back, all I've seen is the potential trouble that you'll bring. I saw that look in your eyes, when you held the World Championship above Goto. I know what you're thinking, and I know that you're an opportunistic snake waiting at any moment to strike. So no, I do NOT trust you- and I'm waiting, I'm waiting for the day you show your true colors once again so I'll be justified in ending you.”

MYŌJIN's gaze became like daggers, fists clenching up as their heart picked up speed with an enraged stare. Daito was unmoving, one of them waiting to make the first move-

“What are you two doing? Stop. NOW!”

The commanding voice of Asakura caught both of their attention, turning toward him as he walked toward them both, clearly displeased. “Now is not the time for petty arguments, not when our moment is arriving so soon. The chance for Golden Dawn to re-establish ourselves on top of OWA is in the palm of our hands, and I need you two to be at your best. Understood?”

“I-”

“Yes, Arata-san. Sorry for our behavior.” MYŌJIN was abruptly cut off by Daito, who bowed toward Asakura. The Golden Dragon nodded as they simply stared at him.

“Good. Now, if you will, Jack- Go spar with the students. I need to speak with Shouta privately.”

Daito nodded and began walking off, though he turned to stare toward the Shining Outlaw one last time enigmatically as he headed toward the dojo.

“Walk with me for a bit, let's talk,” Arata spoke, heading toward the garden. MYŌJIN followed, still calming down from the altercation. “Listen closely…”

“If this is about Rin being in the ma-”

“No, it's not. I expect you to do your best to win as I expect from her. If one of you wins, then Golden Dawn still prevails- and that is all that truly matters. Wouldn't you agree?” Arata turned toward them.

“...Yes, yes I do."

“I'm glad to hear that. You have grown stronger in such a short amount of time. I expect to rise higher than you already have. Final Destination will be the culmination of everything we've worked for, so we must all stand victorious. You and I will lead Kingdom for good once we finally rid ourselves of these obstacles, even if you don't win the briefcase- you will still have the Outlaw Championship.”

MYŌJIN nodded, “You should know by now that I won't fail."

”I know. I expect to see either you or her stand victorious, see to it that it becomes reality.” Arata finished, lightly patting MYŌJIN's shoulder before walking off.

Standing there, MYŌJIN knew one thing only: That they were going to look out for themself. What mattered to them the most was getting their hand on that case, and they would. But the Shining Outlaw felt a degree of conflict given Daito's threats. Yet, there was a simple desire that they refused to not have come to fruition:

And that was taking that damn briefcase.


I was supposed to be here last year. In Final Destination's Ascension to the Heavens match. I still remember it very, very clearly. Participating in a qualifying match against Jason Long, but that was not who I faced- instead, Abholos unfairly cheated me out of a chance. Instead, I was subjected to pairing up with a waste of air all the way to BOB Games.

I never forgot about that. I never forgot what had been taken from me. Back then? I would have simply bit my tongue and gone “C'est la vie”. I endured plenty of the wrongs in hopes that my efforts would eventually pay off.

And suffice to say, they have. I look at my competition in this match and while I do see fighters that, on paper, are some of the best that Omega Wrestling Alliance has ever seen- at least on the Odyssey side of things. However, I can't help but notice the reality of the situation.

No one in this match has been on my level. No one here has been having the year that I am. None of you have been carrying your brand like I have been doing Kingdom.

They know it too. They just don't want to admit it.

Don't believe me? Notice how none of them have any real criticism of me, notice how they all spout insults without real merit, hoping that something sticks. All my detractors in the match have talked so much but said so little.

Ever since I rightfully took MY Outlaw Championship back after Dimensional Warfare, I've become undeniable. Defending my title almost every show against whoever management throws in my way hoping I'll finally be stopped, it got to the point where they were so desperate to throw embarrassments like the other two from Kingdom in this match. I've now beaten the current World Champion, not once, but twice. Though she won't be holding onto that title for much longer. I am, without a DOUBT, the most important and most-talked newcomer to OWA since 2021. These fans, these people may not like me because of who I've aligned myself with- but my talent, my skill, is leagues ahead. Yet, all of you still underestimate me TIME and TIME again-

I've very much realized that all of you are just simply not that intelligent. And who could blame you? All of you are so used to coasting by and every now and then finding success that it's all you know.

Take Rosso for example. She's so used to thinking the bare minimum is enough these days because it used to be enough for her when the talent pool wasn't as deep. So desperate to have something negative to say about yours truly that she says I didn't beat Emmanuelle's young boy fast enough.

But guess what, Rosso?

I won regardless. I didn't win by the skin of my teeth. I didn't win by a fluke. I was going to tear that boy's leg off and the referee had to stop me before I put him out of commission for good. That is the difference between me and the rest of you, I started out in cages. In octagons.

I was never taught to just go for a three count. I was taught to keep punching, kicking, scratching, clawing, twisting, and tearing any limbs I could get my hands on until I was pulled off of my opponent.

This isn't a sport to me. You are not just a competition to me. You are my ENEMY. And as long as you're in my way, I will do everything in my power to snuff you out and make sure you don't get back up.

We are NOT the same, Rosso. Don't you DARE try to compare your failures to the adversity that I have gone through. Don't you DARE pretend that you're doing this for me and people like me.

You are no martyr, no oppressed heroine of this story. Do you know what you are, Rosso? Washed.

A woman from a time when other wrestlers weren't as good as they are now. A whining fool that lost a championship and has never gotten over it, never recovering from it. Just crying about how unfair it is- A loser who's convinced she still has some degree of relevancy when I can't think of anyone who has given a DAMN about you being here. An out-of-her-depth “legend” who is so obsessed with the past that she can't see the future coming to knock her right on her ass.

Sure, you're the most experienced wrestler in this match.

I don't care.

I don't care that you were once the top champion because you no longer are. I am.

I'm the only champion in this match. I'm the one on top, and I only plan on ascending even higher.

I've beaten better, I've certainly beaten much more accomplished veterans. You might think this is finally your big payoff, your chance to gain your way back into the big leagues- But unfortunately for you, this is the part where you only go further downhill. Where you only fall further into obscurity, and one of the very last few highlights of your career is losing to the greatest prodigy that Omega Wrestling Alliance has ever and WILL ever see.

Now, you're dismissed. Next.

Karlson seems to think that simply repeating that she NEEDS to win this match is enough for her to actually win. Maybe she thinks she can manifest a victory by thinking about it hard enough, given she knows that it won't happen otherwise. I like you, Liz. I really do. You're right, we are allies in another place. But you seem to think that matters to me at all.

Let me repeat to you what I've said to Rosso: I don't care.

I don't care about this romanticized redemption story that you want to have happen so bad. I don't care that you feel that you NEED to win this match, because you won't. Let's be honest, do you even deserve to? When all you've done ever since losing the Openweight Championship is choke chance after chance? When you make such dumb decisions like saying to me is the same recycled garbage as “You're Arata's sidekick?” when you saw just how well that turned out for DT the Bitch? I want to believe that you'll eventually find your way again, but it won't happen at my expense. You're just going to have to take another loss and pray that eventually on Odyssey you'll rack up enough wins again to be put in a title picture.

Oh, and speaking of DT, how's the back of yours feeling, buddy? I hope not too bad after I wrecked your shit and left you out cold when I pinned the clown. You seem to think that I pinned him because I was scared of you- But I very vividly remember hitting Falling From Heaven on you, and your ass was out cold for more than long enough time. The only reason I pinned him was that he was easier to roll over, trying to move your deadweight heavy ass while you're too busy snoring unconsciously on the mat would've been too much effort. Too much effort to waste on a Kingdom roster spot like you.

I see that you very desperately want to prove everyone wrong. That you aren't old and irrelevant. That you can still go. That you matter because you're already having a midlife crisis when it turns out wrestling here isn't as easy as wrestling in the company you were chairman in.

I do not, and I cannot stress this enough, care.

Just like everyone else in this match, no one gives a FUCK about your sob story. No one here takes you seriously because they all witnessed me make a mockery of the so-called “Master and Ruler”. After all, you're so fucking STUPID that you didn't even notice me out of the corner of your eye on the top rope, ready to pounce.

Maybe you're as blind as you are boring? You should get that checked out.

It's laughable that you and Jonouchi are even in this match. What did you do to earn this chance? If that match had been a qualifier, you two would be busy in catering or in the BOB Games, you wouldn't even be here. So shut the fuck up, be glad management was even being generous. Actually better yet?

Go home. Go do your mundane, vague business shit or whatever. Go do something meaningful with your life than trying to play Big, Scary Bad Guy #500.

Same to you, Jonouchi. Go home. Everything you do matters next to nothing. Even if you somehow won the briefcase, you'd probably fuck up cashing it in. Get lost. It's clear that wrestling just simply isn't for you or DT. You know what? Better yet, you two should become partners. Maybe he'll help you restart Shin-SEKAI Wrestling if you let him become the boss. That's pretty much the only way either of you could be main eventers; if you booked yourselves in that position. Though the place wouldn't last long, given no one wants to watch either of you on their fucking screens.

Then there's Rin. Sweet, kind, Rin. The daughter of the Golden Dragon, it truly is adorable that you seemed to believe that teaming up with me in this match was even an option. I can imagine what you're already thinking. You probably have it in your mind that because you're Arata's daughter, I'll stand aside. Maybe I won't get in the way because of your daddy.

I. Do. Not. Fucking. Care.

Sure, you're his daughter. To me? All you are right now is another obstacle in my way. Relying on Daddy's status won't get you everything that you want, and it certainly won't get me to be your ally or let you win in this match. You're privileged. Everything that you've gotten in your childhood, in that future where Asakura has you, was because of him. Though there's one thing that you're right about.

You shouldn't trust me. You should keep your eyes on me and my every move in this match. You should be worried about what I'll do to win that briefcase, because I will betray you. I was willing to risk an entire DIMENSION just to win the Outlaw Championship back, so let me ask you something:

What do you think I'm willing to do for a higher prize??

This match isn't a real contest. I'm not worried. Not in the least bit, call me arrogant. Tell me that I'm underestimating all of you. Rant on and on about how you'll do this and how you'll do that, how I'm just Golden Dawn's puppet, how you're going to beat me up. I've heard it all already so many times before because none of you have a single bit of originality in your bones.

All I see in this match are losers. Losers desperate to redeem themselves, people that apparently management must seriously pity to place them in this match.  I see people who want the Ascension to the Heavens briefcase because they know how priceless it is, how it'll make them matter again. Rosso is desperate to carve a place for herself in modern time so she can be more than a prehistoric relic. Liz Karlson is desperate to achieve the same popularity and glory she had last year. Rin Asakura, like any second-generation wrestler stereotype, wants to step out of her father's shadow and make a name for herself. DT and Jonouchi just want to finally have a positive win-loss ratio and to know what holding a championship belt feels like after so long, given they've both been touch-deprived of gold for who knows how long.

…And then there's me, MYŌJIN, the Shining Star, the Outlaw Champion, the Young Ace of Golden Dawn, and the workhorse of Kingdom.

The wrestler who hasn't been pinned or submitted once in OWA since last year. The one who's prettier than the girl of your dreams and a better fighter than your Top 5 Favorites.

The rest of you hope this will be your big break. For me? This is simply just the next step to further my ascension. To fulfill my destiny and to place my name not just among the greats of OWA, but above them.

And you know what's going to be the best part? I'm going to win this in my home country, Japan.

I am going to unhook that briefcase in front of thousands of my people and millions watching from their homes. I'm going to raise that briefcase and the Outlaw Championship high in the air as the crowd had no choice but to recognize me as Ichiban - Number. Fucking. One.

And when that happens? I don't want the five of you to blame yourselves. It isn't that you aren't good wrestlers, or that you didn't fight hard enough. I don't want you to feed yourself lies and excuses to make yourselves feel better. The reason that all of you will lose? Is just the unfair, tragic, fact that none of you can compete on my level. None of you have the momentum that I do. None of you are on fire like I am.

And that's okay, really, it is! You've just been dealt an unfortunate hand. Given bad cards. An unlucky roll of the dice.

You'll just have to try again next year when you're not facing me, and if that doesn't work out? Well…

Not everyone can be a beautiful wrestling genius that excels at everything they do. Just realize where your places belong, and accept that it's okay to settle for just being a mid-carder.

There was once a time when I would be nervous in a match like this. That I would doubt my chances after seeing just simply the number of people in this and my odds due to that. Now? I'm not worried about winning, that in itself is just a mere given.

Right now, I'm just thinking about what top championship in OWA would look lovely around my waist.

As many have seem to have forgotten, Jacob Senn wasn’t born into the reputation of legend that he has been able to forge through the wars and sacrifices he has gone through. I came from humble beginnings. I wasn’t born in the mansions of the privileged who lived in their ivory towers of wealth beyond any average person’s wildest dreams, I didn’t receive an affluent benefactor to sponsor the creation of the man who stands before you today, and I certainly didn’t luck out on some lottery to be able to support the desires I had for my life. I fought for what I’ve become in this world. I won’t say that I was some homeless vagrant strolling for the streets in life, shooting up heroin at every single chance I could to be able to make the harsh realities of life a distant memory for the fleeting moments the haze of narcotics took over, and looting the world from its riches while stomping down on people who simply decided to look at me the wrong way. I had simply been the spawn of a wretch who had fallen to this point, born from the womb of a single mother who was not prepared or ready for this child who could be considered the biggest curse brought upon her life, and delivered into a cursed existence of poverty for my entire childhood. There were portions of my childhood I was ignorant to the impoverished conditions we were left in, the squalor of living in some beaten down apartment complex wondering where our next meal had come from if we were lucky or even living inside of a small Nissan moving from parking spot to parking spot because of people not desiring a woman and her child to be resting in their garages, but eventually these struggles could not be left unnoticed by me for too long. I had to watch a mother do everything and anything to be able to make sure a son could be able to eat or experience some iota of joy in his life after a diseased cockroach of a man brought him into existence. I had to watch the nights she struggled within herself to know if she had the strength or courage to continue this and not simply be another mother who abandoned their child in the face of this hardship placed upon them. The turmoil and stressed placed upon my mother during this time to be able to make sure even with all the hope and dreams of hers siphoned out of her, she had to place those within her child to make sure they could have a chance within the ruthless world that had already shattered every aspiration she had in this world. I may not have been a true vagrant in life to the point where I was living in a cardboard box or fallen into the pit of narcotics to bring me the only joy in life I could hope to have, but don’t you dare attempt to make your origins out to be an excuse or even out to be a game of struggle Olympics for people to sympathize to why you should be the destructive force you are. Many in this day and age have struggle or born witness to the struggle from their own personal lives, even a man who you’d believe to be essentially born with the wealth of the world in the palm of his hand with the gift of the divine coursing through his veins, but how wrong you would be. I had a mother who I wanted to make proud with the path that I had taken and from my childhood, that’s what I did. I took the path less traveled where instead of falling into the void of the streets to become another statistic, I overcame it. I would graduate from high school to see my mother with a smile on her face because she had the hope that her son who was born from the filth of the world could make something of himself. However, choosing a path she didn’t necessarily want from him in the path of a professional wrestler might have disappointed her for a moment, but when she saw the money I was able to bring into our household to be able to keep ourselves afloat for that month? The smile she had brought a smile of my own. If my father was a devil who had fallen to the vices of the world, my mother was the angel who had been my light to guide me through the path of life. Eventually, my mother would see when I would get big contracts, my first few years in the Land of Elite where we both are very familiar with, and even saw the first love I had outside of her within the wrestling business. Avoiding the pitfalls of this business, making sure my mother was taken care of in the ways she should have been when I was a mere child with the money I had gained from this business, she could not have been more proud. However, that all came to an end in 2016. Even though I had just returned from a harsh injury, the worst wound I endured was the loss of her. Instead of leaving to be able to recoup from that, I pushed forward for a company who showed no love back and became World Heavyweight Champion in that year in what many would probably say was the best year in my career. Me? As much as I enjoyed being world champion, there was a bittersweetness to the moment considering what I had lost on the way there. Every moment I looked at the championship I won, I saw my mother looking back at me and when I lost that title, I felt I lost her. Loss would be a constant to me as just the next year later, my first love outside of my mother was taken. After listening to me drone on about this, you’re probably asking yourself about now for me to get to the point and what does all of this rambling actually amount to in the context of this Inferno Deathmatch against a man once considered a brother to me in the most ruthless individual probably to ever set foot into a wrestling ring?

Before I became a man who journeyed to the Land of Elite, I made a promise to myself to never become fallen to the point my father was at and never struggle to the point my mother did in life. When I lost all that I had loved at one point, I made that promise into a solemn vow to not be brought to the same point of poverty. Years had passed and even though I had won other world titles, I could see the legacy I had made for myself fade into the dark void of obscurity with loss after loss after loss. The Dynasty was not only a brotherhood to bring forth an age of prestige to be unrivaled by any who dare attempt to thwart that goal or even duplicate it, but it was a creation I had made to secure the avoidance of a fate worse than death in my eyes in poverty in this wrestling landscape. The Dynasty was a creation to fashion the wrestling world in the image I had foreseen and to avoid the fate of a lesser man like my father and you, Darkane? You were the champion who brought that prestige and why would I ever want to destroy the reign of a champion who had delivered that? Why destroy a man who had crafted the prestige I desired from The Dynasty, who had climbed his way out of a hellish existence parallel to mine, and disallow the world to see the glory you could be? At the moment, these are the thoughts running through my mind at the time you were Omega Heavyweight Champion and I believed those words wholly. However, I have come to realize those thoughts were mere shackles to keep me held down just as the narcotics were shackles to keep men like my father down from where they should have been. Shackles self-inflicted upon myself to be able to keep the vow I had made on my mother’s name, chains to make sure the fate of falling into the pits of obscurity and poverty in the wrestling landscape would not come down upon me as if it was The Apocalypse itself, but I stood behind you and the rest of The Dynasty as a mere shadow and guiding hand. My guiding hand hasn’t just been here in The Dynasty, nor is it the only Dynasty where it has been; but as much as you would want to forget where it has been, you know it has always been there. Just as my mother was my guiding light in the ruthless world, I had been yours in the world of professional wrestling to chase after, even if you want to deny it at every opportunity you have. However, you are right in the fact that a man’s tortured psyche can only allow so much to happen before he has no choice than to make choices or perform acts he would have never done previously in his life. I was a man in isolation who had believed he had brothers within The Dynasty who would be by his side through the worst of this, but what I had were simple leeches feeding upon me to be able to make sure they gained everything they wanted from the world. Kazuya leeched upon me to be able to make his name in The Land of the Rising Sun something to not be ignored, but I regained what was stolen from me by him when he put the mat by my own hand. Elijah Hampton leeched upon my name when he sided with us to be able to make his Prestige Championship reign just that, prestigious, and after he lost that championship? He remained to make sure his name remained on the marquee by keeping me in the shadows as the sin eater for him and The Dynasty as a whole. Matt Miles joined for the mere goal of becoming a world champion within the circle he had made his name from, settling for the OWA Tag Team Championship as I had to; but he chose vanity over prestige when his actions not only cost us those titles, but he chose it once more when he threw me to the wolves and stole the spotlight from me. With that, it was inevitable he would be the first of our false brotherhood to be cut out like a tumor from me in one brutal stroke of destruction. As for you, Darkane? You were the most egregious offender. Forget the fact that at any moment you could have simply shown gratitude for the fact it was me as the architect of our false brotherhood who delivered you the Omega Heavyweight Championship on a golden pedestal for you to take as your own, who had made it possible for you to have the ICONIC reign you were able to have, but you had the audacity to you were the torchbearer and leader of The Dynasty? Where was Darkane when The Dynasty needed him at Hardcore Havoc? Where was Darkane when any other member of The Dynasty had opportunities for championship glory? That’s right, you were having your deathmatches and blood feuds with people like Graham Baker over the Omega Heavyweight Championship instead while we were the ones who were supposed to do everything in our power to keep that title for you? You were not a leader, you were a mercenary. You came in, took what you felt was yours, and left everyone else behind. You alienated the entire faction only because you wanted to keep the championship glory all to yourself and when you lost that championship, the only reason you came to the side of The Dynasty at all? It was because it aligned with your desire of conquest in reclaiming the Omega Heavyweight Championship. The Dynasty weren’t brothers to you, we were tools and your actions when you chased after that championship so feverishly and kept it so close to you, it showed me the vanity you held within your soul and revealed to me the truth about The Dynasty.

We were never really a band of brothers attempting to restore prestige within the wrestling world, we were simply a collection of mercenaries sticking together for the best chance at championship glory and the moment that was no longer the case, everyone would leave The Dynasty high and dry.

However what I did on the night I became the Immortal Heavyweight Champion, it was as much a freedom for you as it was for me. You truly don’t give a shit about The Dynasty and those within it because your actions after winning the Omega Heavyweight Championship highlight that, so don’t pretend to be sympathetic to Matt Miles or Kazuya Iwade for the penance they had to pay for what the part they played in the demise of The Dynasty. Don’t even dare say you strapped The Dynasty on your back and carried it up the mountain when all you did was make sure to keep your title on your shoulder while everyone else in The Dynasty was left to struggle on your behalf. Pretending to actually give a shit about The Dynasty now is far too late and what happened the night I removed the shackles from me and accepted the darkness which lingered deep within the recesses of my soul with the whispers of this moment, it removed you from the attachment to four men you felt you could have done better to be without. I gave you the same gift you received the moment you drove the dagger into the back of The Big Easy Undercity the moment you left them in squalor while you thrived in professional wrestling. You wanted to be the best Darkane you could be, without any chains or shackles keeping you from being just that and when I left you sliced and lying in a pool of your own blood, I provided that charity to you. Did you thank me for releasing you from the bond with a faction you certainly hated for having to be associated with? Did I receive some form of gratitude at this point, even when denied it when gracing you with the reign you cherish so much as Omega Heavyweight Champion, for giving you exactly what you wanted? No… no, instead you took this contribution towards the birth of the greatest Darkane that you could be as treason and seek vengeance upon my name for it under the leadership of Aizen as his executioner. You are a troubled mind that I can’t seem to understand at most points, but this could be the same message in your perspective looking towards me. Through the lack of your gratitude, the isolation I had been left with after being left for dead by the mercenaries within The Dynasty, I had been granted freedom in the form of a pact with forces that neither you or Aizen could understand during our meeting. I have been gifted strength through the bloodline of kings, rejuvenated into the form of the man who had once been world champion without the consequence of loss burdening him, and with this freedom through the sacrifice of the false brotherhood The Dynasty became exposed as? I reclaimed my throne of world champion within mere weeks of accepting this as Immortal Heavyweight Champion, proved the mercenaries who feigned as my brothers the entire time in Matt Miles and Kazuya Iwade should never have been graced with the presence of wrestling divinity to provide gifts upon their careers, and now has regained his position at the throne of prestige in Olympus’ main event against the true deceiver of this band who will be cleansed of his sins through the purity of fire. Even though you may be one of the most ruthless men to ever set foot in the wrestling industry, a man who called himself a war panzer tank for his endurance through these destructive matches, you have forgotten who stands before you at Final Destination. An Inferno Deathmatch not only is not the first dance I have had with the searing might of flames, but it would not be the first time I have had to sacrifice my body for the sake of glory. I have been dropped from 20-feet in the air trapped within a glass coffin as the shard pierced and slash my flesh upon impact to cold concrete ground. I have been thrown from even higher height off of scaffolds into tables, I’ve bleed from countless torturous afflictions brought to me by the hatred of men, and this will be no different. With the bloodline of kings coursing through my veins and the power brought forth by the pact of darkness I have made, this Inferno Deathmatch will only serve as a means to expose you for who you are, Darkane. Vengeance and retribution for the charity presented to you in the match against Noah Reigner for this championship by my hand will not be what you find at the end of this brutal war we will be forced to put ourselves in merely for your pride and vanity choosing not to let this die. The only thing that will be found by the end of this will be me giving a brutal reminder unto the entire world of what Jacob Senn is. I stand as a force beyond the titles of mortal affiliation such as vanquisher or punisher, I have become a man whose legacy remains immortal.

I stand before you with this championship on my shoulder as almighty.

( The scene opens on the OWA logo before transitioning to a still frame of Mark Michaels during a post match celebration.)


Narrator: It has been a long road back to the OWA prestige championship for Mark Michaels, but now that  the Romani King is once again a champion in OWA, he isn’t resting on his laurels. 



( ‘Copa De La Vida’ by Ricky Martin hits as we cut to a montage of Michaels in the gym. We see various shots of him lifting weights with Big Georgio Del Mero, trading holds in a sparing ring with Harman Ardelean, doing box jumps with his cousins Gyp and Sy, running along the streets of Tokyo with Tony Adams, and other various exercises in order to be in top shape for Final Destination. The montage closes with one last emphatic YEAH, before transitioning to small living room area. It’s here we find Hugh Jass seated on a modern style armchair. Across from him on a large sofa Sits OWA’s Prestige Champion, Mark Michaels, surrounded by the members of the Sania.  The mood is jovial and light, and the entire Romani Bloodline seem perfectly comfortable with the red light of the camera on them.)

Hugh Jass: You’re watching OWA on YouTube, I’m Huge Jass, today I’m talking with the man who in just a few days will be defending his OWA Prestige Championship Against Remington Ivory Prescott. He is the Romani King, Mark Michaels. 


Mark: Thanks for having us Hugh.

Hugh Jass: And also thanks to all the members of the Romani Bloodline joining us for this interview.  I’ll start by asking an open question to everyone. With this season drawing to a close, When you look back on the past year, what do you think is the best way to describe the past year in OWA?

Harman Ardelean: Let me answer that Hugh my man. Ever since my boi Marco over here has took his place at the head of our table, it’s been life at light speed. We’ve had our ups and our downs, but through it all whether we were sipping on the finest wine, or cracking open a Pabst blue ribbbon, we never let our failures define us, we never let our succes go to our heads, and we never forget where we came from, So we never cease to be amazed just how far we’ve come. it all feels like Var himself reached out and put every star in the sky in a perfect line just for the Romani King. 

Hugh Jass: Now that Path has you set to defend your title against Remington Ivory Prescott. Mark, did you get a chance to look  at that report that was done on him?

Mark: Yes, and I loved it. I’m a sucker for mockumentaries and this one had me laughing the whole way through. 

Hugh Jass: So you don’t feel like anything in that interview was authentic or heart felt?

Mark: Did anyone?  Really, let’s ask. 

( Mark gets up from his seat and approaches the camera.)

Mark: Buddy, let me barrow this. 

( Michaels is handed the camera. He swiftly turns shot around to show the crew  working on this interview.)

Mark (off camera): Hey you had to shoot interviews for Remington Ivory Prescott before right?

Cameraman: Yeah. 

Mark (off camera): Did you see that last interview he did?

Cameraman: Yeah. 

Mark (oc): Did you believe a word of it?

Cameraman: Fuck no!

Mark (OC): I thought as much. 

( Mark turns his attention to the guy holding the boom mic.)

Mark (OC): What about you pal? You see that tear jerking interview?

Boom Operator: I wish I hadn’t. That was 10 minutes of my life that I’ll never get back. 

Mark (OC) :  Let me ask you then, Is Prescott too stupid, or too much of an asshole to realize that interview he gave makes him sound like he’s a whiny little cunt because he got a brown pony instead of a white one when he was 10?

Boom Operator: Both!

Mark (OC): I whole heartedly agree. 

( Mark Returns the camera to its handler before taking back his seat on the couch.)

Hugh Jass: Let me ask Mark, do you feel that Remington is perhaps a bit misunderstood? 

Mark: No I think he’s perfectly understood, and he doesn’t like that people call him out on his bullshit. He calls that interview Defamation of character? What character is there to defame? There is not a shred of honor, integrity, or even just plain not being a douche. He’s an asshole who revels in the fact that he’s an asshole, and treats everyone like garbage but then turns around and gives this sob story to get people to feel sorry for him? But then says he doesn’t care about what the people think? Jesus this guy changes the story every thirty seconds it seems. One minute he wants to be seen as as this manifest destiny born conquer. The next he’s a sad little boy looking for mommy and Daddy’s affection. The next he’s a wannabe 
Travis Kalanick right out of the show super pumped who couldn’t give a fuck about what anyone else thinks, real good way to keep the stock prices high by the way. So either he’s got multiple personality disorder, or he’s just a manipulative little bastard who gets off pressing peoples buttons. I’m guessing it’s the later. 


Hugh Jass: Remington has gone out of his way to paint you as being jealous about His wealth, as well as his other ventures in business. Does that ring true at all?

Mark: No not really, and I’ll tell you why. Let’s say that Remington isn’t just an outright liar for a second, and say he really did wish his mother and father were there for him. If that’s the case then According to his own words he would trade every dollar, every share of Prescorp, and every thing he owns in the world for what I got all around me. 

( Michaels points his index finger in a circular motion at the members of the Sania.)

Mark:  I talked about the things you can’t buy. Things like a family who’s there for you no matter what, friends who will have your back without asking anything in return, the satisfaction of finishing a job all on your own, and the pride of knowing you earned everything you have, that is real wealth. Took me a long time
To learn that, but it’s the truth. Prescott can buy all the cars in the world, but those the holes in his soul that he can’t fill with dollar bills. That’s why, should pigs fly and hell freeze over, and he wins the Prestige championship, he’ll still be a hollow jackass and a miserable prick. 

Hugh Jass: So no jealousy. What about how he’s said that you are scared and worried about losing the Prestige Championship at Final Destination. 

Mark: Well I’m not afraid of him, not by a long shot. But by the same token I’m not getting overconfident, or ahead of myself before this match is over. the minute a champion gets his head so far up his ass that he doesn’t think he can lose a championship, that’s when he’s about to get smacked around the hardest, so I always believe you have to give a guy some credibility even if it’s just to keep yourself sharp. That said, this mother fucker is out of his mind if he thinks I’m worried about him. I’m not worried because for all his talk about me hitting rock bottom and thinking it will be the end for me, the fact is I’ve been there and I’ve risen up every time. When I had to scrimp and save to go to wrestling school, when i was on the indies and didn’t have enough to buy both food and gas for my car, when I slogged through lower mid card hell in the Jersey Prison camp, when everyone wrote me off a few weeks after my debut in OWA, when the Awakening lost last year at final Destination, when Eon Blue tried to run me out of town, when no one gave me a snowflake’s chance in hell inside that cell against team Oasis, when no one thought I could ever get the Prestige championship back, I’ve been there and I’ve always bounced back even better. When everyone said I was finished, I more than survived, I thrived. When everyone said I had reached my peak, I got better. That’s what you call heart, that’s what you call hustle, that’s what you call going out and getting what you’re worth and proving that you ARE worth it.  Remington is saying nothing I haven’t heard before, and he isn’t learning the lesson I taught all the mother fuckers who said this same shit before him. 
  
Hugh, I know you got another question but would you allow me to kinda speak on something?

Hugh Jass: By all means. 


Mark: Remington, He keeps talking about how I’m obsessed with retaining the title, keeping the fans cheering for me, and otherwise doing my job as a professional wrestler.  He’s trying to talk some hot garbage about how having a passion and love for what I do is a bad thing. Yeah Wrestling is my primary focus in life, it’s how I make my living, how I keep food on my family’s table, and it’s been the best opportunity to do so.  It’s also a everything I’ve ever hoped for, because Being a champion wrestler has been my dream since I was 6 years old. I’m not here to launch into movies, I’m not here to get some brand awareness, I’m not here to just to get a work out. I’m here to prove myself as a competitor, and as a Champion.  That’s what I’m here for, and unlike Remington over there, I had to actually invest and take the risk on chasing after it.  What has he ever put into this sport? That shit he keeps on saying about Kingdom Pro Wrestling, does he really think that makes him sound like a needle mover, or just a rat who saw the ship sinking and jumped off? If he’s such a wrestling enthusiast,  or if he meant that damn much to the company as someone who drew in crowds, why didn’t he take that trust fund of his and buy the damn thing to keep it afloat? If he’s as popular as he says he is, the very life blood of Kingdom Pro as it was, then why wouldn’t he invest in the place and turn it around like the smart, savvy, businessman he claims to be?  Hell if he was too goddamn he could have appointed one of his yes men to run it for him, so long as it gave good wrestlers a chance to get some exposure and have a choice when it came to contract negotiations. The Truth is probably more like he didn’t have enough passion for the sport, faith in himself, and balls big enough to risk going in on something, and building it into an empire by his own hand.  Oh but this is a hobby and he doesn’t care about wrestling as a whole. Then why go after a championship? Why keep bragging about the fall of a company after you left? If you love something, why wouldn’t you want to make it a bigger part of you life, especially when you had the means and resources available to you? 
  Prescott talks about what he can do for a brand, then does jack shit. Now we got Prescott doing the same thing when keeps saying he’s gonna make the Prestige championship great again. How you might ask? Well according to him he’s gonna bling it out like a 14 year old girl who got a bedazzler on her birthday.  That right there should clue you in on the kind of man Remington is. He only cares about the the stuff that runs skin deep. His own vanity is the only thing that would ever get served with a title win. He doesn’t give a fuck about raising the status of the belt and making it mean something. Hell, to him it can’t mean anything, because not matters to Remington other than himself. To him the Prestige championship isn’t validation for chasing a dream, it isn’t proving that he’s a top tier competitor, it isn’t even about getting that little bonus for being a champion here in OWA. To Remington, this  title is simply a trinket, a plaything that he can prance around in till he gets bored and moves on to the next thing. For me, and everyone in the locker room, that championship is a symbol of being one of the best in the ring, and a way to cement your legacy in a sport you live and breath for. To Prescott it’s a toy that he doesn’t really want, but can’t stand that someone else has it. So He’ll bend every rule, and sell his Downtown Abby looking bitch grandmother to get it. He’ll keep a smug sense of entitlement as he gets himself DQ’ed and counted out to hang on to it. And this belt will be the laughing stock of OWA for it. I’ve said this before, but I’ll say it again, if he ever wins a belt here in OWA he’ll have a title, but he will not be a champion. Prescott wanted to be a hero, a leader, but all he ever has been, is a giant pussy.


Hugh Jass: You mentioned being a leader. What qualities does a leader possess to you, and what is Remington missing in your opinion?

Mark: If my time here in professional wrestling has taught me anything, it’s that When you say you want to be a leader, you got to walk the walk.  I’ve never claimed to be a leader per say, but There are people out there who are following me along in the cosmic caravan. And so I take it upon myself everyday, and live up to the monicker of the Romani King by going out there, and leading by example. I defend this championship against all comers, if anyone THINKS they got what it takes to be counted alongside the best in the industry, I’m happy to SHOW them what it takes. I defend this championship with honor, because the guy makes the belt not the other way around. You got to lead with your actions, not just your words. Talk is cheep Hugh.  Anyone can promise you the sun, moon, and Stars. They can say they want a win, they can say that greatness runs in their blood, they can say walk on water and shit gold. Backing it all up with action is what matters. I don’t mind talking myself, I just prefer to let what I do in the ring speak for me. That’s a leader. That’s a king. 


Hugh Jass: Well said. Now we are getting short in time but can I ask you about what your game plan is going into Final Destination? Like him or not Remington Ivory Prescott is nothing if not a clever individual, and he certainly has plenty of muscle to back him up. Plus he also has some thing up his sleeve with whomever he’s been on the phone with? How do you plan for someone you know is as devious as Prescott?

Mark: Well if Remington was hoping to have some kind of secret weapon in his back pocket, he done fucked up because he’s so desperate for people to fawn over how intelligent he is that he let out his secret a week before he had the match. Now as far as what I plan to do at Final Destination, if was in a Joking mode I’d say something along the lines of I’ll keep all of Prescott’s yes men tangled up by having the twins pitch his hand maids on some NFTs for 45 minutes till they give everything including Prescott’s social security number, have Sonja tell his stalker that she can whip up some love potion number 9 just for her, and then throw a bunch of squeaky toys and shiny objects at Monster Truck, so that it’s just gonna be him and me when that bell rings.  If I felt like intimidating the man I’d say something along the lines of, if he really wants a piece of me all he needs to do is name a time a parking lot and we can settle this before Final Destination.  But really what I am planing to do is do what Has brought me this far. I’m gonna be the best wrestler Remington has ever traded holds with, the toughest son of a bitch he’s ever stood across from, and the man with more heart, hustle, and street smarts than he can handle. I’m coming in with the spark, I’m gonna be a roaring flame in the ring that lights up the whole world. I’m coming in and shining bright like only I can from bell to bell.  The old timers talk about having a punchers chance. Well Remington he had his chance last week, and if he’s really as smart as he claims to be, he’d best turn tail and haul back to the Hamptons a.s.a.p. Because ain’t no dodging an all time Ivy League ass whipping courtesy of the Romani King. 

So Remington, feel free to bring all the goons, feel free to be an underhanded little bitch. You got all the money in the world, you can buy most everything you want, but come Final Destination your ass belongs to me. And when I get my hand raised at the end of the night, you’re gonna have no choice but to HAIL TO THE KING BABY!  

Hugh Jass: The Romani King looking bold and confident as we head into Final Destination. Make sure you don’t miss this one. For OWA on YouTube, I’m Hugh Jass. 

OWA Fans, especially those of you based in Japan, we’re super excited to be bringing you Final Destination IV from Tokyo. Your dedication, being up at all times of the day or night as we bring you the best pro wrestling action in the world, has been rewarded with the three day festival of fighting spirit that is OWA’s signature event emanating from Tokyo National Stadium, where we expect the biggest crowd to watch a wrestling event in the history of Japan! While there are many people with proud Japanese heritage on the roster who will likely be featured through the build-up to Final Destination, our video today features two Japanese-Americans who travel to the native country of their parents: young rising star Taniguchi Sena and his manager, Project: Honor’s Emmanuelle. As they arrive in Japan, they prepare for Sena’s Final Destination Debut as well as the unpredictability of the BOB Games. What kind of rigorous training does the Platinum Standard have in store for one of Kingdom’s rising stars? What is on Sena’s mind as he prepares for the greatest competition that he’s competed in as a professional wrestler!? Let’s take a look and deep dive into his preparations and travel! 
 



Yeah. That’s me. WrestleWorld, APEX Wrestling, Project: Honor. I’ve been collecting belts for the last two years and I’m not stopping anytime soon. In case you’ve been living under a rock and don’t know who I am, I’m Emmanuelle. The Platinum Standard. The Princess of the Palisades. The Next Level Shogun. The Silver Starlet. The Jewel of the Joshi Wrestling Scene. I am not just a traveling wrestler that's in demand everywhere from here in the United States and OWA, but all over the world but also I've become a manager when I have the occasional free moment. Wrestling world in the palm of my hand before I even have turned thirty. Yeah, enough about me right. As you all know, my main priority in OWA right now is simply managing Sena. His career development was passed onto me as a responsibility and I’ve been slowly building up Sena to be a fighting machine! But, we have seen in the past that the BOB Games involve a lot more than just wrestling skill. So, as I’ve decided to accompany him to Japan, I’ve taken on the responsibility of helping him prepare to face the competition that he’ll be facing. I will not take it easy on him. I will do everything possible to make sure that he’s at maximum fitness and prepared for any and every situation! 





This is really exciting! To have an opportunity to compete in something as exciting as the BOB Games is truly unique and to have a chance to come to the country my parents emigrated from is a thrilling experience. I’ve only heard them speak in passing about Japan so actually seeing it for myself is a wonder. Unfortunately Emmy is VERY strict with her preparation. She has a friend named Sonya who is an aspiring wrestler and her personal bodyguard. They arranged for me to train in the same dojo that Sonya’s first wrestling company operates. Every morning it’s hard wrestling drills, sparring, insane cardio workouts. I try not to complain much since Emmy does them along with me, but I do wish I was out exploring Tokyo more! She took one look at the list of names involved and circled one name in red with a marker: Brandon Hendrix. I don’t really know the guy other than the fact he ran me over after I won my first match. From what I understand, he deeply insulted Emmy’s personal hygiene when they wrestled once before and she has held a grudge ever since. I am happy that Emmy is training me, but it seems like her personal grudges and vendettas with people kinda infect her training me sometimes. 






{Emmy and Sena are in the dojo, Sena doing upside down crunches as Emmy watches him struggle and strain with each rep. She absolutely refuses to let him quit, leaning in and whispering in his ear pretty harshly as grunts and winces from the strain involved.}


“C’mon. Give me five more. Do you think that Theodor Pavel is sleeping right now? Do you think he’s out partying and seeing the sights? No fucking way. He’s getting ready for the opportunity of a lifetime, just like you should be. Do you think he’s straining, crying saying ‘Owwww this fucking hurts!’ No chance in hell. He’s hard…..”


{Sena struggles through another rep, but is getting more energetic than before.}


“Do you think that Brandon Hendrix is just sitting around? He came out there and tried to punk you out because he sees you as a threat! He’s using you to try to get to me, but what he doesn’t know is that you’re Rock Hard….You’re a fucking man! Wrestling is what you were put on this earth to do….I DIDNT TELL YOU TO STOP! NO PAIN! KEEP GOING!”


{As if to show Emmy he can endure, that he’s willing to push harder, he blasts through three more crunches, almost as an act of defiance. Even so, the strain is showing in his body and he’s close to being pushed to his limit.}


“Dulce Torres isn’t sitting around getting fat or playing video games right now. You think she’s fucking off in Roppongi or whatever right now? No, she’s getting ready. She’s working hard. Are you going to let Dulce outwork you? People think you can’t win this thing because you don’t have the experience but you’ve got the heart…NOW SHOW IT! ONE MORE!” 


{Sena, with less energy and more willpower than anything else, gets the final crunch in before Emmy helps him down from the bar he was using.}


“Three reps of thirty….after all that sparring we were doing and everything else I’ve thrown at you. You’re a tough little shit, you know that?” 


“Thanks.” 


“Now, you know that the BOB Games is an event that features women in it."


“Yeah. The girls from Odyssey are invited as well as all the men from Kingdom, are they not?” 


“Yeah. Um….Sena, I need to ask you something that’s a bit personal. I don’t want you to get offended but it’s all about helping you win this thing. Are you single?” 


{Sena raises an eyebrow and there’s a very awkward silence between the two of them. Emmy’s gaze remains fixed on him and she starts tapping her foot on the dojo floor, looking very much like the Sonic idle animation on the Sega Genesis. Finally, Sena relents.}




“Yeah, I’m single.” 


“Are you straight? I mean, I know you were kinda giddy about that joshi girl but I needed to double check for sure.” 


“Yeah, I’m straight! What does that have to do with the BOB games or anything related to wrestling for that matter!?” 


“.......I’ll show you. HEY…SONYA….You mind coming in for a second?” 




{Sena is obviously flabbergasted at what he’s seeing. Sonya, Emmy’s trusted second in WrestleWorld, is wearing a bikini and even giving Sena a sweet little smile and wink. Emmy’s point is made as Sena is standing there, completely unaware of his surroundings, completely unaware that Emmy was measuring him up….and completely unaware until the very last millisecond that she was running at him full speed and booting him right in the face.}
 
“STOP FUCKING SIMPING!!!!”


{Sonya winced as the contact was made flush on Sena’s left cheek. He wasn’t injured badly, but did have a nasty bruise on his face as the three of them sat around in the Dojo. Much to Sena’s dismay, Sonya had put on a black jumpsuit to join them.}


“Do you understand why I did that, why we set you up like that?” 


“To have a laugh at my expense.” 


“Only half correct. I did that to warn you about the dangers of simping! Simping is bad enough in a normal environment. Guys get horny, girls give them the time of day and lead them on to take everything from you. Now, most of these girls, Ruri, Yuna, Remi, they’re not going to really play this game. Not that they’re ugly by any means, Remi’s a fucking smokeshow. She’s buff, curvy as hell and…”


{Sonya clears her throat…loudly, a not too subtle reminder that Emmy was steering off course with her lecture.]


“Right. And Dulce, she’s always used her wrestling acumen. She’s beautiful, but she won’t usually play this game. And Marie….she will, but unless you’re into pale goth chicks it won’t be very effective. This training was to prepare you for the ULTRA THOT, THE FINAL BOSS OF THIRST TRAPPING….ANGELINA MAGNUM! She is fit! She is hot! And she will use any and all means to distract you if necessary. I’m sure she can wrestle and do athletic things, but her ultimate weapon is that hot smoking bod and you have to resist! Listen to me, Sena, I’m going to turn my back the next few nights. Do what you have to do. Get it all out of your system. Go Swimming in Pussy in Kabukicho for all I fucking care! DO. NOT. SIMP! The women in this sport are evil, manipulative bloodsucking creatures and will use anything that can be used against you as a weakness, even if it’s their boobs. Do you understand?” 


“Um….yeah, I guess?” 


“Good. Now that we’ve got you prepared physically and we’ve started the mental preparation....”


“Emmy, you were still planning on taking him over to see the Tokiwayama stable, yeah? I don’t want to intrude too much on their training time, yeah?”


“Stable? Like a horse stable?” 


“No, you goof, it’s a Sumo stable. It’s where they train and congregate. We’ve got another test for you.” 


“Wait, I thought you said I was prepared physically already!?”


“Well, you are, but when you see what we have planned, you’ll understand why I said mental.” 




Sena and company make their way eventually to the home building of the Tokiwayama-beya. Sena notices how clean the premises is, inside and out, as younger sumotori who aren’t competing tend to the three guests. After a hearty lunch and lengthy, polite conversation, Emmy finally starts to speak about the true purpose of her visit: a special training exercise for Sena. Even though her Japanese is rusty, she’s able to get the point across well enough that one of the younger men excused himself and dashed out of the room.



“Where the heck is he going in such a hurry?”


“To go get someone.”


“Who?” 


“You’ll see. Now get ready!” 




Sena was left in just a pair of boxing trunks, barefoot and standing in a practice dohyo awaiting his training partner. Considering that most of the guys there were much younger than himself, he was hoping for an easy, smaller opponent. Those hopes were immediately dashed when a 359 pound man strode quietly into the ring. Sena was taller….but the man was so bulky that he was easily twice the Young Lion’s size. 






“Uhhhhhhh….Emmy, who the fuck is that!?” 


“Beats me. Sonya knows better than I would.”


“Sena, that is Takakeishō, a famous sumo wrestler in Japan. He has reached Ozeki status, the second highest rank in the sport. He has won many awards and accolades, and has three Gold Star awards for defeating Yokozuna ranked above him in tournaments.” 


“...............”


“He’s basically Japanese sumo’s Michael Bishop……just much larger and probably with worse knees.” 


“Ohhhhhhhhhh.” 


“He’s been gracious enough to spend time with us for a friendly sparring contest. He will forgo going full blast at you since we all agreed you’re too tiny to stand up to him for that. Instead, you’re going to try to force him out of the dohyo.” 


“Um…WHAT!?”


“This is going to be a test of your mental ability. Can you figure out a way to move the guy? Are you mentally tough enough to try and keep trying? We’re going to find out a lot!” 


{Emmy and Sonya step to the side as Sena attempts to figure out how to take on this monster of a man. The sumo simply stands at his side of the ring, staring off into the distance as if he was bored as hell and would rather be anywhere else than entertaining this fight. Sena, noticing the lack of concern, gets a full sprint going and leaps into the air for his Flush Dynamic double knee strike. He bounces off the sumo and falls unceremoniously onto the hard clay dohyo floor.}


“Dumbass used TACKLE!”


“......It’s not very effective.”


{Sena tried everything as everyone watched. Clotheslines. Dropkicks. Chops. Punches, Attempted judo throws. Nothing could make the massive sumotori budge. Emmy and Sonya, realizing that it was going to be a while, if ever, before Sena could figure out a way to move the man he was facing, settled down on cushioned mats off in the corner. The other members of the stable were having a great laugh as the lanky, skinny Sena tried and horribly failed to move the sumo. One poor soul lost his weekly earnings betting on how many moves it would take for Sena to make the Ozeki move from his spot.}


“You do know that you can’t work him like you all the time, right? Sena’s improving. He even won a match for once. You should stop trying to build him up into being you.”


“Blunt as usual. But he’s responding well to the training, even though he’s not doing so well at the moment. Give me a little credit, yeah?”


“True, but you know and I know that you can’t follow him around and be his wrestling mom forever. At some point he’s going to have to branch out on his own, find his own wrestling style.”


“What do you think of the field?”


“Don’t change the subject.”


“I’m not changing the fucking subject, I’m conceding your point and moving on to something else. What do you think of the field?” 


“.......Dulce, Brandon and Theodor are the big fish. It would mean a lot for him to beat a former champion like Dulce, I think. She’s been in a bit of a rut of late but she’s more than capable of turning up and winning something like this. Brandon’s size and power make him a very dangerous opponent if it comes down to actual fighting. He’s focused now, much more than he was when he fought you. And Theodor is…Theodor. He’s someone that could easily become a World Championship holder someday. And as tough Sena is, there is a galaxy between them in terms of skill. He’s not ready for that. Not yet. Angelina is a wildcard in all of this. She’s a narcissist of the highest order, but she’s got some good wrestling to her. She also has a penchant for good luck and good timing. Things like this matter in something as unpredictable as these ‘BOB Games’.” 


“I’m worried about that new guy. Noah I think his first name is. He’s someone who has been around the block a few times too. This competition was fine enough with just a few thots and just a couple of genuine sharks in the field, but this guy? Bad news. I’m concerned that he may be a bigger threat than Theodor. You know Sena’s not stupid, but sometimes he has a one-track mind. He’s hungry and he’s focused, but sometimes he tends to fixate on one thing, one person at a time instead of looking at the big picture. Ignoring some girls dressing skimpy to attempt to distract you is one thing, wrestling people that you have seen on television and know a lot about is one thing, but going in blind against a guy whom you know nothing about is quite another.” 


“I think you underestimate him some. One thing that he has shown is that he’s willing to adapt. He knew that he wasn’t quite built to be a normal pro wrestler from the beginning, but that didn’t stop him. He stood nose to nose with some of the most vicious adversaries that you could ever want to face. He did just fine. I think that he can surprise us, even against people who have skill and experience advantages on him right now. Even right now, as he’s throwing himself at this sumo wrestler, he’s building up a mentality. He won’t quit. He won’t back down. He won’t stop.”


{Emmy smiled with pride as Sena continued to throw himself at the sumo, even as he was exhausted and some of the junior sumotori watching were laughing and eventually getting bored. The massive Ozeki-ranked man was still indifferent, still bored. What was minutes turned into one hour. Then two. Then a third. By the middle of the fourth hour, the sumo who were watching the exhibition fell asleep. Even Emmy and Sonya were having trouble staying awake.}


“What are we eating tonight?” 


“I was wanting to maybe go out for some yakiniku.” 


“That’s unfortunate. I wanted some of your Italian cooking.” 


“I don’t like cooking when I’m here in Japan, you know that. The street food here is too good.” 


“........Sena’s still going.”


“Yeah. He’s got more guts than smarts.”


{Shortly after this conversation, both Emmy and Sonya were napping. Emmy had fallen asleep scrolling through her phone while Sonya simply leaned back against the wall and drifted off to sleep. It was then Sena realized something…Takakeishō had fallen asleep standing up! After hours of fending off body blows and attempted grapples, the Sumotori dozed off for a moment. Sena realized that this may be the best opportunity he’ll ever have to knock this man off his spot, and he charged forward with all the strength he had left. He leapt in the air and landed a perfect dropkick right on the sumo’s forehead, startling him awake and hit with just enough force to knock the man backwards, one of his feet stepping out of the boundary of the dohyo! The commotion causes Sonya to wake up and excitedly shake Emmy awake as the other sumo started to come to. Sena was exhausted but smiling as there was a small round of applause for applauding his feat. The sumo walked over to Sena, bowing respectfully to him as Sena bowed even lower, attempting to show even more in return. Then Sena felt a heavy, hard hand slapping him so hard on the back he let out a yelp.}


“Sugoi!” 


“Yeah. Same to you. I think?” 


“Are you surprised he managed to do it?”


“Not really. He’s not super creative, but he’s persistent.”





There’s a lot on the line for me when I participate in the BOB Games. For those who don’t watch Kingdom regularly or haven’t watched me before, it’s a chance to announce my rival on the biggest stage that the wrestling world can offer. Emmy’s training and coaching are hard, but I don’t want to be coddled. When I was younger, my parents did a lot of coddling. They were overprotective, trying to steer me towards something other than the wrestler’s path. But here I am, about to compete with a collection of some of the most interesting, talented, and motivated individuals in the world. I’ve watched Angelina come onto Odyssey and make a bigger impact in less time than I have. People are already buying her merchandise and things, thinking she’s destined to become a champion. Dulce. Brandon Hendrix, and Noah are all far more experienced than I. The chances of me winning such a match with their presence, and the presence of the man I want to face the most, Theodor Pavel, may be small….but no matter how small the chance, I have to give everything. I know that I’m an American by birth, but my blood is Japanese. Coming here has made me feel a sort of pride, a happy feeling that I can barely describe in all honesty. The joy of being around people who admire what we do, instead of some people in the US who dismiss us as crass entertainment. 


I’ve come across fans of OWA who recognize me and know my story, who ask questions about training under Carlos Rosso and traveling with Emmanuelle. They wish me luck, they ask for photographs. It’s the first time I’ve dealt with anything close to fame before. But even as I experience things like this, things like visiting the place where my mother grew up, taking in the sights…it will mean a bit less if I can’t put together a great showing. I’m grateful to OWA for giving me such a great opportunity. I won’t let them down. Not my fans. Not Emmy. Not Carlos. Not Sonya. Definitely not Theodor. We made a promise to fight it out to see who is best, and I intend on keeping every bit of that promise to him and to myself. 



The thing about Sena to me is that he’s still growing as a wrestler, still trying to find the identity and what he’ll ultimately become. He’s borrowed a lot from myself and from Carlos, but he’s got to be his own man ultimately. These BOB Games will go a long way for that purpose. Do I expect him to win? Honestly no, not really. The talent depth is too large and the types of competition involved are fairly unpredictable. That’s one reason why we worked out with Sumo. You never know what will be thrown your way in this. But what I do feel confident in is Sena’s ability to adapt and his ability to learn from whatever happens. He’s had the roughest start to a career that I could think of for a while since maybe Diantha Rosso, but he’s hanging in there and improving every day. And for someone not even six months into his wrestling career yet, that’s all I can ask of him. Will it be enough to take home the top prize? Who knows…….



I wouldn’t put it past the little shit, though. And neither should any of the other wrestlers competing in this competition. Sena’s only going to improve as the match and the competitions wear on. The bigger the challenge, the better he’s going to be. 




And now, the first volume of Sena’s preparation is complete. After being pushed to his limits, he, Sonya and Emmy go for a well-earned night out to eat. Sena barely has enough energy to eat and drink, but he enjoys what he can. As OWA starts to arrive in Japan in full force, what other preparations will this potential rising star take as he moves towards his goal? We just found out that there will be two more volumes of this wild, crazy adventure and we can only wait with baited breath as we anticipate the tactics that he will take into the BOB Games! 

Minamiazabu, Minato-Ku, Tokyo
Evening Hours





(The rainfall slowed down a little as Stephanie Matsuda and her wife Monica walked out of their soon-to-be new home with their umbrellas by their side. The couple took one more look at the modern gated condo before making their way down the street.)

Monica: We’re really doing this, huh? This is really going to be our home?

Stephanie: Having doubts?

Monica: No! Heck, I’m excited. You know I’ve always wanted to live here full-time. I didn’t know if it was something you wanted to do until you expanded the Cloud Nine Center.

Stephanie: I’ve had fond memories here back in high school and in my JET days. But, yeah the rise in youth homelessness did play a part in me wanting to come back. I want to make a difference, sweets. Samantha agreed to run the CNC in LA. By the way, we should get a place near Aria so we can visit when the baby’s here. 

Monica: Hmm, I guess we have it all figured out, huh? Especially you.

Stephanie: Hmm?

Monica: We’re just a twenty-minute drive from the stadium. Forty minutes if you’re walking. I wouldn’t put it past you to win it all and literally walk home with both belts over your shoulder.

(Stephanie closes her eyes and smiles.)

Stephanie: You know me too well, sweets.

Monica: Well, like I said not too long ago…you can’t hide shit from your wife.

Stephanie: Mmm.

Monica: By the way…I’ll be rooting for Goto to retain.

(Stephanie watched her wife walk away expressionless as the rainfall picked up momentum. Matsuda calmly opened her umbrella and followed her wife towards the taxi that awaited them. As the two climbed inside, Stephanie kept her eyes on Monica who remained silent.)

Stephanie: I thought we were past this.

Monica: We are. Shit, I wasn’t innocent either babe. 

Stephanie: But…

Monica: I wonder if you’re past it? Especially with the request we discussed? If they agree, she’s going to be part of our lives for a very long time. Can you just keep those feelings at bay?

(Stephanie sighs as she looked out the window.)

Stephanie: Want me, to be honest? Those feelings have never nor will they ever be at bay. But, for the sake of our future, I can play nice. There’s too much on the line. And besides, that request? That won’t be a thing ‘till like a year from now. At this moment she and I have other things to worry about. I doubt she’s even thinking about me right now.

Monica: She is.

Stephanie: How do you know?

Monica: Because you’re unforgettable.



For thirteen years I’ve traveled the world and fought the best. Some have done it longer, and some have done it better, but in the end none of that matters. What matters is that every step of the way I’ve done things my way. Stubborn to a fault, I’ve even relinquished title reigns when the powers that be want to control my destiny. I’ve always led with my own narrative and now as my Final Destination approaches, I’ll script my own ending with the biggest win of my career. 


April is the unsung hero of her generation. While she didn’t accomplish as much as the rest of us, she’s pound for pound one of the most technically sound competitors this business has to offer. In fact, I’ll let you all in on a little secret:


April Song is a better wrestler than me.


Yes, I admit it. Maybe it wasn’t that way before, but after losing to her not one, or two, but three straight times (though Hana helped her win that Wrestleworld fuckery) I can say she surpassed me…in singles competition. Why am I secure in my competitive nature that I can comfortably say someone’s better than me at something I love? Because I respect April. Even when I hated her guts I admired her ability. But, what keeps April from surpassing me in accolades isn’t her talent. It’s her ambition. April takes days one match at a time, which isn’t a bad approach…for a rookie or journeywoman. She doesn’t care for the bigger picture and it bites her in the ass more often than not. For instance, failing to realize that Rebecca Filth screwed me so she’d have an easier time winning the OWA Women’s World Championship. April thinks she can beat Becky with conventional tactics. That’s what cost her the Goddesses’ Championship when she tried that approach with Alyssa Grace. It was cute watching her beat Grace like a heavy bag when she hung her upside down at Hardcore Havoc, but once again she dropped the bag. Just like she’s going to do on the biggest stage of all. Even before the bell rings April psyches herself out. If nothing is on the table, she’s the most dangerous woman in the world. But when the lights are the brightest and the fans are the loudest, she loses focus. 


See Dreamworld. Grand Rampage ‘18. And every other battle royal in between those events. Sure she’s walking in there with the world title over her shoulder - as she should. But there’s going to be a moment where she’s going to be caught sleeping and I’m going to seize the opportunity. April could say those matches didn’t happen in OWA, that she is the superior fighter in these parts. But alas, who took the women’s division to the next level? Who pulled you heauxes by the hair and DRAGGED you to the promised land kicking and screaming!? Who FORCED the powers that be to put Odyssey in the goddamn main event!? Who grabbed the nearest mirror and exposed you all for the killers you are!? That greatness you have in you April, it’s always been there! It’s in every other woman in that locker room!


But, I’m greater. I have perspective. I have ambition, patience, and productivity. I’ve bled and sacrificed much to get as far as I did and now I just have two more matches to go. Two falls, six counts. Six. Fucking. Counts. Two sets of three, April. That’s all I need to walk out of Japan National Stadium with both belts hop on the nearest rickshaw to take my Blasian ass home and make love to my beautiful wife. I’ve taught you all how to be superstars, sucking legends. Now, look at you all! Banshee is the scariest threat since Abholos! Jonetta has tapped into a new level of hardcore! Natalie’s a bonafide Hall of Famer, and Alyssa…well Alyssa is the next face of women’s wrestling. Hana…she’s gonna take what women like Azumi, Haruna, and myself built and take joshi puroresu into another stratosphere, demonic possession or not. And Ms. Filth…well, as much as I want to beat her face in, she’s proven herself. There’s still one lesson left, though.


How to leave on your terms.


I look back at the women who came before me and thought about the way they walked off into the sunset and all I can do is shake my head. No disrespect - I admire these women as some of them are friends and even fewer I consider to be family, but my swan song is going to sound much sweeter than theirs. Even as the end draws near I feel I have something left to prove. I’m still in competition…


But it’s not against any of you. That book has closed. The four of you are just obstacles, it’s ya’ll that have to prove something to ME. I’m in a race against the ghosts of those who came before me. The Miss Manamis. The Aria Jaxons. The Tarah Novas. Welcome to the post-game, the Marvel movie after credits where I expose the true purpose of my entry in this match…


To seal my destiny as the greatest women’s wrestler of all time. Ask yourself: who do you know has unified two world titles? And if you know any, how many did it TWICE? Better yet, who out of the five of us has already accomplished it!? You all know the answer. You all had your eyes glued to the screen when I unified the EAW Women’s World Championship and the REVOLT Freeweight Championship to become…undisputed. This is another case of having done that but expanded to a greater scale. I get to do it again a second time, and unlike the rest of you, this is my last shot at a Jordan-esque departure where I get to ride off into the sunset. Just in case any of you haven’t figured out what I mean, allow me to explain in simpler terms:


I will be the first and last OWA Undisputed Women’s World Champion.


This means I will be the last one to hold the Women’s World Championship and the Omega Heavyweight Championship. The final shot anyone will have of those belts is when they’re draped over my shoulders. That’d be the last time anyone will see them before I place them in the case made specifically for them. And this isn’t something new. I’ve been thinking about retiring at Final Destination for quite some time, even during my run as world champion. I wanted the OWA Women’s World Championship, a symbol of the finest women’s wrestling to headline the event of the year. And somehow, it all came together. Not only did I get Japan, but for Odyssey to close the show!? I knew I had to be a champ before the big day. And guess what? I did! I had the strap! And anyone that crossed my path, I knocked them down! One. By. One. All that was left was just one more defense, one more obstacle before the big dance…


And it was ruined by an OnlyThot.


Months - perhaps even years of prep work down the drain. I changed the landscape of Odyssey several times before I even signed and yet in a matter of seconds none of that no longer mattered. Rebecca’s filth can only taint so much before enough becomes enough. She made the same mistake many women have: they got in my way. And like them, she thinks she’s untouchable. She thinks she’s going to waltz away with my Women’s World Championship. She really thinks she’s that cute huh? 


Well, when I smack the shit out of her I’m gonna make it look sexy. Filth thinks she’s taken me out of my element, but if anything she reminded me of my own lust for glory. It’s a sin I carry within my heart, a cold reminder of all the sacrifices I’ve made that led up to this final match. It takes more than a lucky Clash win and an impressive mid-card reign to surpass me. And you know what? I think Rebecca knows and understands as much. When she was weighing her options the night I defended my title against April she saw that facing me wasn’t going to be a walk in the park. In some ways, I commend Becky on her honesty. Her experience as a dominant Openweight Champion allowed her to judge who she can and can’t beat. While April is the better wrestler, she can get into her head. She lives rent-free in mine. Because despite the sheisty shit she’s done to me, she’s no different than any other over-sexualized diva that puffed out their silicone chest at me time and time again. The whole ‘thottitude’ act?’ It’s a distraction. If I was some common bitch from around the way, then Rebecca could intimidate me in the way she did with Liz Karlson. But I’m no Karlson. I beat Karlson. I beat Diantha. Before April realized she was her own worst enemy I used to beat her like it was any ‘ol Tuesday. The thing is…before that title match, I’m sure Ms. Filth did some thinking. She took some time to reflect and in a rare moment of honesty realized she’s never faced anyone like me. Her biggest hope is that April and I go for each other’s throats. The last woman Song and I shared a ring with tried that bet and lost severely. 


It’s funny how my career comes full circle from every direction. It feels like a Venn diagram of encounters and accolades, where everything kind of overlaps with everything else. That’s why I’m confident walking into this match. Through my loss to April, I paid for my sins. She and I are squared away - I don’t owe her a goddamn thing. With Rebecca, I get to teach an overzealous woman some humility. In simpler terms…


I get to turn a hoe into a housewife.


If taming the shrew that is Becky Filth is the last blessing I offer the world then so be it. Well, it wouldn’t be the only blessing because on the other side of this equation is the Omega Heavyweight title match. On the final stage, I’ll be standing across either Alyssa Grace or Hana Nakajima, in all of her Havoc-induced glory. When people think of Alyssa, they think of the new generation of women’s wrestling greatness. She has the blueprint of everyone who came before her written in her code. Some may say she’s the chosen one. This turn of events should be her story, but I must selfishly deny her a happy ending. Alyssa has plenty of time for more moments like this. I just have one shot at cementing my legacy as undisputed and if I have to break my own vow then so be it. I gave the next generation the tools to get shit done. I’ve given this business everything, so excuse me if I refuse to set my demons straight for my own selfish desires. I deserve to walk away with it all. After all, when I Yahtzee’d Filth and signed my name on the dotted line, I scripted this outcome. I wrote my own damn ticket so I have no qualms about leaving with both titles. Alyssa has already demonstrated her incompetence; she can’t do what any low-level cleric can do and banish the evil within Hana. As someone who survived a month-long encounter with Abholos, I’m very well acquainted with the twisted spirits that populate our existence. If she can’t ghostbust this heaux into the next dimension, then I’ll add that to the list of favors I’ve already done for this division. At this point, I should just send an invoice to Llorona and call it a day.


Since I’ve brought up Nakajima, I wonder if she thinks this deal with the devil incarnate is worth it. I remember when she first came on to the scene. She was this innocent soul who enjoyed wrestling for the same reasons we all did when we walked into this business. Win or lose she always had this joyous nature about her. Some OWA fans may not be familiar with my other exploits, but Hana once fought by my side along with April. The three of us along with Nobi and some others protected Wrestleworld from the claws of Claudia Michaels. That was also the same place that saw the one and only Cloud/Hana match where I beat her with my own hands. But OWA Hana? I’m quite aware she’s a different animal. But I looked at Havoc in the eyes before albeit under the guise of another host. I’ve felt its evil before. Some could say my failed relationship with Edward Softly and the events that led to my mentor’s death are what triggered everything that happened in OWA these past two years and I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t a day that went by where I debated my own responsibility for events such as the deaths of Kenny and Goose. OWA was a different place before the arrival of Abholos and the carnage of Havoc and now I walk away from the mess because quite frankly how much more do I have to sacrifice!? How much more do I need to dig into my own past and relive shit that somehow is connected to some of the bullshit I’ve had to endure before I knew how the world worked? If anything, Hana’s current state is a stark reminder of the path I would’ve walked down if I remained in the darkness. I might be a selfish bitch and the worst friend since Judas, but I would’ve been even worse if I gave in to my own debilitating bullshit. The difference between the choices Hana and I’ve made is that my choices aren’t about living in self-denial. For better or worse I know who the fuck I am. I’ll be the first to say I encourage my own ignorance,  but I do it because it’s something that I’ve chosen for myself. I don’t need to blame an evil spirit for my fucked up actions. I relive them in my nightmares every other night. I’ve made peace with the idea that every couple of days I’m gonna have a sleepless night, but it is what it is. Just another sacrifice out of many, amirite? 


Alyssa tried beating Hana at her own game and what it got was her locked up in prison. Nakajima already has Alyssa beat. She’s in her head and unless she takes her own ego and emotions out of her Irish ass, Grace isn’t going to make it to the final stage. The funny thing about Hana is she’s not even that hard to figure out. Hana hides behind fantasy because she can’t live in the reality of what she’s become. Alyssa may have a chance at beating her, but Grace is so narrow-minded at this point that she’s not going to see me coming when that final bell rings. She’s not ready to face me at my absolute best. This match…once a freaking lifetime! This goes beyond just winning belts, it’s about accomplishing something that will NEVER be duplicated. This isn’t a match of skill, but fucking will. Does any of my opponents have the will to see this through!? Maybe. But if there’s anything I know for certain is that they’re going to have to take me out of that stadium in a body bag if I’m not the one who walks out of there with those titles over my shoulder.


…


Sorry, if my wife is seeing this. She hates it when I talk like it’s my last night on earth, but when the stakes are this high it might as well be. There’s come a time when you’re being pushed to the edge and you’re forced to go hard or go home, even if you’re forced to go beyond your limitations. I’m not going to get too into it, but going beyond my limits isn’t going to be too good for my health this time around. So yeah, entering this match is me laying my entire life on the line and you know what? I’m okay with that. I already made my peace. Monica knows loving me is complicated. I never make anything easy for anyone, and I never regret any of my actions. I could step aside and let April unify the titles. I could stand there and watch the dawn of the Filthy Era. I could encourage Alyssa to fulfill her destiny as the chosen one. Or I could turn my back from Odyssey as Havoc cast a cloud of darkness over the pink brand. But you know what? Fuck that. This isn’t about saving the world, or payback, but just from my own personal pettiness. My opponents don’t deserve to make history, not on a scale this great. They’ll spoil the momentum. They’ll find a way to tarnish their own legacy and it’ll all go to waste. I can’t trust anyone else with this. So fuck it, I’m taking it for myself. The legacy of the second greatest generation of women wrestlers and Nas-Era Olympus dies with me. I’ll keep their legacies safe in my home where they can stay frozen in time, appreciated by the world from a safe distance. 


As I’ve mentioned before, these women don’t understand the scope of this match. They can’t comprehend the amount of work I’ve put into this to make this happen. They can’t appreciate what I’ve done so they don’t deserve the happy ending. Sure they’ll do what they can to prove me wrong and in our business, we accomplish that with our fists. 


I lived my life one fight at a time and I’m okay with walking away from this at the peak of my career. I have nothing left to prove except to myself: am I the best? Am I undisputed? Am I the fucking GOAT? Those are the questions we ask ourselves and depending on who’s around, the answers vary. Me? It doesn’t matter if I’m alone with my thoughts, I’m always going to answer yes. Hana can conjure all the bad juju she wants. April can invent new holds, Alyssa could find her will, and Becky can hump my leg as much as she wants. I’m walking away with those fucking belts and there’s not a damn thing anyone can do about it.


Know. Understand. Believe.


Tokyo, Japan.
Unknown Location.

(Stephanie sat in the darkness of the old gym, taping up her hands. Her uncle’s colleagues kept Yasuhiro Matsuda’s gym in top shape. While the front of the gym was being used as a fitness center, the back area with its own ring was left untouched. At Yasuhiro’s request, it was to be untouched until his niece who “wanted to be a wrestler” was old enough to decide what she wanted to do with it. Stephanie decided to keep the back area sacred until a special circumstance deemed otherwise. This was as good of a time as any. The JET dojo was being used at the moment and was too much of a distraction for Matsuda. She needed privacy. This privacy was also a demand of her training partner…)

Female Voice: You really do have a knack for dark and creepy places, Cloudy.

Stephanie: I was wondering when you were going to arrive.

(Stephanie turned to see a dark-haired woman with blonde highlights wearing a pair of shades and the latest rainy season fashion walk into the room, the sound of her heels echoing throughout the establishment.)

Woman: I wouldn’t miss this for the world, Cloudy. Our fates are tied after all.

Stephanie: (sighs) Unfortunately. You help me win this match, then we’ll deal with that other thing.

(The woman takes off her shades and smiles.)

Woman: Stephanie Matsuda and Claudia Michaels training together? Someone, please check the temperature down in hell.